#headphones under 500

[thestarmaker]

Funny getting a new pair of the headphones I've had for... 4-5 years and realizing just how bad mine ended up. Like they DID fit snugly onto my head at one point.

[shantnusingh]

Best Gaming Headphones Under 500 with a Built-in Microphone

Gaming headphones with mic can improve your gameplay without breaking the bank. With these headphones, you’ll be able to communicate with your friends more simply and enjoy playing games more, whether battling monsters, exploring far-off worlds, or cruising through virtual cities. Choose comfortable headphones that produce high-quality sound and have a reliable microphone. 

[wirelessfpx]

Best Bluetooth Collar Earphones Under 500

Most Bluetooth collar earphones have the same basic design. Two earbuds are connected by a thin wire at each end of the neckband. The best ones have a little more flair. They have a snazzy app, a convenient charging station, and a handy volume rocker. If you don't mind spending the big bucks, you can get a nice pair of around-the-neck headphones for under 500. But is it worth the cash? You need to weigh the benefits of the various features.

The most important function of a Bluetooth earphone is the connection. A good pair will allow you to make a connection within 30 ft of the device. In addition to the standard earbuds, the cheapest models will have two additional, smaller earbuds that can be attached via a thin cord. Although they are relatively inexpensive, the quality of the earbuds can vary. For instance, some are made from plastic and have rubberized ends. Other models are made from high-quality, branded materials.

One of the most impressive features of the newest crop of Bluetooth earphones is their ANC (Automatic Noise Cancellation) system. Though they are not as robust as their predecessors, these headphones produce an acceptable level of noise cancellation. However, they can be uncomfortable after an hour or so. Likewise, the battery life is modest. With a standard charge, you can expect to get five hours of music playback. There's no auto-off feature, so you'll have to remember to turn the unit off if you want to save power.

Lastly, the earbuds o f the most expensive models have a fancy LED light that flashes in sync with the sound. This is great for music playback, but not so much for phone calls. Moreover, the LED light isn't nearly as bright as it would be if it were wired to the earbuds. It's not the most practical use of your battery life.

To sum it all up, the best Bluetooth collar earphones aren't a magic pill,  FPX Labs offer plenty of features to keep you engaged with your favorite tunes. The best are also reasonably priced. From the V-MODA Crossfade 2 Wireless Codex Edition to the Skullcandy Smokin' Buds 2, there are options to suit every budget.

[outofharmsway]

[fivesecondsofhoran]

[lesbogal]

[harryjonshon14]

Buy Redmi Earbuds S best wireless earbuds Online

Visit Here>>>> https://flipzoneonline.com/product/redmi-earbuds-s-bluetooth-headset-black-true-wireless/

Compact earbuds with a built-in chip Next-generation Bluetooth 5.0 for a faster, more stable connection

The earbuds come with a built-in Bluetooth 5.0 chip, making them truly next-generation. Mi True Wireless Earbuds Basic S are equipped with the latest Bluetooth 5.0 chip, making the data transfer rate twice as fast as the previous generation. Connections are faster and more stable and the new low-latency mode for gaming provides a more fluid gaming experience.

[minki-moo]

♡‧₊˚ 𝙤𝙝, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 ♡‧₊˚

pairing ♡ yunho x f!reader tags ♡ bf!yunho, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, accidental exhibitionism rating ♡ e for explicit w/c ♡ 500

a/n ♡ omg gamer yunho is here ;) once again i was projecting but in reality i want him to carry me in valorant so bad (also did i make everything purple and use a reyna voiceline as the title cuz he's a reyna main? yes. yes i did)

"yunho, you good?"

you could hear the voice of yunho's teammate through his headphones. he'd been playing valorant for hours, promising at least three games ago that he would get off.

so he could help get you off.

unfortunately for you, he got caught up in his competitive games, his winning streak motivating him to play even more.

unfortunately for him, however, you decided to take matters into your own hands. which also involved taking his cock down your throat.

"i-shit-i'm fine. just a bit tired." yunho tried to grab your hair, holding you still, but his hips kept bucking up into your mouth anyways.

seeing him start to lose his composure like this awakened something inside you; you were never really the dominant one so this was very new to you.

when you fell the grip on your hair loosen, you decided to tease him even more. hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard on most of yunho's length, using your hand to stroke the rest of it. hearing yunho's gasp above you makes you move even faster, taking you other hand to gently play with his balls, earning you another choked out moan.

"fuck-baby please keep going." you look up at yunho, his eyes closed and mouth open as little gasps leave it. the expression on his face was enough to make your pussy clench. you were waiting for hours to have his cock inside you, but seeing yunho like this was satisfying in its own way. now, you're craving his release. you wanted his cum and you wanted it now.

removing your hand off his cock, you take all of it in your mouth, gagging on the head as it slips past the back of your throat.

yunho lets out a muffled whimper, desperate to keep quiet. "mmph-fuckfuckfuck 'm gonna cum." he starts to tremble as his climax approaches, covering his mic with his hands hoping no one else could hear him.

you quickly pull off his leaking cock, only taking the tip in between your lips and running your tongue on his slit as you bobbed your head up and down. hearing a cry above you, you feel yunho's cock throb in your hand and his salty cum shoots into your mouth. without hesitation, you put his whole length back in your mouth to make sure no drop of cum goes to waste.

once yunho came down from his high, he pulled you off his softening cock, panting as he looked down at the smirk on your face. "wow. just wow."

"mhm", you say as you crawl from under his desk. giving him a kiss on the cheek, you whisper in his ear, "i'll be waiting."

he stares at you in awe as you walk out of the room, only taking his attention off of you when the red "defeat" screen illuminates his room.

"damn yunho," his teammate sounded shocked but also somehow impressed. "i didn't know you could moan like that."

a/n i sincerely apologize for the last line (only a little tho it's kinda funny)

@anyamaris @yuyusboyfriend 🫶🏾

[beautifulbuckys]

Perfume Allergy (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Reader makes an unlikely friend on her flight to Italy. 

Warnings: I believe a little swearing, talks of planes and such.

A/N: I came up with this story on a plane! It was a blast to write and I’m honestly really proud of it. I hope you enjoy!

You always found flying in an airplane to be an odd experience. A set amount of people, usually around 100 plus, were all leaving a certain destination to get to another destination; on the same time, on the same day. All hundred of those people board a thin metal tube that’ll fly at over 30,000 miles in the sky at around 500 miles per hour. If you were to ask these people why they’re going to their final destination; you’d get varied answers. Work, visiting family, college, going to a sports game. 

Which leads you to now. If you’d been told this morning that you’d be witnessing a near allergic reaction freakout on your flight to Venice, you’d laugh. However, you can’t laugh now. There was a whole fiasco going on in the main cabin of the large plane. 

“You said Peter has a perfume allergy?” A tall, bearded man in a tan golfers cap asked. “I’ll tell you from experience, perfume allergies are no joke. I can feel hives breaking out already,” The man stood up from his middle-row seat. A boy 2 rows up, sporting a zip-up dark blue hoodie also stood up. His expression was one of shock and disappointment, staring at another boy deeply. His brown hair was gelled neatly to the sides, creating a simple hairstyle. 

The tall man commanded a few passengers, asking a pretty girl named MJ to stand up, and telling a boy named Ned to sit in her spot. The brown-haired, blue sweatshirt boy was staring at sat down. That’s Ned. Noted. The bearded man spun around the narrow aisle, pointing around other people to other seats. 

“Ned, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Your safety is my responsibility,” The man said. He also muttered something under his breath, but you couldn’t quite make it out. 

Once all the commotion ended, who you learned to be Peter and Mr. Harrington sat down in the row in front of you. Peter softly thanked the man for saving him and awkwardly shuffled to his seat. It was a funny situation. Mr. Harrington was right, perfume allergies were definitely no joke. 

“Did I tell you about how my wife pretended to blip out? Turns out she ran off with a guy in her hiking group; we had a fake funeral for her and everything. Well, the funeral was real. I thought she was really dead. Do you wanna see the video?” Mr. Harrington rambled. You felt for Peter. He was publicly embarrassed by his friend for having a simple allergy. Now he’s stuck sitting next to his chatty teacher who makes strange comments. You chuckle, partly because of the hilarity of the teacher’s comment. The other part was due to the fact that Peter was going to be subjected to this for the next 9 hours. “Oh! You have a dual headphone adapter. Here, we can watch it together!”

Oof. This was going to be a long flight.

You didn’t think of the idea until an hour into the flight. This plane ride was international, meaning, obviously, you had access to the tablet screens hooked up to your seat. Most airlines carry a feature where you can chat with seatmates or other passengers on the plane. If you’re not mistaken, maybe you can make a new friend?

You bit your thumb as you scroll through all the computer features. The small screen carried almost everything. Hit new movies, streaming and live TV shows, cute little games, and more. After scrolling for a while, you found the ‘chat’ option. 

A green welcome screen appeared before you. It requested you type in your desired chat buddy’s seat number. Well, he’s directly a row in front of you. If you are row 24, he’s row 23. After counting seat positions in your head, Peter should be 23F. Carefully, you type the seat number in; it alarmed you the passenger has been invited.

It took a long minute before Peter accepted. 

23F: Hello?

24F: Hi…is this perfume allergy Peter?

Despite the loud roaring of the airplane engines, you heard a close groan. This frustrated reaction causes a slight chuckle to escape your lips. Hopefully, you thought, he didn’t hear this and wouldn’t immediately hate you. 

23F: Ugh, you heard that?

24F: Loud and clear. Don’t worry though, I thought it was funny. Definitely not as embarrassing as you thought. That 16-year-old getting caught with the drink was far funnier. 

Typing these long sentences on the small screen was rather difficult. It wasn’t the most efficient way to communicate. The small tiles on the keyboard could only do so much when you are trying to type fast. Your tapping was louder than the groan Peter let out moments before. Maybe he’ll be curious about the noise and look behind him to find you? You can't deny, that when you saw the boy stand up you found him attractive. His face had sharp features, and you couldn’t help but notice the muscle tone that shone through his flannel and sweatshirt. 

23F: Would it be embarrassing to admit I know him?

You pause. Wait…was that kid also on this weird field trip Peter was going on? Must be a senior trip or something. 

24F: Not as embarrassing as having the name Perfume Allergy Peter. Is this a school trip?

There was a slight pause in Peter’s responses. You’d imagined he also was having the same typing struggle you were. You heard some rustling in front of you. From the small crack between the seats, it had been Mr. Harrington. You could hear the soft snores coming from his open mouth. Jeez, he could catch flies with that thing. 

23F: Harhar. Yeah, science trip. Most of my class is here. 

The more you and Peter talked, you both learned about each other. Peter had an Aunt named May that he trusted with his life. He learned you were in Venice on a short vacation. Despite being a teenager, your parents trusted you immensely. So they bought your tickets and reserved the hotel. Peter had a best friend Ned, who was the boy he was sitting next to before he got up. He also didn’t have a perfume allergy. He fessed up on trying to sit next to a girl. You found it corny, but oddly charming. 

You cracked a smile. As you attempted to type your reply, the screen froze up. A small alert came up reading ‘Announcement In Progress…’. Rolling your eyes, you tried your best to listen.

“Attention passengers. We have officially reached our cruising altitude of 30,000 feet. You are now able to use the in-seat power outlets located at the bottom of your seats as well as the bottom of the in-seat TV tabled located in front of you. Shortly, our flight attendants will be roaming the cabin with drink carts where you get a complimentary drink and snack. About halfway through our flight, you will be provided with a complimentary meal. To see the menu, you can find it on your TV screen under the ‘food menu’ option. Now, please sit back and enjoy our flight to Venice,” A friendly feminine voice came over the PA within the plane. Some jolted awake, while others were still completely passed out. That counted Mr. Harrington.

He shared more about the alcohol boy, who he called Flash. Peter told the story about how he once crashed the boy’s car. However, he left a lot of holes in the story. When you asked why he had it, he told some patchy story about being a part-time valet. 

23F: You never told me your name. 

24F: I’m a woman of mystery. 

You’d caught Peter trying to turn around in his seat a few times. You knew he caught glimpses of you because you caught glimpses of him. Now that you’re closer in proximity to him, you saw more details. His left eyebrow had a bit of disturbance in it. He also had a small scar on his left cheek, close to the cheekbone. He was gorgeous. You couldn't deny it. Even on a travel day where he’ll be jet lagged and sweaty once the ride is done, he still looked amazing. You felt a little awkward in your baggy sweatshirt and yoga pants now. 

23F: Wanna play 20 questions?

You chuckled. If you had a dollar for every time you’d heard that question in your teenage years; you’d be a quadrillionare. Sure, that’s not a real number. Which further encapsulates your dramatic point. 

24F: Ick, is that your way of asking if I’m a virgin?

A hand appeared, dangling over your screen. It was Peter’s. He was flipping you off. 

23F: I just wanted to know your favorite color :(

A tap on the shoulder made you jump. Your seatmate, a sweet older lady, was trying to get your attention. Slowly, she pointed towards the aisle on your left. You looked up from the screen, seeing a taller male flight attendant with a chunky grey cart. He smiled at you, motioning towards the cart. 

“Anything for you, ma’am?” His kind smile caused you to smile as a reaction. His hair was red, funnily resembling someone from the Weasley family in Harry Potter. He wore a goofy-looking dark blue suit. In all honesty, it looked a bit large on him. 

Your smile never faded, “Water, please.”

After you’d received the hilariously miniature cup, you saw another message pop up from Peter on your tablet. You’d set the plastic on your small table, placing it in the designated dip for cups that it offered. 

23F: Gee, Smiley McGee over there. You’d think he had a six-pack under that suit or something. 

24: Someone’s mad they don’t have a 6 pack under their flannel. 

Suddenly, you hear more rustling and movement ahead of you. You peek through the crack; Peter’s teacher was still. His mouth was still wide open, and there was a slight snore. A seatbelt unbuckled and now someone is towering in front of you. Peter’s hands were dangling over your screen, leaning his entire body weight on the back of his seat. 

“What if I did?” Peter questioned, playfully raising an eyebrow. 

You humorously frowned, “What happened to the shy Peter I witnessed at the beginning of the flight? The one that had to be defended by a pretty girl? The one with the perfume allergy? Yeah, I miss him.”

He rolled his dark caramel-colored eyes. 

“I think this is the part where you say ‘I have proof’ and you lift your shirt and boom, there are six-pack abs. And then I get all shocked and flustered because I didn’t expect you to be telling the truth. Then, we exchange numbers, get married, and live happily ever after. Just like in all the cheesy romantic comedies from the 90s. Foolproof plan!” 

Peter laughed, shuffling around on his knees to get in a more comfortable position. “You’re a crazy lady. At least buy me dinner first.”

“Already did.”

“But it’s complimentary?” 

You laughed, “I was hoping you didn’t hear that.”

Peter chuckled with you. For the past 5 hours, you’d been speaking to this boy. He knew your whole story. If you were a story, he was the best friend who knew your true origin. Considering the Avengers and stuff, maybe you secretly were a superhero. Or Peter? Nah. Who are you kidding? That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to teenagers flying out of JFK International Airport.

“Well…maybe you could make it up to me by possibly giving me a special 10-digit number?” The brunette suggested, raising his left eyebrow up and down. 

You hold your hand up to your ear. You also squinted your eyes, really trying to fake not being able to hear him. “I’m sorry, Peter. The engines are too loud. I’m having a really hard time hearing you. Can you repeat yourself?”

“I want your phone number.”

“At least by me dinner first.” You smirked.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Kinktober 2022 - Choking + Degradation + Rough Sex Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez + f!reader || NSFW [minors DNI] -------------------- CW: dubcon-ish, choking/breathplay, spitting, biting, blood, impact play (face slapping/pussy slapping), implied d/s dynamic, degradation/degrading language (ex. slut, bitch), vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, unsafe sex, bratty reader

WC: 3.7k (this was supposed to be a 500-word drabble but, well... it’s Grimm)

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist --------------------

What is Grimmjow to do with a brat like you?

His patience with you is wearing thin today—you had seen fit to push him at every opportunity, backtalk him every chance you got, tease him with glances and touches and innuendo from the moment you saw each other in the morning. You had to know what you were doing to him—you had to know how he ached for you as your fingers ran down his arm while you sat next to each other on the couch, or when brushed your ass against him—lingering just a little too long to be accidental—as you squeezed past him in your small kitchen. Certainly the coy smile on your face, the one that seemed to say “Who, me?” and the playful glimmer in your eyes seemed to say so. And you were wearing those shorts—those damned little pajama shorts, the ones that he wanted to rip and tear right off you so he could sink his teeth into the plushness of your thighs.

It becomes ever so clear to him, as he watches you from the doorway of your bedroom, that you are petulant brat that needs an attitude adjustment.

How perfect it seems that his tantalizing quarry is blissfully unaware of the beast in the doorway, too wrapped up in whatever is playing through a pair of bulky headphones, to notice the villain licking his lips, watching hungrily as you bend over to put something away in a low dresser drawer. He can practically see your pussy through the thin cotton, can almost catch the sweet scent of it in the air—it’s enough to make his heart race, to make him feel the flow of every pulse of blood rushing through his veins, to fill him with an insatiable desire that makes his cock ache. You’re such a fucking tease, and he’s going to make sure you know there are consequences to your actions.

Grimmjow waits for you to stand up before making his move, stealthily approaching you from behind. He snatches the headphones off your head in a swift motion, taking you by surprise.

“Hey! I was listening to that!” you whine, as a hand suddenly snakes around your waist, another wrapping around your chest.

“Got you,” he whispers hotly into your ear, pressing his bare, muscled chest against you.

“Grimm, what are you—”

“Shut your mouth, brat,” he hisses as he tightens his grip around your body, his sinewy arms holding you firmly. “You’re so desperate for attention today—well, here I am.”

“I’m not a brat,” you fib through your gritted teeth, trying to wriggle out of his impossibly tight grasp.

“A brat and a liar?” he retorts. “Now I can’t have that.”

He releases his hold long enough to turn you around and throw you down onto the bed. You land face-first, and quickly scramble to push yourself up, trying to keep your eyes on him, wondering what was going to come next for you.

Grimmjow stands next to the bed, licking his lips. He tilts his head to one side, then the other, looking you up and down, deciding how best to show you what a disagreeable brat you’ve been, and exactly what happens to little cockteases like you.

“You scared, baby?” he finally utters as he sees you start to tremble.

“No,” you respond unsteadily, a heat beginning to build between your legs, “I’m not scared.”

He glares at you hungrily as he climbs up onto the bed. “Maybe you should be, hm?”

He places his legs on the outside of yours, trapping you under him, and looms over you, one hand on either side of your body. Grimmjow is a lithe and powerful creature, and appears even larger and more intimidating as he hovers over your body like this, keeping you trapped underneath him like prey.

“You don’t get to spend the whole day teasing me,” he growls, “not without a little punishment.”

“Aw, but Grimm, I was just having a little fun, that’s all,” you pout, reaching up to lazily stroke his shoulders, running your fingers down his biceps, tracing the veins that run down his forearms. Surely you could charm your way out of this with a sweet word or two and the kind of gentle touch you knew would drive him to distraction.

“Fun?” He grabs hold of your wrists, pinning them above your head while he leans in, pressing his nose to yours, breathing hotly in your face. “You call it fun to tease me like that? Rubbing your ass on me when you have to squeeze past me? Bending over in these little shorts so I can practically see your cunt?”

He guides one of your hands to his body, sliding it down the steely leanness of his muscled body, down to his waist, down further still, until you can feel him under your palm—his hardening cock straining against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. “You call what you’re doin’ to me ‘fun’?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty fun for me,” you smirk as you palm his erection. “Seems like it’s fun for you too.”

You moan under your breath as you massage him, feeling your panties begin to dampen as you picture exactly how he would look in your hand, your fingers wrapped around his rock-hard shaft, wishing there wasn’t this layer of fabric in your way.

“Still gonna keep pushing, huh?” he says, fighting back a groan.

“Come on, I know you like it,” you answer, batting your lashes at him, feeling yourself growing more heated at his visible frustration. “You like it when I walk around in my little shorts, and no bra, and shake my ass at you.”

“Of course I do,” he responds, grasping your wrist and wrenching you away from his twitching cock, pinning your hand back above your head.

“So what then?” You smile, knowing that you’re on the precipice of danger. “Are you gonna do something about it?”

He snarls, his canines gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. “Open your smart little mouth.”

You clench your jaw shut and shake your head. You didn’t know what he had in mind, but there was no way you were giving into him that quickly.

Grimmjow quickly pulls his arm back and lands three sharp smacks to the side of your face, taking you by surprise. “I said open your mouth, whore, or I’ll pry it open.”

You stare up at him as you whole body shakes, the sting of his hand lingering on your cheek, a fiery heat spreading across the surface of your skin. Arousal floods every part of you, and before you can catch yourself—before you can urge yourself to be rational—you shake your head again in refusal.

He lands a blow so hard on your cheek that it knocks your head sideways, your eyes watering from the sting. You turn your head back slowly to look at him, you heart hammering away in your chest, and he’s grinning—the beast looming over you is grinning, fangs bared like he’s on the brink of sinking his teeth into you, his chest heaving and his eyes wide.

“Again?” he asks, his hand hovering next to your cheek.

“N-no…” You slowly part your lips, but not fast enough for him; he sticks his thumb in your mouth and yanks your lower jaw downwards. He opens his mouth, and spits a long, thick rope of saliva down into your mouth. Before you can protest, he covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, squeezing your cheeks hard with his thumb and fingers.

“Now swallow it.”

You nod as best you can given his grip on your face position, and quickly swallow the warm saliva filling your mouth. It rattles you how you want more, how you want him to do it again.

“That’s a good slut,” he grins. “You gonna start acting right?”

You’re still too stunned to move, brain too hazy with the lasting burn of his palm on your cheek, your body too electrified with desire, to respond.

Grimmjow gladly accepts this as your refusal to bend to him, and that clearly you need further correction. He hovers over you, staring down at you like you’re some small, pathetic creature in his grasp, as he places one wide hand on your throat.

“I’ll choke the brat out of you if I have to,” he grins.

He gently begins to squeeze, applying persistent pressure to the sides of your delicate neck, just below your jaw. He laughs as you start to writhe under him; it’s almost absurd how fragile you look as your eyes grow wide in panic, your one free hand flailing around, slapping at his arm, as you try to squeak out complaints. He would maybe even feel a little bad for you as you struggle aimlessly, if it weren’t for the fact he knew that the more he applied pressure, the more he tightened his grip, the wetter your slutty cunt was going to get for him.

Keeping his hand firmly in place around your neck, Grimmjow reaches down, sliding his hand down your shorts, feeling your heat on his palm.

“You’re such a whore for pain, aren’t you?” he asks, his tone condescending, as he runs a finger along your dampened slit. “You like it when I make you hurt.”

“N-no,” you manage to protest, squirming as he places two fingers on your drenched entrance, barely pushing them in. You try desperately to roll your hips, try to shove yourself down into his hand.

He lowers his head, narrowing his eyes. “You sure? ‘Cause it seems like you like it.”

You gasp as his grip loosens a little. “Maybe—maybe a little.”

“That’s right you do, nasty little thing.”

He roughly shoves two fingers inside you, coating them in your slick, then drags them up to your clit. He makes small circles on the tender bundle of nerves, and you let out a breathy moan as you grind your hips, pressing yourself against his fingers.

Grimmjow’s hunger for you is only growing, as he keeps one hand wrapped firmly around that pretty neck of yours while he pushes you towards the peak of pleasure. The look of bliss on your face—eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open as you pant and gasp for breath, your body practically vibrating on some unknown frequency—was ravishing to him. Every little moan that escapes your lips, every tear rolling down your cheeks, every pulse and twitch of your swollen clit under his fingers, every gush of fluid leaking from your cunt onto his hand—he drinks every bit of it in as it whips him into a frenzy.

He slides two fingers inside of you, as deep as they can go, and crooks them upwards, rubbing the sweet spot, the one that he knows makes you come unraveled. He uses his thumb to continue massaging your clit with firm strokes while he plunges his fingers in and out of your dripping hole; he’s watched you come exquisitely undone for him enough times that he knows exactly how deep to thrust, exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly where to caress at just the right time to push you over the edge.

Your back arches, your neck pressing up into his palm, hips bucking against his hand, as you feel yourself nearing release.

“Aw baby, you gonna cum for me?” he asks, so condescendingly you’d almost mistake it for sweetness.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your eyes clenched shut, tongue hanging out of the side of your mouth as you cry out for him, little mewls turning into loud wails as his fingers remain buried deep within you.

“That’s a good slut,” he whispers, fixated on just how perfect you look—how small, how weak, how submissive—with one hand on your neck and the other assailing your greedy cunt.

He squeezes tighter, pressing at the sides of your neck, keeping his hand positioned just-so to force your head straight. As you pant, just barely able to take breaths, the vision at the sides of your eyes begins to darken, little bursts of galaxies forming in your field of view. The ball of tension inside you tightens and tightens and finally snaps; you let out a strangled wail, your hands grasping desperately at the sheets, as your walls clench around his fingers and your orgasm hits in overwhelming spasms. Your aching clit pulses under his thumb as your pussy contracts and your walls flutter, slick dripping out of you.

Grimmjow releases his grip just enough so the curtains at the sides of your vision started to recede as your body pulses. “Can’t pass out on me, slut, I’m not done with you yet.”

After a moment of staring down at you, observing every expression, every twitch, every convulsion as you writhe under him, he releases his hand from your neck and you gasp. You start to sit up, but he places one hand in the center of your chest and pushes you back down with ease; you’re too weak to protest, your body still humming, your breaths still ragged and unsteady.

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he says as he moves down your body. He pulls your shorts down, yanking them down your legs and tossing them onto the floor.

You feel the cool air of the room hit the damp mess between your legs; you press them together at the sensation, the chill sending a shiver through your body.

“Now get on your knees,” Grimmjow orders, his eyes narrowing. “Let me see that pretty pussy.”

You shakily roll over, pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees. You quickly glance over your shoulder to see Grimmjow’s icy eyes shine with a ravenous gleam, his mouth contorting into a demonic grin.

“You look so good when you’re dripping wet for me,” he snarls as he tugs at your puffy pussy lips, inspecting you like you’re an item on display. He drags his fingers up and down your slit, feeling you quiver and twitch at every touch. He’s been so good to you, he thinks, so generous to let you cum around his fingers; perhaps you could use a reminder of who exactly is in control. He rears back and lands a few sharp slaps on your still-throbbing clit.

“Grimm, that hurts,” you whine as you shift in place at the sting.

“Good, it was supposed to,” he retorts.

He quickly undresses, his cock twitching as he stands and admires you, practically salivating at the sight of you. Your cunt is swollen from the slaps, still pulsing and twitching, glistening with your slick. His bratty little toy isn’t so bold anymore, down on quivering hands and knees presenting for him; the head of his cock swells at just how compliant you’ve become.

“Such a perfect little slut,” he murmurs as he swipes his fingers through the copious amount of wetness, using it to coat his length. He gives himself a few languid strokes before climbing up on the bed behind you and presses himself against your entrance.

You let out a sigh at the sensation and push yourself back against him, greedy and desperate to be filled.

He pulls back. “I decide when it goes in, slut.”

“Grimm please, I need it,” you whimper, slowly wagging your ass back and forth, feeling his cock slide back and forth across your soaked, swollen pussy lips, “need you inside me.”

“Aw, little brat’s all needy now, huh?” he teases, slapping his thick cock on your ass cheeks, keeping it just out of reach of you as you try to grind against him.

“Please, don’t tease me, I want you so bad,” you wail. He’s gotten you so hungry, so desperate, you’d do just about anything to have him inside you right this very second, anything to feel how he stretches you and fills you completely, anything to feel him buried in you, sliding in and out against your sensitive walls.

“Not so much fun when it’s you getting teased, hmm?” he coos. “Say you’re sorry and I’ll give you what you want.”

“M’sorry,” you murmur into the sheets.

“What’s that baby? I couldn’t hear you,” he says as he strokes himself lazily, your cries and whines and begging and pleading making him ache in the most agonizing way.

“I’m sorry!” you sob, your voice shaking. “I’m sorry I teased you, I’m sorry I was a brat. Now please, please won’t you fuck me?”

“That’s a good slut,” he grunts as he presses the head of his cock, glistening with pre-cum, against your pulsing entrance. He finally sinks into you, slides in agonizingly slowly, taking in every bit of your drenched cunt, and he can’t help but let out a long, low groan—you’re just so wet and warm and perfect for him, your eager pussy practically molded to his length.

Your head buzzes at the intensity of his thrusts as he plunges himself into you over and over, the lewd sounds of your wetness echoing in the quiet of the room. You bury your head in the softness of the bed, pressing your tear-soaked face against the sheets, as you quietly keen with every thrust.

“You sound so sweet now, baby,” he remarks as his eyes flutter shut. How simple things can be with you, he thinks, as your cunt grips him deliciously with every thrust—all you need is a firm hand around your throat and cock in your slutty hole. “You like being used like a little fucktoy, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, barely able to think of anything but the feeling of being practically split apart with every thrust, “I do.”

“That’s right you do,” he pants. “Just a little slut for this cock.”

He grips your hips, sinking his fingers in so hard he gets a squeal out of you; he throbs at the thought of how you’ll be bruised tomorrow, and how he can’t wait to stalk you around the house and grab you unexpectedly and squeeze you right where you’re most tender. He thrusts deeper as he wonders how you’ll yelp, if you’ll cry for him, if your cunt will start to drip at the pain, if you’ll still be so compliant that he’ll be able to bend you over where you stand and take you over and over again.

He leans forward, his weight pushing you further into the mattress, his cock utterly buried in you to the hilt, his hips pressed against you tightly. Without warning, he lets out a low growl and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You wail at the sudden jolt of pain, his razor sharp canines piercing your skin, thin rivulets of blood running down your flesh, little red droplets forming on the sheets.

“You’re mine,” he says as he ruts into you deep, his hips pressed against you so tightly he wonders if he could melt right into the softness of your body. He moans in your ear, so deep and so low that you can feel it echo in your ribcage; his hunger has only grown more insatiable, and he drives himself into you over and over, the slick heat of your core edging him ever closer to ruin.

“Yes,” you gasp deliriously at his powerful, erratic thrusts. “I’m yours, all yours, only yours.”

“That’s right,” Grimmjow barks as he tenses, feeling every muscle in his body contract and contort, “now fucking—ah—now fucking take my cum, bratty little bitch.”

His hips shudder as he convulses, over and over, filling you to the brim; he keeps thrusting slow and deep while he rides out every single last tremor, your wet, warm walls pulling spasm after spasm from him.

He pulls out of you with a sigh, your mingled juices dripping out of you and down your quaking thighs. He rests a hand on your lower back, holding himself up as he pulls in great lungfuls of air, and marvels at the way he’s defiled you. His bratty little plaything, all sharp tongued and full of acid, reduced to a shaking, sobbing mess, cunt swollen and puffy and drooling with his cum, legs shaking and covered in the stickiness of your mixed fluids and sweat.

“Lay down before you collapse,” he says through heaving breaths, as he gently pushes you on the hip, nudging you towards the mattress.

You drop to the bed with little effort, rolling over onto your back. You blink to clear the tears from your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, to observe the wicked monster that cornered you and overtook you. The ferocious beast of a man is on his knees at the end of the bed, stretching his arms above him, his muscled chest still heaving. His body drips with sweat, and your eyes are drawn to his softening cock that glistens with the heady mix of your wetness and his cum. Despite everything, despite feeling raw and used and utterly defiled, you want more. You’re exhausted and ready to pass out or cry or scream or some mix of all three, but you can’t help but want to submit, to let your thighs fall open and let him take you over and over again, to feel the sharpness of his palm slapping against your skin.

“You good?” he asks as he crawls towards you, the feral look in his eyes beginning to soften into one of concern.

“Good,” you manage to eke out as you nod and try to bring yourself back to some sort of reality.

He leans down, places his hand back on your throat—carefully this time, not to correct you or cause you pain, just enough to remind you that you belong to him and only him.

“You’re such a good little slut for me,” he purrs, tilting his head.

You smirk at him, batting your tear-dotted lashes. “I think you mean the best little slut, thank you very much.”

He grins back, his teeth glistening, pupils widening. “I thought I fucked the brat outta you, baby. Guess I gotta keep trying.”

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest (congrats on 500!):

7:52 pm

the weight room

Jack Zimmermann

Rating: M

(Doggernaut/rabbitrunnah)

oooooh this was really fun to write, thanks for the prompt! i hope you enjoy senior year jack thirsting over bitty as much as i do <3

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit their own prompts using these guidelines through Jan 31, 2024.

🏒🏒🏒🏒

7:52pm, weight room

Jack tries to catch his breath before his last set of leg presses. 

There’s something immensely satisfying about weight-lifting days. It’s straightforward; more weight, more reps, diversifying exercises—it all works together to translate to better performance on the ice: more power, more breakaway sprints, more goals. A simple A plus B equals C. Jack’s favorite kind of math.

Once, not that long ago, weight training days would have been solely about maintaining the perfect form, strict adherence to his own ridiculous goals, pushing his body to keep going, to be better, to go right up to the limit of what was possible—and then past it, regardless of all the warnings his coaches, his parents, his teammates, even his own mind were giving him.

But now Jack’s in a better place, he’s got more support, so he can just lose himself in the repetitive motion, the sensation of sweat down his back, the clean exertion of pushing his body in a healthy way.

Or, he could, if he wasn’t so distracted.

It isn’t Jack’s fault that the leg press machine faces the mirrors. It isn’t Jack’s fault that there’s a clear view of the hip adductor machine in said mirrors. And it certainly isn’t Jack’s fault that Bittle is ahead of him in the circuit, on said hip adductor machine, in said mirrors.

…But it might be Jack’s fault that he can’t stop watching.

Despite his size, Bittle’s always been strong. That much had been obvious from the way he could skate suicides for an hour, the way he could hurl his body so high into the air and spin, the way he could whip a meringue by hand without pausing, or switching hands. He’d been surprisingly dense when Jack had pushed him into the boards during checking practice last year, Jack’s attention caught by how Bittle’s muscles were highlighted as much as his haircut in the sunlight when he’d moved into the Haus this summer.

Bittle’s strength is glaringly obvious right now.

The mirror provides an optimal view for Jack as he rests before his last set. Bittle’s perched on the seat, hands on the grips behind him for balance. His brow is furrowed, and the collar of his shirt dark with sweat from the effort from today. For once, he’s not singing or humming or bouncing along to the music in his headphones; Bittle’s breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth carefully, measured, timing his exhales with every time he manages to bring his knees together. Jack’s whole being is focused on the way Bittle’s thighs flex as he pushes them from spread wide to knees touching and back again. Over and over. All of Bittle is glistening with sweat from the exertion under the fluorescent lights and Jack— 

Jack has a sudden, visceral, all-consuming urge to taste. To run his hands from Bittle’s delicate ankles, up his calves. To hold Bittle’s thighs open wide with his shoulders so he can get his hands on his hips, his waist, his ass. To take his time, sucking the sweat from Bittle’s thighs hard enough to leave a line of bruises in his wake, before moving higher. To lick the sweat from the crease where his thigh meets his hip. To chase the drops of Bittle’s precome with his tongue. To take Bittle’s cock with his mouth, all the way to the hilt, before pulling Bittle’s hand to his own hair, encourage him to move Jack exactly how he wants, to take—

The resounding clang of Bittle’s weight stack yanks Jack out of the fantasy.

Câlisse de tabarnak—he’s in the middle of a workout, he can’t be getting distracted by a teammate of all people, and especially not Bittle. Jack depends on their hard-won friendship too much to ever even entertain the possibility—

Jack stands, busies himself with adding more weight to his own machine for his last set, determined to keep his eyes off the mirror, off of Bittle as he bustles around the machine, gathering his water bottle, bending over to wipe the seat down, ass facing the mirror—

It’ll be fine. Bittle will finish cleaning the machine. He’ll move on to the next stop in the circuit, to the machine that’s directly behind the hip adductor. Completely obscured from Jack’s view, and Jack will be able to finish his leg presses without getting distracted.

Bittle catches his eye in the mirror and gives him a small smile and a salute before bouncing off to the next machine and Jack—

Jack better do two more sets, just to be safe.

[kingofthering]

Read @flyingfabio's thoughts on her weekend in Le Mans and realized it could be nice for me to give mine as well. Also going to go under a read more for the sanity of everyone's dash.

context/overall things

This was my second MotoGP race weekend and my second time in Le Mans. Last year I went alone with a grandstand ticket (Zarco GS) that I bought in January kind of an on a whim. In October I had access to the presales for 2024 and I got two VIP tickets (Club Grand Prix to be exact), one of which I gifted to my dad for Christmas.

These were a hefty price (650 euros) and if I were to do it again, I would go for one of the other VIP ticket packages (probably Sunday lodge/box [can't find the right translation but the things above the garages] for 500 euros). I do realize that it's a lot of money but I'm in a place in my life where I can save money every month and afford to splurge on things like this occasionally, so, yeah. And I think that overall, the experience was worth it.

This was my first time being alone with my dad and traveling with him for 4 days. I love my dad but he's had a lot of health issues in the past years and he's done a lot of work to be better physically but he's still a little diminished now and can't walk as fast as I can and needs to take breaks every now and then. I will admit that this wasn't always easy to manage because of my excitement and my lack of patience at times but we had a good time overall. I was also stressed because I needed things to go well and I didn't sleep much (and didn't eat much because of the stress) so my dad ended up having to take care of me on Saturday night but we both survived in the end.

I will say, even if you have a GS ticket or even a GA one, a weekend in Le Mans has so much to offer that I think people should really attend if they have the chance to. In addition to the usual MotoGP/Moto2/Moto3, you also get MotoE and the Rookies Cup which means that there is always something happening on track (pretty much). The fanzone events with the riders are really nice (I didn't attend this year but I had a really good time in 2023) and the Mechanical Show on Saturday is pretty cool as well.

One thing that I will also always give to Le Mans is the access to the circuit. You have the tramway (that runs through the whole city) arriving 150 meters away from the East gate of the circuit. There are a lot of people riding the trams but it was okay, I even found the organization of Sunday afternoon pretty great (while I was stressed of being too late at the train station and I sure wasn't).

The sound of the bikes at the start might be my new favorite thing in the world. I will say, please if you come to a race weekend, have stuff to protect your ears (earplugs or headphones), you will need them (they do sell them at the track if you forget).

I knew from Thursday already that we were going to break the attendance record. The number of people on track on Thursday and Friday already were insane. Le Mans has always been a popular GP (duh, it was holding the attendance record already) but Wednesday and Thursday being holidays in France (and a lot of people not working on Friday as a consequence) definitely helped.

VIP things

Access to the stands' building : This was my favorite thing in the ticket. I could have done with just that (and the paddock visit). This building is the one right above the garages so you got the pit lane on one side (and a lot of seats you sit in in the 4th floor to overlook the circuit, the pit lane, the podium) and the paddock on the other side. You essentially get to watch things happening in the paddock and people working there and it's so interesting. When you're on the 1st floor, you have gates that riders come up to sometimes to interact with fans. This was quite eye-opening to me on how much riders interact with fans throughout the weekend (and that we don't get to see when we're at home). The one that I saw interacting the most with fans throughout my days there was definitely Marc (he's so loved but he gives so much back honestly). On the 2nd floor you had the media room where they do their rounds of media and if you were there at the right time, you could interact with the riders when they were going up or down from media center. Most of them stopped from autographs and photos all the times I was there (Thursday afternoon for the press conferences, Friday afternoon after PR, Saturday afternoon after the sprint).

Paddock tour/visit : maybe my favorite part that I want to replicate so badly. I had to pick a time among offered slots and I chose the 10:30-13:00 on Friday because I didn't want to be missing any important sessions. You're basically free to roam the paddock as you want during your time slot and I saw so many familiar faces, it was insane, even non-riders like Massimo Rivola or Jack Appleyard (from the MotoGP broadcast). The first rider I talked to was Cele and at first I wasn't sure I had recognized him and I didn't want to run so I walked fast to get him before he went into the VR46 motorhome and god, I was so awkward at first (sorry Cele) and he couldn't hear me well because the MotoGP bikes were doing FP1 at the time but I did ask him about his collarbone (and he said he was fine) and told him I was hoping we could see him back soon. He seemed shy as well but very sweet. I also got to talk to (and take photos with) Fermin, Manuel (Gonzalez) and David Alonso. After my brain remembered how to speak Spanish I congratulated David for his best rookie title last season and told him I was betting on him for this season (and wishing him luck). He was really sweet as well. On the MotoGP side, I waited an hour in front of Yamaha's side to see Fabio (also got to see Rinsy first) and well, I did see Fabio from very up close but things were very chaotic and people behind were pushing and that wasn't exactly fun but, well. In the meantime, my dad got to talk to Bezz and he told me he seemed like a very nice and funny guy (more on that story here) and I will say I got a little jealous of that. Overall a really cool experience.

Pit lane visit : I thought we couldn't do it at the supposed time and in the end, we were able to enter the pit lane around 11:40, after quali. Honestly, seeing the bikes from up close like this is so cool. Like, shit, they're so pretty it's insane. Also, I feel like the garages look much bigger on TV? It was quite cool to see. I saw Mav coming back to his garage and start his debrief with his team. Also saw Bezz in his box and I saw Mig, who I didn't get to talk to but love even more now anyway. After about 10-15 minutes we had to leave so that was quite short but cool anyway. I know they did a pit lane visit open to everyone on Thursday but there were so many people, it seemed a little scary (but probably worth it if you're ready to queue early and throw some elbows around if needed).

Club Grand Prix access : the box was on the main straight. It was quite comfortable and I will say that the access to easy bathroom and free drinks was quite nice. I didn't eat much because of the state of my stomach but people were complimenting the food. Oh and having screens in there was quite practical. As I said earlier, it's not the ticket I would book again. I was a little frustrated by the fact we were not in the open air and it took away from the race experience for me. (Still amazing for a lot of people and my dad really appreciated the comfort but I know I personally would have been better in the stands' building.)

My experience is subjective because of the times I was there but like I said before, I saw a lot of Marc taking time for fans (one time he couldn't go up to a little kid but he sent JL to give him a slider), saw Maverick a bunch of times as well, Rinsy too. I heard people say that Johann was also taking a lot of time for the fans. I saw Jack give his cap (fully unprompted) to a little kid on Saturday on his way down from media. The only time I saw Pedro he didn't have time for the fans and most people I've heard were saying that he never seemed to really be engaging with people (but I talked with a guy who fully understood it as "it can't be easy for him getting all that attention all of a sudden"). He sure got a lot of appreciation from the public in the stands, though. Bezz spent a lot of time to sign everybody's stuff on Saturday. Alex (Marquez) was the last one to go to media and I asked him for a photo right before he got in for a media and he said "two minutes" and came back 10 minutes later and immediately came to me for the photo and was super sweet about it. I already had a good experience with Alex last year and I was really happy to have another one this year as well.

the racing

I will say, I definitely need to watch the sprint and the race calmly because I'm so confused about what happened when. Like obviously I remember the last lap battle between Marc & Pecco and I remember Pecco's retirement in the sprint (even filmed him coming back to the pits) but hm, yeah, things are a big mess in my head. Moto2 was eh (filmed Tony getting to his box and being not so happy when talking to his team) and Moto3 was pretty entertaining.

People were so happy with Fabio got directly to Q2 and I was as well. Quali was fun to watch as well. I'm just sad I didn't get to see practice starts in front of me but the real starts were cool too.

We see them on TV but the sheer amount of people that are on the grid before races is insane. And the way everyone immediately starts running from the pits when the guys leave for the sighting lap? So impressive to watch. I honestly could have spent my weekend watching teams work, it was so interesting to me.

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 0.6 | Jake Seresin x Reader AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst + eventual smut

…

You’re under his skin and in his head.

Jake has been doing his best to keep this information to himself, but you see right through him.

It’s hard not to notice the way he distances himself from you for the rest of the week, allowing Allen to take the lead. Despite your best efforts, Jake manages to avoid you pretty successfully.

Allowing your conversations with him to be intercepted by assistants and media coordinators, making sure he’s never the one to walk you to your room at the end of the night — busying himself in every way that he can.

His efforts have made quite an impression too.

Your father has spent the week admiring how much of a hard worker Jake is — you know that if this plays out, Jake’ll be on the new president’s team next year.

But, on the flight back home, he doesn’t have anything to busy himself with, or anywhere to hide.

Jake isn’t at all surprised when you drop down into the seat in front of him. You smile and nudge his ankle with your foot, then pull your laptop from your bag and open it up.

He presses his tongue to his cheek and watches as your full attention remains on the screen.

“You aren’t gonna say anything?” He asks.

You glance up at him and smile. You’re taunting him and he knows it.

“I wouldn’t want to bother you, seems like you don’t want to talk.” You give a small shrug, pull your headphones out and set them over your ears. “I’m just going to watch a movie.”

Jake sits back in his chair.

The game continues. Him pretending that he isn’t ignoring you, you pretending not to notice. He busies himself with itineraries and schedules, making a mental note to call ahead to all of your appointments this week so that he can personally vet each establishment.

Every now and again, Jake catches you looking at him over the lid of the laptop. A soft smirk on your lips, knowing that you’re taunting him, loving every moment of the chase.

Jake glances up at you when you’re somewhere over Oklahoma, and he’s frozen in time, even when he’s traveling at 500 knots. His gaze lingers on that mischievous smirk on your lips for too long. It’s all too familiar.

It’s like you can tell. Like you see right through him, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. The next thing out of your mouth is just as taunting as all of those little glances, it’s just teasing, “Have you ever been in love, Jake?”

Jake’s heart stops in his chest. You catch it. You’ve heard from multiple people that you’ve got a future in the CIA with your sharp eye. It’s a split-second movement where Jake’s brows scrunch, just slightly.

He blinks and shakes his head at you, “No.”

You stare at him. He looks back down at the paperwork in front of him, just so that he doesn’t have to meet your gaze.

As far as Jake’s concerned, it’s the truth. He has never told someone that he loves them. That knowledge has made the past couple of years a lot easier. It’s easier to sleep at night when he tells himself that he didn’t love her, she didn’t love him. They were just friends.

It wasn’t his fault.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” You tease, already knowing full well that he’s lying. You kick your feet up, resting them between his legs on the chair. Jake glances down at your shoes, then back up at you, unimpressed. “Would take a pretty special lady to put up with your grumpiness.”

“Actually, before I took this job, I was a lot like you.” Jake tells you. It’s true. He’s been noticing it more and more these past few days. You’re so sure of yourself, and not because everyone around you says that you should be - just because you know that you’re strong and capable all by yourself.

Just like he was. He wishes he could knock some sense into you before you make his mistakes, but he doesn’t get paid to do that.

You scoff, “I’ll believe that when I see it, Mr. Sunshine.”

“Maybe I’d smile more if you made my job a little easier.” Jake answers back, parting his legs a little further. You shift in your seat, the toe of your shoe taps his thigh.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” You smirk playfully, putting your headphones back over your ears and pressing play on the movie. Jake glances down at your feet between his legs and shakes his head.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Jake was hoping that you would be tired after the trip. It was a full-on week, you’ve barely had time to rest at all. Allen knows better than to hope for such things.

This happens after every visit back home. Allen’s hypothesis is that there’s such a pressure on you to be perfect at home, not only for your father, but for all of America and the image they’ve created of you in their heads - that when you’re left to your own devices again, you go wild.

Every time. Like clockwork.

The moment your feet are on the tarmac, you’re trying to talk them into letting you go to a party in the hills. It’s walking distance from your place if you take a shortcut. Invitation only and your friend Blake has hired security, there really aren’t any risks.

“What if we just go for a couple of hours?”

Manny sighs, “Ask Jake.”

Jake shoots him a look as he pulls open the rear left side door of the SUV waiting for you, he’s not being the bad guy right now. “Ask Allen.”

Allen, standing by the passenger side door, stops and turns to look at you. Jake watches as you look up at him, pleading eyes and softened features. He rolls his eyes, there’s no way that cute little face would get him to fold and there’s no way it’s going to work on a man with over thirty years in the service.

“I’ll think about it.” Allen says gently.

Jake’s lips part slightly as you break into a grin. You step forwards and hug him tightly, pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes and kissing his cheek, “See, I knew there was a reason you were my favorite!” You say playfully.

Jake shakes his head and tugs the car door open. You detach from Allen and step under Jake’s arm, sliding into the backseat beside Manny. Allen shrugs his shoulders and steps into the passenger side. Jake rolls his eyes, walking around to the driver’s side.

This is exactly why Jake thought the decision to move your threat level down was a stupid decision. They give you an inch, you take a mile, you wind up dead.

“That’s a bad call and you know it.” Jake mutters under his breath. You’re in the middle of a discussion with Manny, he knows you aren’t listening to him. Allen turns his head and stares at Jake.

“It’s still my call.” Allen says firmly.

Jake’s itching to argue back. To turn his head and tell Allen that he’s an idiot, that he’s wrapped around your finger and that his shitty effort at keeping you safe is the entire reason Jake’s here.

Still, that isn’t a conversation for Jake to have here.

He waits for his moment. Once you’re all back at the house. You’re upstairs, Manny’s checking the surveillance over the past few days and calling the security team to make sure there were no issues.

Jake corners Allen in the kitchen. He tries to do it as politely as he can, just mentions that this party is a bad idea.

“I said I’d think about it! - Need I remind you that I kept her safe for seven years before you showed up?” Allen bites at Jake.

Jake squares his shoulders, “Need I remind you that someone got into this house on your watch?” He snaps. They aren’t supposed to talk about it. You aren’t allowed to know about it. But you aren’t here and this party is a bad idea.

“Is that your best attempt at keeping her safe, old timer?” Jake hisses. He’s pushing his luck and he knows it. Allen’s a legend in this business and a personal friend of the president, he could get Jake in a lot of trouble if he wanted to.

Allen remains silent.

“Because for me: if someone got into her room and left that note on her pillow, I’d be keeping a closer eye on her than you are.” Jake says calmly. Allen steps forwards into Jake’s personal space and points a finger into Jake’s toned chest.

Jake lifts his chin defiantly.

“I get it, you think you know it all. But you don’t know shit about this girl, and if you speak to me like that again, you little shit, I’ll-“

Jake hears you first. Allen’s hearing isn’t what it used to be. Jake’s head whips around at the sound of shoes on the hardwood floor. You round the corner into the kitchen, headphones on and oblivious.

You stop in place.

You look between the two of them. Both stand upright quickly and Allen drops his hands back down to his sides.

You take one side of the headphones off of your ear, then squint at the two of them. “…Everything okay?”

“Fine. Arguing about our teams.” Allen shrugs, crossing around to the other side of the counter. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes you, heading for the stairs.

You watch him go, then look back at Jake, brows furrowed.

“You okay?” You ask him tenderly. You can’t pretend you didn’t see the way Allen was poking him, the angry look on his face. Jake shakes his head and turns away from you.

“Peachy.” He mutters angrily.

You take the hint and turn back around, heading for your room. Manny spends the afternoon walking on eggshells around them. Allen makes no effort to hide the fact that Jake has pissed him off.

His care for you being called into question isn’t something he takes lightly. Allen has three daughters, all older than you are. They were your age once. Granted, he isn’t half as important as your father is, but Allen understands the need to keep his girls safe more than Jake ever will.

Holding them so tight that they can’t breathe isn’t what’s best for anyone.

Jake’s more under the radar with his anger.

He stands silently by the back door, texting his mother back. His nephew started walking this week. Jake didn’t used to get homesick like this, but since he became an uncle, he finds himself missing it more.

It takes his mind off of how much the rhythmic tapping of Allen’s knife against the cutting board pisses him off.

Jake doesn’t even notice you walking into the kitchen until you’re already talking. You aren’t addressing him, anyway. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t bother to turn his head to look at you.

“Hey, I was thinking about that party later. Maybe-“

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Allen interrupts you. Jake lifts his head, turning to watch the way Allen won’t meet your gaze. You frown slightly and look over at Jake, knowing he had something to do with this.

“Wait, I was just going to say that I thought about it, and I have a plan. It’s going to be safe, I’ll be so careful, I swear.”

Jake almost scoffs. He remembers having similar conversations with his mother when he was a teenager. He has half a mind to turn around and tell you to grow up already.

If Jake was dumb enough to say that out loud, Manny is sitting at the counter ready to remind him that you didn’t get the opportunity to be a regular teenager. You’ve never made your own mistakes.

“No, not tonight, kiddo.” Allen says softly.

Jake slips his phone into his pocket and turns to watch the exchange. You frown, your heart sinking in your chest.

“Can’t you at least hear me ou-“

“Damn it, I said no!”

Jake’s brows raise slightly. He looks quickly between you and Allen, seeing that you’re just as shocked as he is.

“I know you’re not stupid, everyone keeps on telling me, so how about you use your head for once?”

Your lips part slightly. Even Jake knows that that was a little bit of an overreaction. Allen’s face doesn’t soften, he glares at you across the room. Manny winces.

They both know that coming from Allen, that stings. That man knows you better than your own father does. He’s been there for you more than your father has. It’s a hard truth to swallow, but deep down, you probably have learned to love him more than you love your father.

And he hasn’t yelled at you since you were a kid.

You swallow and turn, walking away from the three of them. Your door slams upstairs.

Allen turns his full attention towards Jake, still seething.

“Happy?” He mutters angrily.

“Of course I’m not happy, no one told you to make her cry!” Jake defends himself. Manny pinches the bridge if his nose. Allen presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. He knows that it was harsh too.

But he also knows that Jake needed to see him be firm.

“Well, if she’s upstairs crying her eyes out, at least she’s where you can keep an eye on her, huh?” Allen bites back. He slams the knife down on the cutting board and leaves the kitchen without another word. His door is the next to slam. Manny winces at the sound.

Jake turns on his heel, leaving Manny alone in the kitchen. He walks up to the office and plants himself in the chair. He knows you well enough by now to know that you’re probably going to try to sneak out anyway.

He stews over the argument with Allen for about an hour. It’s ridiculous. The guy has medal after medal for his service, and he can’t even keep one girl in check.

Jake remembers reading the briefing and his blood running cold. The same chill fills him every time he thinks about it.

Allen and Manny were home. You were home. Someone managed to not only get onto the property, but to get into your room - without anyone noticing. There are two possible ways into your room, to make it up and onto the balcony, or to walk through the front door.

They had both been out by the pool with you all morning. That balcony overlooks the pool. Jake maintains that there’s absolutely no way someone could’ve made it up there, into your room, and back out without being spotted. Even with a team as incompetent as yours.

And then the note.

It’s lucky Allen was the one to find it. Well, that’s the general opinion. Jake’s opinion is that if you had found the note, maybe things would be better off. Sure, it would have been awful to find - but at least you wouldn’t be fighting him so much.

His blood boils. Green threat level. Bullshit.

His phone buzzes with a motion alert.

Jake’s brows furrow. He sits forwards in his seat and looks between his phone and the camera feed. Camera two went off, that’s the front gate. His eyes widen slightly.

You pass in front of the lens.

He sits upright, clicking on the three feeds that cover the exits to your room. One in the hallway outside of your door, two covering the balcony. Nothing at all. No movement out there for the past couple of hours, besides you heading into your room an hour ago.

There’s a blind spot. He installed those cameras three weeks ago, and there has been a blind spot the entire time. His mind races - how the fuck did you figure out where it was?

He doesn’t have time to think about that. He shoves up from the table and takes off. Manny looks up frowning as the front door slams behind Jake. He shakes his head and goes back to filling out his log.

Jake didn’t bother asking which way the short cut was. He stands outside of the front gate and looks left, then right, then curses. He pulls up the feed and rewinds - you went left three minutes ago.

Jake saw the stupid heels you went out in, he knows he can catch up to you. It’s just that there’s a part of his brain feeding him the worst scenario possible. He isn’t going to be late this time.

He catches sight of you in his peripheral, his head whipping around, his body following, taking a sharp left towards a dirt path between some hedges.

You yelp as he grabs a hold of you and spins you to face him, almost twisting your ankle, saved by his hands taking you with such force that there really isn’t much need for your feet to be on the ground at all. You steady yourself, eyes blown wide for a moment.

“Don’t.” You interrupt him before he can yell at you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? - This isn’t a game! Do you understand that?” Jake’s voice carries further out here in the open, you wince at the volume of it and shrink away from him.

“I’m not going back. I’d rather die than spend another year of my life locked inside.” You say quietly.

“Well you’re going the right way about it!” Jake snaps back.

You sigh, then swallow the lump in your throat. You refuse to cry this make up off.

“Please.”

“No! - No, I am not putting your life and my career on the line so that you can party.” Jake stands firm, his hands digging into your biceps. You stare back at him, equally sure about your decision.

You shake your head. “This isn’t just about a party.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now, bat your eyelashes all you want. Home, now.” Jake doesn’t even have his phone. His gun, his earpiece, it’s all back at the house. It’s just you and him.

“Jake. These people treat me like an animal in a zoo,” You tell him softly, lifting your chin. He frowns, not following. “It’s been that way for a long time, and I refuse to live my entire life being an exhibit. I’m going to this party. Either come or don’t - but I am not going back to that house.”

Jake opens his mouth to argue with you.

He remembers the headlines about you. You were in the papers pretty consistently for your father’s first term. He hears less about you these days. There’s a whole media team working on keeping bad press out of the headlines. They haven’t had much of a chance to protect your image.

He wonders how many parties you’ve ever even been invited to.

He wouldn’t have invited you when he was their age. No one in their right mind would. All of the security, the paparazzi, the damage it would do to their future if they were branded the ones that were a bad influence on America’s sweetheart.

“Now get your hands off of me,” You say calmly, looking down at his fingers pressing into your arms, Jake instinctively loosens his grip and drops his arms back down to his sides. “I’m going to live my life now.”

He falters for a moment, giving you time to turn and continue along the path.

Jake looks back in the direction he just came, then looks towards the direction you’re headed. “Fuck.”

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @the-mouse27 @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter

[wirelessfpx]

The best Bluetooth speaker in India is available from FPX Labs. We offer a variety of features, including strong sound, contagious enthusiasm, electrifying bass, and a design that will wow you. This product's distinctive selling point is the way it offers all of the functionality of a premium Bluetooth speaker in a portable form factor without compromising the caliber of your listening experience. Visit our website or call us right away for additional information.

[sungbeam]

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 — teaser!

nonidol!kim sunwoo x fem!reader

you never thought your humble, little podcast would ever touch somebody's soul like it did one kim sunwoo's

▷ genre, teaser warnings. s2f2l, fluff, slight angst, humor, no specific warnings for the teaser

▷ projected release date. august 6th

▷ estimated wc. 20-25k haha,,,ha

this is the fifth installment of the love in unity series! this fic can be read as a standalone, but there will be references to the main plotline and all other yns will be referred to as _!yn

a/n: dude, i literally DRAGGED myself out of writer's block for this 😭😭 so pls reblog when it comes out 😎🤡

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

By Saturday morning, Sunwoo had had enough of his own stubbornness and caved. He donned his headphones, grabbed his bag, and headed out the door to do some work in a cafe located on the Ave. There was one that his friend Jacob had recommended to the group awhile back, and Sunwoo hadn’t looked back since.

As he tuned into the episode, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shivering against the cold, winter winds. February weather was a doozy, and a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate sounded so very sexy right this moment.

“Welcome to Songbird Station! I’m your host, DJ Dove, and you’re probably wondering what the title of this episode even means, or why I sent that weird, cryptic voice message the other night.”

The traffic light turned green, and Sunwoo began to cross the road, the coffee shop in sight. His hands were beginning to get clammy in his pockets.

“Don’t riot, but friends, it means exactly what it says—” As you exhaled out a breathy kind of laugh, Sunwoo inhaled sharply.

“Helpful,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed into the warmth of the coffee shop. He shook the cold out of his body before hopping into the line to order.

“ —I did actually land myself a date yesterday. Honestly, I’m not really much of a dater; I never really had time with it over the past years because I would, uh… well, I would rather stay in and do music, y’know?”

The corners of Sunwoo’s lips curled up into a smile. Maybe he had been nervous before about this episode’s topic of choice, but he should have had more faith in you. Rather than speak about the date the entire episode, you always managed to worm in a discussion about your passions, and that was the kind of talk that had first gotten Sunwoo hooked. There was something so attractive about hearing or witnessing a person gush about their passions and ambitions—the way their eyes lit up, their posture righted itself, how they smiled so big that one could hear it in their tone of voice.

He was happy that you went out on a date, because you deserved to meet someone who treated you as special as you were. You were a good person, and it wasn’t fair that he was being so salty about it, especially when he was too chicken to—

“Sunwoo?”

His soul practically fell out of his body. “Shit—” He swore, yanking his headphones down with eyes as wide as the earphones. He whirled around to greet you with a flushed face, red like the old Christmas decorations still hanging up from the crown moldings.

You were standing right behind him with a mildly amused look on your face, your lips pressed into a smile and eyes crinkled in absolute delight. You were similarly bundled up like he was to no doubt shield you from the cold on your way here. “Sorry I scared you! I probably should have, like, tapped your shoulder or something, huh?”

Sunwoo let out a nervous laugh and cupped the back of his neck, the skin there warm to the touch. “Oh, uh, no problem at all. I just kinda…”

“Get scared easy?” You offered.

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @sodafy @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction

ra taglist: @oi-miya @sickvision @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @rreneeeeee @dajanxekiwi @jenowithjaem @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @fictionlover100 @hwanunjin @zlebooks @mcu-incorrect @moontyuns @elljj @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kittenyu @makgeolli-jw @midnight--rin @noosummert @yongi-lee @ivesdotcom @rockinrebelyay @blogisabelleberubeblr @ljy115 @tocupid @matchaoreocrepes

[1vampyre]

3. clueless

masterlist

today was just a normal day for scaramouche, he was streaming normally playing a horror games entertaining his viewers

he started the stream at 6:24 PM

(4 1/2 hours pass)

“WHAT THE FUCK. BRO HE WAS 7 FUCKING FEET AWAY FROM ME HOW DID HE GET ME?” scaramouche had been stuck at this stage of the story for a long time and it was starting to piss him off.

he kept running away from the monster in the game (and failing) every time, he cursed at it and himself. he raged and yelled at the story and everything.

he threw his hands up the air , “oh my archons i’m going to kill my self what the actual fuck is this game bro, there is no way i did all of that just for this stupid shit brown vermin is stopping me FROM FUCKING ESCAPING.”

the chat laughed at him but some people were giving him tips

kalaniii : “you need to put keys to the red door that the monster is guarding”

xinqfinf : “LMAOOOO scara is so funny when he’s angry ”

scaraswifey : “you got this scara i believe in you!! <333”

ilanabeloved : “THE MONSTER HAS THE DAMN KEY YOU HAVE TO GO CLOSE TO IT DUMBASS”

bountyhunterr: “blud has been stuck on the same thing for 2 hours 💀💀”

his eyes scanned the chat that was barely registering due to how many people that was talking through the chat per second only seeing certain messages

(the 3rd one freaked him out a bit)

suddenly his phone screen lit up showing a notification from his sister , he quickly paused the game

“shit wait one second guys.” he said scrambled to unlock his phone

scaramouche quickly typed a reply to her message knowing she would be mad if he didn’t

once he turned off his phone again he tried looked at the chat again and began to make a mental note of what he was supposed to actually do in order to escape the facility that the game was set in

while he was focused on gathering the keys to escape he didn’t hear the apartment door being closed and the footsteps that were coming toward his room

he snaps out of focus for a second to hear what was happening outside his game but when he took off his headphones he immediately got killed again

scaramouche grunted and put the headphones back , his eyes glued to the screen as he failed to register the person who had just entered his room.

the chat started getting alarmed the second they saw a strange unfamiliar figure at the back of scaramouche’s dark room

his fans started spamming the chat once they saw the person under the purple leds , they realized it was a girl that just entered and collapsed on his bed

he didn’t notice anything thought since he was still laser focused on the game and escaping

after 15 more minutes he finally got the final key and made his way to the exit , he let out a loud sigh and let himself slump into his chair as the cutscene played.

“okay i think i’m going to stop the stream soon guys.” he yawned slightly

leaned towards his computer to analyze the chat and saw the messages coming through

scaramouche mindlessly stared at the screen in silence until someone donated something

wandrift donated 500 bits : “DSCARA THERES A RANDOM GIRL IN YOUR BED RIGHT NOW WTF”

“wait …huh?” scaramouche asked completely clueless to what they were talking about snapped out of his trance and leaned towards his computer to analyze the chat and saw the messages coming through

kyoumari : “HELP WHO ARE THEY”

matsuban : “SCARA ARE THEY UR GF 🤯🤯😨😨”

dendronila : “bro is finally getting bitches 🙌”

farzaze: “wait they kinda pretty tho”

after he read a couple messages for a second his head snapped towards where his bed was and saw that you were laying on top his bed passed out

he turned to stare at the the camera “oh they’re just my roommate , night guys it’s getting late” and then shut his stream off.

scaramouche sighed and got up from his seat , he walked over to where you were and placed a blanket over you since you were shivering slightly due to the cold weather in the apartment.

after that he turned the leds off and headed to the living room.

note :

- hey fam …