#except writing and plot 💀

[tedious-malcontent]

got back into writing my original fiction thingy bc of wip wed today and it's clunky and a little awkward and the mcs are having unrealistic-ass conversations 💀 but it's there and they're alive again!

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, Angst (bearable), Smut with plot - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your love life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those whines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

-------------

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡ ❀ꗥ Let me know in the comments or fill out this form!

[yuujispunches]

Intimacy with Suguru Geto HC

Pairing: Suguru Geto x fem!reader

Summary: headcannons about what it would be like to be intimate with Suguru.

CW (content warning): talk about sex, mentions of oral sex (both f and m receiving), mentions of masturbation, praise kink, smut under the cut MDNI (+18), this is pretty much smut without any plot.

AN (author’s note): Hi! So this is my second time posting this because I accidentally deleted my original post because it wasn’t showing up on the tags and I was trying to fix it 💀 This one was requested, I’m currently working on another request as well as a Yuji one-shot. This was my first writing smut so please bare with me. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character sI write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Intense and controlled.

Geto doesn’t rush, he absolutely loves taking his time with you. He’s methodical and deliberate, every touch is calculated to get the reaction he wants from you, taking his time to read your reactions watch the way you react to his touches, the way he can see goosebumps forming on your skin as he kissed down your body, hearing the sound you make. He likes control, not in a cruel way, but because he enjoys understanding you deeply and guiding the experience. He would never soy no to a quickie, but he definitely prefers taking his time.

Eye contact

As we said, Geto definitely loves watching you. He makes sure to lock eyes with you often, not just out of passion but because he wants to see everything: your pleasure, your hesitation, your trust. He loves just watching you, whether it was him making you get yourself off or even when you’re just in plain missionary. He definitely makes you look at him whenever you cum. It’s part of how he connects emotionally. And if you look up at him while you’re on your knees for him? Yeah he’s definitely a goner.

Soundproof.

It’s not like Geto is quiet but he’s not loud either. He lets out breathy moans in your ear, pants and heavy breathing heard in the room. He knows is presence alone is commanding, he doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel the weight of his desire or his authority. You’ll always feel watched, wanted, and chosen. One thing he does love is calling you pet names, specially Angel.

Praise.

Geto definitely has a praise kink, whether it’s hik praising you or the other way around. Even when he’s rough he’s moaning in your ear telling you how good you feel, how amazing you look or how good you’re taking him in. As your body tenses, legs trembling, breath catching, his voice stays with you low, steady, coaxing. “Just like that... you’re doing so well for me.” He’s proud of being the one that brought you so much pleasure, he almost holds it like it’s something sacred. And afterward, he kisses your knuckles, your cheeks, your thighs, grounding you as if to say: you are cherished, even here.

When you’re the one that praises him it never fails to make him loose it, even on the days where he’s rougher. All it takes is you telling him something among the lines of: “No one touches me like you do.” And he growls into your ear, low and dangerous: “Say that again.” He wants to hear it. Over and over. Wants you to tell him he’s better, that he’s all you want, that he’s the only one who can wreck you and hold you afterward. Because if he can be that to you, maybe he’s not completely lost.

Pace and exceptions.

As it was said before, Suguro loves taking his time with you, however there is one situation where he can’t control himself and that’s when he’s sent out on missions, being obligated to spend too much time away from you for his liking. He doesn’t speak. Just grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, dragging you back into his body like you might vanish if he loosens his grip. You try to ask how the mission went he cuts you off with his mouth and lifts you onto the nearest surface. His voice is rough when he finally speaks: “Later. I need you now.” He strips you fast, barely breaking eye contact, pupils blown wide. His hand closes around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw not tight, just enough to hold you in place. His other hand is already between your thighs, fingers slicking through your wetness as he mutters, “Look at you already ready for me. You missed this, didn’t you?”

Little reminders.

It’s not like he means to mark you, but when he sees the reminders of the night before on your skin he loves it. Geto's hands clutch your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, pace relentless. Your back arches, your hands claw at the sheets, and he holds you in place like he can’t risk letting you go. He’s panting now soft curses slipping from his mouth as your body tightens around him. You glance back, and the look in his eyes is wild not just aroused, but desperate. Like he’s trying to lose himself in you completely. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure that the day after you would have bruises of the shape of his fingertips.

And you were right. The next morning when you’re changing he catches a glimpse of the bruises on your hips and a few hickeys he didn’t even remember giving you here and there. He pulls you in by the waist, kisses them again, then whispers, “You wear me so well. Like you were made for this.”

Aftercare.

Geto always makes sure that you’re taken care of after the both of you are finished, although the way he does it depends on the kind of day he was having.

When he had a bad day once it’s over, he collapses beside you, breath ragged. He doesn’t say anything. But his arm slides around your waist and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. You feel the tension leave him, slowly, like your skin is the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. And even if he never says it, you feel it in the way his body curls into yours. After a while he gets up, getting a towel and cleaning you up throughly before getting back into bed with you, his arms holding you a bit tighter.

On the good days though? He absolutely loves to dote on you, even running baths for you. He loved getting in the bath behind you and holding you. The water is warm, fragrant with oils, and he slides into the tub with you, pulling you back into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder, and for long minutes he says nothing, just kisses your damp temple and lets the silence be tender. His fingers rub small, slow circles over your hips. “You were perfect,” he murmurs eventually, breath warm against your skin.

tags: @chigiridrider1

Taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added! :)

[saddleups]

hi! i’m surprised nobody’s written a smut with james making a sex tape with the reader ! >< i think he’d be into those lol & man, i’d kill for a gentle dom james :( with his soft spoken voice, i can just imagine the reader who’d be taken aback by whatever dirty talk he’d say haha

i luv ur work pls keep writing smut for james tysm

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 ����𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 1.8k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . recording/voyeurism . f!masturbation . oral ( m! & f!receive ) p_rn w/o a plot !

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . lmao i think there might be some trauma there with video tapes 💀 however .... filming spicy moments is soooo tasty. james is the sentimental type for sure so yeah , he would love capturing your orgasm face on camera :') thank u for the sweet words i hope i was able to get the vibe <333

You should’ve never gotten him that damn video camera. It was practically a part of him now, swinging from his shoulder like an extra limb, capturing every moment he deemed worthy of “preserving memories” for the two of you. The sentiment had been endearing at first, but it was becoming an obsession. You’d lost count of how many times he’d darted to the corner store for yet another pack of film. Tonight was no exception.

After dinner, you were seated at your vanity, unwinding from the evening. One by one, you slipped off your jewelry, the pieces landing with a soft, musical clink on the glass. As you reached for your serum, you noticed James in the mirror, his camera aimed right at you, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, dabbing the serum onto your fingers and smoothing it over your face.

“Is this fascinating to you?” you asked, rubbing the serum in slow circles, letting the cool liquid seep into your skin.

“Can’t help it. You’re so pretty,” he replied, that grin widening as he watched you through the lens.

You met his gaze in the mirror, raising a brow as an idea flickered to life. Smiling to yourself, you reached for the loose knot at your waist, pulling the tie on your robe and letting the soft fabric slide from your shoulders. Beneath, you wore a delicate lingerie set.

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching the way his brow quirked, his eyes flaring with interest as James drank in the sight of you. His grip on the camera tightened, and you could almost feel the spark between you, the silent communication passing back and forth.

“Maybe I should make it more entertaining for you,” your was voice barely more than a whisper as you turned to face him.

James swallowed, the smirk fading into something more intent, his eyes on you and only you. He adjusts the camera, "are you sure about this?"

"Keep rolling," you request, before you slowly began to unhook the clasp of your bra. The silky material fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool air of the room. James’s breath hitched, the sound audible even over the soft whirr of the camera. You could see the excitment burning in his eyes, the way they traced every detail of your body.

“Do you like what you see?” you murmured, your fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, making them pebble in response.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going.”

Encouraged, you slipped your hands down to the waistband of your panties. With a teasing glance at James, you hooked your thumbs under the delicate lace and slowly pulled them down. The fabric slid over your hips, leaving you completely naked. The camera followed every inch of your movements, every moment captured in crystal clear detail.

James let out a low groan, his grip on the camera tightening even further. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You smiled at the sight of his erection. Turning slightly, you leaned against the vanity, providing James a perfect view of your ass. Your fingers trailed down your thighs, coming to rest on your inner thighs, just above your cunt.

“Touch yourself,” James commanded, his voice rough with need. “Show me how much you want this.”

You obeyed, sliding one hand between your legs. The sensation of your own fingers against your slick folds made you gasp softly. You pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pleasure spiked quickly, a hot throb building deep within you.

“That’s it,” James encouraged, his eyes locked on your hand as it worked its magic. “Make yourself come for me.”

Your other hand moved to your breast, pinching your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. The dual stimulation sent waves of ecstasy crashing through you, making your hips buck involuntarily. You could feel the orgasm coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst.

“Help me James,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with desperation. You turned to face him, legs wide. “I need you.”

James didn't hesitate, camera still in hand he crossed the room in three long strides. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh. Even clothed, you could feel the girth of it.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he demanded, his voice low and husky.

“Your cock,” you gasped, your fingers still working furiously at your clit. “I need to feel you inside me.”

James's grip on the camera tightened. He chuckled low in his throat. "How about I give you a command?" he suggested. "And you follow it exactly."

You nodded eagerly, your body humming with need. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He lifted the camera higher, framing you perfectly. "Suck my cock while I record," he instructed.

Your pulse quickened even more at his words, the thought of performing for him, of being watched so intimately, sending a thrill through you. You moved without hesitation, dropping to your knees before him. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but the heat radiating from James soon warmed you.

James adjusted the camera, ensuring every angle would be captured. His breath hitched as you reached out, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze through the lens, and slowly began to pull his pants down. Your hands trembled slightly with eagerness, but you maintained eye contact, letting him see the hunger in your eyes.

His cock sprang free, already hard and eager for your touch. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and hardness against your palm. A soft gasp escaped you at the sensation, and you saw James's eyes darken with desire as he watched you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with pleasure.

Encouraged, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock. The taste of him, slightly salty and utterly intoxicating, made your mouth water. You flicked your tongue out, tasting him fully, delighting in the way his hips twitched beneath your ministrations.

James groaned, his fingers tightening on the camera as he recorded every second. "That's it," he urged, his voice strained. "Take me in your mouth."

You obeyed, opening your mouth wider and taking him in. The head of his cock pressed against the back of your throat, and you swallowed reflexively, sucking gently. Your hand continued to stroke him, matching the rhythm of your mouth, as you worked to bring him pleasure.

The sounds in the room were intimate and raw—your wet slurping noises, James's ragged breaths, and the faint whirr of the camera. Each noise seemed to heighten the intensity of the moment, making the air crackle with electricity.

You glanced up again, your eyes locking with James's through the lens. He looked wild with desire, his chest heaving with each breath, and you felt a surge of pride and arousal at being able to elicit such a response from him.

James's free hand came to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Fuck, you look so good like this," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Keep going, baby."

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took the opportunity to deepen your suction, sliding your mouth farther down his length.

James's grip on your hair tightened, guiding you as he thrust into your mouth. The sensation of being controlled, of being used for his pleasure, was incredibly arousing. You reveled in it, your own need growing with each passing second.

Your tongue swirled around him, exploring every inch of his shaft as you kept your eyes locked on his. Completely devoted to him, the connection you two shared was palpable with lust.

James's breathing grew more erratic, his movements becoming jerky as he neared his climax. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained. "Where do you want it?"

You pulled off his cock, gasping for breath, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "On my tits," you begged, your voice hoarse. "Please, James."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a low growl, he aimed his cock at your chest, his hand moving faster on his shaft. The first spurt of come hit your skin with surprising force, splattering across your breasts. You gasped and the sensation of his hot release settling onto your skin.

James continued to orgasm, his hips jerking as his release erupted from him. Wave after wave of hot cum coated your chest, the sticky substance pooling between your breasts and trailing down to your navel.

You stared up at him in awe, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to such an intense climax. He panted heavily, his face flushed with exertion, as he finally lowered the camera onto the dresser, its lens still focused on you two.

Wiping his hand across his forehead, "fuck, you're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Rising to your feet, you smiled up at him, your body thrumming with satisfaction. "I love giving you a good show," you admitted, your voice soft and sincere.

James leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting himself on you, and you moaned into the kiss, your body arching towards his.

"Now, I want to taste you.”

Before you could respond, he sank to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. His tongue darted out, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, God,” you cried out, your body trembling with anticipation. “Don’t stop.”

James chuckled darkly, his tongue flicking back to your clit, circling it with relentless pressure. His fingers found their way to your entrance, slipping inside you with ease. You moaned loudly, your hips rocking against his hand, needing more.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “Just from sucking my cock.”

His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in time with his fingers thrusting inside you. The pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel the orgasm hovering just on the edge, ready to rip out of your chest.

“I’m close,” you panted, your voice strangled with need. “Please, James, I need…”

“Come for me,” he growled, his thumb flicking rapidly over your clit. “Let go.”

The command pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, a scream of release tearing from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. James held you steady, his fingers and thumb working relentlessly until you collapsed against the vanity, gasping for breath.

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you close as you both fought to catch your breath.

“Mmm,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck. "Do you have enough tape, I wanna take this to the bedroom."

James looked at you with wide eyes,

"Well, we can always record over something else."

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

[penpenpencil]

I was streaming and drawing at the same time a while back. I finished everything except the scars and color palettes, and then it took another week or two to get it to look right 💀

Anyway, here's the ref sheet for Bō/Donny for when I eventually sit down and write/draw plot for my tmnt crossover au. :p

[orionhelluvaranting]

My Predictions for Helluva Boss

Alright, guys, not gonna lie... I'm tired from HB! Protagonist-centered morality, favoritism, lack of stakes, Stolass' endless woobification, etc... It has become too much for me. Thus I've gave up any hopes for the writing improvement and refused to watch the show in the long run.

But!

This won't stop me from analysing the previous episodes that I've already watched. Furthermore, I wanna make a few predictions about what's going to happen in the next two seasons (unless those will be cancelled). Perhaps I'll repeat some of the points other critics had already made. So I'm sorry in advance for this, mates.

Now be careful, there's a HUGE list under the cut! 🔮

⋆˙˖⟡°˖⟡˙ {Predictions} ˙⟡˖°⟡˖˙⋆

None of the main cast is dead. The plot armor is too strong. Especially for Stolass. I mean, do you genuinely believe that Viv would kill her precious sad bean?! Bitch, please! 🤗

All/most of the antagonists are dead. The only exception I can think about is Cherubs. They're just too unthreatening to bother about. Prolly the D.H.O.R.K.S are dead but reborn in Hell and Idk if that counts or not 💀⚰️

If the rumors about one of the Deadly Sins' upcoming death are true then it's going to be Mammon. No other options 💸 (Btw I saw a fan theory about Blitzø killing Mammon and taking his place... Well, considering how poorly Viv handles the class problem I wouldn't be surprised if that came true)

F!zzarozz!e get married (S3) 💞 - 100% probability

Stol!tzø get married (S4, finale) 💞 - 100% probability

M&M became parents. Honestly I thought they'll save it for the end but after Sinsmas... Yeah. Anyway the truth about Millie's pregnancy is revealed (nearly to the middle of S3), she gives a birth for pro-lifers' delight and takes maternity leave becoming a background character. The child prolly is a boy and gets a better development than his mother. Apparently he's named Blitzø Junior or smth like that 👨‍👩‍👧

F!zzarozz!e & Stol!tzø double date💕

Moxxie's insecurity issue is showed at least once at the season. Now he isn't sure about himself being a good father/protector/role model for his son 💪

Loona shows her human disguise at least once at the season. Doesn't really matter if there's no logical reason for that 🐺➡️👩

More sappy sad ballads performed by Stolass 🎵

I.M.P. continue murdering people and not giving a fuck about morality (Sinsmas was the only act of mercy) OR they leave the business and fully go for Stol!tz soap opera (not like they haven't done that already- but hey! there's always room for degradation, right?) 📉

Stolass succeeds at the dime novels writing 📜✍️

Carnal hyper-sensual coitus between Stolass and Blitzø appears on-screen. Correct me if I'm wrong but I remember Viv expressed her desire to animate an intimacy act, so I have zero doubts these two are involved. It can't be anyone but them 🤢

Octavia forgives Stolass the moment she finds out about Stella's abusive nature. And since Stella's confirmed as a "stupid cow" the truth's revealed in the dumbest way possible. I wouldn't be surprised if Stella spilled the beans by herself 🤦‍♀️

Blitzø boosts his connection with Stolass the moment he finds out about Stella's abusive nature. After all we've got a sex out of pity, so why wouldn't we got a love out of pity as well? 🤡

Possibly Striker/Stella had been a thing at a certain time. Why? Because ✨fanservice✨ of course! And yes, it's going to be as dull, flat and out of nowhere as Cherr!snake. Or maybe worse 🙁

Stella's backstory turns out like the "she was born evil so don't you dare to sympathise with her" full edition. There is no valid motivation, no intriguing conflicts, no nuances - none of that. There is only Stolass' woobification arc. So this backstory isn't about Stella. It's revolved mainly around Stolass, maybe around Andrealphus or Vassago at the least. Granted that Stella ever had a chance to receive a decent backstory for herself Vivienne would've thrown it away right in the next episode without mentioning it ever again 😭

Actually Mammon can't play the guitar 🎸 He's just too dumb and untalented for this (according to Vivienne). Don't expect an epic villain song from him. I'd be happy to be wrong about this one but my hopes are dead

More fatphobic jokes toward Mammon 👎

Stolass' in drag. Just no comments 💄👠

Love triangle between Stolass, Blitzø and Vassago. At one point, Stolass leaves Blitzø because he doesn't satisfy his wet dreams well enough. Vassago and Stolass have complete mutual understanding and the idyll but Stolass feels smth isn't right. Smth is missing, smth like… Meanwhile Blitzø suffers and seeks Stolass' mercy. Eventually Stolass comes back to Blitzø because 💖 ~ they belong together ~ 💖

Perhaps after the breakup between Stolass and Vassago the latter will get together with Andrealphus 💘

Millie & Moxxie or Fizz & Ozzie giving romantic advices to Blitzø / helping him improve the relationship with Stolass 💝

Barbie Wire forgives Blitzø in her next appearance and then moves away from the plot without a trace 💨

Sapphic bait 💗 Verosika/Barbie Wire? Barbie Wire/Sallie May? Sallie May/Verosika? All of them together? I don't know! But I do know Viv would rather escape from being accused of wlw underrepresentation. Since she has promised S3 is going to be "a queer roller coaster" she would need to dilute her sausage party a bit. And of course the lesbian ship (whichever it would be) is poorly developed.

New unnecessary characters for celebrity VA's ⭐

Stolass was kidnapped... again?! Yes, Striker abducted him before but... Why wouldn't do this one more time? After all the stans love presenting Viv's auto-plagiarism as meaningful "symbolic parallels". Besides kidnapping is one of the most beloved tropes in fanfiction. And HB is an animated fanfic for sure ⛓

More shitty dads/exes? Because Viv adores reusing the same tropes over and over again 💩

"Positive" characters keep being justified and woobified infinitely 😇 while villains are losing all their charisma and braincells from episode to episode 😈

Nobody will ever remember that Stolass harassed Blitzø 🙈

Nobody will ever remember that Ozzie allows succubi to enter the mortal realm and seduce humans by hypnotic songs (which doesn't sound pro-consent, does it, Mr. Lust-Is-Not-About-Force?) 🙉

Nobody will ever remember that Queen Bee runs shelters (which are essentially slave trade hellholes) in terrible conditions 🙊

Stolass' "depression" is brought up occasionally as a reason to justify and pity him. Stolass' immediately healed by Stella's death. Right after that the depression has disappeared completely. Therapy sessions aren't required. Even if the therapy is shown then only as a lame joke 🌧

Stolass brings his powers back because he's out... for LOOOOoOHoOOOHoOOVE!!! 💓💃🏻

Stolass gets everything he ever wanted without any efforts and self-improvement. Because he's good enough already and everyone who disagree is just stupid and mean 🏆

Aaaaaaaand that's all! My forecast: at least 80% of these predictions will come true one way or another. And what do you think? Maybe you have your own ideas? Please share those in the comments/reblogs! It'd be cool if someone made a bingo based on all this. It definitely wouldn't be me because today I'm identifying myself as a lazy ass. Bye-bye! 👋😊

[theongp]

JJ Maybank/Rafe Cameron fics rec

*Note: My mind before I made this post was like, from "you don't need to it, they are rarepair RARE FREAKING PAIR no one care, especially on this platform" to "NO I have to, for the "paper ship" with almost 20 fics on my bookmark and so many good works on ao3, I am probably gonna explode if I can't get it out I don't even care if no one gives a shit" (to lovely people who care I love you), so here we are I guess 💀

No Murders, No Gold, Just Vibes (multi-chap, finished, rated E)

One of the first fics of this ship on ao3 and still lives up to its title as the most hits fic so far. It's the most read not only because it's one of the first but also because it's just TOO GOOD. It has angst, has hurt, it has fluff and comfort, all of them was so nicely balanced. The characters development is not too quick, it wasn't really feel like canon in the end but still not being ooc, and that has my deepest appreciation. Also the most important (to me at least lol) we have verse!Jafe, we even have the build up for Rafe to bottoming (the author is an angel my gawd), every fics that have bottom!Rafe is automatically good to me because it's rare af I need MORE. Oops it's gotten too long now but one last thing, there's one small part in the fic I really love related to their kiss, I will stop here to avoid spoiler so you should read it to know what i'm talking about yeah?

i'll take the risk if you are the reward (multi-chap, on hiatus (?), rated E)

The fic I talked about before, still one of the craziest, wildest fic i've read and i've read A LOT on ao3 for more than a decade. A thick book of spice is already unhinged enough? The plot has also the same level of craziness. Imagine The Bear tv show with all the screaming except the main couple is h0rny all the times and everybody always thinking about "dextering" everyone (I use the exact word the author used lol). Also why 180k words of corn is good? Because it still made me feel hot inside even tho there was no penetration for half of the fic (and that is almost 100k words, wild I know lol) 🔥 *Edited: Okay so I just picked up this fic again after a few days and I've realized I forgot how freaking good the author's writing is, how someone could write something so chaotic and poetic at the same time really, I wanna cry. Bonus, a poem in the most important chapter of all 35 chapters. Pretty much summed up Rafe and JJ's relationship in this masterpiece of a fanfic ❤️

Lost at Sea (multi-chap, finished, no rating)

Best Jafe AU fic to me. Another nicely balanced hurt/comfort, and one of the most wholesome fic i've read of the pair. It's not fluffy but very lighthearted and emotional. The idea of JJ and Rafe becoming a team of two (forcefully lol) and slowly realizing their feelings for each other through hardship on an unknown place is sooo appealing. Only them, no other characters appeared for most of the fic, like a breath of flesh air I LOVE it. Now I'm having the feminine urge to translate this fic to my first language and haven't translate any fic for a very long time (when you love a fanfic too much *sob* 🥺)

The Enemy of My Friend Is My Lover (multi-chap, finished, rated T)

There it is my first ever rated T i've bookmarked. If you want to read a fic where therapy actually worked, it's the one for you (therapy session in fanfiction often treated like nothing yk, that's why this fic is important). The character development of all the characters is so good because the writer planned it out so well, so detailed, with structure. Rafe's relationship with all of them is so sweet especially with JJ and Sarah, made my heart melt <3

Sounds Good (oneshot, rated E)

This fic has 2 things I love most checked out: post canon?✔️ bottom!Rafe?✔️ Good freaking food 👏 Corn with plot more like delicious corn with delicious plot. I read many fics by the author and she can write really sexy pre slash and dialogues, and JJ in her fics is always so horny for Rafe, freaking LOVE that. And I have to point out that Rafe in this fic has hearing difficulty and has to use hearing aid, that made the plot so much more interesting to me.

All the fics's links will be in the comment, remember to check it out 🙏

.

Note 2: Phew, I still have more fics I want to recommend, blessed the fanfic God for bringing us a tiny ship with so many good fics. I definitely will be crazy about this couple for a long long time, bc they were nothing in the show (the reason why I don't watch and will never watch), are the smallest ship of the fandom, but still has quite good amount of great fanfics with talented writers, also seeing my dad Drew together with Rudy is really f-ing great for my poor eyes, gawd i'm such a pathetic masochist I should stop. Bye ✌️

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Jealousy Jealousy” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis:- He dislikes you and you dislike him, rather simple an ordeal—except it’s not. Not when you’ve got one bed to share and your rival is Jealous for your attention—not when he can’t get enough of hearing your moans.

— word count:- 7.7k words ||Masterlist||

— A/n:- I wouldn’t consider myself a writer if I didn’t write a “rivals to lovers x one bed” trope so here it is. Poor jelly Suguru who’s also a little nasty but we like em like that. Au! Where Suguru doesn’t leave btw. Also smut starts after a long while💀

— Tw:- !Porn with Plot!MDNI!AFAB! Reader x Geto Suguru; perverted suguru!+perverted ex(?) hints at masturbation (both male and female); cursing (a lot of it); use of sex toys; geto is a thief (lmao); geto calls reader “doll”; spanking; dom! Geto to sub! Geto and then back to dom! Geto; oral (m and f receiving); pussy spanking; implied blackmailing

Kyoto and Tokyo.

Housing the two sister schools, they also housed three of the strongest sorcerers. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto and you—and irony lay bare that two of you did not like each other.

At all.

Insufferable he’d call you and exasperating you’d bounce back. And that was all their was to it—for the longest time and that’s what you two showed as well.

An eye roll here and a prodding middle finger there, you couldn’t even remember a time when you’d actually said “hi,” to him—considering your first meet was at the Goodwill event during a round.

So your annoyance was all too understandable when you walked into Principal Yaga’s room to find him lounging on the couch—ears stuffed with his earphones listening to shit you never liked.

“Yes sir?” You prompted, taking a seat across the man while Suguru didn’t even do so much as look at you.

Idiot.

“There’s a mission,” his eyes closed in on yours, “before you begin, don’t,” he was quick to add—“He’s already agreed to it and it has been decided that you two are the best suited for it. I will take no further questions.”

You find yourself raising a brow—no further questions? And he obliged?

“Why?” You asked regardless—“there are perhaps a hundred better pairs than us—why?”

“Your grade, your promotion and his to special grades depends on it,” the old man answered quietly, all too aware that his piercing gaze worked much better to shut you down than his words—“Now, any and every arrangement has been made. I just need you two to leave by tomorrow morning,”

Tomorrow morning? You could feel the gears in your brain turning fast—you would’ve asked more questions too, had the silly little Ijichi not dropped by, nervous and clammy, “Sir?” He’d called out—“You’re needed in the grounds…” voice timid, thoughts perhaps more so but nothing compared to your form left alone with Suguru Geto.

A silence.

Long silence.

“Why did you say yes?” You let out finally, frustrated to have that question knaw at your mind so long— only to be answered by another silence. Of course, he would play you just about now of all times.

You found yourself gritting your teeth— feet moved up close, his eyes staring at you all the same— “well?” You questioned again.

An eye roll passed, a sigh escaped, “Don’t go about getting ideas princess- I’m not keen of doing it with you but a promotion is promotion nonetheless. You should be glad you’ve got me helping you around,”

“Excuse you?” Your words very quick—sharp, “you’ll help me around?” You barked out a chuckle, “Don’t you go around being the princess with ideas Geto—much rather be helped by pigs than you,”

“Because pigs are the ones saving your ass every mission?” He quirked a brow—“Implication being you’re equable to pigs?” You smirked.

Your smirk only widened as he exhaled sharply, “Listen,” he began, “I want that promotion and so do you. The least we can do, for this one time is help each other. It’s a mutual goal, don’t fuck this up,”

You stared at him.

A brow raised, thoughts ran quick as you scanned his face—annoyance settling deep inside for his too stood sharp—“Fine,” you muttered, “For the mutual goal it is.” You heard him sigh—in relief? Mayhaps.

It was his turn to smirk now, “My my, she’s actually thinking this time—miraculous—”

“—Shut up,” you interrupted his words, “What exactly is the mission?”

He gazed at you quietly, “Hm, well, simple really. Someone like you—”

“—what is it?”

“Information extraction, and a side thing for this local deity who’s apparently a special grade. That’s theoretically all,” he paused, frowning, “it’ll take efforts,”

Your eyes narrowed up at him— “Don’t worry—I’ll figure it out.” He mumbled to nobody in particular.

You found yourself scrunching your face up at him, “Does it turn you on or something? To act like you’re the best?”

“I am,” he grinned,

“At being an idiot,” you added—“and it turns you on at least,” a wink he passed with that—your gag followed next.

What Suguru wanted, Suguru got.

Never a question about, never an objection either—you should’ve known.

“Let’s just call it a night Geto,” your voice bleak, tired—“So what if it’s shady? I know the owner,”

His eyes trained themselves upon you carefully, “It’s a fucking brothel y/n,” he paused, “and I know it’s well past 12 and you’re tired but pull yourself up a bit—”

“—I can even land us a discount,” whiny, your brows furrowed you pouted.

A grumble and a sharp exhale- Suguru didn’t do so much as grunt as he tossed you over he shoulder- silencing your yelp as he shushed you, “I’ll carry you- lead the way,” evident with his voice, he was tired and so were you.

You grinned and squealed internally, softly whispering directions in his ears as he lead the way through the foreign state.

You watched, and watched—eyes wandering onto his bun- the one he’d hurriedly made to help the heat, onto his fingers which held you close—grip tight to make sure you wouldn’t fall—it was embarrassing sincerely to be paraded around such but maybe, just maybe, with him, you liked it.

“Where the fuck is it?” A grunt- you smiled bashfully- “Think we walked past it some 5 blocks ago—” a giggle fell off your lips, his fingers pinched your sides- never playfully.

“The fuck are you-” an eye roll, an inhale, “you know what? Amazing,” and just with that he jogged back- the path retraced wher you came from, the shy pointing from the kids once again.

Five extra minutes you cause him, searching for the hotel- or brothel as Suguru deemed it—“Is this it?” Both your eyes watching the multi-story building in front of you.

It wasn’t half as bad as you’d thought it’d be—pretty decent, Suguru realised.

“You’ve called the owner?”

Before a ‘yeah’ could fall off your lips—clammy fingers gripped your waist—“Y/n!” A voice boomed, the owner- an old ex of yours.

Face flushed you faced him, “Oh hey,” you mumbled hesitantly, “Long time Hm?”

The man in front of you only smiled wide—a creep, Suguru muttered under his breath—sliding a firm handshake for the sake of formality.

Your ex chuckled- unsettling, “And this is your new man huh?” Your face flushed- Suguru’s did too— but he held his own—eyes narrowing at his words.

You however, chuckled nervously—and when you’d told Suguru you knew the owner, he thought, he never should’ve listened to you.

“Not uh…” you looked down, “not boy-friend—just uh, just—” you move to face him, a silent plea for help—“Colleagues,” he nodded.

“Just colleagues, yeah,” a nod you passed- relieved just a little.

The second guy only ever raised his brows, “Sure,” he smirked—“Come inside,” he ushered- hand, suguru noticed, too close on your back.

-

“Don’t tell me,” His face hidden behind his palm he spoke, “You said you knew him,”

“I do!” You prompted, helplessness evident in your voice—“He’s forcing you to fuck him,” Suguru’s expression a deadpan.

Your shoulders dropped-“He’s not…forcing me,” you bit your lip—“The only other option is us sleeping together geto,”

His eyes widened incredulously, “And that’s what you should choose—far more safe,”

You stared—of course you couldn’t sleep next to Suguru—not when—just no.

He sighed—“Really are an idiot,” you groaned internally- for the first time, agreeing with him, “Be glad I’m literally next door—call me at any moment that pervert-”

“-Geto!”

He shrugged—a fact was a fact nevertheless.

-

And now you lay awake, still, motionless in the cramped bed—so close.

So close the man’s body lay, the one you used to know all so well—the one which disgusted you now.

“Y/n,” he called for the nth time—your mind getting all too hazy to answer—fuck was that his hand on your thigh?

Mind a mess, eyes barely open and jaw slack- you got up, not a word—none at all as you pushed your way through the room.

A knock—and then two more.

He was fast to open the door, a glass of wine in hand, brows raised in amusement—“And I was correct?”

Rage all over you, a hand pushed him away—“Shut up,” his brows only ever raised higher.

“Bother me with a drink?” It didn’t sit as much of a question — a glass poured for you all too soon as you settled on his couch.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing it with both hands, fingers you found to be shivering a little too much.

Eyes narrowed, he watched you, taking a seat beside you, “Pray tell,” he began, “Did he say something? A fight between the lovers?”

A hint of jealousy did you catch? No- of course not.

You played with your silence, and his mind—just guilty eyes meeting his, as you sipped.

“Don’t tell me,” he whispered and you pin point a sudden anger inside—“Geto,” you mumbled, “it’s fine,” you but your lip.

Suguru’s brows furrowed, it most definitely wasn’t, surely you knew that—right?

A sigh left your lips—“Sit down please,” your fingers tapped the place beside you. He nodded simply- taking a seat beside you quietly, closer to how he usually would.

Another sip—“will you just sit here or…” his words were quiet, an initiative to not make you uncomfortable, more than you already were.

“This was the reason we uh,” you paused, eyes boring into the ply wood, “back when we broke up you know,”

Another nod- nothing to offer and when you didn’t say anything else, he tilted his head, “That’s it?” You snorted.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t a 3 hour documentary,”

“Thank everyone it isn’t, I was afraid I’d have to hug and comfort you and all,”

“Disgusting,” and you both chuckled—settling into your seats. Maybe someday you’d open up more onto your ex to Suguru, something in his eyes told you that you could. But as of now, just sipping on the off-brand wine seemed alright.

In a momentary silence you two sat in, nothing too comfortable but nothing otherwise either—until a moan was heard.

Your eyes snapped to him and his to you—a bewildered “What?” Spilling from both.

You’d have asked ‘did you just moan’ had the series of moans and grunts not continued and instantly, all too clear it was.

You see, the brothel had walls paper thin—pitiable were the customers of course—and this specific night, the both of you.

“Isn’t it your room?” Suguru questioned—a chuckle included, “What the hell,” you responded back- disgust prominent on your expressions.

Another chuckle, and another until the both of you sat there giggling all together- “If that’s how he fucked you, i am very sorry,” he grinned, “no wonder you used to be so frustrated all the damn time,”

Your jaw fell first, “Shut up?” You laughed, “Was not frustrated at all,”

“Nu uh doll, pent up sexual frustration is very real—I’ve seen it in Yaga and Gakuganji-”

“-Don’t you dare compare me to him,” your voice was shrill- now above the grunts in the room beside yours—shriller than the pathetic moans your ex was paying the girl to make.

And just so, two hours the two of you spent together- shy glances and touches shyer still- but enjoyable nonetheless.

It wasn’t the first night you’d drunk together, no, and such nights were always different—the grimaces that Suguru and you wore around each other during the day were always thrown away—smiles and grins, hidden glances and soft touches—nothing more, nothing less.

It was true that you guys barely ever talked when drunk—but it was all too obvious. But tragedy lay in the way you would simply forget, you would too and he would just the same. The nights were spent flamboyant, silly flirts and sillier jokes—all means to just adore each other As to what Satoru would call it.

Shoko on the other hand called it your idiocy, the sheer annoyance masked her expressions everytime she’d watch Suguru and you tumble around each other the next morning—as if the night before never happened.

Two hours spent laughing— every once a while Suguru would gaze at you, you’d do the same. It wasn’t ever weird, no.

If respectful could be the word to define any sort of staring, that would be how you did it.

Were curses and insults only thing to befall both your conscious mind and lips for each other? Yes. Would you two actually bare your life for each other? Satoru and Shoko had always guessed a definite yes.

And just so, flitting eyes captured between his, soon jumped to his clock—“It’s 12 already,” you mused, his eyes never leaving your face—“I should head back,”

“To that pervert?” He shot instantly, “Had he been good at sex I’d understand but he’s toxic, perverted and finished in 5 minutes—bet he didn’t even get the whore to cum,”

A drunk gasp escaped you as you smacked his thigh laughing—“You’re so drunk,” you mumbled, head lolling to the side, only to end up on his shoulder—it fit perfectly.

His eyes gazed down at you, “You’re drunk too- don’t go to him. Sleep here tonight,” and had you been conscious you’d certainly have fought the idea- ‘I can defend myself’ you’d have retaliated, which you of course could’ve but not like this. Not in your drunk state.

For the saying goes all too true, drunken words are sober thoughts.

So you nodded pliantly, head resting on his shoulder still, you nodded while he watched.

So close- just a mere inches and you could—just a little more booze and perhaps.

He noticed a lot in this position, your tinted lips—the warmness of your breath and body—your messy hair and insignificant attempts to not stare at his lips—he found you adorable.

“C’mere,” he called as he slowly got up- careful to not cause you discomfort, “you can sleep on the bed,”

“And you?”

A side-shrug he passed, “I’d be no better a pervert if I crept in beside you, you know,”

“It’s your bed,” subtle desperation- his drunk mind couldn’t catch —“I’ll be fine,” and just sometimes you had to curse the gentlemen to be all so gentle.

“Night,” you muttered as a yawn went past you- eyes following his form, tidying up his room to sleep on the couch you two just sat on—“G’night idiot,” he muttered back.

And in your sleep you wouldn’t realise of the little hurt he lay down with—choosing that scum over Suguru? Thoughts such replayed in his mind over and over; he was simply aching, for your touch and feel—drunk words were a sober man’s thoughts but what of the drunk thoughts never spoken aloud?

The morning came by fast- rays bright enough to break off your slumber, you let a yawn pass by.

Usually, a surprise would’ve caught you, to find yourself in his bed but somehow- just for once, last night didn’t lay forgotten — last night’s memory embedded in the corners of the room with empty bottles lying around—suguru’s short tossed on the couch as you heard the hum of a shower.

Unsure of the prospects, you lay just there- enveloped in the certain warmth of the duvet- until the water stopped.

The door opened swift, and to mock the gravity of situation, you close your eyes in the pretence of sleep—and you were partially glad you did for soon enough the soft thud of a towel falling entered your ears—naked Suguru stood, the view shielded only by your eyelids—embarrassment yours grew.

And in that moment, you fought hard to not open your eyes- the scent of his body wash all too inviting—citrus? You made a not to tease him on that later.

“You can stop pretending, I’m decent now,” your face grew warmer—you maintained your silence.

An annoyed exhale he let out—“When I call you dumb, instances like these are exactly what I’m referring to doll,”

You scoffed- “For someone who has the audacity to walk in like that, butt-naked, you shouldn’t talk at all,” your act let go just a second after his words.

You got up from the bed—yawning and stretching, Suguru’s eyes trailed up your form as your loose shirt lifted slightly along your hands—“The water’s warm right now- might as well go shower,”

You scrunched your face, “In your shower?” Before you could add further argument, “Your other option is simply that fucker,” and you knew he’d won the argument again.

“My clothes aren’t here,” a last resort you had and you grabbed on it desperately- he tossed you a clean towel, and one of his shirts—“You can wear these inside, I’ll just go grab your luggage right now,”

You rolled your eyes- he was relentless, stubborn entirely too much and you shook your head, having no option but to comply.

-

Suguru was quick—all too quiet as he slipped into the room beside, a musky scent heavy in the room.

In bleak darkness he reached out his hand, to pick up what he assumed to be your luggage—lips turning to gag instantly when his fingers felt something slimy on it. Each and every plan to annoy your ex left his mind quick as a disgusted suguru quickly picked up the bag beside the mess he’d touched already- rushing outside, back into his room.

A sigh left his lips—disgust painted over his face as he wiped his fingers with a napkin—the other hand settling down your bag—oddly heavy, and prodded out at certain angles, his interest was piqued.

Curiosity, he blamed it upon- focused fingers reaching out to zip open your bag- he knew it was wrong but then…something told him, deep down, you wouldn’t mind.

He heard the water falling come to a stop- he’d be quick anyways, hefty fingers reaching inside your bag—suguru felt so bad but a smile guilty adorned him all the same, especially when his fingers came in contact with the silky fabric of your panties—red? he grinned.

Fingers prodded deeper still, products of your daily use coming in his hand until finally he found it—aha! His grin widened, fingers slowly pulling out the little toy in hand.

And shame would befall you all too deep for in his hands was your pink little vibrator—he chuckled—how pathetic, and on a mission? All the more. Suguru’s thoughts raced, faster than ever—dirty, he felt in the best way possible until a sudden voice managed to creep to his ears.

A moan- again, different from last night—the source being all too different too.

From the bathroom he realised, face contorting to one of amusement as he thanked this time, the brother for having walls paper thin.

And as his fingers stuffed your items back in—pocketing the vibrator and leaving a single note in your bag, to be found hours later. Just so he was done—material worth stealing in his pocket and ears pressed against the door as he listened intently, finally the a moan of his name falling from your lips.

Thus he found, it truly was nothing more than that sweet little cry of his name from you that made him all so hard every argument, with your face so close to his- flushed red with annoyance—it was amusing really, of how you threatened to kick his ass while all he could think about in moments such was to pin you hard against the wall and pound yours.

-

Your fingers moved onto close the shower- assuming the thud of the door to be a sign of suguru leaving—a sigh escaped you as you propped yourself down into the bathtub.

Your fingers worked quick—you had to be, for Suguru could be back whenever and the last thing you wanted was for him to hear you such—and you let your head fall back- fingers quick to gather the slick around your slit.

It was simply desperate, you supposed, the way the thought of seeing him naked got you all so worked up—his scent and the prospect of wearing his shirt.

But a mind so restless could only be helped so much—the inkling of him leaving the room had your legs spreading instantly, lips bitten down to control the moans.

Pathetic, you called yourself—getting off of your rival—off him, of the way he carried you the day before, hiked over his shoulder—pathetic.

More pathetic were the moans and slight groans you found yourself unable to suppress, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace—your clit glistening with no attention as you imagined him teasing you.

A gasp escaped your lips—eyes widening at the moment as you imagined him between your thighs—he’d mark your inner thighs with kisses you knew, leave you begging for him too.

“Fu-uck,” you muttered, the pressure rising up—“m’close,” you mumbled to nobody in particular and amusing was the fact that you’d left your clit untouched as you knew Suguru would too.

Desperate sighs and moans you let go—trust in the assumption that he wasn’t back yet- he couldn’t be.

“Please,” you begged—perhaps to yourself for more stimulation—“pleasepleaseplease,” your voice a whisper as a finger you thrusted and pulled out sharp—finally a finger rolling slowly around your clit.

“Fuck,” you drew out, as your moans fought to become louder—“fuck m’lose su’” your eyes widened again, mouth turned o-shaped as the pleasure you chased finally arrived.

“Mm!!” You moaned and finally—“Fuck please Suguru!” Let out as you came on your fingers-not loud, just enough to tip him over as well as he sat listening outside your door.

Your fingers looked for it in a frenzy—you were sure you packed it—“Ready?” You head Suguru call out.

“Wait!” You shouted back—“I can’t find something,” Suguru grinned, “A brain is it?” Your door opened just as that, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Look for it later,” he mused—eyes watching your hands buried in your bag, total concentration tossed into it—sweet.

“The mission ain’t waiting for your pleasure-satisfaction, I mean,” he chuckled- your eyes narrowed.

“Whatever,” you grumbled under your breath—walking outside, basking in the warm afternoon warmth and your ex’s gaze.

“He’ll join us,” you whispered—“wouldn’t let me leave without well, threatening to kick us out,”

Suguru scratched his neck—nerves racking and a thought constant to as why he hadn’t punched your ex yet.

“Sure,” Suguru sighed—to your surprise, “we’ve to be in a club anyways, gonna maintain our distance from trash,” you chuckled beside him—a slight twinkle in the way you looked at him.

-

You walked ahead of the two boys—aware of the unmoving gaze on your form—a small black skirt—a smirk you held, hungry eyes—theirs.

“How far is it?” You made sure to question your Ex, not once did your body tilt towards Suguru on the slightest—cruel.

“Just about here,” he replied, providing no help, but you smiled nevertheless—“Thanks babe,” you giggled.

Suguru merely watched.

And he watched the entire evening—potently, as you did the exact opposite of his entire plan. He watched as you swayed your hips—with the target himself.

He watched as you grinned and giggled, letting your ex roam his hands onto your ass—he wanted to punch him right there, but he watched.

He watched as you watched him, ass grinding back into your ex, a grin on your face—and he watched as you downed three shots right after your bit of the mission was done and he watched as you draped yourself around your ex.

And as the fact lay, You weren’t really sure to what you were doing, or why.

Suguru Geto had never meant anything exactly, more than a rival of course- and a drinking buddy- and the person you admired- and a classmate you wouldn’t want to lose- and yes. Nothing more than all that, ever. So the sudden need to spite him? It was new- exhilarating, some may say.

So you wove the game- an open invitation shoved into his face; Never the watcher however, he finally moved, jaw tightened and annoyance all so present on his face.

And this time, you watched- you watched as he made sure to drug the target all too well, maintaining eye contact as he let the girls sway around him too—you watched as he slid his hands into the girl’s skirt, the one he danced with—planting a soft kiss on her neck. And you watched simply, wondering how that could’ve felt.

But a game only remained one so long until you stepped it up a notch- turning around to kiss your ex, placing deliberately, his hand on your ass- a tease.

“Get away,” he spoke through gritted teeth, a shove to your drunk boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Hey!” You yelped—“The hell?” Your eyes wide—as if innocent.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me right now,” he muttered dangerously—eyes boring into yours—“Let’s leave,” his hand reached up quick, grabbing onto yours to pull you away.

“Woah there pretty,” you called out, brows raised, “who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

Silence—exactly.

“You can leave if you want Geto,” such condescension laced your voice, he was almost hurt.

“You’re drunk,”

“So are you,” you snapped back—he wasn’t—you knew he wasn’t.

He blinked once, then twice, gaze persistent—begging you to come; your hardened into denial.

He sighed one last time—“Get fucked bitch,” and before you could reply, he was gone.

Gone as that—leaving you in a mess of your own emotions and an idiot of an ex-boyfriend.

-

A three day mission, two days gone by, the larger partial of the mission dealt with—you crashed onto your ex’s bed the second night, no courage found to even meet Geto’s gaze after the scene at the club.

The smell of booze was intense, your mind slightly tipsy on its own accords. With a confused heart you scrolled through your Instagram, bored.

The snores of your ex—and the girl beside him provided little entertainment—the thought of Suguru Geto in the room beside did nothing to help, you wanted relief. But all to no avail for your vibrator was ‘lost’ too and the energy to chase your high was not your preferred option.

Your eyes found its way to the clock- 12:02 a.m. it was late—‘would he be asleep?’ You wondered, fingers adamantly rubbing slow circles around your nipples—again, desperate.

Eyes closed, you fought urges to call him—just to tease of course, you could pretend to be drunk after all.

And so your thoughts fought quick—to lay bare without him or with him, eyes staring at the screen if your phone—ring!

Your eyes widened- the caller id read ‘Bangs’, you mentally convulsed. You stared at the second for a decent ten seconds—11, 12, 13–you knew he cut it any second—14, 15–“Hello?” You mumbled quick, raspy.

“Awake?” He inquired- “No,” you replied.

You welcomed his silence on the line—“Come here,”

“No,” you echoed—“don’t wanna talk to you,” you mumbled- mind hazy to how you couldn’t help the fingers swirling around your hardened nipples.

“I’m not calling here to talk,” his voice was sharp—annoyed—a silence you offered him this time.

“You think I don’t notice doll?” You could hear the smirk, “You’re probably wet just by the sound of me,”—you were—“so needy,”

“You’re the one who’s calling me Geto,” you snapped, “Really needy of you,”

“Maybe I do need you—keep rubbing, slowly, touch yourself doll, just slightly,” your mouth ran dry—you obliged without a second thought, “and maybe I have something that you need too—tell me though, can your silly little ex even touch you as good as you imagine me to, even in his dreams?,” a grin—a shit-eating grin, on his face you imagined. Such a fucking thief.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered through your side of the line, an airy breath leaving you as your fingers dipped beneath your shorts—as you did exactly what he told you to—“Sure thing,” his voice polite with just the best undertones of condescension, “Just a request then, doll, check if you’re wet please,”

You could practically moan at his voice and words—you were wet, nimble fingers prodding cautiously, “I’m not,” you lied- a moan bitten back, “Seems like your needy cunt really does need the pretty pink vibrator to get ya turned on Hm?” Husky, he sounded.

“Give it back Geto,” a whine, “Come take it,” a challenge.

And however could you deny a challenge from him?

A knock, and then two more—just like last time.

The door opened just as quick—brows raised, “Yes?” He questioned as if he hadn’t just teased you through the phone 5 minutes ago—you eyed him, “I believe you stole something,”

He grinned, your frown widened—“Come inside,” his hand gently found its way onto the small of your back—the gravity of the situation slowly befell you, you regretted nothing.

You walked slow, as you’d last night, “Where is it?” You questioned, brows furrowed, “Where’s what, pretty?”

Fingers clenched you stared at him, “Enough with your games Geto—hand it the fuck back,”

You watched as he slowly walked around you, a slow pace as he ended right behind you, bending slightly to grab the soda can—something easily possible without managing to glue his dick to the round of your ass—your face burnt.

“My my, such a dirty mouth you got there doll,” you needn’t turn back to imagine his expressions, “Maybe I should punish you- you’ve been bad all night anyways,” your blood boiled at the whisper of his words- “I wouldn’t have to, had you not been the idiot you are,”

His fingers were quick on your waist, spinning you to face him—even without a surface to be pinned against, you felt trapped under his gaze.

“So mean to me,” he mumbled—eyes bearing into yours, a subtle smirk, “There are other ways of getting into a guys’ pants you know,”

Eyes narrowed you scrunched your face, “Rather fuck a-”

“-a pig before me,” he rolled his eyes, “Yeah yeah, I know doll,” a sip of his soda he took, “But that’s not what you were doing this evening Hm?” His fingers were quick to grab your chin too, urging you to look no where but his eyes.

“Tell me doll,” he pressed, “What were you trying to do Hm? Grinding against those guys’ cocks? You’re that cock-hungry? A slut?”

Red- you saw red as his words registered in your head—a shake of the head was all to be offered, “Such a pity I had to deal with this way because you can’t control yourself,” your eyes widened, shushed by a shake of his head—perhaps, reassuring.

“So tell me, what were you trying?”

You stared, like a kid caught stealing- you could only stand there guiltily, answer on the tip of the tongue, but too ashamed to mumble it out.

Suguru simply hummed, “Too embarrassed to accept it doll? That’s fine—maybe me sending pictures of your little toy or the recording of you moaning today in the morning—”

Your ears rang- no way he heard that- your mouth hung open, “You sound like a pretty bitch in heat you know,” it was simply insulting, to have him say all this- but it was in the way it felt good—in the way it made you wetter.

“Don’t,” you managed, he grinned further, “Don’t what doll?”

You rolled your eyes, seemingly unable to get out of your predicament, “Geto please,” finally—you could see he’d mentally relented already, “Please give me back my…” you paused, swallowing, “please uh- my, my vibrator, give it back please,” your face flushed.

His gaze remained fixated, “Don’t think that’s what it is, c’mon dummy, you’re smarter than this right?”

Jaw tightened, you stared at him, “Geto please, can I have my- my uh, my pretty little pink vibrator back?” The way you bit your lip so hard, Suguru was sure it would bleed any second—adorable.

He clapped right then, like a proud teacher—walking closer to you, “such an obedient doll,” so close hope stood, his breath lingering upon your face, eyes observant to every breath and sigh—smiling when he noticed your relaxed fingers.

He knew you liked this.

“Nope,” he chuckled—“don’t wanna hand it back yet,” you wanted to scream at him—you couldn’t of course.

“And you haven’t told me yet,” he continued, “why were you acting like a brat Hm?”

And somehow accepting this was worse than accepting the fact above- “I wanted..” he stared hungrily, “I wanted your attention,” everything in that moment felt more interesting than his expressions—he found you all too cute such.

“Aha,” he smiled wide, “You wanted to suck my dick so bad pretty?”

“Not everything is about your dick,” you flared—“But this is, isn’t it?” He sneered—and you quietened down again for it was.

It escalated quickly here on, his hand moving to grope your breasts—“Can i kiss you?” He murmured against your skin and as much as you wanted to humble him- to not feed into his ego, you nodded.

With his lips latched onto the supple skin of your shoulder he pulled you closer still—so very close, a you let out a soft moan, having accepted it was a lost battle to fight him anymore.

“Eager,” he gripped your jaw- making you face him again, “Aren’t we?” A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest—fingers betraying his composure too, in the hasty way they unbuttoned your shirt.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You mirrored his expression- smirking all the same as you unbuttoned his.

“Shut up,” he muttered, a simple command—but you’d be fucked truly if you listened to him of course.

“Do it yourself,” you grin- already pushed underneath him—“Aren’t even gonna tell me to stop? Thought you came here to get something? Or maybe the slut really did just want attention,” smile, condescending—and he did shut you up.

And so there you were, pinned underneath him- hungry lips searching every inch of you, mapping your body in just a certain way.

“Had I known,” he grunted in midst the frenzied kisses, “that you tasted so sweet—I’d keep you like this all the damn time rather than fighting,” you groaned against him, feeling his hard dick propped against your thigh—separated by all but a think layer of clothing—“You talk a lot, shut up,”

He let your words fall blatantly, mouth never parting from your face as it smeared around wet kisses all over it, letting a deep moan as your hands found their way into the tangled mess of his black hair, pulling slightly with every grind of his hips. A breathy moan escaped you too—His teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your ears—“this is what you want right? What you want all the damn time?”

You couldn’t care less about his taunting—until a sudden slap ended upon your face, jaw gripped by fingers—“Tell me, could those men have given it to you like I do?” Heat surged through you—pooling all the way into your abdomen.

A grin you passed and and nod—another sharp slap, it felt euphoric.

Slowly, Suguru pulled away, enticing a low groan from you—“get up,” he murmured and you obliged, black eyes staring into yours, “get up and on all fours,”

“Really gonna fuck in a brothel?” A cheeky grin you adorned, body working nevertheless, as per his words—with hands and knees planted on the bed, you gave a soft arch to your back.

The clink of his belt entered your ears, the low shudder of his clothes thrown away—“Since you love acting like a prostitute, it would only make sense, right?” A hand reached to pull away your shorts too, save for the little black thong you wore—a smirk on his face as he admired the view. His fingers were soft in the way they explored—touching and prodding every inch of your back, resting just a little too long at the curve of your ass.

Suguru geto was simply cruel in the way he administered the pleasure on you- handing you a little and taking away a whole lot for the moment his fingers came close to your clothed cunt, the moment your sensitive core could feel the slightest touch, he was gone. All too aware of the wet patch on your panties, you dared not question a thing.

Body shifted to face you, he kneeled on the bed too—your eyes widened slightly, scrolling down to the length of his cock, it was pretty you had to admit. A decent length with a girth that you knew you would have you crying later—an angry pink-ish tip welcomed you, pre-cum leaking over it.

“Go on,” he commanded, “not gonna put your whorish mouth to use doll?” And normally you’d have reciprocated his words- but just the way his hands gripped your hair, bunching it up into a ponytail of sorts- you knew he was playing. You inched closer, hesitant eyes staring up at him as you shyly licked the tip, it was salty, nothing that you truly minded.

You gulp- uncertain lips as they wrap around the top, an experimental flick to his tip you passed- a hiss escaping his pretty lips, grip tightening on your hair.

“Come now doll,” he sneered, “don’t go all shy over me now—run your mouth the way you used to suck up for that ex of yours,” you pass him a glare- mouth pulling away from his upturned cock entirely—he chuckled.

“No lie right? After all, you were begging to sleep with him doll, cozied up beside him yeah?” All the while he kept pressuring your hair, a soft cry you let out.

“You act very smart yaknow,” he rubbed his chin—“Try that again,” and with no choice but to comply — you open your mouth and insert the tip of his cock, your jaw loosening to accommodate the familiar girth of his length protruding from your oral cavity to the walls of your throat. Geto hissed at the swirl of your tongue on the underside of his dick, his free hand now on the top of your head with tufts of your hair in his fingers. "...mmhmm, this is how you should use that mouth doll, not in all that chit-chat you do,"

And if you could, in the moment you only wanted to bite his dick off- it would’ve been hilarious, had he not been holding onto the pictures and recordings—and you suck as you could, the precum’s taste all over your tongue while his grasp on your hair tightened— fingers roughly pushing your head to bob up and down.

It simply felt disgusting to be treated this way, like his slut- like his toy and only worse was the wetness between your legs that couldn’t seem to stop growing.

“Shit,” he breathed out, “Ah— shit shit, jus’ like that doll,” it felt Dirty—but so good, to have him falling apart at your touch, even if he held the control, “s’good for me yeah?” Raspy, he sounded-hips bucking into your mouth and before you could register what was happening, his fingers pushed your face to his base, his cock prodding deep down your throat, tears were quick to pool around your eyes.

And just then, he pulled out, leaving your mouth feeling hollow—finger quick to pump his shaft, lubricated by all but your spit—a string of saliva joining it still to your mouth. And right before you, Suguru came with a sharp hiss, “A-ah, fuck,” he groaned, cumming all over your face and chest—paining you in his mess.

You watched him like that for a second, unspent, eyes huge as you instantly get to suck on his thumb he shoved right into your face.

“Good girl,” he murmured— “So good f’me,” he grinned, he wasn’t done yet- not until you’d be too exhausted to even move.

He eyed your form, on all fours for him like a true slut, his eyes only held adoration as he watched his cum stain your face—his eyes, however, we’re quick to take note of your drooling mess soon.

He stood behind you now, face level with your clothed pussy—“How pathetic,” he grinned, “You got so fucking wet by me using your mouth doll?” It was the way he said it—making the statement sound so innocent and yet, “Or was it the call? You got all so wet by just my voice? But then again, should’ve known—”

—smack!!

Your body lurched forward with the sudden force—a cry escaping your lips. You heard him chuckle, “such a tease, you have to be punished right?” A shake of your head he offered, nothing against his predefined course of actions.

Another spank he lay down—lips biting down onto suppress your moans—“I’m talking to you doll—fucking answer me,” another spank, you couldn’t help the pleasure the pain from his palm provided.

Quick enough, his belt was grabbed- grabbing your arms, he shoved your form into the ass-up-face-down position, classic.

“Sorry,” you mumbled helplessly—aware of your bare ass being exposed to him as he slowly pulled down your panties.

“Fuck doll,” he bore, “you’re fuckin glistenin’,” you knew it and the fact that you knew made it all the worse—just so another spank came crashing down, a rough squeeze he offered this time too, “think I should gag you with these eh?” The cockiness all too prevalent in his voice as he pocketed your soiled panties.

A whimper you let out at his words—needy.

His eyes stared at your core, “Spread your legs for me pretty,” and even that small murmur seemed sweet to you as you obliged quickly—he chuckled.

“So obedient for me, you’re far better when you’re like this you know,”

“Savour it while it lastssss- oh” your words interrupted by a dega of his fingers down your slit—filthy.

Quick to inhale the scent of you— he spanked you again, “only use your mouth to moan and scream for me or to tell me to stop ok?” You nodded, head pressed into the mattress, heart racy.

And in that moment—the power handle shifted just a bit as Suguru moaned wantonly, nuzzling up his nose between your folds—for just in that moment, he let you guide him. A tentative tongue swivelled through your folds—lapping onto it like he was hungry, and perhaps he was top, for your attention and praise.

“Fuck- right there yes,” you moaned hazily, the grip of his fingers tightening around your thighs—sure to leave bruises, he sucked reverently, as if worshipping you in this state and form.

He didn’t tease you anymore—he couldn’t, for as much as he wanted to see you cry for him, for his touch—he was starved. And he wanted to show you too, that even in your palm he treated you better than any guy ever could.

“Mmm su!” You cried softly, mouth hanging open to just let out out moans and cries-“jus’ like that—s’ perfect,” you arched your back more for him—letting him better access to your hole as he whimpered against your clit—“So so good for me Su,” you mumbled mindlessly as His moans against your slick cunt vibrate you to your core, as he greedily laps you up, tongue-fucking the precise spot that you praised him for finding until the coil in your stomach tightens, and you brace yourself against his shoulder.

“Like that?” He groaned against your cunt, pulling away slightly only to insert a finger suddenly, “feels good baby?” He questioned, spitting onto your pussy and rubbing it all over your core messily—another finger inserted, he stretched you out slowly.

“Could your boyfriend have done this Hm?” You took note of the green in his voice—“of course he couldn’t—nothing could right doll?” You nodded hastily, too focused on chasing your high until—smack! Another spank to pull you out of it—you whined.

“S’tight doll—not even your fucking vibrator yeah,” slowly—the slight buzz of it entered your ears—eyes widening.

The hum only ever got louder as he brought your toy closer to your core—chuckling as you clenched around still air—“so desperate—who do you belong to Hm?”

Silence you offered, not even a moan as he rubbed the vibrator around your core—he grinned devilishly, “Now is not the moment to play games doll—” you groaned at the touch of the vibrator.

“Oh?” He smiled, “don’t want it? Isn’t this what you came for in the first place?”

Another swift smack—this time on your pussy, you clenched and cried all together—“Ah!” His fingers curled up inside you—“I’m talking to you—Mm! Yeah- talking to you doll,” he grunted, watching you fall apart—another sharp spank on the same spot had tears building up in your eyes again.

“Who does this slutty pussy belong to? Who do you think about when you cum doll?” You never wanted to feed his ego but in the way, he cruelly pulsated his fingers inside you—teasing your clit slowly with the vibrator you couldn’t help it.

“You,” you breathed out- “Fuck s’you—all you,”

“Scream my name doll, let your ex know it too,” and just then he pulls his fingers away too, and the vibrator—latching onto your clit, his tongue again, swirling and swiping—until, it was there.

And all in a moment, it hits you like a wave—pleasure washing all over you as you cum all over his tongue—shuddering and shaking through it, riding his tongue out as you did so.

If you could look behind and spot him, you’d be all too pleased I assure you, with cheeks flushed he kneeled behind you, lips swollen and covered in your cum.

“Shit,” he groaned after a moment of silence, his and yours, “Pretty sure you woke the whole hotel up with your moans ya know,” and just like that, he was back at his usual self—“Shut up,” you mumbled, moving your arms to remind him to untie you.

He was quick to settle you back into a sitting position—propped against his chest you lay, head resting on his shoulder—“You want something? Water?” He inquired, concerned eyes boring into yours, you shook your head, he nodded.

You sat there a moment, “It’s 1:30 already,” you mumbled, just like last night—“I should go,” he grinned again, “I would, had your ex been a better fuck than me,” you giggled at his words—“Certainly more entertaining,” you gingerly spoke—“Liar,” he chuckled.

“And please,” his fingers teasing your nipples now—slow, steady circles, “I’m not letting you go until I’ve made you cum at least thrice more,”

“Suguru!”

“And now you say my name?” A deep laughed rumbled as he held you close—“uh- suguru,” you looked at him closely, “Can you delete those…the pictures and all?”

He chuckled again—already aware of your angry gaze the moment he replied, “my doll really is dumb yeah? You think I would care enough to film you when I could cum at the sound of you moaning?”

“What the fuck Geto?”

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[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 1. The Road

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

— A/N: Hello, my dears! So yeah, I saw The Bikeriders because of Austin (and Tom Hardy) and of course I had to write something for it 😂 I've been labouring at it for the past two weeks lol This was meant to be a one-shot but it kept growing and I decided to split it into chapters. The plot is partly based on something that happened to me, namely I missed my stop and the bus drove me way out of the city before I realised what had happened 💀 Anyway, hope you enjoy it! 😘💕✨

Grey clouds floated across the sky. Fields of yellow and burnt grass rolled along like waves. A string of birds cut through the far horizon. The fading light of the sun seeped softly through the glass and warmed her cheek but she was happy to keep sleeping, caught in that special spot between awake and dreaming when her thoughts were peaceful, settled, and she could weave from them a pretty fantasy. The chill of a November evening didn’t quite make it into the bus but the windows were already fogging and the seats grew cold.

She woke up with a start when the wheels struck a hole in the ground and everything jolted.

“Where am I?” she groaned, squinting at the window. Her reflection frowned back but beyond it, she could see… nothing. She was in the middle of nowhere with only naked fields and swaying power lines around her. She checked her watch and her heart stopped.

“I should’ve been home by now. Oh no, I did not sleep through my stop,” she whispered to herself — but she did. “Wait! Driver!”

She got up and ran to the front, scrambling past all those empty seats, her jacket in one hand and purse flailing in the other. The driver gave her a bored expression as she leaned panting against the divider.

“Wait, please, I need to get off! Where are we?”

The man looked at her with all the serenity of an overworked drone in a dead-end job. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed to see her there, nor did he seem to care about her predicament.

“Halfway to the next town,” he mumbled as he started to slow down. “There’s another stop ‘bout a mile back.”

“Great…”

“Next bus comes tomorrow ‘round seven thirty.”

“Oh.”

She looked around again as if she could see something different from up here but it was all the same. The vastness of it frightened her and she half-wished she’d never woken up.

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and tilted the cap on his bald head, his teeth tight around a toothpick.

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah…” she said automatically. “Sure.”

He opened the door and her whole body began to tremble, the situation suddenly completely real. She gathered all her nerves and put one step in front of the other, and as soon as her feet were on the ground the bus started to move again, driving away.

The sun was dipping into a pool of pink and the birds that circled overhead were growing louder. She was alone in a darkening field with nothing in front of and behind her except for lamplight spilling yellow and pale over an empty road and dead grass all around. If she regretted getting off that bus, it was too late now.

“At least it was warm inside,” she muttered. “But I could never make it back in time for work tomorrow from the next town… Damn it.”

There was nothing left to do. She sighed to herself and started walking back. In her head, she tried to calculate how late it would be by the time she made it home but each result only scared her further.

“Best not to think about it,” she said. “Just keep walking…”

She hadn’t gone on such a hike since she was a little girl, and never far outside of town. She’d only walked through fields and meadows and the forest that stretched east. There was certainly no time for it since getting hired at the local newspaper, and she liked it that way. Her days were measured and predictable, her clothes were always clean, and nothing ever hurt her — except her back if she sat down writing for too long. She was scared now not just because she was alone and in the dark but because she’d never done a thing like this before. Her heels were unsteady on the crumbling tar and her purse felt heavy on her shoulder. Insects were singing in the grass and creatures rustled through it that she dared not think about. Were there snakes around here? Rats? She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

After half an hour she came across the bus stop that the driver mentioned. The sign for it was half-chewed off and the wooden bench was worn and stained a sickly yellow beneath a flickering light. She considered for a moment sleeping there until the morning but then the ignominy hit her: to sleep on a dirty wooden bench under the flutter of moths and mosquitoes. To come home unwashed and stinky with her hair a mess and her stockings torn. And if any of the neighbours saw her… No. She walked past that bus stop and didn’t look back, and soon found herself surrounded by darkness again.

“You deserve it,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her body ambling forward with none of the grace and poise she had half an hour before. “How could you fall asleep? You weren’t even that tired, and the bus ride is so noisy. You couldn’t wait another ten minutes to get home? Idiot, idiot…”

The walk back to the city was taking longer than she thought it would, and by eight o’clock she was still out there. The sky was sprinkled with stars and the wind was flitting gently through her hair and the creatures in the bushes were growing ever louder. If she weren’t so cold and terrified she might have felt exhausted. Her feet hurt and her back was bent under the weight of her purse and she hadn’t eaten since noon. But suddenly, in the distance, she saw a glint of something made of glass and metal — it was a phone booth. The joy that rushed through her wiped all her pain away and she hurried to reach it, nearly tripping. She felt halfway home as soon as she stepped inside its murky walls.

“Please work, please work, please please please.”

She picked up the receiver and held it on her shoulder as she opened the phone book and started leafing through for the nearest police station. They would be obliged to come and pick her up — that is if she could only explain where she was…

“Hello? Operator?” But no voice came from the other side. The tone was dead. “Operator?” she tried again, her voice growing shaky. “Hello? Anyone?”

As she kept tapping on the phone hook, desperate to reach someone, a bright light came peeking over the horizon from the direction she had just come from. It couldn’t have belonged to a car but whatever it was that approached her was fast and loud as all hell. She held her breath as she watched it getting bigger, brighter, closer. This was the only driver she’d seen the whole night and she was equal parts hopeful and horrified of just what it could be. After all, what kind of person would be out driving at this hour on a weekday?

She forgot about the telephone as she followed this strange light until it was close enough to blot out all the darkness. It blinded her for a moment but that thunderous rumble soon settled to a pur and it stopped on the other side of the road from her. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness she realised it was a motorcycle, thin and lean and silver.

Its rider propped himself against the ground on one long leg clad in blue jeans and reached into his pocket. He was tall and slender, his figure swathed in shadows, his motions simple but relaxed and almost elegant.

“It doesn’t work,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Been broken for a while now.”

The flash of flame from his zippo lighter gave her a hint of his face. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, with full pink lips and a slight stubble, soft blue eyes, and a sprinkle of dirt like freckles on his face. There was a wildness to him and an air of gentleness as well, but his jacket was a dark denim and thick with patches, symbols that probably meant something to him — he must’ve belonged to some sort of “club”. She didn’t know much about bikers aside from what she read about them in the papers, but they’d always seemed to be a bunch of layabouts. Aside from drinking far too much and smoking she knew they got into trouble with the law, had fights, caused accidents, and were generally dangerous to be around.

“I’m… just trying to get to town,” she said in a wary voice.

“Well, I’m headed that way.”

She said nothing, her hand still frozen on the telephone.

“Want a ride?”

It was a tempting offer but one that made her shiver. She’d never been around a man like that, never even exchanged words with one, and everything that she expected from his kind — rudeness, lewdness, and a bad attitude — was suspiciously absent from him. He looked at her with those soft eyes, his long leg braced against the road, and waited. She should have accepted his offer, she should have just gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him, but… she couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He kept on smoking quietly and looked her up and down much as she’d done with him. She wondered what he saw�� She was probably a pathetic sight and a strange kind of person to come across in such a place. When his eyes finally left her figure they strayed across the wilderness. There was nothing around them for miles, they both knew that, and other cars wouldn’t be around that road for hours.

“You know how far away you are?” he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“I don’t want to…” She was about to say she didn’t want to ride all the way back with a stranger but instead said, “trouble you.”

He didn’t react at first, keeping that air of stillness about him that made her wonder what he thought. But after a few moments, he nodded and dropped the cigarette, crushed it underneath his boot, and with a leisurely motion mounted his bike once more and revved the engine up. Before she could say another word he’d already sped into the distance and left only a cloud of dust behind.

She almost felt sorry to see him go. Almost felt guilty too… She didn’t want her distrust of him to be so apparent or to cause offence, no matter what kind of a person he was. But she told herself he must’ve been a dangerous man and that she was better off alone than riding back to town with him. Well, she wouldn’t be riding back with anybody now… The telephone line was dead, just as he’d said. The wire must’ve been disconnected somewhere.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she began to walk once more, trudging through the dark.

The sky was as black as a curtain cast across a silent stage and against it lit from below the pale lights of interspersed lamps. The roaring of the bike got slowly lost in the road that lay before her and soon only her steps echoed to remind her of how alone she was. She watched the small light of the rider fade and hugged herself against the cold, holding the purse to her chest as if it could protect her. Her feet were hurting so much she worried they were bleeding and she considered taking them off until she looked down at the road and its uneven dirty tar. She closed her eyes even as she kept on walking, too tired to gaze out at the same old nothingness again.

But then she heard a roar floating on the wind and felt a tremble in her chest as if an earthquake was approaching, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that lone light making its way back to her. He seemed to ride back faster than he did as he was leaving and he reached her in no time at all. She slowed down to a stop and so did he, parking right beside her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, boyish way. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. But I can’t just leave you out here. You sure you don’t want to —”

“Alright,” she said, her voice already weak and weary. She was hungry and cold and scared that she’d never make it back to town that night. Too scared to refuse his help a second time. “Just… just get me to the edge of town. I can make my own way home from there.”

If he was surprised at how quickly she accepted now, he didn’t show it. He simply moved closer to the front of his seat and made space for her behind him.

She took a deep breath and approached him carefully as if he rode a beast, not something made of metal. It looked solid and precariously thin at once and yet he straddled it confidently. The saddle looked just big enough for two. She hopped on as best she could and tried to keep her legs together but when he looked at her over his shoulder he shook his head and laughed.

“Legs on either side,” he said. “You’ll fall off if you ride like that.”

“But, my skirt…”

He looked up and down her legs and she tried not to read too much into the way his eyes had darkened.

“Roll it up,” he said in a low and soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

She held her breath as she rolled her skirt up high enough so that she could throw her other leg over the side. He waited while she settled into the position and planted her feet firmly.

“Ready? Hang on,” he said as he revved the engine up. “I’ll go real slow, alright?”

“A-alright…” she said as she placed her hands timidly around his waist.

But he didn’t go slow, at least not by her standards.

It was completely different to riding in a car, more visceral and real with no windows to protect her. She let out a little scream and clung to his body more tightly than she meant to, eyes falling shut, legs tightening around his bike. He smelled of gasoline and metal and several days’ worth of sweat cooled down by the chilly autumn night but he felt so solid in her arms, so firm and steady, even as the world flashed by. Eventually, she was brave enough to rest her cheek against his back and opened her eyes to look at the vacant countryside. It was a little frightening, as she expected, but peaceful too. As she fisted her hands in his jacket, right over his heart, she tried to peek over his shoulder but could just see the side of his face, focused and relaxed, and the white circle of the headlight. Somehow, that was enough for her. His hair tickled her forehead, feeling softer than it had any right to be, and she found herself smiling. There was something base and ancient in the way he smelled, the way he spoke, even in the way he moved. It was as if he had in him the blood-memory of an ancient Knight on armoured steed galloping alone and steadfast through the fields and woods of untamed lands.

The outskirts of town were much tamer than that, however, and before long they could see the faint lights of the outermost buildings, squalid flats, and blinking advertisements. When he started slowing down she felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. It must’ve tickled the back of his neck because he bent his head forward as if to get away — or to ask for more.

“Where are we?” she asked once the noise of the motorcycle died down.

“Marshal Avenue,” he said, easing the bike to the side of the road.

She didn’t know exactly where that was, but she guessed they were on the other side of town from where she lived. All along the street were boarded-up shops, derelict flats, and liquor stores. Across from where he parked was a building that looked to be about a hundred years old. She could hardly fathom walking home at that hour, especially through a neighbourhood like that, but it was better than being in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, thank you. For the ride.”

He lit another cigarette and dismounted the bike, rolling his broad shoulders to unwind. She got off quickly, scrambling to cover her legs in the crumpled skirt before he turned around and saw her. He gave her a look over his shoulder when he heard her fussing and slowly turned around.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“Yeah, I… I can walk from here.”

He looked at her and stayed quiet but there was something in his eyes behind that veil of smoke that made her curious about what he had to say. He simply nodded and turned toward that old building behind him. She hugged herself and looked up and down the street, waiting for him to say anything — to ask for money, to make fun of her for thinking she could make it home, to make a pass at her…

“Well, good night,” she said.

And as soon as she started walking away he spoke to her again.

“Hey, it’s kinda late. They got rooms upstairs.”

“What?” she asked, turning on her heels a bit unsteadily.

“Owner knows me,” he shrugged, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot and immediately lighting up another. “Could get you one for cheap.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and looked around pretending to think… but her eyes kept coming back to him. He puffed quietly away and gazed at her with no design behind those clear blue eyes, looking just as uncertain and awkward as she felt standing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want to trust him but a part of her responded in the same way that she did when she saw a homeless puppy.

“You mean, a room of my own?”

“Yeah.”

She looked from him to the large building again.

He could probably tell that she was torn because he helpfully supplied, “They got food too. Hungry?”

She was. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten or had anything to drink.

“I kind of am.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come on.”

[thedemises]

. . . SAVE A HORSE, GO ON A RIDE WITH THE COWBOY! featuring boothill!

notes! . . . y'know the phrase, “save a horse, ride the cowboy”? well, I decided to-do something about it with boothill... except it's sfw and more like “save a horse, ride with the cowboy” cuz i dont do nsfw here >:/. god give me acceptance for how boothill is so ooc here- 😭😭 idnk how to write his character properly, and does he even have a horse?? I don't remember seeing a horse when his character and banner got leaked, so let's just pretend he does have one for the sake of K'hailreigh for this plot. 💀

imagine returning the horse boothill had been searching for all day after it got the chance to escape through the tall fences the moment they were opened, his eyes widen at the sight of his companion with you guiding alongside it. normally, his horse wouldn't follow after someone else's orders other than him... and it behaves pretty feisty and rough with people who isn't him.

boothill is relieved to see that his trusty horse hadn't been injured, briefly thanking you as he goes over to fuss over his stallion. you can't help your gaze wandering and examining his figure, in awe of the metallic and cyborg parts of the cowboy in front of you. sure you might've seen people having artificial and metal parts attached to them, but this man right here just plainly looks like a robot if it weren't for his humanly head.

boothill notices you eyeing every inch of him, glancing from the lasso that hangs at his hips to the pistols to his arms and to his legs. he glares a wolfishly smile at you, baring the shark-like teeth that you gaze in short surprise at, and asks in a teasingly tone, “like what you see, darlin'?”, observing how you blink owlishly at him. but then, he's becomes sort of surprised when you nod your head and confirm that—yes, you like his appearance and how the color scheme matches altogether, while indirectly  commenting how he's a good-looking cowboy.

boothill, after his turn of blinking at you, grins and narrows his eyes with an intrigued look in them; amused by you and how you don't seem in the slightest.. nervous or terrified in his presence. you perked the cyborg's interest.

finishing the small talk with the man, you mention that you'll be needing to go somewhere for an errand and boothill takes the opportunity to offer a ride there on his horse—as a thanks for retrieving his horse, taking in your surprised expression with a grin as he ends the sentence with a “darlin'”. he insists, even if you refuse, so you decide that it'll be quicker to go in a horse ride with the cowboy than rather walking by foot as you were given no other choice.

with boothill's assistance, you were boosted onto the horse and instructed by him to hold on as he looks back at you, flashing a toothy grin and a finger tilting his hat just slightly for a short moment before you and him rode off towards where you were needed to be at with his horse. startled by the increasing speed his horse was going, you instinctively grasp onto the cyborg cowboy's built body in order to not fall off during the ride accidentally—boothill grins at your expression, his laughter going with the wind, “better hol' on tight for now, sweetheart. this'll be a rough ride! i'll get ya to where yer headin' in no time!”

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own. ━━  word count: 508.

[factual-fantasy]

Can i grab you by the ankles and slowly drag you deeper into the transformers' Fandom?

Purely with your permission (:

XD I've been thinking about it. But ngl I'm put off by the amount of work it would take to rejoin the fandom and build my AU.

To start, I'd have to re-watch the whole show to refresh my memory.. which would be a lot for my short attention span to handle 😅(I never even finished the show the first time around because of this 💀)

Then I'd want to do a LOT of crazy rewrites to the story and a BOAT LOAD of redesigns. Basically everyone except Arcee and the deceptions get a brand new design and alt-modes.. so much redesigninggg 😵‍💫

And THEN I'd have to work out all the whack job changes I wanna make to the story. For one I would want Wheeljack to stay put with the Autobots when he first came to Earth in episode 8. Which would entail me digging into Wheeljacks character and figure out why he kept leaving. And then make a situation or something about Earth/the Autobots that compels Wheeljack to stay SO MUCH that it overrides his desire to leave Earth. Hmm.. what would that be exactly.. 🤔

I also want Sky Quake and Dread wing (was that their names..?) to get away from Earth together unscathed. Or at least give them some kind of ending where they are together. I remember the fates they had in the show made me very sad :(((

And then there's the even MORE complicated changes. Like the fact that I want Cliffjumper AND Tailgate to be alive and well A N D on Earth with everyone else. Just for the heck of it ngl 😂 But I ALSO want Arcee to keep her initial standoffish attitudes towards Jack.. that I thiiiink I remember her having...? I also want her to still have that bitter hatred towards Airachnid. Hmmmm a loooot of plot holes to patch there...

I also want Breakdown to be alive and have joined the Autobots. Which would later cause Knockout to rethink things and join the Autobots as well. I saw that Knockout joins the Autobots in the actual show but I just never saw what made him do it-

Another thing is I remember not really liking Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus and the new body for Optimus and their new base... I would probably build up my AU juuuuust far enough to get breakdown on the team and then call it there. I wouldn't write any further because I don't care for Smokescreen or Ultra Magnus. Which I thiiiiink came after that whole Breakdown thing....? It would just turn into a "day in the life of" AU where the plot wouldn't really progress much further.

So yeah, I'm open to drawing more of it here and there.. but I've got my work cut out for me if I ever wanted to officially rejoin the fandom 😅

[7-deadly-cats]

First of all, you’re amazing BUT GIIIIRL I’m going out of my mind. Is the first kiss still far away? I can’t take it anymore 😩😩😩😩 I love them and hate them at the same time🥹🥹🥹

ajdjsnd thank you sm and i totally understand lmao 🫶🏼

you probably won’t like my answer tho 🤣 i mean i can’t say for sure but their first kiss probably won’t happen until the very end.

4 reasons for that:

1. it’s a slow burn series. i know technically (if we take the in-series-time in consideration) only a week has passed in their time so let’s kinda ignore that fact 🤣

2. both agreed on wanting to spend time with one another as friends. and both like where things are atm, so both won’t risk losing their current dynamic by initiating sth that could threaten it. i mean reader’s very hesitant anyway 💀 and i feel like rafe’s scared of scaring her off with any physical move after her crazy spiral in the car. flirting? absolutely fine. but other than that i guess he’s also more cautious now.

plus neither of them is aware of their crush on each other. reader knows he wants her sexually but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s into her as a whole. and rafe doesn’t even consider her crushing on him. he just thinks she’s weird and that’s why she’s weird around him 🤣 (also let’s ignore the fact that this poor boy doesn’t even consider someone could fall for him as a person and not just his looks 😃🔫)

3. it’s just so much more fun to write the tension before the first kiss. like the dancing around one another, the teasing and jokes and everyone knows how it’ll end except them and GOSH. of course a kiss doesn’t immediately have to mean anything or lead to anything but it def would let out some pressured air. (that’s just my opinion of course)

4. the kiss has to be perfect. for rafe it would mean he’d kiss a girl not just out of pure lust but affection and for reader it would mean EVERYTHING. so i hope you understand that i don’t wanna throw that special moment away just so they kissed.

but of course, i don’t want you guys to feel like i’m playing you as readers. so despite what i just said, there’ll be lots of moments in which they get closer. sweet and fluffy scenes like the bracelet or balcony scene (LIKE IF YOU ONLY KNEW WHAT I’VE PLANNED FOR A CERTAIN CHAPTER AHHHHHHH), lots of giggles and smiles and AGAIN BE READY FOR SOME CRAZY FLUFF IN ONE OF THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS.

you can also expect some smut soon BUT a little heads up: it’s gonna be a dream, not an actual irl scene (sorry 😅)

so all i can do is ask you to trust me, have a little patience and try to enjoy the remaining chapters nonetheless <3

thank you for sticking around, i hope i didn’t discourage anyone now. trust me, i’m well aware you guys just want them to get together, hold hands and cuddle, (and do some unholy things), and believe me, i feel so bad and anxious that i can’t give you that (yet).

i’m just trying to make things perfect and lead the plot toward the perfect moment in which things reach their climax and then it’ll feel all the more satisfying.

[mona-risms]

I'm not sure if you'd like reader as Celine's s/o. She's not actually in this, just mentioned. I need her for plot+excuse for why reader is around as much as they are.

Being Rumi's other parental figure. See- Because Celine so subtly engraved Rumi's hatred for her own body, imagine if she'd had someone who would always fiercely counter that idea growing up, you. Celine's own s/o.💀 It most likely wouldn't spare her the insecurity, but it may have not been as bad as it was by the time she reached where she was in the movie.

Baby Rumi off-handedly: "Celine said one day I won't be cursed anymore when I make the golden honmoon :D" *holding up a crudely drawn picture of her with and without her patterns.*

Reader: "...She what—Cursed?" (Take that drawing from her NOW 😭)

Rumi: "Yeah, my marks'll go away!"

Reader: *I'm gonna chew that woman's head off—* "Baby, you're not cursed, and neither are those marks. They're part of who you are."

Rumi: "But Celine said-"

Reader: "Never mind what Celine said. Alright, here's a question: Do you want to be mean to people?"

Rumi: "NO ☹️ that's gonna make them sad, I don't wanna make people sad!"

Reader: "See? You're perfectly fine the way you are. Demon patterns or not, they don't change who you are in here," *pointing at her heart.* "Demon doesn't automatically equal bad, you're not a bad person, and you're half demon, alright?"

Rumi: *Buffering loading symbol above her head.* "Okaay... I don't like being half demon though."

Reader: "Well you didn't choose it, and you're not better or worse for it. Your parents don't define who you are, your choices do. So choose good."

Rumi: "Okay!" *going back to drawing while she deadass forgets that whole conversation bc she's four or something.*

MY SHAYLAAA. I WISH SHE HAD A BETTER PARENT FIGURE. Literally went full mama bear mode when Celine was fr staring at distressed Rumi and just not listening to what was being said to her.

DIE. YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO WRITE ALLAT NOOOOOOO RUMI BABY :(

Honestly if Celine's not gonna take care of her properly then we may as well 😒 LIKE okay real talk I hate kids, right, but even I'd be like "wtf" with the way Celine essentially made her grow up with such insecurities hello??? I'd smack the living SHIT outta her idc if she's battle-trained!!!!!

Rumi would see you as like the nicer parent between you and Celine and she may genuinely even go to you for whenever everything eats at her too much ☹️☹️☹️ and especially whenever Mira and Zoey try to invite her our to like bathhouses or anything that may show off her patterns ☹️☹️☹️☹️ bc it's like. She's not gonna go, as much as she wants to, but she still feels so left out bc of it so she goes to the person that knows that she has patterns but accepts her anyway. She'd DEFINITELY end up in a better place than whatever tf's going on now bc even if she still thinks she's a monster or a mistake, at least she knows she isn't really completely alone

Methinks it'd still hurt like hell though, thanks to Celine's constant. Thing. Like at some point she'd have to wonder like why is it only just you that accepts her for who she is? Why can't anyone else? Mira and Zoey would understand right? Bc she didn't ask to be born like this. It just kinda spirals either way god I feel so bad for this girl

Imagine the whole scene w Celine happens as well, except you end up witnessing it and Rumi's absolute State. And when she sees that you don't even try to walk away—in fact, if you even start walking towards her without reservation bc that is YOUR KID not a fucking monster—she might break down and end up running to you despite Celine's shouts to hug you in tears bc she just. She just got force-revealed, her two best friends turned on her bc of the surprise realisation, Jinu betrayed her ass, and now one of her parental figures can't even look at her in the eye :(. She'll teleport off to the Tower after but :((((( please god I need her taken care of this woman deals w so much ☹️☹️☹️

[winwintea]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for @sungbeam for the tag, yours was so prettily laid out and i was in shock. ALSO THE TAG WAS SO SWEET EVEN THOUGH WE ONLY BECAME MOOTS AT THE END OF THE YEAR. even though i really only started writing fics towards the end of the year i did write more than i thought could so it’s fun to go over yknow…

no pressure tags: @chenlesfavorite @ddolbyong @fatalhoon @galacticseonghwa @hazyhae @jirsungs @lyvhie @odxrilove @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sehunniepot @strrykais @thatsatricky1 @viasdreams @vanesycho @wonbin-truther @yizhrt

FIRST FIC OF 2024: yours for the night ◎ park jongseong (april 20th)

chat… don’t talk to me about this one ok. DONT READ IT 😐 i can see you wanting to read it DONT ISTG. but genuinely i re-read it and cringe cause wdym i thought this was good and posted it. it was kinda rushed though, cause i think i was trying to time it with jay’s birthday. kinda funny that i’m a mainly nct account and my first fic ever posted was an enha one

LAST FIC OF 2024: mutual affection ◎ park jisung (december 25th)

start the year with fluff end the year with fluff! 🤗 this one changed drastically from it’s original concept though. it was supposed to actually be professor x reader where y/n comes in during class to deliver lunch while his students tease him but then they go on a date, except @polarisjisung liked the idea of them passing notes to each other during class 😚

LONGEST FIC: wicked love ◎ na jaemin

y’all ate this one up i’m so glad it didn’t scare you guys away. the reaction was so positive and lovely, i was a bit afraid since i’ve never written a yandere type character before. plus 5k is definitely long for me, i’m hoping to write something longer next year so wait for me okay??

MOST POPULAR FIC: inyun ◎ mark lee

lowkey didn’t expect this to do well but somehow mark lee + past lives combo works well. also did not cave into the angst ending!!!! so i don’t have much to say on this one love u all mwah mwah

PERSONAL FAV: my apology letter ◎ zhong chenle

obviously i would have to choose between winwin or chenle for this one (no shit) but genuinely as much as i hate this man so much this fic just. i don’t think i could write anything like it again? maybe? don’t trust me on that i’m unpredictable. but the idea was just insane and i can’t believe i pulled it off well in writing.

i hate zhong chenle. i hate that man why is he so writeable. WHY (i got lazy with the banners don’t kill me)

NO. 1: Zhong Chenle (12,300+)

find him in: heart to heart, secure that once upon a time, stop posting about BALLER, my apology letter

NO. 2: Na Jaemin: (9,100+)

find him in: that’s okay, wicked love

NO. 3: Huang Renjun (can’t count cause smau lol)

find him in: the last dance, and belladonna!

if y’all couldn’t tell i didn’t start seriously writing fics until the later half of the year, and i also am a new writer 🤭🤭 i started writing around march/april of this year starting off with smaus. i was also lazy with my banner making abilities so i hated that but anyways we learn!

i plan to write more obviously, it was just so fun!!!! to pump out fics in the span of 2 months but i lowkey can’t keep neglecting my smaus i feel bad 💀 but on terms of what i have on my brainstorming/working on list rn!

- an angel reader x demon haechan fic (won’t give much details bc i don’t want to spoil but hehe 😛😛)

- super super lore heavy fic involving some modern retelling of alice in wonderland theming going on but make it romeo and juliet, and detective themed with some mystery. (😐😐 this one might be so long idk if i even have the ability to write it but i will try!)

- delinquent jaem smau (i’ve talked about this before but yall cannot let me start another smau i gotta finish underneath the tree and mark lee vs the world first okay)

- upstairs neighbor haechan smau except he literally crashes through the ceiling into your room and that’s all the plot details i can tell you rn

- secure that card (but better)

- a jisung smau that will tie in every single smau i’ve ever written together (guys the winwintea universe is real)

[krillonthegrill]

rant about double exposure's Amanda Thomas (i adore her, for anyone that's worried reading that - this is long)

god no one's gonna care about this 💀 the thing that makes me so upset about Amanda Thomas's character is how little she has to do with the main plot and how much of a FUMBLE that is.

i love Amanda. i want to put her in my pocket and carry her around. i made a bee-line for her every single time i was in The Snapping Turtle just so i could have a surface-level five-sentence-total conversation with her. but she really is only there to romance Max. and that totally sucks.

she's 10x less enjoyable if you don't romance her. i feel like that rings true for every romance options in the franchise with the exception of Chloe and Rachel - it's a flaw of the writing, in this case, but i understand how it came about. they don't wanna lock players out of her romance if they decide that they actually do wanna romance her later on (because, cmon, her introduction you speak for maybe two minutes before you're given the option - granted, i loved her immediately but not everyone's gonna feel that way), but they don't account for people who don't wanna romance period. she flirts with you very openly like she didn't call HERSELF your friend just an episode ago. it can feel hot and cold, and people are allowed to be annoyed by that

anyway

after some thinking, i'm realizing she reminds me of a worse Steph, not worse as in behavior but worse in writing. Steph had ties to the plot, she knew the characters Alex had issues with WELL. Gabe was her BEST FRIEND, the ENTIRE reason she stayed in Haven Springs, she was with Alex the same amount of time Alex was with Ryan. and even THEN Steph falls short because she already dealt with her flaws in Wavelengths, but at least she got a DLC to show how she dealt with her trauma after Arcadia Bay

Amanda isn't really friends with any of the main cast. not with Safi, not with Moses, not with Reggie or Diamond or ANYONE ELSE. EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ALL IN THE TURTLE ALL THE FUCKING TIME

and she knows them well enough. when Amanda talks about Safi in a post, she mentions that Safi was the first person to sign up for an open-mic night that Amanda was really worried no one would go to

in the dead timeline, she keeps a gingerbread house on the side specifically FOR Moses so he can build one, because she knows he would probably want to even though Safi's dead.

like, when you go with Moses and Safi to see the meteors, Amanda's posts implies that she would've gone had she not had work. but have they EVER fucking hung out? canon content implies they do not.

she has an entire LIFE separate from the plot:

• people apparently fucking ADORE her. like, everyone in town. Max makes a comment about everybody having a huge crush on her, both men and women. she's just generally well-liked

• she's the oldest of six, she has TWO NAMED SISTERS, Melissa and Ashley, that exist in the world and even comment on Max's posts. i think one of them - i believe it's Ashley - makes a joke about U-Hauls and Amanda being a huge lesbian

• she likes to cook. she makes Max HOMEGROWN salad (girl, homegrown) and FOCCACIA. she cooks her siblings breakfast. one of the polaroids you can find is her cooking Max breakfast - i'm going to go out on a limb and assume acts of service is a love language for her

• she names people she is friends with that do not show up ANYWHERE in game (Henry, Eddie, Teegan, etc.)

• a good chunk of her conversations with Max are about music. a polaroid you can find includes them finally going to a concert. one of the first conversations you have with her is her gushing about the Vermont bands

• she's Cherokee and Abenaki, she talks about the indigenous people on campus having a place to congregate and have a community. i think she mentions they're moving something to do with weaving (? - some kind of craft, something with beads) to the Turtle because she wants them to be able to do it. she fucking hosts an indigenous artist exhibit INSIDE the Turtle

• i think she talks about volunteering at a soup kitchen?

• she mentions her therapist in-game three times, two times in the same scene, about becoming too attached to people way too quickly and about making good choices (when she decides to NOT sleep with Max - which, boooooo 🍅🍅🍅 more power to her, god knows i would've jumped at the chance). Max calls her a control freak - jokingly, but still (and it's true - she's not the owner of the Turtle, but she's basically running it)

all of this would be fine if it was acknowledged by the narrative. and it IS, but only by HER

she doesn't know Max, not really. but she desperately wants to. and she expresses that so many fucking times. but you never get the chance to.

it drives me nuts. you make a character with lots of charm - at least, to me; i think Samantha Bowling did a fantastic job, props to her - and do nothing with her. it's like DeckNine knows how to give a character the illusion of being fleshed out without doing any of the work to MAKE them fleshed out