#anyway someone get these poor fucks some eye drops

[megaawkwardhuman]

wait the fuck a minute

guess this is the dead for a second eyes????

[cordeliawhohung]

some more pornstar!gaz where he walks into the studio with you filming with someone else. which is fine, you both work in the porn industry after all. such a shame that your co-star couldn't even get you off, though ):

Pathetic. 

It was the only word that popped into Kyle’s head as he hid behind studio lights and camera men while he watched that scene unfold in front of him. There was every opportunity for that shoot to be magnificent, hell, everything had that opportunity where you were involved. Yet the man they had you paired with for that day was… subpar. Worse than that, he was useless. 

Kyle watched with bored eyes as the man kept you pinned to the bed on your back with your legs around his hips. Usually Kyle was a fan of missionary, especially with you. He reveled in how he had the perfect view of your wide eyes and tense brows; how your hands always clung around his neck as if you would fall through the earth without him. It was a masterpiece he loved panting on you, yet this man was no such artist. Your hips were at a terrible angle — a pillow would have done you some good — and judging by the forced expression on your face, Kyle was right. 

However, you wouldn’t have made it that far in the industry if you didn’t know how to fake it. Fake it well. Your hands still pawed at the man’s back like you couldn’t get enough of the way he pathetically pumped into you, and your moans still sang out like it was the only song you knew. You were, after all, an actress in some capacity. 

Kyle knew you better than that. 

Your hums and purrs were full of only a fraction of actual pleasure and passion. When he fucked you, there was always a lilt to your moans. A sweet pitchiness that he always seemed to pull out of you, especially when budding up against your cervix. You always gasped more with him too. You’d cry out and cling to him when his thumb circled around your clit or when his teeth gently sunk into the side of your shoulder. One of those days he’d eat you alive; on or off set, he didn’t care. 

He could daydream about that all he wanted to, but that didn’t change the fact he was watching you get fucked by an amateur. Or at least he hoped they were an amateur. If they were a seasoned veteran still fucking women like they were lifeless sex dolls, he had a few choice words for the studio. 

No matter, the torture was about to end. He could tell by the dramatic increase of the man’s grunts he was going to come soon, and Kyle nearly laughed at the relief in your face. How desperate you were, not for the man to finish, but for it all to finally end. And when he did finish, the man hardly kept the tip of his cock buried in your cunt as he gave you his spend. There was nothing deep or connecting about it; it felt like he watched a frat boy fuck some poor sorority girl rather than two adults properly make love. What a fucking waste. 

Kyle could have done better. 

Assistants wrapped you in a robe and whisked you off set faster than any other actress he had seen in his entire career, which almost made it even more pathetic that your co-star had to sit on the bed and take a breather. It was like your cunt had been the first drink of water he had gotten in ages, yet for you his cock had been nothing but another drop in the ocean. What made things worse, was that you didn’t even come. It was so painfully obvious, yet left completely unaddressed. 

He wanted to remedy that. 

One of the nice things about the studio you worked for was that they always ensured you had a place to shower after shoots, which was a godsend after that day. Annoying, sour smelling cum dripping down your thighs wasn’t exactly a feeling you wanted to savor, so you turned on the hot water as soon as you were finished. Well, as soon as your co-star had finished, anyway. 

The bathroom was frigid. When they had constructed the building, it seemed as if they had prioritized more of the studio benefits rather than any sort of benefits for the actors. There was hardly any room for you to stretch your arms out in the shower, and every inch of the room was cemented in tile. But it was fine. You’d wash your body off, get the annoying sticky remains of a man you would have rather not fucked off of you, and then head home for a well deserved break. 

Your break seemed further away than ever when you heard the squeaky sound of the bathroom door open just for it to close shut. Your eyes rolled as you did your best to hold back a heavy sigh. Not even a damn knock. It wasn’t uncommon for men who you shot with to follow you into the bathroom or dressing room in order to talk, which was just about as pathetic as it sounded. Most didn’t care to give you a second glance after filming, but others became rather… starstruck. You were one of the most popular female stars in that studio. Filming with you always meant big bucks. 

Rather than ignoring the person who entered the room so wordlessly, you peeked behind the shower curtain with a preset glare on your face, only to be met with the sight of Kyle Garrick. A smile had already been painted onto his lips, but there was more than just friendliness behind them. There was a knowing look that nearly made you laugh. 

“It seems I have a Peeping Tom,” you mused as you retreated back behind the curtain. 

“You’ll be alright. I’ve already peeped more of you than what can be seen in the shower anyway,” he quipped. 

There was a poor attempt made to try and hide your laughter from him, but the tile wall bounced your giggles around like a game of catch. Kyle snickered as he approached the bathroom counter and leaned against it. 

“Saw you filming,” he admitted, sparking up conversation. 

“Didn’t realize you were a voyeur,” you teased. 

The shower turned off with a squeak as you finished your quick wash. You tore your towel off of the curtain rod before quickly drying off and wrapping your body with it before exiting. Each move was careful and calculated as you didn’t fancy slipping and cracking your head on that stupid fucking tile, but Kyle didn’t seem to mind you taking your time. 

“Here for your own shoot, then?” you asked. 

“I’ve got one in a bit, yeah,” he confirmed. 

Humming, you approached the counter next to him where you began to rummage through your bag. If Kyle had been anyone else in the studio, you would have cussed them out and chased them out of the room within an instant. But you had grown rather close to him. You enjoyed filming with him. He was one of the few actors who could actually make you come, and you didn’t feel… gross afterwards. Luckily for you, viewers seemed to like the two of you filming together as well, so more often than not you were paired with him. 

Just not that week, annoyingly enough. 

“Just here to say hi, then?” you prompted. 

Kyle slipped away from the counter, giving you room to set your items aside as you retrieved them from your bag, but he didn’t go far. His gaze flickered to you through the mirror before he slowly approached behind you, hands resting on your waist through the thick fabric of your towel. 

“He didn’t make you come, did he?” he asked, ignoring your inquiry. 

Your movements ceased as your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you. Kyle’s attention was trained on the side of your neck, and you could see the internal debate in his mind. Like he didn’t know if he should hold himself back from biting you or not. 

“Was it obvious?” you asked. 

“It was to me,” he answered. “All of it was. He did a piss poor job of gettin’ you off at all.” 

A smirk pulled at your lips as you leaned back against him, and you felt his chest expand while his hands dipped lower. They ran along your hips, down your thighs, all the way until he reached the end of your towel where his hands then began to slide back up. 

“You almost sound upset,” you teased. 

“I am. It’s always a shame when pretty things like you get neglected,” he admitted, head dipping into the crook of your neck. His thumbs brushed over the underside of your bum as he pulled you further against him. “Could fix that, if you want.” 

“You really were serious about getting me without the cameras, weren’t you?” you asked. 

“I always keep my promises.” 

Fuck. Fuck. You did want it. Wanted him. He was the only actor in that entire industry who actually seemed to know his way around a woman’s body, and it was terribly addicting. Not only was he good with his cock, but everything else. His fingers, his tongue, his words. He always had a way of getting you worked up and clenching around nothing before even touching you. 

Slowly, you spun around so that you could face him, and you pressed your hands against his chest. The heavy-lidded expression on his face wasn’t a secret, but it never seemed like he tried to hide anything from you. Some sort of string bound the two of you together in a way that was more than just professional. No one else had ever followed you into the bathroom to get you off, anyway. 

“It’s a shame your shoot is so soon,” you said. 

Kyle’s lips twitched as you noticed his teeth dig into the side of his cheek, like he bit back words he knew he would regret. His hands lowered your towel back around your thighs, but his hands still lingered on your skin. 

“Shame,” he agreed. 

“But I’ll take a raincheck for when we shoot next week,” you added. 

Words danced on the tip of Kyle’s tongue; things he wanted to say but couldn’t. Like how being in front of the cameras wasn’t what he had in mind. Or how he didn’t care if the taste of you lingered on his tongue when he fucked his other co-star in the next half hour. He didn’t have a bigger craving for anyone else like he had for you, but confessing that in the showers of a porn studio felt a little too on the nose. 

Instead, his hands slid off of your hips as he pulled away from you with a smirk. He’d get you one day, just like he promised. He didn’t mind playing a little cat and mouse. 

“I’ll be counting on it, doll.” 

consider this me edging you guys, sorry not sorry

[sanjisboyfie]

golden retriever boyfriend ! itadori yuji

yuji x male reader

-> very short but i wanted to show smoe love to this cutie wootie patootie.

- oh my fucking god. the absolute sweetest boyfriend i fear. this guy literally praises the ground that you walk on and is at your beck and call as if you were a deity and he is your servant. your day is just him constantly asking if he can do anything for you to make you happier, usually the response is just his company, which he blushes and playfully smacks you for.

"honey, do you wanna go to the store to buy some more snacks before we binge watch?" yuji asked, a wide grin on his face, "gojo-sensei forgot to take back his wallet he leant me from my last mission, so we can splurge and he won't even notice!"

you laughed at his eagerness, but shook your head. instead, you opened your arms up for him to cuddle himself into and said, "i just want to spend some time with you, i missed you,"

without wasting another second, yuji jumped into your arms and peppered kisses all over your neck, jaw, and face, "i missed you even moreee!! let's turn on your show already, then," yuji contentedly closed his eyes, breathing in your scent as his cheek was pressed against your chest.

he was in heaven.

- constantly thinking of you. he's always seeing things on the street that remind him of you, always wondering if you'd like something he picked out for you from a street vendor, will constantly be talking nobara and megumi's ear off about, "oh, [name] really likes that restaurant! should i buy him something to go?" "haha, me and [name] watched that movie last night and he really liked the main character's best friend, even though i liked the main character more!" "nobara, do you think [name] is more handsome wearing a bracelet or necklace? huh? well, i think he lookes handsome either way, but i don't have money for both so i need someone unbiased to choose."

they think they've heard enough, but they very clearly haven't since yuji always goes above and beyond in talking about you.

you're there to hear the praises he sings for you 50% of the time, but the other 50%...poor nobara and megumi because they gotta deal with his yappin ass. he never shuts up in general (he's just a bby) but when he gets on a tangent talking about you ... it's like this guy doesn't need to breathe.

he's just so happy and content with the relationship you guys have he can't help but make it known to everyone around!!! another thing is he could care less if it annoys the fuck out of everyone around him, he just nods his head at their annoyance and then goes, "well, anyway, haha, as i was saying before i was interuppted!"

literally inumaki probably has had to restraint himself from telling yuji to "shut the fuck up" because he just wouldn't shut up.

- yuji likes to make it obvious to you how loyal of a boyfriend he is. he barely glances at other people on the street if he's with you. he has actual hearts in his eyes when he even sees you in his periphereals, if you are right in front of him, dear lord save him.

the two of you were walking down the street to the conveince store. your pinkies were linked together as yuji listened to you talk about your day and the training you had to do. at one point you were complaining about gojo's antics as an irresponsible teacher and yuji couldn't help but think how adorable that annoyed look on your face was.

the pout on your lips, even you rolling your eyes was so attractive to him. he was enthralled by your story and, of course, you, he didn't even realize that he walked right into the clear glass door of the store.

as he face planted staight into the wall, you immediately are fussing over if he is alright. he turns to you with a grin, nodding his head to show he was fine. but the smallest drop of blood coming from his nose said otherwise.

and as you fretted over his very minor injury, he couldn't help but sigh in content as he thought you tending to him was the most heartwarming thing he has ever experienced.

"you'd be a great nurse, [name]," he says, not minding the subtle glare you threw at him, "your hands are so soft and gentle-"

"they're about to smack you if you don't shut up," you gruffly replied, but yuji wasn't deterred at all in singing your praises even more.

"you're so kind to me," he says with a dreamy look in his eyes.

once again, you sighed heavily at your boyfriend's attitude, pinching his ear, "quit it, yuji! what if you actually got hurt, you're lucky it was just a rush of blood. you need to be more focused, especially if we're gonna be out there fighting curses,"

yuji, unfortunately, doesn't take any of your warnings seriously. as he presses his cheek to the palm of his hand, he just stares at you lovingly, "what do you think? should we buy you a cute little nurse outfit and i can be your sick patient? you'd look so handsome in scrubs!"

another pinch to his ear, "yuji! are you even listening?!"

- has this really adorable habit of just getting lost in whatever you're saying and blinking owlishly at you with a very cute smile on his face. it's a really adorable sight, but when you're actually trying to tell him something, he's just looking at you like ":3" and not at all listening to what you're saying.

"gojo-sensei said to be extra careful because the blades were just sharpened, alright?" you advised, looking at the myriad of cursed tools that you were going to be training with. "hm, what do you think suits your fighting style more, babe?"

yuji only tightened his grip around your waist, burying his face into your neck as he was just too focused on your body against his to even begin formulating an answer to your question. even though it was a fairly easy question to answer.

"itadori yuji," you warn, sensing that he was spacing out once again.

"noooo," he whines, squeezing you tight, "'m your baby, not itadori yuji," he complains, exaggerating his name as if it were the worst sound in the world.

"well, you're going to stay itadori yuji until you answer my question," you say, wondering why you had to disclipline your boyfriend as if he were your child. you soften up though when you hear him whine once again, burying his head deeper into your neck.

ruffling his hair as a way of comforting him, ultimately caving in to his whines and attitude, you softly say, "baby, can you just help me out really quick?"

"kisses after i do?"

"of course,"

yuji is grinning like a fool and is suddenly very intrigued in the conversation on what curse tool works best with his fighting style.

GIVE ME ITADORI YUJI AS MY BOYFRIEND and id treat him like a king, thats all im saying. he deserves so much love, please.

[spongeyspot]

Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

[upsidedownwithsteve]

eye-rolling "Well, I guess I can do that for you."

pretty please with Steve? 🥰🥰

You weren’t Steve’s girlfriend, not at all. In fact, the man hadn’t even managed to take you on a date. Not yet.

But Steve was pretty damn sure he was borderline besotted with you. Affection made him ache, the longing worse. He felt like a teenager again, a schoolboy with a soul shattering crush that he wasn’t sure he could hide much longer…

…from you, anyway. Everyone else knew.

Which is why Nancy grinned and Eddie laughed into his beer when you found him at the party, a small get together with some old high school friends that had turned into someone bigger and messier as more people returned home to Hawkins for the holidays.

Steve had been watching you move around the room for a while, sandwiched between the sofa arm and Robin, gaze watching the way you hugged each old friend, your eyes bright with excitement, your touch warm and affectionate as you hugged everyone you’d missed.

Steve didn’t even really have time to feel jealous before you were leaning over the back of the couch, your chin on Steve’s shoulder, your perfume familiar and heart racing. You were grinning when you stole his beer bottle with light fingers, non pleased as you brought it to your lips to steal a swig, uncaring that it was borderline warm from the way Steve had nursed it all night.

You didn’t notice the way Jonathan snickered at Steve’s expression, the way Eddie smirked and Robin nudged Steve’s ribs with a bony elbow. You couldn’t see how the poor man had turned pink, face flushed and chest almost still as you leaned closer, your cheek almost touching his.

And then you turned into him, lips so close to his, your nose nudging his temple as the cheap wine you’d been drinking made you bolder, less caring of your audience.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve didn’t dare turn his head with you this close. He didn’t need his friends to witness him short circuit. He knew you’d be close, closer than ever, close enough to count the fan of your lashes, the flecks of different colours in your eyes, the tiny silver scar on your chin that you got when you were six.

So he hummed instead, taking his beer back from your hand and downing a long drag. He could barely taste the bitterness of it over the leftover stain of your cherry lip balm. It’s like he’d forgotten how to breathe—

“I was wondering, if it’s not too much hassle,” your hand found his shoulder, warm and familiar and affection as it slipped over the front of his chest, playing with his collar. “If you’re still taking Robin home, could you drop me off on the way?”

Steve took too long to reply, the feeling of your small hand against his chest too much for him to comprehend and Eddie was sitting across from his, his grin absolutely wild and Robin’s heel was grinding down on top of his trainers, urging him to answer.

“I—”

“It’s just,” you went onto explain, taking his overwhelmed silence for apprehension, “I was supposed to crash at Jenny’s but she’s going home with Chris now and I don’t really wanna walk, y’know?”

Eddie butted in then, all cheek and charm and Steve wanted to throttle him. He was still grinning, too wide and knowing, and he knocked his boot against Steve’s shin. He tsked, frowning exaggeratedly. “Hey now,” he told you, “Harrington won’t have you walkin’ anywhere, isn’t that right Steve? He’d love to give you a ride.”

Robin almost spat her drink out, waving you away when you looked at her concerned, coughing furiously into her fist and Steve was done.

He gave in then and turned, silently thankful that you moved back just a little, your eyes warm as he met your gaze and you grinned at the sight of him, like you’d missed him as much as he had you.

Fuck, you were pretty. So, so pretty.

And Steve didn’t know what to do. So he did what he always done and played his part, that character that he had in his back pocket from high school, the one he’d learned to tone down just a little and use as a shield. So he rolled his eyes but it only made you grin wider because fucking hell, you could see right through him and Steve knew that.

It’s why you kept your hand on his chest, your arm draped over his shoulder, touching him like he belonged to you and god— he did, he did, he did.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Steve pretended to consider it. “I can do that for you.”

You tilted your head at him, all quiet flirtation, coy and knowing and your fingertips ran up his chest and over the neckline of his shirt until you were touching bare skin- just for a second.

It was enough to make Steve’s brain buzz, full shutdown, engine screeching, loading screen frozen.

“For me?” You pouted.

You were still too close and your lips were glossy and Steve knew they tasted like cherry. All his friends were staring.

“Yeah,” he nodded, throat dry, eyes on your mouth and the way it curled into a smile. The act was over, his play pretend crumbling. He was too soft for you to try and keep it up for very long. “For you.”

And when you thanked him with a too quick press of your lips to his cheek and then disappeared into the crowd again, his friends waited all of six seconds before they exploded.

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

[maxislvt]

Succubus Season

pairing(s): succubus! wanda maximoff x reader, brief natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Just when your life starts to come together, life throws another curve ball at you. Except this time it isn't a bully or a shitty English teacher. This curve ball is seven feet tall with horns and a lot of pent-up sexual energy.

warnings: jealousy, possessive thoughts/behavior, AMAB!Reader, dom!Wanda, sub!Reader, anal sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, overstimulation, cum eating, size kink (she's 7 feet tall)

a/n: Idk this is a tad self indulgent but it's Fine because it's sexy

Event Masterlist

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Adulthood came with many struggles. You made it through high school, your poor budgeting habits, and you're currently pushing your way through medical school. It wasn't easy, but your determination and pride got you through it. Now you were one step further into adulthood by owning a house. No more roommates or weird landlords. Just your own space with no one else in it.

However, you hit an unexpected bump in the road.

Moving in seemed harder than doing all the paperwork. At first, you blamed it on how far you were moving. Some of your friends were kind enough to drive anywhere from 2 to 15 hours to help you move. It was possible they were tired and didn't consider how strenuous moving was. Then things got a little bit odd. You couldn't leave a room unattended for more than half an hour without someone getting some sort of freak injury. Luckily it was nothing worse than little cuts or bruises.

Oddly, fixing up the garage proved to be the hardest part. Bucky got sent to the hospital over a spider bite. Steve's asthma suddenly kicked up — though part of that was his fault considering everyone told him it'd be a bad idea to clean a dusty room without an inhaler. A lot of them had been overcome with mysterious illnesses and your team was getting smaller and smaller.

Eventually, it was down to just you and Tony.

All that was left to do was fix your janky garage door and the god-awful cabinets. It should've been a simple job. Replacing a few doors and fixing up some gears. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nearly impossible.

"God, this stupid fucking drill." You grumbled while trying to loosen the screws holding the cabinet door together. Tool malfunctions were another thing hindering your progress. One toolbox to fix the whole house wasn't entirely effective, but the finicky handles and rather disagreeable drill bits weren't making it any better. "Son of a bitch, these cabinet doors are hideous anyways!" After another failed attempt at removing the screw, you slam the tool on the countertop with a frustrated grunt. You slammed it a bit too hard against the counter because the sound shook the whole garage.

The old gears in your garage door creaked and shook before suddenly turning to drop the door.

"Tony, look out!" You shouted before running over to catch the door. The metal door slammed down hard on your shoulder blades. "Ah, shit!" You hissed out. It took all your strength to push the door back up. "Fuck, are you okay?" You asked Tony while rubbing your bruising shoulder blades.

Tony stared up at the garage door before getting up. He anxiously cleared his throat. "Well, if that doesn't open my eyes to my old age, I don't know what will." His shaky hands smooth out his shirt before grabbing his tools. "Yeah kid, I think I'm gonna call it a day after that." An unusually shaky sigh fell from his lips as he hugged you.

You looked up at the garage door. It needed to be fixed, but nothing physical was worth the life of a friend. "Um..yeah you do that. I'll just fix it my-"

"Don't do that," Tony interrupted, knowing your history with home repair.

A grimace overtook your features, but you knew Tony was right. "Okay, I won't fix it myself. I'll try and find some company to do it." You patted Tony on the back. He wasn’t the most tan friend you had, but you'd never seen him so pale before. "We should get you a drink before letting you head home."

With that, you were down to just yourself.

Your shoulders were in too much pain for you to keep working so you called it a day. Eight o'clock was a bit early for you, but you were much too shaky to do anything else. After a quick shower and some pain cream on your shoulder blades, you called it a day. Pain and warm water turned out to be the perfect combination for sleep.

"Release me…"

You shot up and immediately looked around the room. No one else was in your room. You weren't sure if it was real, but there were goosebumps on your skin and the hairs on your neck wouldn't lay down. As scary as it was, you decided you must've left the TV on up front and ignored it.

The next morning you're a bit jarred but ready to spend the weekend cleaning.

You looked around the garage to see what you had left to do. The garage door was off-limits and you were beyond frustrated with the cabinets in there. Just when you thought it'd be a simple work day, you noticed a hatch on the roof. Odd, you don't remember there being an attic on the room list when you bought the house.

You shrugged and jumped up to bring down the step ladder. The creaking underneath your feet meant it was time for the wood to be replaced, but you decided to prioritize exploration. Which turned out not to be the best idea.

"What the fuck!?" The words slipped out before you could even think. You looked around the attic. Chalk lines drawn out to make a magical symbol that you weren't even going to pretend you understood. There were more symbols carved into the wall. In the middle of it all, there was a small table. You weren't crazy enough to step towards it but you could see a jar filled with some mysterious liquid surrounded by other magical trinkets you didn't want to touch. "...Well, I guess that's what I get for buying a three-bedroom house for less than 100,000," You whispered as you climbed down the ladder.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Now that you were terrified of your garage, you decided to focus on the less haunted part of your house.

It was a pain in the ass to move furniture and boxes by yourself, but better than a bunch of mysterious dead friends. After about a month or so, you were finally satisfied with the state of your house. The once barren walls were now filled with photographs and pairings. Long gone was the feeling of emptiness. It was your space now.

"Let me out, detka, please."

Oh, and the space of whatever freaky demon that was occupying that jar in your attic. Ignoring it was becoming harder. What started as the occasional whisper in your sleep turned into uncomfortably realistic wet dreams and a lot of ruined underwear. Now you could feel it hovering over you.

Tonight was the worst of it. Sensual kisses along the column of your neck pulled you in and out of sleep. Its hands were abnormally adventurous too. A less sleep-deprived version of yourself would've questioned the kisses on your neck, but your lack of sleep had left you a tiny bit delusional. One particular rough kiss finally woke you up properly.

The pain made you jolt up. "Fuck, you're having fun with this." You whisper despite the fact you're not sure it was listening. Your sleep shorts are stained with precum and you're painfully erect. A heavy sigh fell from your lips. "God, I hope you don't turn out to be some evil murder demon." The walk to your garage felt incredibly long. Each step added to the knot in your stomach. It was a miracle you didn't vomit by the time you stood underneath the hatch.

Your body moved as if it weren't your own. Awkward and clunky, but desperate to reach a goal you weren't too keen on. Once the ladder dropped back down your fate was sealed. You climbed up into the attic and stumbled towards the table.

For a moment just looked at the jar. Then you started laughing. "God, I am losing my mind. What is this stuff anyways, some disgusting old jam?" You scuffed with unwarranted confidence as you opened the jar.

It was not jam. Nor was it jelly or some other kind of preserve.

It was a seven-foot-tall demon. She had tinted red skin and two sets of horns sticking out of her head. You could see serrated teeth and an uncomfortably long tongue behind plum lips. You couldn't see them since they were above your head and you weren't going to risk looking away from it, but you could tell that it had claws.

The only thing keeping you from screaming your head off was not wanting to deal with a noise complaint in the morning.

"So um, can you put in on rent or are you just gonna bum out in my attic?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Wanda lived on Earth for thousands of years and never had she met a human more determined than you were. At first, she blamed your disinterest on her demonic form, but not even her human form could take your eyes off whatever project had taken up your time. Your focus was admirable, but Wanda was starting to get hungry.

So she decided to be more upfront about her needs.

Today, the only thing between her and a proper meal was a book. One you'd been reading for nearly an hour, but it was easier to take your attention away from that than it was from work.

Wanda laid down on your stomach and looked up at you with the softest, most desperate eyes she could muster. "I know this might come off as too much, but I'm really hungry...I just need a little something to get me through the day." Her eyes carefully watched your facial expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.

"Oh, you must be starving."

Wanda was expecting a more sympathetic tone, but you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You quickly marked your page in the book and laid it down on the coffee table. "Wait right here, I'll make you something good." Part of you felt like one of those evil landlords on Reddit. You were making her pay rent but she didn't feel comfortable eating. "I have some snacks in the cabinets if you're really hungry. Help yourself to whatever."

Her fingers twitch. It's not what she wanted, but she found herself tempted. "It's fine, I can wait," She whispered. Succubi shouldn't get nervous. Wanda's hands reached out and held your waist. The benefit of being a succubus is that Wanda knows you won't deny her. Her fingers slipped underneath your shirt just to feel the softness of your skin. "What are you cooking?"

The question confused Wanda. She'd never cared about a human beyond a desire to feed off of them, but you were different. She was desperate to know more about you. Wanda wanted you in a way that she'd never wanted a human before. Thoughts of jealousy began stirring in her heart. As her fingertips explored the softness of your skin.

It didn't take long for that desire to evolve into something more deviant. Wanda found herself hating the physical space between you and her. She found herself disappointed she couldn't be inside you. As adorable as human fragility was, she couldn't stand the fact she couldn't be closer. Wanda needed to be under your skin and next to your still-beating heart. A hoodie could only make up for that half the time.

It wouldn't be much longer before she'd have to feed from you. Only you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It was embarrassing to admit as a succubus, but Wanda had officially gone multiple months without feeding from anyone. To rub salt in the wound, the one person she wanted to feed from seemingly had no issue sleeping around.

You were always talking up some girl and brought a new one home every other week. That was bad enough on its own, but you were always kind enough to make them breakfast or wash their clothes before sending them off. And once they were gone, you were right back by Wanda's side like nothing happened. Like you didn't just manage to play with the feelings of a succubus and send her into a jealous spiral.

Your latest adventure seemed to get under her skin like no one else before. This mysterious redhead had done quite a number on you. Dark red and purple bruises littered your neck and shoulders and you could barely stand upright. If you hadn't bashfully shooed her away, Wanda wouldn't have had a problem helping. Of course, your little fling was there to save the day.

"I didn't think you'd be able to walk after all that," The woman said with an amused tone. She sauntered up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Her chin rested on top of your head. "You sure you don't want me to finish those up for you? I'm a little worried you're gonna collapse on me."

You squirmed in Natasha's grasp as her fingers traced along the top of your waistband. "Y-yeah, it's fine Natasha. Just go watch TV or something…" The blush on your face is almost hot enough to cook the eggs. You don't even remember the last time someone made you this bashful. It was new. "I appreciate your offer though," You mumbled, unsure how to carry on the conversation.

"You're still shy even after last night?" Natasha asked teasingly. Her fingertips slipped into your boxers but didn't move much further past the waistband. She pushed her hips against your ass just enough for you to feel the pressure. "I think I like being right here, just like this." She whispered into your ear. Her eyes looked off to the side with a knowing smirk.

The whole scene made Wanda sick with jealousy. Her stomach churned every time you laughed at one of Natasha's jokes. Succubus couldn't throw up, but she. would've already. You were hers even if you didn't know it yet.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt like you were going mad.

It was getting harder to suppress your attraction to Wanda. You wish you could blame it on her interest in human clothes or all the cuddling, but neither of those was the problem. It was all your perverted tendencies. Every time Wanda crossed your mind it was always something sexual. These thoughts weren't brief either. Once you started one of your sick little fantasies, it was hard to stop. You were washing 20 pairs of underwear a week with how much precum you were leaving.

Your growing relationship with the demon only made things more complicated. Wanda seemed to become more physically affectionate by the day. Her human form was cute but it was her natural form that seemed to be giving you the most trouble. The shock of meeting a demon for the first time had worn off and you began to notice the small details. If your dick would appreciate them as well.

The only thing it seemed to care about was how big Wanda was. Especially when she was using you as her body pillow. The softness of her breast pressed against your chest and it was driving you mad. You were so focused on not getting a boner that you completely drowned out the noise from the movie.

As fun as watching you squirm and wiggle, Wanda had waited long enough.

She sat up on your lap, straddling your hips with her thighs. Wanda's hand slipped underneath your shirt to keep you pinned to the couch. Her claws lightly scratched at the sensitive skin. "It's cute you think I can't tell how turned on you are right now." A satisfied chuckle escaped her lips as you sucked your breath. "Don't think I haven't heard all those nasty little thoughts in your heads."

Your eyes followed Wanda's fingers nervously. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me!" She toyed with the hem of your shorts. You were at a loss for words. It wasn't like you could deny your feelings with your dick hard as a rock. “I know we’re like roommates, but we don’t have to do anything!” Embarrassment wasn't good enough to describe how you were feeling. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Wanda ripped off your shorts in one swift motion. “Oh detka, I want to be something more than just roommates.” Her long tongue licked the precum oozing from your neglected tip. It left a savory taste in her mouth that she couldn't help but enjoy. “God you don’t know how hard it was to live knowing you were wasting this stuff on girls who couldn’t make you feel half as good as I do.” Her free hand massaged your balls as she took your length inside her mouth. They weren’t as full as she would’ve liked them to be, but Wanda knew she would have access to them whenever she wanted them. Self-control was quickly flying out the window. Her hunger was starting to take over and she no longer had it in her to go slow for your sake. Wanda needed your cum and she needed a lot of it. “Do you know the best part of having sex with a succubus?”

The pleasure alone had your head spinning. “W-what?” It wasn’t a response to her question, but rather a moment of shock at Wanda’s confession. You weren’t well versed in the land of demons, but you didn’t think Wanda was anything like that. Was she gonna eat you? Maybe you should’ve asked more questions rather than worrying about her paying rent.

Her hand wrapped around your dick and began stroking slowly. She leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “I know exactly how to fuck you senseless.” Wanda hooked your legs over her shoulders. This time, Wanda's tongue went straight for your asshole. She watched your eyes roll to the back of your head with a satisfied smirk. No one's ever fucked you this way. It's almost impossible for her tongue fuck you the way she'd like but your whining makes up for it.

You're a mess. It felt like your insides were melting, but you were too overstimulated to even consider pushing back. You were usually the one on top and doing all the teasing. Now it was near impossible for you to speak without moaning and stumbling over your own words. "F-fuck, I'm close. Please don't stop, I'm gonna cum!" Your hands grabbed Wanda by her horns and pulled her closer to your ass.

Wanda hummed against you. You looked so cute when you were desperate to cum. She pushed your shirt up to your chest and signaled for you to hold it up. Of course, you do it without question. That mindless obedience would get you far. Wanda's tongue pressed down against your prostate. Milking you was a bit much for your first time doing anal, but Wanda wasn't going to hold back.

You couldn't even speak. It was just a string of desperate moans in place of words. The knot in your stomach bubbled up and snapped suddenly. Cum shot out of you in sticky, hot ropes. Your orgasm was almost never ending. Every time you thought it was over, she'd keep pushing you.

Wanda kept milking you until you'd gone soft. Her tongue slipped out of your hole. She wasted no time licking up the cum dripping down your chest and stomach. A deep, guttural moan escaped her lips at the taste of your cum. Her eyes glowed a deep red for a brief second. Wanda looked into your eyes and smirked. "I never want to see you with anyone else. Got it?"

You looked into her eyes and suddenly felt so tired. It was like a trance. There were a lot of questions going through your mind but you were too weak to ask any of them. "Got it." Was the only thing you could manage to say.

Wanda affectionately scratched your head. You were like a pet to her. "Let's get you cleaned up," She kissed your cheek before lifting you up and taking you to your bedroom.

You were grateful for her immense strength and gentleness. There was no way you'd be able to walk all the way to your room after that. You only vaguely heard Wanda's request that you not fall asleep while she prepared a bath for you. As tired as you were, there was something subconsciously urging you to stay awake as she requested. You rolled over slowly when Wanda returned from the bathroom. "Are you like…in my head forever now?" You asked sleepily.

Your question caught Wanda off guard. She didn't answer your question at first. Instead, she rolled you onto your stomach. It was only then that she had the answer to your question. "It appears so." She said calmly. Her fingers traced the tattoo now permanently etched into your skin. "Don't worry, I'll be kind to you..if you behave."

[cherigu]

— ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ All Mine!

Paring: dom!jk x sub!reader Genre: smut, ex2l Word Count: 4.7k Warnings: f*ngering, orgsm denial, praise, finger scking, unprtected pnetrative s*x, very jealous jk

The hardships of adulting have yet to receive their justice, as people only ever tend to talk about the good parts. Everyone deals with it differently, whether by coping healthily or downright ignoring it. Maybe that’s why no one ever talks about how hard it is, they’re too busy coping to warn you. 

Your friend group was an exception of some sort, choosing to land right in the middle of the two options. Their idea of unwinding was a night out with a side of drinks.

You knew that joining them wouldn’t be the best option for your well-being. He always knew how to get on your last nerve without even speaking to you.

The shit-eating grin he’d throw you across the club because he knew you were eyeing him down. It’s not like you had much control over what caught your attention. 

That stupid Calvin Klein shirt, you had once loved so much, the brand also peeking out from his baggy jeans on the waistband of his boxers. Sleeves folded upward to expose more of his tattoos, dark ink contrasting with the dark fabric of his clothes.

And finally, the curly locks of fluffy brown hair that fell atop his face, slightly covering those big, bright doe eyes that would darken in jealousy as the night went on.

“y/n, baby, you’re here” Jennie called out as you made your way to the full table, watching her stand up to greet you with a quick hug. You waved to everyone, saying a quick greeting before Jennie stopped you from going towards the seats.

“Not too quick, give us a spin” She held your hand and turned you, whistling as you gave her a 360 of your look.

“So beautiful, it’ll be a shame if no one takes you to their place tonight.” she winked, making you giggle at her compliment. You didn’t dress up for anyone, in particular, tonight but rather took the opportunity of a night out to put the club dresses to use. 

The skimpy black dress did a poor job of covering anything up, from the low v-neck that showed off more than enough cleavage, to the backless cut that exposed the small of your waist from behind.

Your plump ass was threatening to spill from the glittery material, thick thighs out on full display for everyone. You’d for sure steal hearts tonight, and maybe a one-night stand if you had just enough liquid courage.

“The only person I’d let take me home is you, Jen” You teased back cheekily, finally following her to the sofa seats circling the table. “Don’t play, ‘cause you know I’ll do it” She half-seriously warned, dropping back onto her seat and picking up a shot from the table. 

You scanned the seats around the table for a vacant spot, not only landing your gaze on Jeongguk’s scrutinizing stare but also on the only two empty seats.

One is next to Jeongguk, and the other is next to Hyunjin. To protect your peace tonight you’d choose the latter, although you knew there was no way to guarantee that as long as Jeongguk was present.

But you were petty after all, and you loved to push his buttons just as much as he loved to push yours. Hyunjin was an attractive dude, not as hot as Jeongguk, but he’d do it for the night, especially being in the same friend group.

Looking past his great looks, he was annoying and too far up his ass for your own good. Absolutely not your type of man, but definitely someone that would grind Jeongguk’s gears.

The two of you had a long streak of being on and off, currently broken up after a stupid argument you quite frankly don’t remember how it started. At least you knew it ended in you storming out of his apartment and swearing you’d never speak to him again.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

“You always fucking do this Jeongguk” You raised your voice, walking out of his bedroom into the kitchen for some space. You might as well have stayed in the room, though, as he followed right behind you anyway.

“And you don’t? The only reason you don’t realize it is because I never bitch and whine about it, unlike you” He stared at your frame as you quickly turned around, walking towards him with your finger pointed in his direction.

“Because there is nothing to bitch and whine about, anything I do will never be nearly half as bad as the shit you always pull on me” Shoving your finger in his chest, you hear him scoff.

“Why don’t you leave then? If you think I’m such a horrible person why don’t you get your shit and get out of here, huh?"

“Y’know what, I will!” 

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

And with that, you turned towards the living room. Anger flooding the room and making its way inside your system, turning every moment after that into a blur. From the rapidness in which you snagged your keys off the keyholder, to the loud bang of the door as you slammed it shut. 

You don’t even remember how you got to Jennie’s house after that, all you know is that she nervously stood outside the guest room in confusion at the lack of sobs coming from your side.

She would’ve expected to hear a few cries, especially after how angrily she had heard you tell her he was dead to you. But this had become a normal experience, not even worth the tear-shed at this point.

So here you were now, only 2 shots into the night and already flirty for a reason. Your sweet giggles at Hyunjin’s compliments had him pulling you close enough to have you practically sitting on his lap. Normally, you’d be rolling your eyes and walking away at this point, but you had an unofficial mission.

You took advantage of the situation and increased the skin-ship between the two of you. A delicate hand grazing over the undone buttons of his exposed chest and your body leaning towards his own just enough to be in his embrace.

Given the woozy state of the two of you, both had grown bold throughout the night. “You’re so sweet” You fake-smiled at him as his hand trailed further up your thigh, resting right where your dress ended to rub his thumb along your soft skin.

“It’s true, you look gorgeous tonight. Bet it was all for me, hm?” He asked with the familiar cockiness in his tone.

You responded with a coy smile, slowly inching towards his ear, “That's for you to decide, are you worthy of it?” you whispered, dropping a daring kiss to the side of his neck.

You felt his hand drop to the side of your thigh and travel upwards, landing right on the swell of your ass before giving it a tight squeeze. “Let me prove it to you.”

If you weren’t so caught up in your act, you would’ve noticed the flare in Jeongguk’s nostrils as he downed another shot. He didn’t care that the two of you weren’t technically together, you were only his to have.

He’d be damned if another man did so much as look at you a certain way, so for Hyunjin to have you the way he did right now, you might as well take him right in front of Jeongguk and it’d have the same effect.

Rage coursed through his veins, traveling up to his brain and consuming every last of his emotions. His clenched jaw matched his balled fists as he fought the urge to just get up and rock his shit in front of everyone. That way, anyone who even planned to speak to you would know the consequences.

“Yo” Mingyu nudged him, “Can you make it any more obvious?” He teased, nodding his head to where you and Hyunjin were, only to drop the smile quickly when he realized Jeongguk didn’t laugh. His burning stare never left the two of you, shamelessly feeling each other up without any regard for the rest of the table. 

Jennie was quick to catch on, not really paying any more attention to her conversation with Wendy anymore. After overhearing Mingyu’s comment, she turned over to Jeongguk who looked like he was ready to jump out of his seat. 

“Alright enough drinks, let’s go dance” She got up, motioning her hands for everyone to get up onto the dance floor to which everyone complied. Except for an obvious one, Jeongguk, who strayed from the mob and ran off to a place only he’d know.

The dance floor was packed with hot bodies secreting the gross stench of sweat mixed with alcohol. The crowd left no room for proximity, forcing your body to press up against Hyunjin’s. Without Jeongguk in sight, you couldn’t even force yourself to keep up the act.

But after a few dances and what felt like forever, you finally located his tall frame amongst the sea of people. As if on cue, you pressed your black flush against Hyunjin’s chest, loosely enveloping your arms around his neck. You moved your hips to the beat, softly grinding yourself in contact with his body.

The sensuality of your moves made him grip your waist and match your movements, gaze entirely fixed on you and unaware of the burning eye contact you held with Jeongguk across the club.

It was like seeing a direct reflection of yourself, replacing Hyunjin with Jeongguk and you with a random girl. An arrogant smirk grew on Jeongguk’s face when you dropped your vision to the blonde girl, shooting daggers when she annoyingly arched her back against Jeongguk’s body.

Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about who was pressing their ass against his crotch right now. If it wasn’t you, he wouldn’t react. All he wanted to do was chip at your walls, and see how easily you’d crumble when you catch him playing a fair game.

Suddenly not in the mood, you pause your movements when the song comes to an end, quickly excusing yourself from Hyunjin and heading toward the bathroom.

Jeongguk wasted no time in departing from the girl, eager to chase after you but quickly losing you after the obnoxious voice and short frame obstructed his path. 

“Where are you going?” She whined while pouting, making Jeongguk’s nose crinkle in disgust. “Bathroom” He dryly responded, eyes scanning the room for any sign of his pretty, but oh-so-bratty girl. 

He attempted to move, only to end up in the same place as before since the girl refused to move, tugging on his arm. “Can you at least give me your number, in case I lose you?” She batted her eyelashes in a failed attempt to charm him.

“Like hell, I would. Move lady.” He quickly responded, slightly pushing her aside once she didn’t bother to resist. No other girl other than you would ever have his phone number, you’re the only one who would ever need it, and the only one he’d respond to.

He freed himself from the situation and rapidly approached the bathroom hall where he spotted you disappearing into. Once caught up, he followed you into the bathroom, swiftly pushing both of your bodies inside and locking the door with a hurried motion to avoid anyone noticing.

“Jeongguk what th-” He cut your question short by pressing his long digit against your lips, emitting a demanding shush before departing from you to check the stalls.

Once confirming it was empty, he leaned back against the wall, slightly chuckling at your angry stance with your arms crossed over your chest.

“So, are you done with your whole theater?” He asked smugly, watching a wave of panic flash through your eyes, leaving just as fast as it came.

“Are you drunk? What are you talking about?” You huffed defensively.

“You seemed pretty bored dancing with him when you thought I wasn’t watching” He paused, “Then all of a sudden you throw yourself onto him when you saw me, gonna tell me tonight isn’t an act?” 

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about, just let me go”

Despite the blaring music outside, the bathroom fell so silent you’d be able to hear a pin drop. Your eyes met his face before switching to his arms, and then to the door next to him.

The air that came out of his nose resembled a laugh, a mocking one at that when he noticed you connecting the dots.

“ ‘M not holding you back, or blocking the door. The only grasp you’re fighting against is your own, baby” And just like that, every wall you worked so hard to build tonight, came crashing down like a ton of bricks.

You could lie to yourself and be in denial all you wanted, but at the end of the day, there was a reason you only put up the act while Jeongguk was looking. You wanted him to feel jealous, to make him miss you as much as you did him.

Despite the petty arguments and fights, Jeongguk would forever be the man you are willing to come back to a million times over again. And each of those million times would always be worth it.

He began to step closer to you, “I’ll give you an option right now. You can either choose to leave,” His body was centimeters away from being fully pressed up against you, making you feel the heat radiating off of his body on your exposed skin.

He brought a gentle finger up to your chin, lifting your face to look up at him as he spoke his last words, “Or stay”

Your voice failed to reach your throat, parting your lips only to hear nothing come out of them. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils and vanished every last bit of sanity you had in you. Your voice was barely audible, coming out as a whisper at best. “Wanna stay.”

The two rings on the corner of his mouth danced as his lips curled into a devilish grin, bringing the pad of his thumb to brush your bottom lip.

“That’s a good girl” He whispered. His words entered your system and wasted no time shooting straight to your core, dissolving into pure arousal that dripped from your empty hole. 

He pressed his body onto yours, making you lean back into the sink that dug into your back. He positioned his knee in between your legs and pressed against your core, making you mewl at the much-needed friction. You instinctively leaned in to kiss him, furrowing your brows in confusion when you felt the lack of warmth on your lips.

“You think you deserve my lips after yours were on someone who wasn’t me?” He tutted, raising his knee farther up to raise your dress. You weakly moved your head from side to side, suddenly feeling extreme regret for all of your senseless acts tonight.

“Do you think you deserve my touch at all..?” He asked as he felt your hips slowly begin to grind down on his thigh, feeling a slight dampness soak through his jeans.

“N-no, but I wan’ it”

“Then beg for it, princess” 

You whined in a complaint, “Can’t always give you everything you want. That's how spoiled brats are made, you gotta use your manners” He hummed to quickly shut down your protests.

“Please, gukkie, p-please touch me” 

His hand trailed lower down your body, landing his large hand on your thigh. “Where do you want me to touch you?” He teased, moving his hand involuntarily when you took it upon yourself to pick it up and place it over your clothed core, “Here..”

He groaned at the feel of the drenched lace. He rubbed the sticky fluids over the soft material of your panties, gaining a high-pitched moan from you as the pleasure began to travel throughout your body. His fingers rubbing circles on your clothed core combined with the friction of your panties to make your tummy grow ablaze.

The heat was quick to cool down momentarily when he halted his movements to peel off the underwear from your body, letting it pool around your ankles.

“Be good for me and don’t cum til I say so, yeah?” 

“Mhmm” you hummed in agreement.

You watched as his tattooed hand dipped between your thighs, connecting the pads of his middle and ring finger against your puffy clit and beginning to rub figure 8’s on the swollen skin. The glint of the silver band wrapped around his digit glowed underneath the light, making you inevitably look down.

Desperation to feel him overcame your body, biting down on your cherry lips to hold back from catching an attitude with him, knowing he’d be cruel enough to leave you hot and bothered for the rest of the night if you didn't take what he gave.

 He swiveled his fingers further down and prodded your aching hole with a finger to tease you, circling your entrance before moving inside.

He started with lazy movements to prep you for the second finger he wasted no time in adding once your body was relaxed enough.

His fingers slightly curled inwards as he fully entered your core, pulling a soft whimper out of you when you felt the coolness of his rings come in contact with your hot folds.

“Sensitive, hm?” He smiled and watched you nod, too needy to even speak. You felt full from two fingers already, and you knew it’d be nothing compared to his cock.

You pushed your body further down to help his fingers reach impossibly deeper inside you. The desire to feel every part of him fill you up was overwhelming, causing your hips to begin feverishly grinding down on his fingers.

“Mmm,” you moaned out, “Feel so full, wan’ feel good.”

Jeongguk’s pupils dilated at your neediness for him. You were already submitting yourself to him so well after only having used his fingers, which was the most exciting reminder that you did in fact love the way he made you feel. No one would be able to compare to how good he was with your body.

“Be patient, love. I’ll take care of you”

He began to set a stable pace while watching his fingers pump in and out of your leaking hole, creating a squelching sound due to the fluid fighting against his fingers to roll down your thighs. 

“So wet baby..” He groaned.

 “Just for y-you” You heaved, heavily exhaling from your mouth from the pleasure as you continued to rock your hips back and forth to match the speed.

“Yea?” He smugly smirked as he picked up the pace, scissoring his fingers to stretch out your plush walls and find the gummy tissue inside of you, “This pussy’s all for me?” 

“Oh fuck— yea! All for you, just for you” You babbled.

The mix of his rapid movements and the repeated stimulation of your sweet spot had you rolling your eyes back, tightening your grip on the porcelain sink behind you as you fought to keep your wobbly legs from giving out.

He watched as you threw your head back and tightened your thighs around his moving hand. Your walls pulsed around his curled fingers as you felt your high rapidly approach you due to his relentless movements. The knot in your stomach was dangerously close to bursting, so much so that you even began to hear the ringing in your ears.

“Shit— ah, gukkie! ‘m so close” Losing all composure, you began to mindlessly beg for release while you barely held on to hold it back as per instruction.

And just as you were on the verge of tipping over, Jeongguk seized his fingers from your body completely, eliciting a loud whine from your swollen lips.

The protest was short-lived as Jeongguk was quick to raise his fingers to your mouth, tapping twice and leaving the residue of your fluids on your lips.

“Suck” He ordered, pushing his fingers inside of your mouth as he felt your tongue roll around them. Once sucked clean, he pulled back his digits with a small pop of your lips that quickly melted back to an upset pout.

“Want you to cum around my cock, princess” He manhandled your body on top of the sink counter and landed a slap to the side of your thigh, helping you sit comfortably because he knew the last thing you’d be able to do is stand after he was done with you. “You gonna let me?” He asked, to which you quickly responded with a yes.

You admired his physique as he worked quickly to unzip his jeans once he heard your answer, pulling his underwear along with the pants in a quick motion. His painfully erect cock stood tall and proud with drops of precum sitting prettily on the slit, ready to bury itself inside of your heat.

Your eyes fought to decide what to focus on as you watched Jeongguk’s inked hand snuggly wrap around his cock, fisting it a few times to coat the shaft with his natural lube.

On the other hand, his beautiful face was slightly scrunched in pleasure, knitted eyebrows sitting atop his shut eyes as he concentrated on pumping himself in preparation.

“Shit” His parted lips allowed the quiet puffs and hisses to escape from his mouth, quickly pressing it shut once he was ready to be inside of you.

You parted your legs slightly in eagerness to feel him inside of you, letting him align his engorged tip on your hole. “T-too big” you whined when he pushed in.

“ ‘s only the tip, baby” He never stopped sinking himself deeper, “I know you can take it, my sweet girl” And with that, he bottomed out, enjoying your beautiful moans as you adjusted to his girthy size. Your legs wrapped around Jeongguk’s waist not only for support but to pull his body closer to yours.

His hands formed a steady grip on your thighs and began to move his hips rhythmically, soaking in the growing sound of skin slapping as well as the feel of your juices coating his flexed thighs.

His breathing grew shaky when he decided to look down at where your bodies met, his cock perfectly fitting into your tight and pretty pussy. “Oh, yes, yes, yes” Your lips trembled as the string of yesses spilled from your mouth.

“Fuck” He tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Such a perfect cunt” His voice is heavy with lust, working the obscene words towards the heat pooling in your belly once again.

“Mhmm, you fuck me so good- ahh” Your voice got stuck in his throat when he delivered a particularly hard thrust. “Yea? Only I can fuck you like this, hm?” 

By this point, he was now pounding into your pussy mercilessly, almost as if he was trying to get his point across. “Say it baby, say ‘m the only one who fucks you this good” 

It was hard to speak when Jeongguk was drilling his dick into your insides, rubbing all of your sweet spots at once and successfully knocking all of the thoughts out of your head. “O-only you… Fuck me t-this good, only you Jeongguk”

You felt his dick throb inside of you in satisfaction with the words that came out of your mouth, motivating him to further defend his point. “Princess like you needs a man to fuck her right, yea? Not a little boy.” 

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, as was his. “Tell me, would Hyunjin fuck you silly like I do? Hm? Tell me, baby” His tone was soft, not comforting soft, but more like the calm before a storm.

He expressed his underlying anger through his movements, becoming more erratic at the thought of any other man having you spread out for them. 

“ ‘m yours gukkie, no one else’s ” The pain of holding back your orgasm began to become unbearable, causing your eyes to screw shut to avoid the tears falling.

“Thats right, no one else can know your body like I do, touch you like I do, have you all spread out ‘n pretty like I do” His hips began to stutter in movement but never failed to deliciously stimulate your insides, “No one– fuck, can love you like I do”

Your eyes shot open at his foreign-feeling words after not hearing them for a while. Tears from the stimulation fell from your glossy eyes onto your pink flushed cheeks, and even with mascara running down them, Jeongguk still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d die before he’d ever lose you without a fight. 

“Can cum now baby, cum with me” His breathy voice lingered in your ears, feeling his hips ram into your own one last time before his thrusts became slow and sharp.

“Look at me when you do” He used one of his free hands to gently wipe away the hair that stuck to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead. 

He stared deeply into your eyes lovingly, letting you know how much you truly mean to him despite the obstacles that come across too often. “I l-love you, love you, so much” you whispered through shallow pants. 

“Don’t stop— ‘m coming Jeongguk, please, right th-ere, Oh fuck” You finally relaxed your tense body and allowed yourself to tip over the edge, feeling Jeongguk pound himself into you as he pumped his long ropes of white cum deep inside. “That’s right, princess. Cum for me, shit” 

The white light consumed your entire vision, being able to see nothing but Jeongguk’s adoring gaze as you fell apart beneath him. His whiny groans went up a few octaves in your ears as his own high washed over him.

Your orgasms came in sync, allowing the two of you to experience an elevated state of euphoria together. Your heat swallowed his twitching cock repeatedly into your throbbing hole while you rode out your highs.

He admired the way your pretty face melted into pleasure as you came, mouth agape and so inviting for him to press his lips against, and he just couldn't hold back.

He caught your plump lips in his, taking his time in savoring your taste while he slowly began to decrease the speed of his pumps before softly pulling out.

The post-orgasm haze began to hit you hard, making your limbs feel like jelly and giving you the extreme desire to hold Jeongguk close.

You knew that if you held him now, you'd stick by him all the way to his apartment. While it didn't seem like a bad idea at the moment, you knew that you needed to be more level-headed to begin approaching this situation.

While you caught your breath, he took a second to admire the collective mess the two of you had made, a combination of your fluids pooled at your entrance and threatening to spill.

He used a single digit to push the mix of release back inside of your abused cunt, earning a small no more Jeongguk, before retrieving it.

 “Just making sure nothing goes to waste” He bent down to wrap his fingers around the thin lace material of your panties, sliding them back towards your hips to cover you up.

“It's gonna run down my thighs, gukkie” You jutted out your bottom lip slightly, “At least everyone will know you have someone who fucks you right” He cockily smiled, landing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Not funny, 's not like anyone would want to approach me while I look like this anyway” You pointed to your sex hair and smeared mascara. “Bet that guy Hyunjin would anyway, probably still waiting on you right now too” 

“Quiet” The sound of skin-on-skin contact mixed with the sound of Jeongguk chuckle, earning a slap to his bicep at the Hyunjin mention. As much as you’d like to forget and move on, you knew he was most likely still waiting for you.

“Hmm, y’know what?” He looked down at his spread-out hand, sliding off the band of silver from his pointer finger, reaching out to take your hand in his. “What are you doing?” You questioned only to earn no response as he simply continued to transfer the jewelry onto your ring finger.

“There you go, now he’ll even know you already have someone who loves you right too.” 

And if it wasn't the disheveled hair or slight sheen coating your inner thighs, it’d be the JK initials that sit so perfectly around your ring finger that’d let anyone in the club, especially Hyunjin, know that you weren’t alone. 

“You’re all mine.”

A/N: who caught the seven references 🙈

[rowretro]

If your requests are open, can I get hard yandere Jake or Ni-Ki where they punish reader for escaping and staying with one of their friends?

𝕺𝖍 𝖒𝖞 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌…

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, mentions of blood, manipulation(?), shirtless-ish riki, somewhat gore, mentions of sex

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

"Oh my sweet little y/n... I knew you were stupid but for you to be this stupid?!..." Riki tutted, a mocking pout on his lips, his shirt drenched with the blood of someone you called a friend. He barely knew you, yet he befriended you just because he knew you were in the danger of Riki. Your stupid self just had to believe Riki wouldn't know that the motherfucker would be keeping you in his house.

He was pissed. No he was beyond pissed, words can not explain how bad of a decision she made. Riki wasn't too into murdering people or ripping them apart, but for her? god a little blood on his hands was nothing let alone stabbing a dagger with her name encrypted into this so called friend of hers? heck he could even leave the body out because not even a family member was there to want him.

"Oh well... he lived a miserable life anyway.... this was your fault y/n. You know better than to trust a strangers word over mine. Fuck the fact you trusted another man. went into his house. wore his shirt. AND FUCKING LEFT ME?!" He finally yelled causing her to flinch, he stabbed him crazily as you screamed for him to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks. "STOP CRYING FOR HIM!" he screamed, slapping her painfully on her cheek.

he knelt down before her dark eyes, peircing into her as he groaned, he threw off his shirt "Mother fucker got his filthy blood all over my comfortable t-shirt. The one you should be wearing right now." he sharply said. The man was pissed. He slapped her yet again, ripping off the T-shirt she wore as she carried her and dropped her in the bathtub.

He didn't care that it was hurting her, he turned the tap on as he applied soap to the sponge and aggressively rubbed on her skin. "I know you wouldn't sleep with him. But you still hugged him. You still went in his house and sat on his rubbish sofa. Fuck imagine all the germs in that shithole you went to." He spat as he chucked the sponge at her and yanked her hair. "Clean yourself up and go to bed." He simply said before leaving the restroom.

"Oh no... I hurt my poor y/n oh sweetie... You need to know what you did is awful... you need to feel the pain I did... but I won't make it hurt as much as you hurt me because I love you... you can tell me anything.... did you have sex with this fucker?! is that why you're wearing his ugly shirt?!!!" Riki asked, as She stared in horror, and disgust. Riki chuckled

That very night, was the first time Riki hurt her, though it hurt him more to hurt her. He stepped out of the shower, smiling as he saw Y/n sitting on his bed, wearing his sweater, how it fell just off of her shoulder, her tears gone as she reached out to hug him, she just needed comfort... and she accepted her fate.

"So cute, I know you won't do something like that with some low life... awww my sweet innocent y/nie, so vulnerable and gullible, sweetheart, he's a pervert, he lied to you, he did this so he can use your precious body. You know I've never done and never will do that you know why? because I love you..." Riki explained as he cradled her in his arms.

He palnted soft kisses on her face "Oh my poor darling y/n... don't ever leave me... I can't live without you!" He said as Y/n placed a soft kiss on his plump lips, giving into his toxic love. She can't help it though... isn't it a good thing that he'd even kill for her?.... so many men have only hurt her, humiliated her or wanted to hook up with her but Riki... Riki loves her...

✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧❁✧

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

The Hashira and their Sense of Humor

Apologies for the hiatus! A lot has happened over the last couple of months and I'm finally getting some of them (somewhat) resolved through therapy and A LOT of patience with myself. So here's a post that I written back in October that brings me so much joy! Thank you all for your patience ^^

Word count: 2k~

Mitsuri Kanroji

You know those types of people who want to tell you a really funny story but they need to stop laughing first?

And they've been laughing for the past fifteen minutes?

Yeah that's Mitsuri

I'm not entirely sure what to categorize this either than comedic storytelling

She could probably be a standup comedian too, she has some good stories to tell

But Mitsuri is really in her element when when someone else is telling a mildly amusing story

She will just keep adding onto it to somehow make it even more funnier than it was originally intended

Misturi could make an inside joke between you guys too, she is the designated funny friend of the Hashira

I also feel like she sometimes makes self-deprecating jokes, but not on any serious topics

Like she enjoys poking fun at the fact that she's still single

For an example, Mitsuri and Shinobu could be making an order at a restaurant for lunch

By the time Mitsuri finishes her first round of food and hands the dishes to the waiter, she accidentally drops them causing all the plates and bowls to shatter all over the floor

She tries to help clean up but the staff insists that she shouldn't worry about it

Sitting back down with Shinobu, cheeks red from embarrassment, Mitsuri will crack an awkward smile and say "Yeah, this is why I'm still single!"

Obanai Iguro

Obanai is the most sarcastic motherfucker on this list

I feel like his number one policy is "Don't ask me stupid questions"

He's already annoyed like 70% of the time, just don't annoy him even more

But then again...

"Hey Obanai, did you lose this?" "No I was just playing hide and seek with an inanimate object for fun, YES I fucking dropped it"

"You look really tired, are you doing okay?" "Hell yeah, nothing says healthy like eye bags as dark as my hair"

"Can I pet your snake?" "Yeah you just gotta let him nibble you first but don't worry, he's only venomous"

Usually he's kinda rude about it but he does have his nice moments

"Hey Obanai, can you pass me that?" Obanai will just say no but hand and just hand it to you anyways

Some people just don't understand sarcasm all the time and that's when he kinda runs into some trouble

Obanai and Kyojuro were walking to a meeting together, but Obanai had forgotten his jacket AND haori

It was quite chilly outside too, so poor Obanai was shivering while trying to keep Kaburamaru warm

Kyojuro asked Obanai "My friend, winter is coming! Aren't you cold?"

Obanai deadpanned and said "Of course not, I'm just practicing my acting. Glad to see that my shivering is that convincing"

"How interesting! Maybe you should audition for a play at the theatre!"

Obanai's annoyance kept him warm for the rest of the day

Tengen Uzui

Quite an obvious statement, but Tengen’s humor mainly comprises of sex jokes and innuendos

The man has three wives, of course he would find that shit funny

Like he will be in the middle of a meeting, and everyone will line up to receive some gifts from Kagaya

He will say "Come in a straight line, my students"

Tengen will chuckle and say "That's what she said"

Tengen is also the type to be "gay with the homies" and loves to embarrass Sanemi and Obanai by making jokes about being in love or hooking up with them

He chooses specifically those two because it felt awkward to make the jokes to Gyomei

Tengen once spent forty-five minutes explaining to Kyojuro that he didn't actually want to buy him dinner after Kyojuro gave him a genuinely offended look to the highest degree

"How deceitful of you, Tengen"

He pretty much wrote off saying jokes like that to Kyojuro following that incident, but he really can't help himself sometimes

I don't think that Tengen solely has generic innuendos he uses on everyone, he likes testing what SPECIFIC category of sex jokes makes people uncomfortable

Like if Giyu goes to the bathroom, Tengen will saunter up with a finger gun on his chin and ask "Pissing all by yourself, handsome?"

Everyone is throwing their shoes at him

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Of course this sadistic bastard likes slapstick, what we’re you thinking?

He may be good at holding in a laugh, but you can still see that stupid smirk on his face if anyone stumbles

One time Tengen's six foot ass fell face first while running late to a meeting

Sanemi actually struggled to keep his composure that day, he had to bite his lips together to hide the uncontrollable grin on his face

People getting smacked upside the head, tripping others, people getting violently angry, Sanemi loves it all

He refuses to admit that Zenitsu is funny

Now a regular civilian is one thing, but children getting roughed up is another

there was a particular incident where Sanemi had come across some kids swinging on a tree branch near a market he occasionally visited

This week ass branch definitely didn't have the strength to hold up any of those kids

So Sanemi did what any sane person would, and stuck around to watch this disaster happen

Well unfortunately for this one child, the branch snapped mid-swing and fell right on their face

And there was Sanemi, a hand over his stomach from laughing at these dumb kids

He didn't even stop to help them or anything, just calmed down from laughing so hard and walked away to continue shopping

Shinobu Kocho

An absolute queen of insult humor

Even Sanemi can’t beat Shinobu at her best

Do you even think she would stick with the basic ass jokes? Of course not

She can be an absolute menace if she really wants to

Shinobu is just tired of everyone's shit, and she can get even more exhausted from putting on that smile nearly as much as Kyojuro

She just can't keep up

Which brings me to my main point, which is that Shinobu's funny side usually comes out in rants or vents with the people closest to her

She and Mitsuri both express their humor by storytelling, Shinobu's just originates more from anger an annoyance rather than an effort to be entertaining

Regardless of who Shinobu's around, everyone can tell that when she walks through the door with steam coming out of her ears, everyone's gonna be laughing their asses off

As anyone can agree if they've worked in any form of customer service, there are some days where you are so damn close to breaking your cool

When Tengen got placed in the Butterfly Estate's infirmary, Shinobu was actually going to kill a patient instead of saving them for once

Like this man was just demanding shit and teasing his friend left and right, and Aoi had never been so afraid of her mentor in her entire life

Aoi tried to calm her down, "Sticks and stones Shinobu, don't let him get to you!"

Tengen only snickered

Ooooo, she lost her shit

"Sticks and stones may break my bones but PLEASE. FUCK. OFF"

Angy Shinobu is best Shinobu

Kyojuro Rengoku

Look me in the eyes and tell me Kyojuro doesn’t like puns

I know you can't do it

He will howl with laughter nearly every time you tell him a pun

"Hey Kyo, you're never gonna believe it! Remember my friend with a bakery? Well it just burned down!"

At first he'll show genuine concern, politely shouting "How unfortunate!"

"Don't worry about it, his business is toast"

Give him a minute...

"Ahahaha! Good one!"

Not only does he like being told puns, but if he has a good opportunity to tell a well timed pun he will not stop giggling until he tells it

One time you, Tengen, Mitsuri, and Kyojuro were all trying to decide where to eat after a long day of work

At one point Tengen suggested hotpot, even offering to take you all to one that Makio and Suma liked

Kyojuro tried muffling his laughing, but his attention was redirected when you asked him what he thought of the idea

Finally able to cease his giggles, Kyojuro proudly shouted "SOUPER"

It doesn't matter if you find the joke funny or not, Kyojuro's laughter is so contagious that you're dying at the silly pun

What a fucking dork <3

Giyu Tomioka

If there was a form of comedy that’s applicable at any given moment, Giyu would use it on a daily basis

Luckily for him, Giyu discovered it very quicky and refuses to let the tactic go

That's right, Giyu is physically incapable of stopping himself from making a "your mom" joke

Everyone can blame Obanai for that one

Quite literally at any opportunity, Giyu will mutter the phrase under his breath

Unfortunately, because it has become such an unconscious thing for Giyu, this bad habit of his ends up kicking his ass at the worst of times

with all due respect to Giyu's efforts, it just makes him unintentionally funny

in an awkward way

Giyu visited one of his favourite restaurants on his day off, the waiter asked "Is there anything else you would like, sir?" after giving his order

Now Giyu didn't mean it, he really didn't

It just slipped out of his mouth so easily

"Your mom"

Let me tell you, the silence was absolutely deafening

After the two stared at each other in mutual confusion, Giyu just wordlessly left due to the sheer embarrassment and awkwardness he had caused

He tried to go back, truly, Giyu made the effort and walked through the door

But he made uncomfortable eye contact with that same waiter and walked out

He hasn't gone back to that restaurant since ;,)

Gyomei Himijima

I have already established in my Gyomei Headcannons post that Gyomei is the dad friend of the Hashira (go check out that post if you haven’t btw ^^)

So of course he's going to make dad jokes, everyone saw this coming

God forbid you ever complain around him, he will see it as an opportunity (usually)

"Man, I'm really hungry" Gyomei will hand you a bento box and say "Hi hungry, I'm prepared

He is THAT GUY that makes "I haven't seen you since last year!" jokes

Every single year without fail

Shockingly, Gyomei and Kyojuro will bond over their mutual love for super corny jokes

One time while training Genya, Gyomei asked him "Child, what is long and sticky?"

Genya paused his routine to think for a moment, slightly disturbed by the question

"I don't know what you- fresh mochi?" Gyomei shook his head

Genya made a claw gesture with his hands, knowing Gyomei couldn't see it

"No idea, what's long and sticky?"

Gyomei gave a small, sly smile before responding

"A stick, little one"

To be honest, Gyomei's jokes do annoy some of the Hashira whenever he makes them (mainly Shinobu, Obanai and Tengen)

Normally because he's so calm about it

Tengen usually is one to lose his temper over it though

"You really got a joke for about everything, huh?" "Indeed I do, Tengen. I even have one about construction"

Tengen's eye will twitch as he taunts Gyomei "Oh yeah? Well let's hear it then!"

"I'm afraid I can't, my friend. I'm still working on it"

Kyojuro's laugh echoes throughout the meeting as Tengen realizes he most definitely walked into that one

Muichiro Tokito

His sense of humor is weird

That’s all I have, anything that Muichiro finds funny is actually kinda strange

He does this thing where he will go in with a fistbump, but change it to a high five last second

Muichiro can do it the other way around too, but regardless it results in this silly fist-five thing that makes him chuckle

He's a little bit of a devious child so his sense of humor kinda comes from whatever will annoy the other Hashira

Sometimes he will sit in the middle of a meeting and just blow raspberries while spacing out a little

It annoys the fuck out of Sanemi and Obanai because Muichiro's spit gets EVERYWHERE

Even Giyu thinks that kid comes with his own splash zone

He's not one for pranks per say, but he likes reaping a bit of terror amongst the other Hashira

One time Muichiro stole Tengen's red eyeliner one weekend purely for entertainment

the next day when everyone showed up to the meeting, people got to witness a very distressed Tengen

Holding up Sanemi and Obanai midair by the collar of their shirts, Tengen interrogated the both of them where they hid his shockingly expensive liner

Of course no one would suspect the slobbering kid, who was inconspicuously blowing raspberries

Had anyone asked Muichiro if he saw Tengen's liner, Muichiro would turn to the fuming man and giggle

Secretly, Aoi is Muichiro's unknowing accomplice in these scenarios

"Here Aoi, could you hold this for a while?" "Uhh, sure? What is it for?" "Hmm? Oh nothing..."

Don't underestimate this little shit

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Hey y’all! Hope you liked this post, it was such a pleasure to write it ^^

I’m hoping that now I’ll be able to write more for this blog now that I have more time, and I have more posts lined up in the future :)

Ask box and requests are still open, just please read the rules before submitting anything!

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[2] Room 7

You pity every poor woman whose husband has made a quick run to The Florists just for him to return home with glitter on his clothes instead of a bouquet.

It’s been proven time and time again that the only flowers men enjoy are the ones that dance. Soft stems swaying in the faux wind of the club, eye catching color hypnotizing them into staying for the show. They enjoy the layers. Those soft stigmas that protrude from the core. They enjoy toying with them; picking the petals off one by one until they get the answer to their question.

“Chrysanthemum! You’re up!” 

Rich ochre flashes behind you in the mirror as Chrys passes by to get to the stage, and she takes care to playfully slap the exposed flesh of your ass on her way. Grinning, you twist in your scanty attire, teeth framed perfectly with blood-red lipstick. 

“Keep doing that and I’ll have to follow you home,” you tease. 

Looking over her shoulder, Chrys chuckles. “Yeah, says you and everyone else in this joint. Don’t worry, love, I’ll warm them up for you.” 

She vanishes from the room just in time for someone to douse themselves in thick, expensive perfume as if it’s disinfectant. It’s thick and floral — which is fitting, considering the theme of the club — but it’s utterly unwelcomed. It invades your lungs, and you fight the urge to cough lest you ruin your perfectly applied lipstick. 

Fog grows on the full length mirror as you huff against it, fixing the corner of your false lashes before stepping back to take a look at yourself. Having worked as an exotic dancer for some time now, there is very little you’re self conscious about. Red, yellow, and periwinkle lingerie press your tits together and compliment your ass to turn you into the perfect sex toy — beautiful petals to be gawked at by the men surrounding the stage you’re about to dance on. Caked on makeup coats your features so thickly your own face can hardly shine through, and the synthetic curls of icy blue hair down your back render you unrecognizable.

Right now, you are not Miss. Lolly. You are not the darling primary school teacher in a pretty dress, lecturing students about dinosaurs and maths. You are something else — someone else.

“Why don’t you just date him? You guys are already shagging in the back anyway.” 

“Are you trying to get me fired? Keep your fucking voice low.” 

There’s no need to look behind you in order to see who’s talking; you’re more than well aware of Daisy’s… situation. A secret lover with cash to burn and emotions to spew. Borderline prostitution isn’t exactly highly regarded in this industry. It could get the club in severe legal trouble if it was found out one of the dancers gave away more than a quick grope, but all the flowers at The Florists know how to keep their pretty lips sealed shut. 

“The only reason we fuck is because he has good dick and gives amazing tips,” Daisy explains as she twirls her bleach blonde hair around her finger. 

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Dahlia chimes in as she applies fresh lip gloss. 

“Oh, aren’t you cheeky.” Daisy rolls her eyes. “And the reason I refuse to date him, despite how drop dead gorgeous he is, is because I think I would rather die than listen to his woe-is-me moaning, groaning, and complaining every waking moment of the day if I had to live with the man.” 

“No amount of looks can drown out self centeredness,” Dahlia concurs. 

Closing your eyes, you drown out their conversation in favor of letting your mind rest for a moment. It’s the only moment you’ve been able to capture for yourself all day. Nerves are still fried deep in your brain, and though the throbbing has subsided into a gentle hum, it’s still there. Pulsing with the music, squeezing the blood from your brain until you can hardly hold a coherent thought. Pain twinges throughout your feet, exacerbated by the too-thin straps of your heels. You’ve been standing for too long, teaching and smiling jovially at your primary students with marker stained fingers from joint art projects you keep pinned to the corkboard next to your desk. 

No, you don’t have time to think about Miss Lolly. 

You are not Miss Lolly.

“Saffron! Go time!” 

That’s you. 

Figures shrouded in shadows surround the stage when you saunter up. It’s impossible to make out the features of their faces, but you can see their eyes. There’s always a glint. A fervid shine that shows just how closely you’re being watched. An eerie bloodlust to smell the center of the pretty flower about to perform in front of them. 

Hips sway with illecebrous aura drawing out slack jawed expressions from patrons as ushers collect generous tips from them. A nymph come to life, they cheer and whistle at you like dogs — or rather, insects waiting to feast on the flesh of your fibers, pretty petals and all. Still, you dance in the synthetic breeze as you bend and twist for their viewing pleasure. Hips bucking. Sliding on your knees. Tits cupped together with your hands as you press your face against the floor of the stage, ass high in the air. 

Your head pounds when you sit back up, blue waves of hair spraying around you like mist. Prismatic lights have you bathing in a wonderland of sexual desires and dreams, and still all you can focus on is the pain. No matter how many sultry smiles you flash, or how long Saffron can hang on the poll in center stage, Miss Lolly is still crying over the marcid grip on her ankles. 

If it wasn’t for the rank scent of alcohol and cologne, you would have taken a deep breath in relief after you got off that stage. Instead, you keep up the act. This perfectly crafted persona. Expertly sewn second skin. The ushers quickly hand you the cash you earned for your show, and as you slink back into the dressing room, you find yourself praying you attracted enough attention to earn yourself a few requests for private dances. 

Back in the dressing room, you’re quickly counting the cash you’ve earned so far while the girls whistle at your earnings. It’s a good start to what’s bound to be a long, torturous night. Though it’s not as much as you’d like to see by the end of your shift, it’s enough to cover the house fees. 

You’re stowing away fresh, hard earned cash into your locker when there’s a sharp knock on the dressing room door. Once the girls give the all clear — meaning that they’re as decent as they can be in lingerie and not buttass naked — one of the coordinators opens the door. Tired eyes scan the dressing room, until they land on you.

“Saffron,” he says, waving a black ticket.

Gold floral embellishments glint in the dim lighting of the room, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head in recognition. You haven’t just earned the opportunity to give a few simple private dances — you’re wanted for a VIP session. A long, private dance filled with booze, special requests, and a high payout for you. 

You’re about to make half your rent tonight. 

It’s not entirely rare that someone seeks you out for a VIP session, so the hallway that leads to the room isn’t unfamiliar to you. Dark paint coupled with erotic photographs line the walls as your heels click against the marble flooring. Muffled music fades into the background the closer you are to approaching the room. You look down at the card in your hand: Room 7. 

Its swirling gold letters match the same font on the door in front of you. With a deep breath, you quickly fix the stray strands of your wig before your hand reaches for the knob on the door. 

Rich maroon walls close in on a comfortable room with a lone chandelier as the only source of light. As the door closes behind you, any hint of music dies behind it, and you’re left with nothing but silence and your own breathing as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Thick, powerful thighs spread wide in pressed dress pants on a large leather sofa. Their circumference is bigger than your head, you’re sure of it. A wide-palmed hand lazily caresses a glass of bourbon on the side table; your patron has been given special treatment with his own bottle of whiskey and bucket of ice, which means extra cash in your pocket. You trace his body, sizing him up with hooded eyes. His broad chest is hardly contained by his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt, allowing thick curls of dark hair to peek above the fabric. 

When you get to his face, you freeze. 

Neatly trimmed facial hair, alluring blue eyes — you’ve seen him before. He tilts his head at you, hips shuffling forward to lean further back in his seat, belt buckle catching the light just like it did earlier in the afternoon. He even gives you a quiet smile, one that doesn’t quite curl as much as it usually does, and you feel your stomach twist with bubbling bile. 

This is no patron; this is John Price.  Your student’s dad.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Peppermintkelly behind the cut; Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon feels all sleepy and heavy and good, and there’s a sheet draped over his back and his head is on . . . someone. He’s on someone. Laying on someone, he means. He’s not sure who, because he’s sleepy and heavy and doesn’t even want to move enough to open his eyes or focus his TTK, but . . . someone, yeah. Mm. 

It’s fine. He can hear Tim’s heartbeat, and it’s steady and calm, and not in the forced way it gets sometimes when things are actually not fine. So–fine, yeah. 

He feels really good. 

“Kon,” Tim says, and Kon feels a hand in his hair. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Green,” Kon mumbles back, although he doesn’t know why he says that instead of just “fine”. Just–that’s what he says. Tim huffs out a low little snort, and the someone Kon’s on top of laughs too. 

“I wish we could match that energy, man,” the someone says in amusement, and then Kon remembers– 

Oh. Huh. 

He focuses his TTK after all and blinks his eyes open, and finds his head laying on Bernard’s chest–on Tim’s boyfriend’s chest–and most of the rest of him crushing the poor guy on top of that. 

“Shit,” he mutters, moving to push himself up. Bernard does not need two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian dead weight fully on top of him. “Sorry.” 

“Please do not move right now,” Bernard says feelingly, looping his arms around his neck. Kon–pauses. “Unless this is a ‘red’ or ‘yellow’ sitch, obviously. Then sure. But if you’re concerned about crushing me or something, I’d actually like extra-crushed. Like, fine-ground crushing, please.” 

“Um,” Kon says, and then remembers–“Is this like the weighted blanket thing?” 

“This is very much like the weighted blanket thing,” Bernard confirms, and Kon settles back down–carefully, a little, but . . . 

Bernard makes a pleased little noise and drops a kiss against his temple. Kon feels–weird, kind of. 

Feels warm, kind of. 

“Fuck yeah,” Bernard says, sounding even more pleased. “No offense, Tim’s just not usually much of a cuddler, so I’ve been being greedy while you were checked out. Also, you’re really warm, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“. . . did I actually pass out?” Kon asks, a little incredulous at the idea. Not that Tim and Bernard didn’t fuck him good, just, well–they’re only human, and he is very much not only human. Like, at least fifty percent not, anyway. 

“Not exactly,” Tim says, petting his hair again. “You dropped pretty far, though.” 

“‘Dropped’?” Kon frowns a little. Tim’s hand pauses in his hair. 

“Yes,” he says, his tone a little careful. “Have you heard that word before?” 

“I mean, yeah, but I feel like there’s maybe some slang or some subtext I’m missing here,” Kon says, frowning a little more as he resists the urge to push into Tim’s hand. Probably not the time, unfortunately. Probably this is talking time, from the way Tim sounds. 

“You had a safe word,” Tim says, just barely frowning himself. “I assumed–mm. Sorry.” 

“For what?” Kon asks, incredulous again, because that was possibly the best he’s gotten laid since the last time he and Cassie fell back into bed together and regretted it in the morning, and currently no one is regretting it, so actually it’s got one up on that time too. 

At least, he doesn’t think anyone’s regretting it. 

He hopes no one’s regretting it. 

He–keeps thinking about how much fucking Tim reminds him of fucking Cassie, doesn’t he. He’s not sure why he’s so stuck on that.

[magicalbats]

Tavern Nights (Sampo x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5949

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, alcohol, coercion, manipulation, just generally skeevy/predatory behavior, age difference, size difference, public fondling, public nudity, implied public blowjob

A/N: My second commission from the donation's for Parm. I was once again lucky enough to get permission to post this for everyone to read and (hopefully) enjoy, and I am very glad for that. I just don't think Sampo gets enough love! Someday everyone who's been sleeping on him will regret it, I promise you that! Anyway, thank you so, so much for working with me on this @rabbbitseason I had a blast! ❤️

⭐

It's been a long, long time since he last frequented The Tavern as much as he has in just the past week alone. When he was young and still figuring out his place in this expansive universe, he’d spent countless nights here simply taking in the ambiance and the drink, with maybe even a bit of gambling on the side here or there. Maybe a bit of fucking too, when he found an interesting partner to take into one of the frequently used back rooms. And the Masked Fool’s had no shortage of interesting people. 

But now he was older, arguably wiser and not quite so easily taken in by all the revelry and merrymaking of the familiar old haunt. In truth, he hadn’t thought he’d ever visit this place again after willingly parting with his mask. Sparkle drove a hard bargain though and after spending too much time with her on Penacony it was hard to tell her ‘no’ and actually mean it. 

He’d tried. Really, he had. But he hadn’t meant it. 

She’d seen right through it, of course. 

Sparkle isn’t with him tonight, nor had she been at his side the previous time either. Just that first fateful evening, wherein she’d pretended to be the good little chaperone accompanying her charge back to where he belonged (according to her, at least) like a shepherd returning the lost sheep to its flock. She’d ditched him quickly enough after that but he was fine with it. Glad, actually, because he’d managed to find someone much more his speed than ole’ miss Sparkle who in many ways had proven herself nothing but trouble. 

“Mister Koski! I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon!” 

His poor heart practically melts into an unrecognizable puddle right then and there as you come bouncing over to him with an excited grin on your face. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had been so excited to see him, if ever such a person had existed at all. It does his ego a world of good, and he pins you with a dotingly indulgent smile when you come to a stop before him. 

“Now, now. I told you to drop the formalities, didn’t I kiddo’? Just call me ‘Sampo’.”

“Okay, mister Sampo! Will do!” 

Cute. He thinks it’s really quite cute in a way that doesn’t seem particularly fair to him, or any other man with a working pair of eyes and a functioning cock, but he isn’t about to tell you that. You were already fidgeting before him like you were flustered under his attention, or perhaps excited to be on the receiving end of it, and he didn’t want to break the illusion just yet. 

In terms of young rookie Fools, you were perhaps the most bright eyed and bushy tailed he’d ever met. He’d seen more than his fair share over the years, had even been one himself at some point in the far distant past, but he’d never known one quite like you. Even putting aside your obvious fascination with him (only partially owed to his usual charms, he's willing to admit) there was something about you that just screamed … naive and a little too trusting. Like ‘please take advantage of me’ was stamped across your forehead in permanent ink. 

Sampo wonders, not for the first time, how exactly you ended up here with a dainty little mask perched atop the crown of your head like a hat. A somewhat unsettling hat, albeit, but a hat nonetheless. It looks like the blank face of a doll, which he finds rather fitting for you, with a full set of luxurious lashes but no eyes and no hair. Just an adorable button nose and a tiny mouth set in a neutral pout. He probably would have found it a bit creepy had it not only added on to just how very interesting he considered you to be. 

“Alright, enough of that. I’m just stopping in for one last drink before I head out.” He tells you with a velvety drawl. “Would you care to join me?” 

At some point he was probably going to end up regretting this but for right now at least he deemed that a problem for Future Sampo to worry about. In the present, he was much more keen on having some fun with you first before any silly notions like impropriety or moral obligation managed to sink its claws into him. 

At your eager nod, he reaches out to take your shoulder in what most would likely consider a too friendly gesture but you don’t even bat an eye at it when he steers you towards the back of the establishment. Finds a nice unoccupied booth in the corner, away from all the other Fool’s who have largely gathered around the bar to have their drinks and play cards with one another, the wagers of which could have ranged from anything as mundane as simple credits to the outrageous sort he’d seen on more than one occasion here. A long lost relic from a forgotten civilization, once, or even a mutually assured self destruction button courtesy of miss Sparkle herself. It was her favorite toy, after all. 

Much to his satisfaction, you obediently sit when he nudges you into the booth, scooting over along the bench to give him some space to join you. Bending at the waist when a chorus of hoots and hollers rises up behind him, Sampo has to lean down and get close to your ear in order to ensure he’s heard over the raucous noise. 

“What can I get you to drink, sweetheart? It’s on me.” 

There you go squirming again, looking really quite pleased as you sit up a little straighter and round your shoulders for him. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine.” 

How precious. 

“Ooh, now that might turn out to be a bit dangerous if you’re not careful. I have a feeling I’m a tad more experienced than you when it comes to, uh, drinking.” 

If you find the sleazy note in his voice at all off putting you certainly don’t show it, looking up at him with the kind of bright faced confidence only someone in their youth can pull off. ‘Take advantage of me’, indeed. 

“Don’t worry, I can handle myself.” You tell him candidly. “It’ll be your mistake if you underestimate me.” 

Was that a challenge? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were doing this to him on purpose. 

“Pft. I bet. Okay then, just sit tight. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. I’ll be back momentarily.” He starts to straighten up but not without sliding his hand down from where it had reached out to brace against the backrest of the booth seat just behind you. Perfectly casual about it, Sampo palms the top of your head in a quick, harmless pat that shifts the little mask and ruffles your hair just so before pulling away entirely. He doesn’t stop long enough to take in your reaction or gauge what you think about it. He doesn’t really need to. 

This was not the first time he’d touched you in such a seemingly off handed manner and he already knew you were preening under the attention. No matter how many times he’d tested the waters the reaction was always the same. You liked him. Wanted him to keep touching you like that, either knowingly or unknowingly, he couldn’t yet say for sure, but he was more than happy to give it to you regardless of the reason. Lucky you. 

He returns to the table a few minutes later with a freshly made drink in both hands, watching carefully from under the fringe of his hair when he sets yours in front of you. It’s a dark, murky looking concoction that seems to announce in no uncertain terms that it’s potent and strong with just a glance. As expected, you don’t look quite so sure of yourself anymore when you take in the thick consistency inside the stout glass. 

But you keep a brave face, which he has to give you credit for, especially when you don’t hesitate to pick it up at his nudging insistence. The first tentative sip has you choking at the taste even as you desperately try to blink away the tears that come into your eyes, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing at your expense. 

Sampo doesn’t push it on you anymore than that though, finding it much more entertaining to watch you slowly try to drink it all down completely of your volition. He doesn’t even need to wheedle you or coerce you into it. You just do it — because you had something to prove? Or was it because you wanted so badly to impress him that you were willing to get yourself drunk just to accomplish it? He isn’t entirely sure on that front either but it doesn’t actually matter. You were doing exactly what he’d hoped you would and that pleases him a great deal. 

By the time an hour has gone by, you’re slumped against him in the booth with your head tilted back, resting along his bicep where it’s curled over the back of the seat. He’s kept you talking for the greater portion of your time spent together, alternating between one triviality or another just to ensure you don’t accidentally doze off on him. He could now name your favorite color, the school you’d attended back on your home planet and the breed of your first pet. You hadn’t struck him as the sort to be fond of Pettu Hamsters, bizarre little rodent-like beasts that laid eggs and curled themselves into tight balls for protection, but you’d assured him that you were quite fond of them. Given the no nonsense look you’d leveled on him, he believed you. 

“And you know what happened next?”

It’s obvious you’re a little too relaxed to be self conscious anymore, and he doesn’t say a word about it when you not so subtly shift closer to him on the bench. You’re practically pressed right up against his side now but, still, he doesn’t make his move yet. Sampo may have technically been working to pull one over on you but that didn’t mean he was going to be a pig about it. 

“I’d never seen a meteor shower like that before. All up close and personal, right outside my window. It was pretty cool but kind of scary at the same time.” You’re rambling about nothing in particular. Just a fond reminiscence of the long list of firsts you’d experienced upon leaving home, which Sampo listens in on as much as he needs to. There were a few other first time things he wanted to introduce you to, provided you didn’t fall asleep on top of him before then. “I thought for sure one of them was going to slam into the ship and — and vacuum us out into space! All I remember going through my head at the time was that I didn’t want to die like that. I can’t imagine it would feel great. What do you think?” 

You tip your face towards him with the sluggish, heavy lidded lethargy of someone well and truly buzzed. Sampo just chuckles as he tips his chin down, cheek braced against his propped up fist for support. 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling. What was that you said earlier about being able to handle yourself?” 

Unmistakable fluster creeps across your expression, distant though it may be under the hazy mask of intoxication. “I didn’t know you’d get me something so strong. Are you sure you weren’t purposely trying to get me drunk?” 

Feigning hurt, Sampo draws his brows together in an overly affected lift and places his opposite hand over his heart. “Why, I never! Such a serious accusation to lobby at a gentleman of my esteemed standing. Just ask anyone here, missy, and they’ll tell you exactly what kind of upstanding, trustworthy guy Sampo Koski is!” 

You giggle at his theatrics and reach over to weakly shove at him. Your arm seems to immediately lose all of its remaining strength though, and rather bonelessly flops down to stretch out along his thigh. He can see his moment to strike fast approaching but it still wasn’t the perfect time. Soon, very soon, just not quite yet. 

“You’re funny.” 

“We’re all a bit funny here, I’m afraid.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a slyly suggestive drawl again. “You’ve still got some growing to do if you want to fit into that mask on your head. Want some pointers?” 

Huffing softly at the suggestion, you visibly muster up the strength to send him a weak look of warning. “I’m already grown. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now if I wasn’t, would I?” 

Sampo sends a slow look of appraisal down at your chest, noting the weight behind the thin material of your blouse while images of what your bare breasts might look like dance through his head. Yes, there certainly would be no denying that you were of a mature build and filled out in all the right places. 

“Mmm, if we’re talking physically then you’re right, of course. I doubt anything I say would help you get any taller.” 

“Hey.” 

“But I wasn’t talking about that,” He goes on, ignoring your interjection. “I meant your future as a Masked Fool. You haven’t drawn Aha’s gaze yet, have you sweetness?” 

“… no.” 

You look like you want to pout about that, and Sampo chuckles at the petulant tug of your mouth. Seriously too cute. 

“Oh, but fret not, little one.” He coos. “You’ve got me here to show you the ropes, don’t you? I promise I’m a good teacher.” 

You seem to think about that for a long moment, giving it the due consideration of someone who hasn’t yet picked up on the scam. Not that he could really blame you or the alcohol making your eyes look so heavy and tired. Sampo was good at the game. Always had been, even when he was younger, and his technique had only continued to improve over time. Most people assumed him far too goofy and painfully obvious to harbor any ulterior motives after he started laying it on thick enough. That was the real angle to his schemes, once you got right down to it. Hiding in plain sight was in many ways his specialty. 

“What will you teach me?” You finally ask, roving your attention up towards his face once again. The way you look at him is so unassuming and guileless that he knew he could have offered you a tropical vacation home on Jarilo-VI and you probably would have bought into it without question. Poor thing. 

The muscles along his back gradually start to tense with the building anticipation of finally making his move, of pouncing on his chosen prey to claim it for himself, and he leans down, practically engulfing you in the mass of his much larger frame. You feel as tiny sitting next to him on the bench seat as you look, far outclassed by his much taller, broader build and such a sharp contrast to your feminine stature. He could have easily overpowered you if that was how he’d wanted to go about it but, well, Sampo Koski was never one for doing things the hard way if he could help it. 

His face now hovering just over yours with precious room to spare, he slowly reaches up to brush the tips of gloved fingers under your chin. Your lashes flutter at the touch, threatening to slide shut, but an attention grabbing upward nudge prompts them wide open again. 

“There are a few things I can think of,” He purrs, secretly delighting in the way you start to squirm for him. Nervous or eager? He’d find out soon enough. “An old dog like me has his trusty bag of tricks, rest assured. I’d be happy to share some with you, if you’re interested?” 

Your mouth parts, a tiny pink tongue inching out to glance over your lips and wet them. It almost makes him crack. Almost throws all of his self control and restraint right out the window, but he forces himself to wait. To let you respond first before he goes in for the kill. It would make everything so, so much more satisfying in the long run. 

“Okay.” You finally murmur. “I’m game.” 

“Glad to hear it. Shall we seal the deal and make it official then?” 

A small sound of confusion slips out of you but then he’s leaning the rest of the way in, closing the scant distance. You don’t protest or pull away. Just watch him with wide, fascinated eyes as he tilts his mouth to slot against yours, and a dull jolt works through your body at the contact. He keeps it brief and gentle, a mere brushing of mouths, before pulling back enough to pin you with a lopsided smirk. 

“There. Now it’s a promise.”

Tentatively, you reach up to touch your bottom lip. “Is that how all the Fool’s make their promises?” 

He shrugs broad shoulders, tracing shapes along the side of your neck with blunt fingers. “Only the really fun ones.”

Extending his thumb to prod the underside of your chin, Sampo carefully nudges your face back up at him until your hand finally falls away and you comply, offering him a vaguely flustered look. 

“Another, for good luck?” 

The first real glimpse of uncertainty flashes across your face at that. You hesitate, flicking a quick glance behind him at the rest of the bar and — 

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about them.” Soothingly, he cups your cheek in what otherwise would have been a comforting gesture had it not been for the way he gives the roundest part of your face a quick, mostly harmless pinch. “They’ll mind their business so there’s no need to get shy on me now. Besides, I’ve already kissed you once haven’t I? What harm could one more do?” 

You still don’t appear to be totally convinced but you give him a brief, stilted nod anyway. He’s pretty sure it’s the unmistakable gleam of excitement he can see reflecting back at him in your gaze, unsquashable despite your obvious nerves, and Sampo feels a smoldering hot rush of victory sear through his veins when he leans into your space again. 

His mouth brushing over yours in a light, coaxing caress, you simply sit there for a long moment of indecision like a frozen, petrified statue. So still he isn’t even sure if you’re breathing. But then, thoroughly dashing that impression against the floor, you come alive under him all at once. Give a squirming shudder and press up into him, fervently kissing him back as if in outright challenge. He feels your lips trembling against his and he can’t quite keep the leer off his face when he increases the pressure to kiss you just a little bit harder, claiming you as his own. 

The discordant noise of revelry and drinking, Fool’s eternally at play, seems to highlight the poignancy of what’s happening in the booth situated in the far back while at the same time it also recedes to a far distant thrum of vague sounds. Like everyone else in The Tavern was on the other side of some great, reverberating tunnel. His attention is focused entirely on you and the way you slowly bring your hand up to tentatively brace the palm of it against his chest. Your fingers feel dainty, something small and fragile, and he quickly decides to return the favor. 

Sliding his own hand down off your cheek, over the line of your neck and past the soft jut of your clavicle, he takes a slow pass over one breast. They’re big but his hands are bigger still, and it easily cups around the full weight of it behind your blouse. You react like he’d electrocuted you, jolting in your seat as your head tips back and your lips slacken, dropping open as if to moan. But he just follows you, keeping his lips sealed over yours so he can plunge his tongue into that cute, hot little mouth and truly taste you for the first time. 

Noising an incomprehensible kitten mewl against him, you close your hand around his shirt and give it a halfhearted tug. Like you wanted to pull him in closer but you weren’t quite confident enough to follow through on that urge; like your head was spinning a shade too fast from the alcohol as much as the surge of physical responses in your body to make any sense of what was happening and act on it. 

Sampo can tell you’re enjoying it though. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure that out. 

The proof is as plain as if you’d spoken the words aloud. You don’t bite at his tongue when it invades your mouth to explore every little nook and cranny inside, nor do you pull away in revulsion when he leisurely fucks it towards the back of your throat in slow, suggestive motions. You also don’t attempt to slap his hand away when it comes back up to caress over the fullest part of your breast again. He can feel your nipple rapidly stiffening underneath the layers of your clothes, responding to him with a great deal of eager enthusiasm that has you shuddering and pressing your legs together. So sensitive. 

He could really exploit that if given half a chance. 

At length, he breaks apart from the kiss with a low, seedy exhale of deeply felt masculine pleasure. Peers down at you with an easy, self satisfied grin, but you look to be a bit out of it and lost in your own little world. With your head tipped back and rested against his arm where it’s still curled over the top of the booth seat, you merely blink up at him through a hazy, distant gleam in your eyes. Panting softly, as if you couldn’t quite catch your breath while he was idly fondling your tit. Hardly any wonder there, given how much you seemed to be feeling everything in stunning high definition, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. 

“Oh my, it seems like someone is having a good time now. I wasn’t expecting you to look at me like that, kiddo’. You’re gonna’ have this old man falling in love if you’re not careful.” 

Your breath catches in obvious surprise, a vaguely startled expression creeping onto your face. Sampo doesn’t give you a chance to question him or realize that he was only teasing though, and instead tips his attention downward to regard the weight of your chest. A fresh wave of innate satisfaction washes over him when you do the same, following his line of sight to peer down at yourself as well. 

“You’re looking a little hot under the collar, y’know. Let me help you with that.” 

Fingertips tracing the path over your breast, he reaches lower and you finally seem to snap out of it. You give a quick start, fumbling to get your hands down to try and grab at him, but even with both sets of digits locked around his blocky wrist it’s easy enough for him to tug your blouse free of your cute little skirt and get it inched up enough to reveal a smooth strip of your fluttering stomach. 

“M - mister Sampo!” You squeak, halfheartedly twisting in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. “We’re — we’re still in public, you can’t - -“

“Hush now, sweetheart. Your ol’ pal Sampo’s got you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. See?” With a taunting flick of his hand, your blouse rises up another inch or so, and with it so too do your eyes grow even wider. “No ones even paying attention to us over here so they won’t see anything. Trust me. I’ll make sure of that. After all, you’re mine now, aren’t you? Can’t have anyone else eyeballing the goods, right?” 

Numbly, your gaze roves up to regard him again. There’s an unspoken question behind your expression, a sentiment that you hesitate to give voice to, and he just hums a playful little tune under his breath while he continues to toy the hem of your top. One more nudge is all it would take to reveal what sort of bra you were wearing and he couldn’t wait to find out. His bet was on something soft and girly, with a bow or maybe even a bit of lace? But first … 

“Don’t tell me you’re really that scared, sweetness? Even with me here?” 

Your brow pinches inward, creating an adorable little crease between them to go with the almost petulant pull of your mouth. An internal war wages, bloody and violent, behind your eyes while you no doubt weigh out the multitude of options at your fingertips. The truth or a deceitful lie, which would you ultimately decide? Sampo knew which one he would pick had it been him standing under the spotlight but he’d meant it when he said you still had a lot left to learn. That part, at least, hadn’t been facetious. 

Finally making your decision another series of heartbeats later, you at last give him a mute nod. It pulls a soft, doting sound from deep within his chest and makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside as he dips his face close again, rumbling a low sound of approval. 

“Aww, you poor thing. It’s okay though. Just trust your old friend Sampo, okay? Here, I’ll even make it better with another kiss.” 

This time you eagerly tip your face up to meet him halfway, and a soft sound of need puffs out of you when your lips meet again. He kisses you deeply now, claiming your mouth for himself and swiping his tongue inside with a possessive, demanding gesture that has you mewling faintly in response. As he’d half suspected you would, you positively melt under him like you were happy to give into the pulse pounding heat and the risk of the moment as long as he was there to guide you through it. To lead you and to teach, just as he’d promised you he would. 

Thoroughly placated now, you don’t protest or make a move to stop him while he inches your shirt the rest of the way up, but you do shudder uncontrollably at the first waft against your exposed chest. Still fervently kissing you, Sampo cracks an eye open and peers out from under the fringe of his hair to look at what he’s working with. A dull thrum of pleasure promptly races up his spine when he sees that your tits are just as juicy and tantalizing as he’d thought they’d be, and he voraciously watches them heave within the confines of your pale peach colored bra. It’s a lovely shade that complements your skin tone perfectly but he’s a bit too impatient to simply admire it or the dainty blue bow on the front for very long. 

You groan into his mouth, arching against the booth, when he casually slips a long digit under the middle center of the dainty undergarment but he just swallows the noise and tugs. Doesn’t even give you a moment to understand what he was planning to do, and your breasts spill out with a meaty jostle as the cups slide up and away. Your nipples are already stiff and aching when they hit the air, pointing up off your chest in demand of attention, and you finally tear your face from his with a threadbare, faltering gasp. 

Sampo can’t quite find the wherewithal to follow after you and lay claim to your mouth again when he was so damnably transfixed by the sight of your bare tits, round and squeezable in all their fleshy abundance. He feels suddenly faint from how violently his cock instantly springs up in his pants to shove at the inside of the zipper, only vaguely aware of you turning your head away in bashful reproach while your hands come up to crowd together over your chest. 

Oh, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He coos at you, the usually soft inflection of his voice noticeably absent now. It seems to have been replaced by a deeper, gravelly edge that makes his customary sing-song fall short. 

You don’t seem to mind though, much too preoccupied with softly whimpering when he takes one of your hands by the wrist and gently pries it away, curling it up and back so he can juggle it over to his opposite hand. Half restrained now, you can’t do much else but anxiously squirm in place when he reaches back down to lightly tweak the exposed tip of your breast between thumb and forefinger. 

“Ahhn!” 

“Mmm, these are awfully tender, aren’t they?” 

He doesn’t really expect a response, which is good, because you can’t seem to catch your breath long enough to actually speak. All that comes out of your mouth are short, tender little gasps and the softest moans his old ears have ever heard. It sounds like the sweetest music and he makes an effort to file it all away for later, when he was back in Belobog and lonely in the middle of the cold, frozen eternity that had yet to see any noticeable improvements since the Stellaron Disaster there was neutralized. Maybe someday it would, hopefully even soon, but he wasn’t expecting to return from this trip to find lush fields of green stretching as far as the eye could see. 

This night spent with you here in The Tavern was going to keep him comfortably warm for many more to come though, and he eagerly folds himself over you so he can bend down and seal his mouth around that pert, straining bud. You give a tiny little cry, a sensitive yelp that you quickly try to stifle, but not fast enough. 

Releasing his hold on your wrist, Sampo snakes his arm around the back of your head and covers your mouth with his broad palm. You let out a muffled protest behind his glove and try to turn your head away but it’s no use. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you that he can easily hold you in place no matter how you squirm or weakly shove at his forearm. Still sucking on your sore little teat, his mouth working the fleshy nub to a tight coil, he rolls his eyes upward to look at you from this angle. 

If he’d thought you were pretty before, now you were downright gorgeous. That hazy, flustered look of begrudging pleasure really suited you. Especially when it was because of what he was doing to you. 

He isn’t sure how much more of the anticipation he can stand when his cock was already aching, practically throbbing inside his pants, and he at least disengages from your breast with a noted hint of regret some moments later. In the wake of his attentions your stiff little teat is left flushed a noticeable shade darker than when he’d started and glistening with a fine sheen of sticky, fast cooling spit. The sight alone makes him groan, low and gravelly, as he looks upon it with longing. 

Oh, how he would’ve loved nothing more than to simply suckle at both of them for an hour or two but this was hardly the right place or time for him to indulge like that. Even what he had in mind for you had the potential to backfire with spectacularly disastrous (yet still amusing) results. It was time to get on with it before anyone’s attention was drawn towards the far back corner and curious interlopers came creeping over to check what was happening. 

“You seem to be quite sensitive, darling. Even moreso than I initially thought, and somethiiiiing tells me you’re going to be a screamer so we’ll have to play it a bit safe.” He murmurs, teasing you with a quick wink as he straightens up and allows his free hand to slide down lower to pinch at the hem of your skirt. 

Already askew from all of your fidgeting, it doesn’t take much for him to pull it up enough to reveal your panties moulded to the puffy outline of your cunt. Even just a quick glance assures him you’re wet and sticky given the way the matching peachy material sticks to you and he gives his tongue a soft click as if in reproach. 

“Really now, are you sure the possibility of getting caught isn’t exciting you? Well, you’re a hundred years too early to try and pull one over on Sampo Koski, I promise you that.” 

He shifts back into his seat to settle in next to you again before releasing his hold on your mouth. You promptly suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, swaying somewhat unsteadily on the bench, but the reprieve is short lived. Grabbing you around the middle, Sampo effortlessly manhandles you around so he can pull you half into his lap, partially sprawled out across the seat and perfectly positioned over the tent in his trousers. Your little mask has been almost completely dislodged from its perch atop your head in all the shuffling, and he reaches up to pull it the rest of the way off while his other hand busily works on his zipper. 

“How about this,” He starts, using his most effective and well practiced salesman pitch, feeling much too hot and reckless to reconsider the wisdom in this move. If you finally decided you’d had enough of him and all his pawing it wouldn’t be hard for you to put him out of commission for the foreseeable future in this particular position. But, well, he didn’t really think he needed to worry about that too much. “Let’s keep that mouth of yours busy for right now and I’ll make it up to you later, huh? Whaddya’ say? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Panting and flushed, you slowly lift your face to regard him. A bright, sparkling gleam flashes through your eyes and you grin, looking like you were seconds away from bursting out into uncontrollable, wild laughter. You looked like a kid on Christmas morning being handed the one present she’d wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world and that youthful, beaming enthusiasm just makes his balls draw up achingly tight in heady anticipation. He couldn’t wait to sink himself into you. Any part of you. It didn’t really matter which, when you had him so painfully stiff in his pants and more worked up than he could recall being in a very long time. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mister Sampo.” 

He almost laughs too, feeling the familiar bubbling sensation gleefully rising in his chest, but it’s swallowed up and doused by a shaky groan of relief when he finally manages to fish his cock out. It was starting to make more sense to him, why you were here rather than anywhere else in the vast cosmos, but he didn’t care enough to dig for any real answers. 

All that mattered was that you were interesting and you were fun, and as long as the two of you were having fun together then everything else was irrelevant to him.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[scoops-aboy86]

I Want To (Secret Admirer pt 8)

Finally got to the "drunken confessions" part of day 6's prompt!

wc: 4103 / rated: T / set after season 3 / also on ao3

Eddie’s van has always been a piece of shit, but she’s his piece of shit. Even when she breaks down halfway between the Hideout and Gareth’s house, necessitating a rescue from Gareth’s mom in her station wagon so they can get all of their equipment out before the tow truck arrives. Even when it means he has to really lean hard into dealing so he can come up with the money to pay for repairs. 

Even when it cuts into his writing-to-and-recording-things-for-Steve time. But he had managed to get the tape of Steve’s favorite songs recorded and sent off, finally—no easy feat, since he’d had to learn most of the songs from scratch for this tape. Could’ve done without the Tears for Fears and Wham!, and he’d listened to way too much pop radio in order to get decent recordings to study… but he’d been pleasantly surprised by the request for Queen. He already owned some of their albums. 

Didn’t peg you for a Queen fan, sweetheart, but if anything it makes me even more smitten with you. Quick question though… Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees? Is that a nostalgia thing or is there a story there?

Anyway, while poor ol’ Shelob is sitting in the lot behind Thatcher Tires, the guys have helped by keeping their ears to the ground about parties for him to hit up. Jeff is even coming with him to this one, not to help directly but enough of a known associate that he’ll act as a passive form of advertisement, letting interested partygoers know that Eddie has set up shop in the walk-in pantry just off the kitchen. 

And it’s working. He’s basically sold out when someone comes over while he’s got his head down, counting his take so far, and asks, “Hey man, do you still have any weed left?”

Eddie freezes—just for a second. He hasn’t had much direct contact with Steve over the years because it was always Tommy who did the buying, back when the Harrington house was party central. But he’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

He looks up, determined not to fall into those warm hazel eyes, biting the insides of his cheeks hard in an effort to will away the flush that wants to rise in his face. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie lies. He has some he’d squirreled away for himself, but whatever. Steve can have it. Can have everything. 

Don’t think about the letter he’d written back to Steve, answering in detail what all two guys can do together. That way madness lies. The kind of madness where he offers Steve something else by way of just dropping to his knees right here in Melissa Sarby’s kitchen pantry. 

Steve grins—he grins at him! And pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Eddie has never been more jealous of a folded rectangle of leather in his life. “Great, how much?”

Eddie tells him the amount and names his price, steeply discounted compared to how much he’s charged everyone else tonight. He can’t get over how good Steve looks, for all that he’s moving a little stiffly, subtly babying his healing ribs beneath a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He’s also wearing, Eddie realizes, fucking makeup to disguise the fading black eye. It’s good work, probably Robin’s. (Jealous again, even though he believes Steve about the platonic thing. It’s just, why stop at envying a wallet, right?) And the shorts he’s wearing… Those cannot be the grandpa shorts he’d written about, hugging his ass in all the right places. Meanwhile, Eddie’s jeans are more hole than denim and his Iron Maiden shirt is the one with the bleach stain and the sides cut down to practically his waistband because it was hot as shit today. It’s still warm, even after dark. 

But wait. Wait. 

Did Steve, still recuperating from his injuries, get dressed and made up just to try and track down an opportunity to switch from painkillers to sweet Mary Jane? Or because, like he’d mentioned that one time, he associates the smell with his secret admirer and is seeking it out as a self-soothing thing? Or did he… Does he know? Did he come to this for Eddie, somehow?

Whatever Steve’s reason for being here, it makes Eddie sweat, but he’s also grateful just to, like, bask. He’s seized by a sudden urge to come clean, to look Steve in the eye and reveal himself as the author of those letters, call him sweetheart or baby or big boy to his face—

“Maybe I’ll see you around the party,” Steve says casually. And maybe Eddie is crazy, or hopeful, or way too in love with the unattainable, but he could swear he hears the last word lifting a little, almost like a question.

Eddie nods his head, says, “Sure.”

And well. Damn. Does Steve know? Is that why he’s kinda sorta asking if Eddie is going to stick around? Or is this just Steve being friendly, because he’s a good dude now?

Either way, even though Eddie’s stock is basically cleared out, now he wants to stay. Which is not to say that he isn’t vibrating out of his shoes with nerves. After Steve exits the pantry, Eddie slips out and helps himself to a couple shots of whatever’s closest on his way through the kitchen—because it’s not like he can smoke his anxiety away anymore, Jesus H. Christ. 

But Steve called him brave, and goddammit if this isn’t an opportunity to seize the day, stare down the barrel of a gun, pee into the wind. He can be brave, right? If he can’t, he might never find out if anything is ever going to happen for real, if they could ever be something, and then the regret will eat away at him for the rest of his cowardly life. 

“Hey man,” Jeff calls when he sees Eddie, threading through the sticky crowd to meet him. “Ready to go?” 

Which is code for: it’s hot and sticky in here and the music sucks, let’s leave. And while all of that is definitely true…

“I think I’m going to stick around a bit,” Eddie says, and holds up his metal lunchbox, waggling it a little. He just hopes his voice isn’t doing anything noticeably weird, either from nerves or the recently downed mystery booze. (He hadn’t taken the time to look at the bottle properly. Definitely hadn’t bothered to taste it.) “If you’re heading out, though, you mind looking after the Shelob Get Well fund for me?”

Jeff shrugs and takes it. “Okay man. Better you than me.”

He’s a good friend. Eddie appreciates him for not asking questions, though that might just be tabled for later. And sure, Jeff was also his ride home, but whatever. He can get home on his own power even without wheels. That’s what legs are for. 

~

Eddie spends the next hour or two cycling between getting his nerve up to approach Steve then abruptly losing it and revisiting the kitchen for more liquid fortification. Every time he spots Steve in the crowd again, he isn’t doing anything in particular—hanging back against the wall and people watching, or drifting by the party snacks, or occasionally chatting with some of the incoming seniors that he must know from the sports teams he’d been on last year. It doesn’t seem like Steve is in any rush to leave, though, so there’s still time for Eddie to prove to himself that yes, he can be brave. 

But after seeing one of the cheerleaders latch onto Steve’s arm, Eddie does another u-turn. The millionth fucking one, probably. This time after getting a refill, he decides to investigate the music situation, see if there are any non-shit options, not even going to fuck with it, probably… It’s very unlikely that he’d intentionally dump his current cup of punch on the tape player just to protect his unhappy ears, cross his heart and swear to Van Halen. 

But no, instead: betrayal. Because his stupid legs have carried him too far from the edges of the room, too close to the dancing, fucked up masses in the middle of the living-room-slash-dance-floor, and he gets sucked in. Holding his cup up high over people’s heads—because he’d rather dump punch that somehow tastes stronger than straight liquor on their heads than splash it on their chests, apparently. Eddie tries to muscle through, resigning himself to a wobbly straight-shot across the room instead, but it’s only a matter of time until someone hip-checks him into some poor bastard.

When it does happen, whoever it is at least has the coordination to catch his drink before it spills. Eddie swallows hard at the sensation of a big hand wrapped around his hand on the cup, and brings his gaze around to meet warm hazel eyes. 

“Woah there,” says Steve fucking Harrington, looking a little worse for wear from sweating through his foundation. Or maybe Eddie is just way too close for his own safety and knows what to look for. 

“Talkin’ to me like I’m a horse?” Eddie blusters, trying to sway back before he gets caught in Steve’s gravity like he wants to. “Bold.”

Maybe it’s the whole room that’s swaying. Maybe he overdid it a bit. Shit, why had he stayed at this terrible party again? Steve, and free booze, but, like… now Steve is here. 

Looking at him. Evaluating. And, after a second, gently guiding him back out of the throng. “Maybe,” Steve replies near his ear while they move. “I’m going to lead you to water and try to make you drink, so I guess we’ll see.”

They make it to the bathroom just as Eddie’s churning stomach decides to make a run for it in earnest. He ends up bent over the sink, sparing maybe a tiny fraction of a thought towards the fact that at least what’s coming up is mostly liquid, shouldn’t clog anything—the rest of his half-offline brain power is going towards not reacting to Steve holding his hair back for him. He can feel fingertips on his scalp, and they might as well be the only things keeping him upright. 

Goddamn traitor legs. 

The next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting on the closed toilet lid and Steve is pressing the cup back into his hand, rinsed out and full of water now. He raises it to gulp, some of the liquid sloshing out the sides to run down his neck, feels good…

“Hey, slow down man,” Steve says, taking the cup back and leaving Eddie to gasp at the reintroduction of air. “You’re gonna hurl again if you drink too fast.” 

“S’nothin’ left,” he mumbles. Steve is so close… He told Steve that he’s a guy, didn’t he? So it’d be okay if… Oh, but he hadn’t told Steve that he’s him, Eddie. So maybe it wouldn’t be okay. Maybe if he kissed Steve, Steve would think he cheated on his secret admirer, like Lois Lane cheating on Superman with Clark Kent. The idea makes Eddie start to giggle. 

Steve smiles back at him. “What? You figured out you’re not a horse ‘cause I could make you drink?” 

That makes him snort after a moment, because it’s such a dumb joke but also it took him so long to get it. Eddie might have to kiss him anyway. 

He should rinse his mouth first. 

“Nooo,” he drawls, rising up and putting a hand on one of Steve’s several shoulders to steady himself. “I just gotta.” That’s it, right? Yeah, that’s a complete enough sentence. Onward. 

“Where are you going?” Steve asks. He trails after Eddie’s beeline for the sink, grabbing for Eddie’s curls again when he dips to stick his mouth under the faucet. “Hey, don’t drown yourself, man!”

“I’m rinsing,” Eddie retorts, but it gets lost in the stream of water. He swirls and spits a few times, then straightens up and emphasizes again, “Rinsing.” And then he leans into the other man’s touch, because he can’t help himself. Steve is so close and, holy shit. Actually touching him, which has never happened before tonight, and he’s only ever caught whiffs of Steve’s cologne from a distance but it is intoxicating. 

Or… maybe he’s just way drunker than he meant to get. Oops. 

Oh well. 

“How’s my breath now, baby?” he asks shamelessly, dipping closer. Lets his voice drop low and rumbling, and could swear he sees some heat rise to Steve’s less-makeuped cheek. 

“Could definitely be worse,” Steve replies diplomatically. He puts a hand on Eddie’s hip though, like he’s afraid he might fall over without it, and that makes Eddie feel less inclined to pout—because god, those hands. They’re so big, he wants to roll around in them. “Did you drive here?”

“Hm?” Eddie flutters his eyes back open, not totally sure when he’d closed them. He’d been thinking about Steve’s hands. Absently starting to compose a letter about what he’d like to feel them do in his head, out of habit. “No… Had a ride here, was gonna walk home.”

Steve hesitates, then offers, “I could give you a ride, if you can give me directions.”

“A trade,” Eddie murmurs. “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.” As if he didn’t have it already, permanently. With a vague after you gesture, Eddie nudges Steve with his hip in the direction of the door. “To your noble steed, then! For the last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world has retreated to her lair in Cirith Munson till such time as she can be healed.”

“I have no idea what that means, dude,” Steve says. But he’s got a little grin on his face like he’s not put off by the blatant nerdery, and the hand still on Eddie’s hip guides him along with him with minimal fuss. 

“Sssssecretsss,” Eddie hisses back with a lopsided smirk, because he’s a little freak and Steve might as well see that up close. 

Tomorrow he’ll be mortified, but that’s Tomorrow Eddie’s problem. Right now is Drunk Eddie’s time.

He sinks gratefully into a comfy passenger seat in Steve’s beemer, no weird lumps or stray pokey springs like in his van or any of his friends’ (parents’) cars. Blinks slowly up at Steve while the man buckles him in place, head lolling a little to catch sight of the two moles on his neck, just beneath his jaw, that look like a vampire bite. Licks his lips and rests his eyes for a moment while the world spins lazily around him, then opens them again when the car starts and the radio comes on. 

“Boooo,” he heckles once processed that it’s one of those pop stations he’d been listening way too much lately. Which he’d done for Steve, and this is Steve’s car, but he’d also been suffering through this crap at full volume for days to learn to play it, so it’s not like he’s being unreasonable. “Change stations, Stevie, I’m not—I can’t take it anymore. I’ll puke the blood that’s leaking down from my ears, you don’t want that in your fancy car.”

“Don’t joke about that, man,” Steve replies, but reaches over willingly enough to turn the volume down to almost nothing. “So, where to?”

Eddie mutters directions and promises to flap his hand in the right direction whenever they get to intersections, since he’s sure Steve has never been to the Forest Hills trailer park before. But when he points out turns, it always seems like Steve is already taking them. He turns in the passenger seat to squint at him, the turn signal clicking maddeningly against his eardrums every single time Steve puts it on. 

“How come you know where I live?” 

“I don’t?” Steve glances at him, then back at the road. “I’ve lived in Hawkins my whole life. It’s not exactly big, I know where the trailer park is.”

Eddie stares at him for another minute. He watches the street lights shine on Steve’s face, casting shadows, making him look ethereal at times and unknowable in others, sometimes both. And fuck, he wants. 

But it’s Steve Harrington. They’re in Steve Harrington’s fancy car, barreling towards the moment when Eddie clambers out and says goodnight—maybe not in that order, he doesn’t know yet, but it’s going to happen either way. How many girls has Steve dropped off in this car at the end of a date? 

It doesn’t matter, because they weren’t on a date. Steve had held his hair back while he threw up and is giving him a ride home because he’s a nice guy. Steve… doesn’t know they’ve been exchanging love letters all summer. 

“I need something to listen to,” Eddie blurts out, leaning forward to turn the volume back up and switching over to whatever tape is in. “Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t—”

There’s a click and a whir, and the tape starts up in the middle of an acoustic cover of Queen’s ‘I Want To Break Free.’ 

Of Eddie’s acoustic cover, and the sound of his own humming that makes him drunkenly wonder, Is that really what I sound like?

Steve has been listening to the most recent tape he sent him in the car. Eddie can feel his eyes going the size of dinner plates—there hasn’t even been time to get a letter back about it, he sent it that recently. His chest fills up with fizz and nerves because maybe Steve was listening to it on the way to the party, and if so what does that mean? 

He doesn’t move a muscle, barely even breathes, and Steve seems similarly quiet in the driver’s seat next to him. And suddenly (because Steve’s right, Hawkins isn’t a big place, it never takes all that long to get from point A to point B) they’re pulling into the trailer park and Eddie is gesturing stiffly to which trailer is his. 

The car pulls to a stop and Eddie… doesn’t move. His tape is still playing, that one about being head over heels now. 

I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

… Fuck it. That love is still caught in his heart, pumping the sweetness of it through his arteries and veins with every beat, and he’s dizzy with booze and wanting. 

Eddie turns towards Steve, fumbling to unbuckle his seat belt as an afterthought, half climbing over the middle divider to get even a fraction of how close he wants to be. Hears Steve’s soft intake of breath while he leans in, reaching to cradle the back of his head instead of his left cheek in case that might hurt (because he may be drunk off his ass but he remembers, okay, doesn’t want to hurt his sweetheart) and kisses him. 

Soft at first, the barest hint of trying to be chaste, but one taste could never be enough. The rest of the world is white fucking noise as Eddie licks his way inside Steve’s easily parting lips, seals them together, steals the breath right out of his lungs with the perfect way they slot together. He’s shaking with it, drunk and stupid and floating and Steve’s hands are in his hair again for a much, much better reason this time, kissing and being kissed back. 

~

“Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

Steve’s heart jumps into his throat, realizing what Eddie is about to do. “Oh, uh, I don’t—”

For as drunk as he is, Eddie is fast. Too fast for Steve to come up with some excuse for stopping him, and then the evidence of the tape he’d used to psyche himself up for the party floods the car, because… Well, the latest letter was still filling his head, all the ways Eddie had promised he could be good with his hands, and the soothing sounds of guitar and Eddie’s voice kept him at pleasantly equal levels of calm and stirred up. 

He expects Eddie, loose tongued as he is, to say something. Take the opportunity to reveal himself finally and offer some lighthearted quip about their different tastes in music again. Steve, heart still in his throat, wants that, because he’s never been one for hesitating to rip off the band-aid.

This thing between them, the softness and hope of it, is the only thing that’s kept Steve afloat since he’d had to admit to his parents that he’d lost his car keys. He’d written to Secret Admirer—to Eddie—about it, of course, but he might have… minimized a bit. Mentioned them calling him irresponsible, and some of the emotional hoops they’d made him jump through before agreeing to arrange for replacements, but he’d left some things unsaid. 

Like, how he knows how to get a copy of a key made but that requires, you know, something to copy! His parents had kept all the spares when they gave him the car, even though it’s his name on the title—a detail which makes him seem like a spoiled brat if he complains, but he’s always felt like that was calculated. And how he had no idea how to get a new car key made from scratch, and still doesn’t because they hadn’t explained it, just done it.

Or the way he’d been so apathetic for days after that series of phone calls that Robin had offered part of her savings to help him get his own place. “A loan,” she’d explained. “Anything to get you out from under those people’s thumbs, Steve, they’re horrible human beings. They didn’t call back about you having a concussion but they called immediately after getting your message about some stupid keys? That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard about, way worse than a giant spider monster made of melted people!”

Steve just. He needs a win right now. He needs some sort of reassurance that Robin isn’t a one-off good thing in his life. If he and Eddie could just get on the same page and stop pretending that they didn’t both want to kiss each other…

Because he’s been pretending all night, ever since the moment he’d seen Eddie in person for the first time since only half-noticing him in school. Watched him for a while while there were still people crowded around, knowing that it might mean there’d be nothing left to buy by the time he approached and then maybe they’d end up talking. Hadn’t happened, sadly, so he’d stuck around—and damn, he’s glad he did. It seemed like every time he’d caught a glimpse of the man after that he had a new drink in hand, and by the time he herded Eddie into the bathroom his eyes were so unfocused that Steve wasn’t sure he even recognized him until “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.”

He’d wanted to say that the feeling was mutual, but hadn’t quite had the nerve. 

But now Steve is driving in a cold sweat because they’re listening to Eddie’s tape and Eddie himself is stock-still to his right. 

And look, all he’s hoping for at this point is to get Eddie home safely, maybe strike up a conversation as he’s helping the guy inside or whatever Eddie needs, whatever he can get away with. Being able to touch him at the party had given him goosebumps despite the summer heat in general and the thick, humid air inside the house. Selfishly, he wants more, but knows he needs to content himself with breadcrumbs until they make it to the real stuff, not wanting to give away how clingy he can be (if he hasn’t already in his letters). So when he pulls to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, he’s glad when Eddie doesn’t leap up and bolt immediately. 

The kiss catches Steve off guard. It’s so gentle and tentative at first, for all that Eddie just about threw himself across the car to initiate it. Just as quickly, it turns hungry, and it’s that hunger that has Steve readily opening, accepting, wanting right back. Eddie kisses him like he’s trying to leave a mark, and he does. A fierce and possessive blaze that’s totally separate from the burn of lingering alcohol, one that doesn’t start to hurt until it ends.

Tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

[fitgirlfemdom]

Logan hadn't planned for his night to end up like this, but somehow, he found himself on the couch, gazing up at the girl he used to despise.

Logan had moved in with Cole and his girlfriend in the late summer, following a string of poor personal and financial decisions. They were all in their early twenties, with bright and promising futures ahead, yet Logan had seemingly given up already. He wasn't in college, nor did he have any prospects or job offers. He usually just sat at home playing shooters on his laptop or... other activities that Cole wasn't too fond of. Logan was his old high school pal, anyway, and it wasn't like he was gonna turn down a friend in need.

The two were different in every way imaginable. Cole had his dark hair gelled and styled, his facial hair perfectly groomed, and a beautiful doting girlfriend on his arm at all times. Logan had, to put it simply, let himself go. He used to be a student athlete, and a really dick-ish one at that, but after busting his ankle senior year, it all went downhill. He used to be able to skirt by with his sexist and offensive remarks, since he was hot enough for girls to still find him attractive. Now, 150 pounds later, he could barely look at a female in the eye.

That wasn't entirely true, however. After his injury, he turned to different hobbies, mainly porn and smoking weed. Weed got too expensive, and rendered his meathead brain even stupider than it was before. Porn stuck, and at first it was a nightly affair, then a morning-nightly affair, and then a throughout-the-day affair. That's why Cole's news caught him off-guard.

"Anna wants to have a friend over tonight for dinner," he explained to Logan on the couch, who was playing some FPS on his laptop, which he rested on his gut. "So... You either gotta put some clothes on, or you gotta get the hell out."

"Which friend?" Logan asked, fragments of chips leaking from his oily lips. His eyebrows furrowed when someone on the opposing team knocked him out with a headshot.

"Cassie. You remember her? From high school?"

Logan slowly glanced up, pieces of chips falling from his mouth. He slammed the laptop shut. "Cassie? That fucking nerd? Anna was friends with her?"

"Yeah, they were close."

"But Cassie was, like..." Logan made a gesture. "Really fucking ugly, wasn't she? And fat? Isn't that what she was known for?"

Cole shrugged. "That means a lot coming from you."

"I'm bulking."

"So are you gonna put on a shirt or what?"

Logan scoffed. Cassie. She was a real fugly bitch, and Logan used to make sure she knew it. With her awkward outfits, her frumpish body, her nerdy glasses--He let her know just how stupid she looked nearly everyday. Maybe he made her cry a few times, maybe he told her to kill herself. It was all in the past. Now, all he had to look forward to was how ugly she'd look now.

The night did not go as planned.

When Anna walked into their small apartment with Cassie, Logan had to do a double-take. That wasn't her. That couldn't be her. She smiled softly when she came in, her dark curls tied back into a styled ponytail, her previously undesirable body toned and refined. Her tits were still massive, and her ass was incredible, but all that body fat seemed to have melted off in recent years. She must've been going with Anna to those Pilates classes.

Logan suddenly felt strangely vulnerable. When Cassie laid her dark eyes on him, he almost forgot that was the girl he used to antagonize. He didn't say a single word from the time she entered to the time they all sat down at the kitchen table. Cole had ordered Chinese food for them to share, a frequent occurrence in their apartment.

Logan forgot how large his normal order was. He felt like he was being judged, but there was no criticism to be heard. As he dug into his lo mein, he heard a question that made his stomach drop.

"Cole, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" Cassie asked, her spoon dipping into her miso soup. She was so pretty, with her lips slightly pursed and her eyes wide.

Cole looked evidently confused before realizing. "Ah, Cass, this is Logan--Remember? From high school?"

Cassie's doe eyes widened. "Oh... Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't recognize you!" She probably didn't mean it to sound as harsh as it did, but Logan could feel his overfed heart skip a beat. "How've you been? Did you end up getting that football scholarship?"

Logan swallowed thickly. "Uh, no..." His eyes concentrated completely on the meal in front of him. If he glanced at Cassie, he would've definitely started crying. She was so fucking hot. What had happened? How had she changed that drastically? It made him sweat. "Did you, um... Did you lose weight?"

At that, Cassie laughed awkwardly, before Anna followed, "Lo, you really shouldn't ask a woman about her weight."

Cassie shook her head. "It's fine, really. I just gave all the weight to him."

Logan felt his stomach flip, exacerbated by hearing Cole snicker at the comment. Had he really let himself go that much? And there was a more insidious problem lurking, one that he could feel form tightly in his core. Fuck, he shouldn't have been staring as Cassie's tits for that long. He never realized how much his porn addiction had messed with his head. He used to lust after Cole's girlfriend, eyeing her down when she got out of the shower, or rummaging through her clothes when he rarely did the laundry. Sometimes he'd overhear them having sex and he couldn't help but touch himself. He hadn't had sex since he graduated, and that realization became obvious when he felt his dick twitch under the table.

"So, no scholarship... What're you up to, then? Where are you studying?"

"I'm not, uh... studying anywhere."

"Working, then? Trade school?"

Cole interjected, "Logan is like our house cat. He just eats our food and takes up space on the couch."

"Ah, a fulfilling profession," Cassie said with a smirk. She eyed down Logan. "Are you okay? You look... stiff."

Stiff was an understatement. He was fully fucking erect. It must've been her teasing, or maybe it was her tits, or maybe it was how her jeans hugged tightly onto her toned thighs. Maybe it was how her waist had slimmed down. With each of these realizations, he felt his cock twitch more and more, with his attempts of stifling his horniness with lo mein being unsuccessful. He finally decided to excuse himself, rising from the table with their confused eyes locked on him.

As he turned down the hallway, he could overhear Cassie's laughter. "Oh my God, does he seriously have a fatter ass than me now?" When he heard Cole and Anna laugh in response, he had to hold onto the hallway wall, out of view, as he came in his pants untouched.

That'd never happened before. He was a perv, but he wasn't that bad, or so he thought. The main issue was, the bathroom was on the other side of the kitchen, and there was no way he was going to walk in front of all of them with a cum stain on his jeans. He retreated to his couch, curling up with his back to the world, hoping it was all a weird dream.

He woke up to Cassie's voice, and no one else's.

"Logan... Hey, Logan," he heard her whisper. As his eyes slowly opened, he realized it must've been after midnight. He also realized he was still sleeping in his dirty clothes. He must've reeked like a teenage boy's bedroom. Nonetheless, she was standing over him. "Anna and Cole went down to the bar. You coming with?"

"You're still here?" he asked groggily. He'd flipped over, and that's when he realized he made a crucial mistake.

She smirked, and suddenly, she gripped at the wet spot on his jeans. "Ah, did someone have a good dream?" He was so surprised, he didn't respond, simply only gazing down as she felt up his bulge. "Jeez, you came a lot."

"What the hell are you--" She grabbed at his hand.

"Hold up your gut--You're blocking your dick," she stated firmly, and the way she said it made his stomach flip. He was laying down on the couch as she knelt down, stroking his bulge through his jeans. It was almost surgical. He couldn't help but blush when he held back his stomach, and he blushed even further when he realized he wasn't putting up a fight at all. He exhaled harshly when she finally unzipped him, yanking his rock-hard cock out from the confines of his boxers. His eyebrows knitted upward as she slowly started stroking. "Huh. It's a lot smaller than I thought it'd be."

He didn't know how to respond. Feeling a girl's hand on his dick felt so foreign now. He used to be a complete manwhore back in the day, and now he almost felt like a virgin again. He couldn't help but bite his lip to stifle a moan as she jerked him off faster. He tried to watch her, but he couldn't even see his cock over his stomach at that point, and all he could do was feel her soft hand tighten around his dick, and the overwhelming urge to cum running through his mind.

"You look like a complete pig now," she laughed sardonically, her grip growing tighter. "I saw how you were looking at me at dinner--You got hard, didn't you?"

"I--"

"I wanna hear it," she snapped, slapping his balls with her other hand. He didn't have enough core strength to sit up and defend himself.

"So hard," he admitted with tears in his eyes. She really slapped him, and for some reason, that turned him on way more than it should've. "I-I-I couldn't help myself." His voice was cracking.

"Aw, is someone gonna cum again?" she said condescendingly, her strokes growing more rapid. He struggled to stifle his moans, his voice coming out more pathetic and squeaky than he would've hoped. "I want you to cum all over yourself. Come on. Cum all over your gut, pig. I wanna see it."

"Y-Yes--Fuck!" he conceded, shooting ropes into the base of his abdomen, his eyes rolling back as she slapped his balls again. She kept stroking, milking every drop out.

Then, the weirdest thing happened.

He was still hard, and she was still stroking.

"Still horny?" she laughed, continuing to jack him off. It was incredibly overstimulating, but he couldn't help but feel that rising sensation again as his dick twitched. "I'd offer to let you fuck me, but I don't know if your cock is big enough."

He just stared at her, dumbfounded. There he was, lying on the couch covered in his own cum, his dick twitching like it was on coke, just from a girl making fun of him.

"Underneath all this blubber... I can barely even get a good grip on it," she snickered, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the head of his cock. He moaned sweetly, like a whore, when she did it. "Gain another hundred pounds... Who knows, maybe you won't be able to reach it."

He had no idea why the thought of that made his cock swell. He had fully given himself up to her at that point, letting her slap his balls around and jack his cock off as hard as she wanted, because at any second, he knew he was gonna cum again.

"It must be hard to touch yourself now, huh?" she asked, pursuing her lips together, as if she cared. "It must feel nice to have a girl taking care of you like this. It must be so tiring."

"I-I... I'm gonna--"

"That's right," she cooed. He was still holding up his gut, his fat fingers digging into his flesh. "Being such a good boy, doing just what I asked, and now you get to cum all over yourself again. Come on. Do it." Her words were so mean, but she said it so nicely, he couldn't help but feel his eyes roll back as he shot more loads of cum into his stomach, his moans unabashed and completely embarrassing at that point. "Good pig." He spurted again at that.

As they sat on the couch together, both panting, staring at the ceiling, Logan figured it was his turn to break the silence. "Jesus fucking Christ, what happened to me?"

"I don't know," Cassie sighed, before putting her arm around his wide shoulders. "But I like it."

[cuubism]

Happenstance [5x Hob and Dream met between their regular meetings] - bonus epilogue

--

Hob’s not the smartest man, but usually he’s got his wits about him. When you spend a chunk of your life accosting people on the road, you learn to keep an eye out for other people trying to accost you on the road. Not this time, apparently. This time, Hob’s walking about with his head in the clouds like a loon, paying fuck all attention to his surroundings, because he’s thinking about Dream.

He’s been doing that for a while. It’s not been long since Dream returned to him, since Hob kissed him, since his lovely old stranger seemingly accepted his courtship, and left him with a promise to come back. Hob’s been thinking about it nonstop since. It’s better than drugs, and Hob’s tried a lot of drugs.

Hob has unlimited time. If he wants to spend several months of it just thinking about the way Dream felt in his lap, and against his lips, and fantasizing about more, that’s what he’s going to do. Who’s going to stop him?

Apparently, the answer to that is, some guy with a crowbar. Really, Hob has been so spacey he’s lucky he only got knocked out and kidnapped, and not fully run over by a bus.

It’s all Dream’s fucking fault, anyway. Hob will tell him that when he sees him. Whenever that is.

As things stand now, he’s chained to a wall in some guy’s basement, which doesn’t bode well for seeing Dream some time soon. No one’s really talked to him since he woke up, and he’s not certain if this is because he’s done a poor job of obscuring his immortality, or if it’s something to do with his association with Dream. He wouldn’t have thought anyone knew about that, but then, he hadn’t thought so in 1789, either, and then that Constantine woman had come after them.

Too many damn cameras around nowadays, he thinks. It’s only getting harder to stay under the radar.

He’s just glad it wasn’t Dream that they captured. Granted, Dream probably could have freed himself instantly from this. Hob’s almost gotten one of his hands out of the chains, no magic required for that, just a few centuries’ worth of experience getting into trouble. Still, he’s glad that it wasn’t Dream.

He keeps working on twisting one of his hands out of the bindings. It’s actually easier with his hands above his head as they are, he can leverage gravity that way, but he still can’t quite get it.

His adrenaline is running high, with no real outlet, and that’s not helping matters. He can’t die, but the situation is still making him nervous. They don’t usually try to drown witches these days. They don’t usually believe in witches these days. Usually. Somehow Hob thinks this lot might be of a different mindset.

He’s still working on wiggling his arm free when the room plunges into darkness.

Wind swirls around him. His cuffs make a shrieking sound and then snap, releasing his wrists and dropping him to the ground. Somewhere upstairs, he hears someone scream.

The lights flash, and then Dream is standing in front of him. He’s a void of darkness cut out of the fluorescents, his expression as dark as the knocked-out lights. Hob wonders if he’s been catching up on missed films. Very horror movie, that entrance.

“You were serious about that!” Hob exclaims, delighted. “About not leaving me there!” He’s practically forgotten about getting kidnapped and chained up already, he’s far too thrilled about Dream coming to rescue him.

Dream scowls. “I do not speak falsehoods,” he says. “These arrogant ‘magicians’ dare to act against us. I have made them see the error of their ways.”

Us. Hob could start singing.

Dream finally walks over to him and crouches in front of him. He studies Hob, head tilted. “Your concern about this matter, or rather lack thereof, is disturbing to me.”

“I was concerned until you showed up, love,” Hob tells him. “Very dramatic entrance, by the way.”

“I see that being unable to die has had a detrimental effect on your sense of self-preservation,” Dream says, but there’s a smile in his voice now.

“I’m great at self-preservation,” Hob protests. “You’ve no idea how many situations I’ve not gotten involved in. Don’t judge me on one—”

He breaks off as Dream cups his face in one hand, strokes his thumb over Hob’s cheek. His gentle, sure touch makes Hob go still.

“I am glad to find you unharmed,” Dream says. Will Hob ever get used to Dream looking at him like that, with that care? No. He doesn’t want to.

“I suspect those guys upstairs are feeling glad about it, too, right about now,” Hob says, but his voice is tight, too affected by Dream’s touch for real humor.

“Mmm. I may consider showing mercy,” Dream agrees. “Eventually.”

“It’s hot when you’re scary like that,” Hob tells him. He may still be a little loopy from getting whacked upside the head. That, or it’s just the high of Dream’s melodramatic rescue. “Help me up?”

Dream stands, taking Hob by the arm and pulling him smoothly to his feet. Hob sways, and braces himself on Dream’s arms. It’s far from the first time in his life he’s been hit in the head with a blunt object, but it never gets less shitty to deal with.

“Now you get to be the gallant rescuer,” he says. “What was this about, anyway? None of them even told me.”

Dream touches the back of his head, where there’s blood clotted in his hair, the gash just barely scabbed over. “You drew some attention to yourself in searching for me,” he says. “That is what I have gathered from their dreams. I suspect they wanted to question you about it.”

Hob gets a chill, but not because of his own endangerment. “Does that mean there were people out there who knew you were trapped the whole time? And didn’t do anything?”

Dream inclines his head. “Not many. But yes, there were a few who had encountered Roderick Burgess over the years, or who considered themselves a part of the deep occult underground.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hob’s perpetual tendency towards violence rears its head as he contemplates tracking those people down and letting them know what he thinks about it. He reminds himself that he’s going to have to fake his death after this already, and there’s no need to create more problems for himself.

He supposes he shouldn’t be offended at other people’s passivity, he himself has stayed out of things plenty of times when he could reasonably have taken action. But it’s easy to take offense, to take it personally, when it involves Dream.

“I would recommend against taking action on that,” says Dream, with a tiny smile as if he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about. “Though disappearing for a while may be advisable.”

“Might be time to explore a different country,” Hob agrees.

Dream holds out a hand. “Come. I will return you home.”

“This really is a gallant rescue,” Hob says. He’s still delighted about it. “One more thing, though.”

He takes Dream’s hand, then leans in to kiss him.

He thinks Dream might have made himself just a bit taller for the sake of this dramatic endeavor, because Hob has to lean up just slightly to kiss him. Dream’s lips are ever so slightly chilled, and he tastes charred, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It’s addicting. The power of him.

Experiencing it makes him even more grateful that Dream let him see him in a more vulnerable state, too, when he came back to him after his imprisonment. He’s clearly more than capable of keeping up that all-powerful aspect, he didn’t need to show Hob anything. He did anyway.

“A kiss of thanks?” murmurs Dream, as they pull apart.

“A kiss of ‘I wanted to,’” Hob says, which draws a chuckle from him.

“Let us return, then, and perhaps we can do more of what you have wanted to.”

“You do know how to tempt a man,” Hob says. “Alright, darling.” He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Take me home.”

--

Traveling via Dream’s sand is extremely disconcerting, and Hob’s pretty sure that no human was ever meant to experience it. It’s rather like stepping into a tornado, but one whose winds manage to get inside his head instead of just buffeting him from without. He thinks they might travel through a couple different planes of existence, and a few of nonexistence to boot. He tries not to think about it too hard, he’s too concussed to deal with it.

Regardless, it does get them back to his flat, which is a relief. He half-wonders if Dream will leave, then, having seen him safely home, but he stays. Lingering just a bit awkwardly in the living room as Hob quickly showers and changes into clothes that aren’t covered in blood and grime.

It makes Hob smile to reemerge and find him perched on the edge of the couch, reading a book with an air of affected disinterest. But he looks up when Hob comes out.

“Sorry, love,” Hob says. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone out here.”

A smile tugs at Dream’s lips at the endearment, and he leans ever so slightly forward, as if he would chase it where it lingers on Hob’s lips. “It is no matter.”

“You hungry?” Hob asks.

Dream frowns. “Should you not be resting?”

“Those guys made me miss dinner and I’m starving,” Hob says. “I might be mildly concussed but I’m pretty sure I can still boil water. Come on.”

Dream follows him silently to the kitchen, making no further protest.

Hob makes them some food, just pasta and sauce. Dream leans against the counter, sipping wine, as he works. Hob doesn’t trust him to help. Kingly types never know their way around a kitchen.

“You know,” he says as he sits down at the table, puts a bowl of pasta in front of Dream and then starts eating his own probably faster than is truly advisable, “the rescue was extremely entertaining and all, but I would also love to see you in situations that don’t involve extreme peril.”

“I will try to visit more, then,” says Dream.

Hob blinks. It’s that easy now?

“I intended to return earlier, but I had more left to do than I anticipated,” Dream continues. “Is it not customary for lovers?”

Hob chokes on his food.

Lovers, now? Zero to one hundred in an instant with this one. Not that Hob is opposed. He’s always been greedy and he’ll glut himself on Dream if allowed. He just… didn’t think he would be allowed.

He takes Dream’s hand on the tabletop. Dream hasn’t eaten anything, not that Hob really expected him to.

“I guess it is,” he says, grinning.

Dream smiles, that small, true smile that Hob loves more each time he gets to see it.

“Is that what we are?” Hob continues, playing with Dream’s fingers on the table. “Lovers?” And, because he knows better now than to leave that sort of question in Dream’s hands, adds, “Because I’d like that. Don’t know precisely what that means to you, though.”

Lovers could be something all-consuming. It could also just mean that they meet every hundred years as they have done, but they get to have sex, too. Hob knows which one he’d rather.

“It means…” and here Dream does pause to think, as though the city he’d already built of them in his head is not proving so well-mapped in reality. Doesn’t Hob know the feeling.

Dream sighs. “I have frequently proven an insufficient lover,” he admits. “What it ‘means’ matters little, for that rarely seems to bear itself out.”

In all his recent loony mulling over Dream, Hob’s also been thinking about dreams. Bit hard to be in love with dreams sometimes. But now he thinks, also, that it must be terribly frustrating to be the king of all imagined possibility, and then have to contend with the limitations of reality.

“It matters to me,” Hob says. He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Tell me?”

Dream doesn’t speak again. He stands and comes around to Hob’s side of the table. Leans over him, wraps a hand around the back of Hob’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His grip is gentler than Hob thinks it really wants to be, in deference to Hob’s head injury—if Dream had his way he would pull hard but he doesn’t, and that alone sends a rush of tender heat through Hob’s body.

He cranes his head back, lets Dream’s grip move him. Dream curls around him, as if to blanket Hob with his form, slots a leg between his, and kisses him. With tongue. With teeth. With that would-be-strength with which he’d grabbed Hob’s hair, ferocious possession held at bay by gentler care. God does Hob want to tell him to damn the injuries to hell, he’ll live—he wants to feel that in full.

Dream gentles the kiss. Nips at the corner of Hob’s mouth, then licks over where he’d bit. Nuzzles into Hob’s hair, tucks his nose by Hob’s ear. Hob wraps an arm around his waist, holding him tight, and Dream buries himself close to him in a way that reminds Hob of when he’d convinced him to stay, to sit with him and admit, even if just by implication, that everything was not quite all right.

“That’s what it means?” Hob says, still breathless from the kiss.

Dream’s somnolent voice rumbles through his body. “Yes.”

Hob smiles to himself, and tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. “Good.”