#how dare u frankly

[bitbrumal]

                                                                            QUESTION           @predvestnik​​​​​   ↤   accepting    ::   HE’S A 10, BUT...   ↩

‘ He isn't a ten. He's more like a bad, incomplete joke: seven, eight, nine. ’ Honestly, this was meant to target one Master Diluc, but can be about anyone—

DILUC  the rag in his fist creaks. red eyes drop to it with an incredulity that peers further inward: down into the tight, discomfiting squirm of his chest.       oh. i’m going to be sensitive about this. fantastic.  how mean. to be bullied like this, after a smooch? after allowing him to feel vulnerable & stupid & delicious—

it’s certainly impossible to guess what has his cheeks grow ruddy all over again:  the memory, or this shameless return to the norm.  perhaps it should be a blessing...

                            “ugh.”

 at least it asks for no delicacy in return. it wouldn’t be rude not to feel. no weeping maiden stands in line to curse his lineage for an affront she should have expected, angled for. ( no. no, that’s him right now, isn’t it? holy sh- )         don’t have to feel anything about this. ( right. because that was ever an option. )

[sweetenby]

Im saying this as someone who's secondary social media is vent. (An app so unprofitable the former owner had to lie to sell it and the current owner is losing money to keep it afloat.) But no matter how anticapitalist the user base is, it will never change that social media is firstly a product. And that if products don't make money they get taken off the market.

[twinknote]

what’s the deal with unexpected textures in food. like why is that still allowed

[villainsidestep]

what are your bingo vibes on Dr Mortum 👀

so . here's the thing abt the good doctor.

I think she's funny !! I really do. BUT. u have to keep in mind that we do not like being our puppet (sorry yaz/eden) and on our first playthroughs we 1. flirted w her bc I thought it would be banter and then had to be like 'no actually I lied' so we reset the whole game and then 2. ran the 'business only' route three times bc we'd embarrassed ourself. so.

I think we'd enjoy her a lot more if we had like..... more outsider info...? if that makes sense. but rn so much of what we know is . relying heavily on like. being "puppet's cool friend who shows up occasionally" . u know? but maybe that'll change in the third book !!!

[planetdream]

AN EVENING IN THE WOODS !

CHARACTERS ! werewolf!bang chan, human!reader

GENRE ! horror/thriller but barely, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 3.3k

SYNOPSIS ! on a drunken game night, you're dared to take a little stroll through the woods after rumors of a werewolf lurking through the town.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! more thriller than horror i think. mentions of alcohol. being chased/stalked; mentions of being 'kept'. reader desc. wearing long skirt + called 'good girl'. smut [dubcon(?)—reader is basically being used. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possessiveness. [rough] sex in the woods. monsterfucking ig. large cock channie <3. pussy eating. facefucking. cumplay + creampie. belly bulge oops. dumbification(?) growling..] used the word 'beast' a lot oops. it gets weird idk

💌 ngl...i think i forgot how to write smut u guys... this is partially inspired by a brief part in house of leaves by mark z. danielewski, but like, not really at all iykyk. anyway, as u kno, i always appreciate feedback <3

There’s a big difference between vampire hunters and werewolf hunters. The creatures are different from each other in both ferocity and nature; thus, the study and hunt of them will differ based on several factors. Hunters of said creatures are expected to know what to do in situations in which they are faced with such foul beasts. You, quite frankly, are neither a vampire nor a werewolf hunter. Inexperienced to the point where you couldn’t begin to imagine what you would do if faced with anything that is such a monstrous terror, let alone a werewolf. Yet, here you are, prancing around the cold forest like a delicious piece of meat, praying that you don’t cross paths with anything—man or beast.

About a month ago, men and women alike began disappearing from town in the late hours of the night, not to be seen or heard from again. In the following weeks, numbers of missing people have only risen, leading many to believe that there might be a serial killer on the loose. That, however, was only until word got around that a town drunkard had seen what he could only describe as a ‘terrifyingly large rabid dog’. ‘It had to be about six feet tall just standing there’, he said, swearing solemnly, even vowing to quit drinking in an effort to portray his seriousness. The man wept, “It was one of them werewolves. I swear by it.” 

Only from there did word travel through the town. Though, no one believed the drunk old man, laughing at his testimony—‘A werewolf? In this town? That’s impossible’—some treating it as some fable, or a game, even. Which is what leads to you, alone, in the woods tonight. A fun game of truth or dare with your friends—being a chronic truth picker, tonight (with a little liquid courage) you decide that you want nothing but to humor your associates, you chose dare—turns into you blindly making your way into the dark forest with nothing but a lamp, pocket knife, and a few neon stickers to help you make your way back; and that’s only if you’re not murdered. 

By the looks of it, the surrounding forest is empty. The only sounds come from the rustling of tree leaves mingling together due to the wind, the sounds of birds squawking in the far distance, and the snapping and crunching of twigs and leaves beneath your shoes. You trek your way through the trees and dirt extremely unnerved. Nothing has happened at all, and although you’re thankfully still alive and breathing, making your way through the clutter of trees and dead wood, you cannot help but be a bit frightened about the dreariness and uncertainty of the situation. 

It’s a cold night, predicted to snow a bit; temperature dropping lower and lower with each hour that falls. The sun had set a while ago and the purple-orange hue leftover has now faded from blue into black. And while the stars are beginning to show themselves—pristine and beautiful—the dark sky only adds to the dreariness of your walk through the forest. The sudden additional silence is eerie, nature has stilled completely. Although the echo of stillness is inexplicable, unusual; it comforts you—knowing that you would hear your assailant coming, should you come close to being attacked. 

When looking at your watch, you find that you’ve only been in the forest for fifteen of the required thirty minutes—it’s very possible that you can go the distance, turning on your heels and deciding to make your fifteen minute walk back to the edge of the dark forest; and most importantly, to safety. After all, your friends must be worried about you by now; maybe even surprised that you’ve really stuck to the dare. In a matter of minutes, this will be all over and you will be resting at home.

You had to have been walking in one straight direction, right? Maybe because it’s dark, and you, admittedly, have drunk quite a bit, but the placemarkers you remember sticking to the trees along your path are nowhere to be found. The light of your lamp shines against tree after tree, but they remain in their natural state, unchanged. Your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing as you look at the leftover placemarkers you hold in your hand, only six remaining of your original twenty—so you know you’ve used them. 

You stop in your tracks, not willing to venture any further than you already have. Mind racing, scanning and assessing all the possible things you can do, slowly slipping into a panic. You could scream as loud as you can, vocally expressing your need for rescue; but how likely is it that you’ll be heard, especially given how deep into this unchanging landscape you are. Perhaps you can continue walking ahead, only praying that you make your way out unharmed—after all, safety should have been just a fifteen minute walk ahead.

As you lift your foot a few centimeters off of the ground to make your first step, through the darkness of the forest and out of your peripherals, you swear you see a large shadow for just a split second—lurched over and next to a thick tree to your right. A chill runs down your spine and you shudder as you realize the presence of this creature; intimidating and dominant. Taking no chances, feet hitting the ground hard as you sprint through the woods, doing your best to escape this nightmare; real or otherwise. 

The action of running when you feel like you’re being chased, versus running because you are being chased, are quite similar. It’s all instinct, a gut feeling that you jump on, increased heart rate; it’s choosing to flee rather than to fight. The difference, in this moment, you realize, is the definite risk of getting caught. The consequences could prove to be unsatisfactory, at the very least, if you were to be caught by whatever it is that may be following after you. Although, looking behind, there’s nothing in sight—no sign of disaster nor danger. You continue along, albeit a lot slower than before, attempting to catch your breath a bit. Walking off trail just a bit to slow down and assess your next course of action. 

The snapping of a twig within your vicinity has you darting from the temporary hiding place. However, the predator is right on your trail, persisting in its hunt for flesh. You weave your way through the woods, brain firing off about escaping quickly without harm. The chase does not last long, though. One misstep taking you down, tumbling. Briefly, in your panic, you appear to meet eyes with the foul beast. Fear lodged in your throat, dry and brittle—crumbling into tiny little pieces that pester your insides like a million tiny beetles finding a dark, cavernous home. Stomach clenching, seizing as you cower in submission to your terror. Hands buried into the freshly fallen snow—previous footsteps already blanketed over and long gone. Never have you thought you would give up so easily; unsure if you’ve got it within you to fight back in the absolute worst case. 

Body stuck in place, paralyzed with fear once you hear the snow behind you crunch, a sign that the creature is inching closer to you. It’s like your life flashes before your eyes once you feel the snout of the creature pressed against the back of your neck, heat blowing against the back of your neck, followed by a short, deep snarl emitting from within the beast. The large presence behind you is undeniable. The way the creature towers over you is horrifying—a domineering and overbearing sense of power, exuding pride and strength in the form of body heat. It circles you, though you are too terrified to look towards it, despite the daring growl it emits. Heart racing, nearly about to jump out of your chest and run away itself. The creature begins to circle around you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see its feet—huge black paws. Oh great! You’ll be eaten alive. 

But then the feet of the beast turns into man, and slowly you raise your face to get a good look at its true face. He starts off as a blur initially, but the longer you look at him, the more recognizable he becomes. A face you’ve always seen lurking around town. Though despite the area being rather small, you’ve never formally interacted—only stared at each other from a distance then kept it moving. Tonight, however, you finally decided to walk up to him at the local bar whilst with friends, only for him to walk away without a word. ‘Oh, him? Yeah, Chan is just like that.’

“Mmm. What’s that smell?” Chan asks while humming. Arms caging you in against the tree as he presses his nose against your neck, right near a particularly sweet spot. “Smells heavenly. So sweet and delicious.” 

He continues to sniff you out, planting a small kiss to your neck before traveling lower, nose now pressed to the fabric of your clothing. Face pressed in between the valley of your breast, Chan takes a long, deep inhale. His eyes are closed as he pulls back, slightly smirking with clear contentment. Chan takes the material of your shirt pinched between his fingertips before tearing the shirt down the middle, groaning at your now exposed chest. His hands cup your tits, thumbs teasing at your nipples, as he runs his nose down the valley, before swiping back up with his tongue. 

Chan isn’t done, nose still pressed against your skin as he sinks down to his knees. Rough hands cupping your ass, squeezing, as he stops—nose pressed against your mound, breathing you in while trying to pull you closer, finally finding the source of that sweet, heavenly scent. He’s breathing heavily to the point that you can feel his hot breath against your skin through the thin material of your skirt; snarling as he takes in your scent. And he’s mumbling something down there—pussy hungry words about how fucking delectable you smell. Perfect to devour. 

Contrary to the petrifying circumstance, the rush of adrenaline you get in the moment is euphoric and exhilarating. Chan’s touch is hot against you, almost scorching, and leaves you wanting—no, needing more of him. 

He hikes up the long length of your skirt with ease, throwing your leg over his shoulder to force your hips towards his face, diving face first into your cunt. Tongue lapping up hungrily at your wetness, moaning and groaning without a care in the world as he gets the first taste of his meal. Plump lips sucking your clit, vibrating when he moans, causing you to shake and squirm, but Chan has a strong grip against you. He’s messy as he eats you—occasionally breaking free, not for air, but to spit against your cunt—as the lower half of his face is covered in your nectar; which he hopes never washes off, absolutely frenzied by your scent, cock hard and leaking cum, jumping at the thought of finally getting to fuck his cock into this sweet little cunt. 

While Chan is usually a patient man, having no problem in waiting—stalking his prey and then teasing them for hours upon hours on end—he finds himself struck with need. A particular need to feast. To fuck and destroy his prey. Days and days of stalking you, taunting you from afar, and you played right into his palm—obviously fated to be found afraid and lost, deep in his territory. It is at this point he thinks to keep you. Perhaps hide you away somewhere cold and dark where only he’d be able to find you. Keeping you bound to him until he gets sick of you—or until you cease to exist. Aching to fuck you over and over and over again until it becomes too difficult for you to even think about moving a muscle, succumbing fully to his torturous pleasure. He stops himself from thinking too far ahead all too soon, clearly entranced by the sweetness of your cunt. 

Chan springs to his feet; cock heavy, hard and curving to the right, tip swelling red with need and dripping with precum. Your eyes are glued to his cock as you watch him massage his right hand over it; even in his big palms his cock is huge. The excitement to take him spreads from the pit of your stomach and up your chest, visualizing into the form of goosebumps all over your arms. He just laughs at the look on your face; how equally intrigued and dismayed you appear. A perfect little lamb stalked and caught by the big bad wolf, unable to flee due to their own fascination despite their fright. 

Chan leans in, his lips against yours briefly. A hand curling into your hair to bring you down to your knees, you follow suit. His hand stays tangled in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp. With his other hand, Chan strokes his cock, running his thumb over the tip; then pulling your head towards his tip. Eagerly, your tongue slips from your mouth, ready to taste everything he’s giving you. You swirl your tongue around him, but Chan has other plans, slowly sliding his cock into your mouth; helping you savor the slightly salty taste of his seed. Fixing your mouth open as wide as it can go, with both hands now tangled into your hair, he thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth, slowly increasing the speed of his thrust. 

“You just take it like a good girl, huh?” You don’t say anything, but that dazed look in your eye and the moan that escapes from deep in your throat tells Chan all he needs to know. 

“Perfect little mouth, but I bet that pussy is even better.” Chan frees his cock from your mouth with a trail of spit. His hand around his cock once again, the slick sound like music to your ears. Though, it’s at this point that the cold air is starting to get to you—the snow is light but still continuous—yet you power through it for just another taste of Chan. 

“Want you so bad,” You bite your lip, looking into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together. You stand and stretch to turn your back to him, looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your backside towards him like a bitch in heat. Chan smirks at you, a small laugh erupting from him at the sight of your shamelessness.   

In the heat of the moment, Chan licks the palm of his hand before bringing it down to rub at your cunt from behind. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear a long, deep snarl come from within his chest. The closer he gets to you, the louder the growl echoes, and the more he warms you with his body heat—caging you in against the tree. You grind into his hand, greedily taking anything he gives you. While Chan is steadily becoming just as impatient as you, he always spares time to play with his food; teasing the tip of his cock against your slit. Chan slowly slides into your cunt—a rough hand clenching onto your hip, nails digging into your skin; not nearly enough to keep him from losing his cool as your wetness encases his cock, wet and tight. 

You’re barely taking half of his dick before the stretch of it nearly becomes too much—but he’s one step ahead of you; arm snakes across your belly and down to your cunt, two wet fingers ready to play with your clit. Chan works his fingers against your clit slowly winding you up, all while planting a quick kiss against your shoulder; tongue drooling out to lick a long wet stripe against your neck. It’s only once he receives a moan from you in response that he starts thrusting into you slowly; the thrusts of his hips syncing with the movement of his fingers. 

It isn’t long before you’re taking more and more of his cock, being stuffed and stretched deliciously. Cunt leaking and begging for more of him. Chan lets out these harsh growls and grunts that contrast with the pitch of your moans. His nails dig into your hips, using a minimal amount of strength to pull your hips back against him, making you meet his thrusts. His hips smack against your ass roughly, cock stretching you further, but your cunt swallows every inch perfectly. That’s only until he slides out of you, wordless, yet, still letting out a snarl. He pushes you onto the ground, hands and knees crashing into the new layers of snow. You yelp out in response, but Chan can only laugh at you. 

“Just letting me push you around like this? I think I should keep you,” He follows you, kneeling onto the ground, cock in hand. Laying  a quick smack at your ass, he hums. “How would you feel about being my little plaything, huh?”

His free hand kneads against your ass while he plays with his cock. “Keep you locked up with me ‘n only let you out in these woods at night, hmm? All cute ‘n naked for me to hunt down and fuck again.”

“And you can’t even hide cause I’ll always find you, pretty.” He finally slides into your cunt, still not letting you have all of him, yet. “How does that sound? Do you like it?”

His words are filthy and so are his touches but somehow he’s got you entranced. You let out a loud, cracked sob of a yes in response to his inquiries as if he bullied it out of you. “Good girl.” 

Chan finally allows himself to break—hips snapping harshly into yours. Not caring if you go limp from the way he’s fucking into you, instead his hands are once again clenching your hips, grinding his hips against your ass whenever he thrusts his cock back into you. Your fists clutching onto the snow as you take his cock, unable to do much but drool and mewl for him. 

He presses his chest across your back, caging you onto the cold ground. His tongue once again flat against your skin, licking every inch of what exposed skin he has access to. Still pounding into you as he chases his impending orgasm. Then he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, letting out a whine rather than the usual growl as he fucks his cum into you. It’s hot, sticky, and heavy—and it seems like it’s unending; seemingly producing more and more as he pumps his cock into you. Slowly Chan reaches a hand down to press against your lower abdomen; feeling how your belly swells with all the cum his cock is feeding your cunt. 

You moan at the feeling when Chan pulls out of you with a sigh of exhaust. Cum coating his cock and spilling out of your cunt, staining your thighs. So much of his seed has spilled out and he’s no longer stuffing you with his cock, but yet you feel so full. Chan continues to incite, two thick fingers dip into your cunt to scoop up and play with the excess cum that’s dripping from your hole. 

Chan pulls you back to him by your arms, caging you against his chest. He whispers to you. “What if we played a fun little game, hm?”

He grips your chin and those same two digits that were once inside of you, force into your mouth, offering you another taste of Chan’s cum. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, “Let’s say, I give you a ten second head start to run.”

Chan kisses the back of your neck and a chill runs down your spine. “The ten seconds start now.” 

He frees you from his hold, and springs to his feet leaving you dumbfounded. But by the time you stand and face the direction of Chan, legs weak and cold, he’s no longer there.

It seems his fun little game has officially started. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[honeyedmiller]

Ride, Cowgirl | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: smut, dom!reader, (semi) sub!Joel, shy! reader, reader is unsure of themselves for .2 seconds, Joel is sweet and encouraging, some fluff and aftercare, takes place in Jackson, implied unprotected piv, choking, riding, spitting, edging, pussy job, face sitting, no use of y/n. I’m sorry this is literally just pure filth lmaooo hope u enjoy :-) 18+. minors, do not interact.

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: you tell joel one of your fantasies that’d been on the back burner, but he encourages you to bring it to life.

not revised (per usual) so sorry if there’s any mistakes!

It was a cozy fall morning in Jackson. You and Joel lazed in bed on your day off, enjoying each other’s company.

So far, it’d been nothing but stolen kisses and soft whispers of endearment, so, naturally, you had no fucking clue how the conversation got to where it was now.

“No, now y’have to tell me, sweetheart. Swear I won’t laugh.” Joel coaxed, brushing your hair out of your face. You groaned and shrunk into the pillows of the bed, trying to hide your face from your beloved boyfriend.

“No, Joel. It’s stupid anyway.” You argue, shaking your head.

“Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad, can it darlin’?”

“Yes. It’s unrealistic.”

“Just tell me.” He’s smiling down at you softly, patiently, waiting for you to tell him what you’ve always fantasized about doing in bed.

“Fine. I’ve always wondered,” You swallow thickly, taking a deep breath. “What it would like to be a dom. Just for a little.”

Joel raised an eyebrow at you, looking at you in shock. Out of all the things he was thinking you’d tell him, it definitely wasn’t that. You were generally a shy person, and quite frankly didn’t seem to have one dom bone in your body. But, you’ve surprised Joel time and time again, so he wouldn’t put it completely past you that you’d had a hankering to try something like this.

“Fuck, it’s stupid, I know.” You start, reprimanding yourself for saying anything in the first place.

“No, it’s not stupid darlin’. Jus’ didn’t expect something like this from you.” Joel cooed, kissing your forehead.

“I know I can be, I guess, more reserved… but I save my true self for you and Ellie.” You reasoned, giving him a shy, lopsided smile.

“I know you do, baby. Is this something you really want to try?” He’s serious now, eyes scanning your face.

Of course you were apprehensive, but if big, bad, mean Joel was going to let you live out this fantasy of yours, you couldn’t dare pass it up.

“Yes,” You squeak. “But I obviously wouldn’t go to the full extent. Just… wanting to be in charge only once.” You shrug. You didn’t mind Joel being the dom all the time. Quite frankly, it was hot, and despite his age (which you couldn’t give two fucks about, because the world fucking ended twenty years ago for fuck’s sake), he kept things real interesting in the bedroom.

If you were to ever say your sex life with Joel Miller was boring, you’d be lying straight through your fucking teeth.

That man was insatiable for his age, and his libido was incredible. He never ceases to amaze you, even ‘til this day.

“Okay,” Joel said softly. “Let’s do it.”

Your eyebrows shot up to the top of your forehead. Was he seriously going to go through with this? I’ve-killed-half-of-Salt-Lake-City Joel, ready to be a submissive to little ‘ol you?

“Are you serious?” The shock in your tone was transparent, sitting up in bed a little to look at him in all seriousness.

“Absolutely. If that’s one of your fantasies, I’ll help you live it. But,” He paused, giving you a stern look. It was half playful, half dead serious. “You tell no one that we’re doing this, okay? I have a reputation to uphold here.”

You snorted at his last comment, rolling your eyes. “Please, Miller, I don’t talk to anyone about our sex life anyways. I like to keep the dirty things we do to ourselves, thank you very much.” The smug smile that curled onto your lips made Joel’s twitch.

“Alright, so, how do you want to do this?” He asks, folding his arms behind his head.

“Wait, you mean we’re doing it now?”

“Why not? Ellie’s at Dina’s for the weekend, so we have allll day baby.” Joel smirked up at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Fuck, um, okay. I don’t know where to start.” Nerves took over you as you were painfully regretting this decision to go through with it.

“Start with telling me some simple ground rules. That usually gets you in the mood.” Joel unravels one arm from behind his head, reaching out to rub your arm gently.

“Right, okay,” You trembled nervously, but you took a deep breath to get your mind into a dominatrix headspace. “First things first,” You stare down at him, lust clouding your vision. “Only speak when spoken to. Don’t touch me unless I give you permission, and you’ll only address me as ma’am. Got it?” You look down at him, trying to hide your nervousness as best as possible.

Joel’s cock stirred at your words, acquiescing with your rules.

“Say it.” Your voice is stern as you get on top of him, straddling his thighs. It took everything in him not to reach up and grab you. You wore nothing but an oversized shirt of his, and the sight of you in it with a daring glint in your eyes drove him absolutely wild.

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed.

“Good. Now take off your boxers.” You instructed, lifting your weight off of him so he could slide them off of his body.

His cock was already leaking pre cum, the tip swollen and begging for attention. The sight nearly made your mouth water, but you had to keep your façade up. He looked up at you, waiting for your next set of instructions.

You moved up on him again so your bare, aching heat was hovering over his erection. You lowered yourself onto him, teasing his length with your slick folds. Your arousal made it easy for you to grind yourself onto him.

He clamped his eyes shut, hissing at the feeling of you teasing him so.

“Mm, feel so fucking good honey. This cock is all mine, you got that?” You peered down at him, and he nodded frantically.

“What did I say about speaking when spoken to?” You snap, even surprising yourself with how promiscuous your tone was coming off as.

“Y-yes ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.” You smirk, and he groaned at that.

“Quiet.” You warn, moving your hips again to your leisure. Joel’s cock throbbed underneath your aching cunt, and not being able to touch you or speak was driving him fucking wild.

You continued your movements, and you could tell Joel was close when he started to pant really hard. He wasn’t going to cum that easy. Just as he was about to tip over the edge, you lifted your hips, causing him to throatily whine.

“Fuck, darlin–”

“What did I just say about you being quiet?” You snap, leaning forward to wrap one of your hands around his neck. You were careful not to crush his windpipe, but gave the sides of his thick throat some pressure with your small hands.

Never in his life did Joel think being choked would be hot. It really wasn’t something he was fond of, but right now, with you, it was the hottest thing ever. Seeing you go from shy and quiet to choking him and being in complete and utter control made him nearly lose his mind.

“Open your mouth.” You commanded, and he obeyed immediately. You spit into his mouth, moving your hips back down to where your throbbing cunt met his pleading cock. His eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed what you gave him, biting his lip in agony as you started to grind on him again. And, once more, you denied him access to cum.

You knew once Joel went back to being his dominant self, he’d punish you back ten fold, so you had to tread lightly. Desperate whimpers and moans elicited from his throat, and you let go of his neck to look down at him.

“You’re just not getting it, are you?” You scoff, and you move off of him again. This time, you shift your body so your dripping heat is hovering right above his mouth. “Maybe this’ll help shut you up.”

You waste no time in making yourself comfortable on his face, and he immediately reacts. His tongue is ravishing you like a starved man, sucking on your clit with care before licking up and down your slick folds. You start to rock your hips on his face, your clit catching on his nose just right.

Joel had the right mind to tease you this way and deny you of an orgasm too, but he knew you wouldn’t be so forgiving to him since he was the one who encouraged you to carry out this fantasy.

“Touch yourself, honey. But do not cum.” You told him, and he moaned into you. He began to tug at his silky flesh, and he thumbed at the slit on his swollen and neglected head. His tongue was buried deep into you, and the suckling and slurping sounds he made were nothing short of obscene and extremely erotic.

You felt Joel tense again, nearing his release once more. He just prayed to whatever was out there that you’d let him cum this time.

“Wanna cum, honey?” You coo, tangling your fingers in his hair. He nods below you eagerly, continuing to devour you. You were so close to the edge yourself, so you moaned in praise. “Beg for it.”

You lifted your hips to let him speak, and you’d never heard his voice in such disarray, ever.

“P-please ma’am. Please let me cum. Ple-ase.” He was nearly whimpering, voice strained and teetering on the edge of a full whine.

You move your hips back down, and you’re once again on his mouth. He wastes no time in trying to get you over the edge, and when you’re just about there, you give him permission.

“You can cum, my love.” And just like that, both of you unraveled at the same time. Loud moans were to be heard from your bedroom at the agonizing release of both of you.

You shuffled back down Joel’s body so you were straddling his thighs once more. You looked at his slick-covered face, smirking at the sight.

“You did so good, honey.” You kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He responds, hands twitching to touch you.

“You can touch me, Joel,” You murmur, kissing him again. His hands immediately go to your waist to hold you steady against him before exploring your body slowly. You moaned softly when his hands reached your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “But I’m not done with you yet, cowboy.”

He looks up at you with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was honestly so proud in a sense that you gained so much confidence being in a dominatrix headspace.

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” He asks politely, smiling smugly up at you. You raise your eyebrow at him and nod, listening intently.

“Ride, cowgirl.”

You laughed, your dom façade already breaking. You lined Joel’s surprisingly hard cock up with your entrance, rubbing the tip against your folds a few times before you sunk down on him completely.

You moan at the sensation, him stretching you to fullness something you’ll always find so fucking hot.

“Feel so good, baby.” You encourage, starting to rut your hips back and forth. It wasn’t long before you found a steady rhythm and tossed Joel’s oversized shirt that engulfed your body to the side so he had a clear view of your beautiful body.

Forgetting the no touching rule, he reached out to massage both of your breasts. You almost moaned at the contact, but quickly took both of his wrists into your hands, holding them above his head. You were careful not to move fast, though, because you knew his shoulders were nearly shot.

“No touching.” You smirk as you bounce on him now, groaning when his cock hit that spongey spot in your cunt that made you see stars.

“Mm, fuck, baby, who’s cock is this?” Your words were sickly sweet, dripping like honey as you gazed down at Joel with a ferocious look in your eye.

“Fuck, yours, ma’am. It’s all yours.” He moaned, loving the way your sweet, delicate pussy took him so well every single fucking time. It’s like you were just made for him, and the sensation was truly like no other.

“That’s right. Mine. Don’t you forget it.” You lean down and kiss his neck with fervor, kitten licking the spot you know drives him crazy just once. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, and you knew he was close again. You clamped down on him, riding him with such determination. You wanted to see his face when he unraveled for you; because of you.

“You’re so fucking handsome, you know that?” You start praising him, returning the sweet words he always tosses your way when you two have sex. “So strong. So sweet and loving. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, honey.” You kiss him lovingly, every dom thought and bone in your body dissipating.

You knew it was only a matter of time before you’d say enough was enough. You liked when Joel was in charge. He fucked you so well, and the aftercare was always so tender and loving. He was so gentle, patient and kind with you. You truly loved him with your whole being.

You felt Joel’s hips stutter, breaking you from your thoughts. “It’s okay, my honey. Let go.” You finally said, and it only took him a few more thrusts of hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you coming undone as well.

You kissed him as you both unraveled, swallowing each other’s moans as your movements came to a halt. You slowly get off of him, pulling him into you as you cradled his head against your chest. You kissed his forehead a few times as you ran your fingers through his graying hair.

“I hope I didn’t push it too far.” You whisper, tracing the outline of his jaw with the tip of your index finger. He looked up at you, completely fucked out and more than satisfied.

“You did amazing, baby. That was hot.” He praised, and suddenly, your shyness returned to you full-force. A crimson blush colored your cheeks, and you hid your face into the top of his curls.

“Yeah, well, I prefer it if you’re just the dom from now on.” Your voice is diffident. Joel laughs, leaning up to kiss you lovingly.

“I think that can be arranged, baby.”

-

I think I’m gonna start doing a tag list. Lmk if you wanna be tagged for future works of mine! But until then @cool-iguana as promised I’d tag you <;3 ily

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 31 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

 Maybe it’s silly, but you feel as though you have a new lease on life, in the days that follow.

John is still undeniably clingy, but so very sweet. It is a much easier form of obsession to bear.

You are still a prisoner, but at least you feel loved.

Perhaps even more precious, you begin to feel safe.

Whatever possessive madness gripped him before seems to have receded for now, and maybe you’re a fool, but you dare hope in time he might make a full recovery.

Now that you’ve reached a sort of understanding, John seems bent on making up for lost time. There is no doubt that you are still his prey, but now he ambushes you with the express intention of making you cum—whether you like it or not.

Again, you find yourself begging him for reprieve, though this time through laughter rather than tears. He swallows your protests with devouring kisses, eating your cries whole as he slides his long fingers inside you and works your clit masterfully with his thumb.

When you complain of your difficulty sitting down, a gift of a hemorrhoids donut pillow appears. You think he meant it as a joke.

John likes to give gifts, you find.

When one day you walk into your studio to find a bejeweled set of headphones bedecked like a crown, you cannot help but grin like an idiot. It is ridiculous what those fucking things cost, and you’d thought you’d been clever about concealing your enchantment with them in Italy, but nothing escapes John Wick’s sharp eye.

When he finds you later wearing your new coronet, singing out of tune while you put paint down on canvas, he presses you into the worktable with his hips and his kisses, going down on his knees before you with a murmur of, “My beautiful queen.” His words make your knees weak, as does his insatiable tongue in your slit. It’s all so much, and when you beg him to take you there on the table he is all too happy to oblige, scattering your pastels in a rainbow of projectiles with a sweep of his arm before driving himself inside you. With legs wrapped around his waist in a desperate effort to hold on, you take the fury of his adoration with a cock-drunk smile.

If you learned anything in the darker times before, it is that this man is a predator to the bone, and no matter what his mood, he loves a good chase. It becomes your favorite game, and it starts one evening when you splash him while doing the dishes. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, and with a screech you run for the stairs.

You only get so far as the living room before he catches you, his arm like a band of iron around your waist hauling you from your feet entirely. It happens too fast to register, but by some form of ninja magic you are suddenly on the floor, the lean length of his body on top of you. On the plush oriental rug with his thick cock inside you, this man makes you see God. 

It feels alarmingly, magnificently, terrifyingly, like truly making love.

“Has anyone ever loved you, the way I do?” he demands desperately, filling you impossibly to the brim.  

“Never,” you barely manage to answer, the force of his thrust stealing your breath away. 

The next question is much more vulnerable. 

“Have you ever loved anyone, the way you love me?”

“Never.”

It’s true, and in the softening of his gaze you dare to hope that someday he will believe you enough.

It is surprising, how quickly the time passes. Despite the circumstances, it is not terribly hard to live with John Wick, like this. He is sweet, and loving, and he spoils you rotten. You could almost mistake your relationship for normal—if one didn’t look too hard at the locks on all the doors. 

Soon summer is fading, giving way to the golden hours of early fall. You see it out the window, but since your little car ride, you still have not been allowed outside. You’re an outdoorsy girl, and frankly, it’s starting to drive you a little crazy. You find yourself clawing at the impenetrable windows with a sigh.

John’s mood has been steady, but your heart is still in your throat when you dare ask, “John, can we go out?”

He looks up from his book, the fall of his dark hair covering half his face as he cants his head in thought. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but even after all this close proximity, you still find him beautiful. You do not think that will ever change.

“Why?” he finally asks, and you detect the shadow of suspicion in his tone.  

“Because I miss it.”

You used to hike every day off you had. Being indoors this long…is doing things to your brain.

You watch as his nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling as he considers this request. You can tell he doesn’t like the thought at all, but you force yourself to stand your ground. He won’t punish you for this, surely? Just for asking?

Of course, he might punish you for what you’ll do later, if the answer is no.

In the end he nods, though more to himself than to you. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it fast? The weather will be turning soon.”

The look he pays you then is less kind, his eyes sharp as glittering obsidian. “I said. I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, assuming the answer is no, and retreat to sulk in your studio. You are painting the view from your favorite outlook on the mountain trail nearby from memory when you start to hear an odd, rhythmic toque…toque sound, over and over.

You go downstairs, searching for the source. No dice in the living room or the kitchen. You follow your ears to the bank of windows off the living room. There’s another door (locked, of course) that leads to a patio. You see John outside…chopping wood? Watching the pine rounds explode under the sharp blade of an axe in his hands shouldn’t be this fascinating, but you find yourself pressed to the window, transfixed. The definition in the muscles of his forearms as he swings down are a sight to behold.

You’re not sure he can see you, the way the glass is mirrored on the outside, but you knock on the widow anyway. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes at first. Then, a small smile. It feels like a little gift, just for you, and it quickens your heart. Watching him do everyday things moves you, and you acknowledge to yourself uneasily for the umpteenth time that you’re in so deep.

As it turns out, the wood was for a little pit fire, which you sit together and watch with a glass of wine that evening out on the patio. The tall trees loom all around you, pitch black outside the ring of your little campfire. It feels so good to be out of the house, but it’s not quite what you wanted. As though he senses that you’re not exactly satisfied with his offering, John tries to distract you with his kisses, laying you down on the outdoor couch to wreck you with his mouth. You make love with your skin bared to the great outdoors, but no one to really see you in your seclusion. Later you snuggle under a soft blanket together.

Sated, you let it go, for now.  

-But John doesn’t forget, and one morning he wakes you early with kisses on your ear. “If you want to hike, we have to go now,” he tells you. You have become spoiled in your captivity, no longer at the mercy of coffee house hours, now used to sleeping through the morning after John keeps you up late with his kisses and his beautiful cock, but the offer of getting to really go outdoors has you up and at ‘em in minutes.

You find your old pair of broken-in Merrel hikers in the walk-in closet, and realize John must have accessed your possessions from your previous life at some point. It’s so strange to see them—you realize in the suspended reality of your current situation, you’ve almost written off everything that came before.

There is a distinct mental separation in your personal timeline—BW, and AW; Before Wick, and After Wick.

You have a quick breakfast and coffee before stepping outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

You can hardly describe the elation you feel, at last being allowed to walk out that front door like you are almost normal. You are so happy just to feel the morning air on your skin. You stand in the driveway like a simpleton, your face lifted to the sky, soaking in the sun. There is a cool breeze that smells of pine, and it is the sweetest thing you have inhaled in a long time.

John watches your reaction intensely, and you do not think you invent it, when you see a glimmer of guilt in his expressive mocha eyes. Intent on assuring him, you stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his bearded chin with your front flush to his.

“Thank you,” you say, and he relaxes slightly against you, resting his forehead against yours.

You are practically skipping as you hit the trail in his woods that connects to the bigger loop. You cannot help but think about that day in the snow, when you met him, alone, on that very path. How easily he could have had you then. It is another clue that tells you he hadn’t decided yet—or he had not yet cracked.

This early, in the middle of the week, it isn’t likely you’ll meet anyone in the woods. You feel a trill of nervousness, as you wonder what would happen if you did. You have been kept to yourself for so long, the thought of contact with other people out in the world feels strange, a little frightening, even.

As you walk an exuberance overtakes you, fills you head to toe. It almost feels like you’re…free. The only contradiction to that is the tall man in black walking by your side. He has let you have free reign, not insisting on holding on to you. He doesn’t have to, you know. He could just run you down with those delectably long legs of his any time he wanted, surely.

That doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t titillating, even if you absolutely know you would be destined to lose. Perhaps he truly has broken you at last, but you have come to love the game of chase too. It is your most exciting distraction in your world that is limited to the confines of the Wick cabin.

You are going to be sore the next day, you know. It’s been…forever, since you’ve been able to walk like this. The most exercise you’ve really gotten has been engaging in your sexcapades with John—as much of a workout as that is—it’s a different group of muscles.

Perhaps he does not insist on holding you, but it doesn’t stop you from reaching for him. You squeeze John’s hand in thank you.

Despite everything…it feels like a perfect day.

“Maybe this is far enough for today,” he says as you approach the junction with the main trail, the line of his private property and the park that adjoins it.

Disappointment spears through you. You are not ready to go back into your prison. It’s turning into a beautiful day, and you have so much energy to burn.

You make a pouty face, playing cute while you are flirting with rebellion inside.

“But the overlook is so pretty this time of year,” you insist, batting your lashes. Lately, that’s been enough to get your way on little things in the house. Today you feel like you can’t lose. Everything is too good.

He narrows his eyes down at you, as though he senses your internal mutiny, but in all your elation you feel strangely impervious. You realize you feel high, the kind of mood lift usually people have to ingest pills to get.  

“Y/n…” He reaches for you, and without thinking you step just out of reach. You’ve played this game a dozen times now in the house. A game you’ve never, to this day, won, but you’ve found it’s the thrill of a lifetime, to be chased down by this man, trusting he won’t really hurt you. It always leads to mind-blowing sex, and maybe you are thinking a bit too much with a lust-addled brain alongside your elation for the great outdoors.

There is a very pregnant moment between you, and you smile when his intense eyes meet yours, your lips curling in what you know is a shit-eating little grin. What happens next is pure reflex; an extension of a thing you’ve done repeatedly together, with a dash of that age-old ingrained instinct of prey in the presence of a predator. But now you’re outside, and your jubilation is magnified times a hundred.

You run.

“Y/n!”

He lunges for you, his fingertips just brushing your arm, but in the end he’s–amazingly–too slow.

You are a human missile, rocketing down the hill, fueled by gravity and the knowledge of how to move in this environment you’ve trained for since you were just a child. You may as well be a wood sprite, for this is your element. This is your mountain, and no matter how many wealthy interlopers buy it up and carve it into parcels and drive up the price of everything so that locals like you can barely live—this will always be your home.

It feels so good to run.

Your feet fly over the needle-strewn forest floor, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. You laugh like a madwoman, the sweet sweet mountain air filling your lungs. You run like a wild thing of the woods, the way you used to when you were a child, before your parents decided to break the oath they'd made to each other and split your happy world to pieces. While your parents fought you would flee to the trees to be free, and you feel that desperate euphoria again. That feeling like you can fly, jumping over rocks and launching from boulders.

You sense more than hear John behind you, your own ears filled with the rushing of your blood and your racing heartbeat. His fingertips brush your back before you juke him around a tree. You hear him curse and you laugh—you do sound mad.

“Have to do better than that, old man!” you crow. 

You realize with another rush that you are far more agile than John is. The trees are your friend, the way you dart around them and power yourself down a new line of retreat. You hear him curse after grazing one, and you realize you might break the poor man’s neck, making him pursue you like this. 

In a pine-needle carpeted clearing you make yourself slow down, and you are so high on adrenaline it doesn’t even hurt when he finally tackles you to the ground, your grin like a baring of teeth, giddy from the chase. He pins your hands above your head, sharp pebbles digging into your skin as you laugh.

“What the fuck—” You interrupt him mid tirade with your mouth on his, a hungry kiss that swallows his fury, but does not quench it. Already anticipating the passion of your (and his) reward with his delicious weight pressed down into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

“You think you’re cute?” he snarls above you when at last you separate.

“I am very cute,” you assert, still giggling to yourself. “Don’t be mad. You love this game.”,

“Maybe I’d love to spank that cute ass of yours raw?”

“Nuh-uh. No hitting.”

You’d made a deal, after all.

He narrows his eyes down at you, and this is when you finally start to sense that maybe he is not half as amused as you are. Your blood runs cold, and before you can blink he has you flipped over on your belly, your pants down around your thighs.

“No—”

You try to squirm away, but his inexorable hand is in your hair—it makes for a damn good handle, the bastard. His big hand digging into the globe of your ass makes you quiver under his fingers. 

Your heart plummets into freefall, as you realize he’s serious. And you can tell he’s not talking about the playful little smacks he sometimes gifts you in the middle of riding his cock to completion. He means to punish you, and the knowledge takes you from the highest high to the blackest despair. You can barely hear past the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the familiar fear and uncertainty from before creeping in. Not again. Life was so good. Please don’t go back to this shit again. You can’t go back to the way things were. You can’t live like that again. 

A revelation settles over you with irrefutable clarity. You accept it as truth with every cell of your being, and you know there will be no going back after this. 

“If you hit me we’re done.”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your tone either now. Just…resolve. You mean what you say, to the very marrow of your bones.

“I think I must have confused you, y/n. You are not in charge here.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you this. If you hit me, I’ll fight you to my dying breath. I mean it.”

Like watching yourself from the outside, you almost find it interesting that this is the true limit of your generosity with him. This is the cliff’s edge. The point of no return. Your resolve is unmoving, even if it fills you with absolute misery. You could lose him now, today, this very minute. This man who keeps you prisoner, yet with whom you have lived happily the past months. This complicated, broken man, who you love with all your heart. 

In this insane moment you realize with soul-shaking clarity…you don’t want to leave him. What would you do with your life? Go back to your stupid little existence at the coffee shop, working your fingers to the bone, doodling on the chalkboard, waiting? You’ve spent most of your life just fucking waiting. Waiting to travel. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting…for this man to come through the door, so you could pester him for five minutes, knowing it would be the highlight of your day.

Could you possibly go back to looking up at the mountain, knowing your Beast in his castle resides there? That a man who loved you like no other is there pining for you?

But if he crosses this line—you will have to leave, somehow. Or die trying. That is your heartfelt resolution. That is the promise you make to yourself. You’ve made too many compromises as of late, and this is a battle for your very soul. 

You feel him like a malevolent storm cloud behind you, trembling in his fury, but for once, torn as to what to do. You realize this is the only time you’ve seen him doubt himself, when he’s contemplating teaching you a lesson. 

You dare to try to talk him down, your voice calmer, or perhaps more distant. You don’t know how you muster the courage; perhaps only in the knowledge that this could truly be it for the two of you. No more we’ll see how it goes or maybe it will be better tomorrow. There is only now.

“This thing we’ve somehow built together, despite everything…” You shake your head, trembling as much out of fear as despair. “It will be destroyed, and you’re the one who will have broken it.”

“You’re the one who ran from me!”

You can tell from the hushed fury in his voice that he is hanging on by a thread. You realize now, what a stupid thing that had been to do. That despite the games you’ve been playing in the house, out here, he just couldn’t handle it. Even just the slightest possibility of you leaving is enough to drive this man off the edge.  

“I let you catch me.” You will him to believe you. You even half believe it yourself.

“The hell you did.”

“It’s true. I know these woods better than you. I’m smaller. I’m faster. I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

Before you can hardly think about what to do you lower your face to the dirt, offering your ass in the air. You know he can see your puffy slit, your glistening opening just begging for him. This is how he has warped you; or maybe you were a twisted little thing all along, just waiting for him to show you the way to your ruin. Either way—you want him, and you will him to see it for himself.

“I let you catch me,” you insist again. “So give me my reward.”

You feel the tremor run through him, from his fingertips to his core.

You realize that he wants to believe you. That maybe punishing you was never really the fun for him at all, in this deadly game you’ve been playing.

You feel him shift his position behind you, his merciless hold moving to your hip. When his long fingers slide into your wet folds you mewl like a cat; half relieved, and half just needing him. He makes you buck by circling your bud, before delving inside your weeping channel with two of his fingers. It makes you moan, and if someone walks up the trail my god will they get an eyeful, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Does that feel like someone who’s afraid of you?” you bluff. Because wanting this man has never really stopped you from fearing him. Fearing what, exactly, has shifted over time. In the end though, maybe just that he would be the absolute ruin of you.

He only grunts in answer, spreading your juices around your aching pussy. When his fingers withdraw you whine in protest, but you hear him rifle with his clothing, the zzzip of his fly jerked downwards. When his thick tip kisses your entrance you could weep, offering your ass even higher in the air.

“You are a very bad girl,” he tells you as he slides home, making you writhe with a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“I’m your bad girl,” you correct him, and he growls behind you, thrusting again. He’s not treating you with the usual care he pays this position, but you take it anyway. Gladly, if this will mend the thing between you, you’ll take it all.

“I would have found you, you know,” he pants as he thrusts, his hand weaving in your hair. “Even if you made it down the mountain…there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.”

You absolutely believe him.

“I know,” you tell him, your face in the dirt, yet somehow still loving the feeling of him behind you, filling you absolutely and completely. “You don’t–have to–lock me up, John,” you pant, interrupted by the violence of his thrusts. “Because I know I can’t escape you.”

This makes him growl again, that primal, possessive sound that touches the darkest recesses of your cavewoman brain. It is as though there is no part of you, inside or out, that this man cannot touch. He drapes his long body over yours, engulfing you in the shelter of his warmth. Even now, you cannot stop yourself from leaning back into him, pressing your smooth cheek to his soft beard. His tone is pure gravel, but you know him well enough now to sense the vulnerability in his words too. “But do you want to escape now?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, and you know in your heart this isn’t manipulation, or vying for a better chance to run somewhere down the line. It’s just the truth, and you even surprise yourself as you say, “No, I don’t want to leave you.”  

He goes still behind you as he evaluates this heartfelt confession, his harsh breathing and the pulsing of his cock buried inside you his only movement. 

“I want to believe you.” You only enjoy a moment of relief, before he rears again behind you, driving himself into you to the hilt. “But I can’t.”

Your heart plummets as you realize he still cannot bring himself to trust your word, to have the faith to walk out into thin air, the way normal people do when they dare to fall in love. He cannot leave anything to chance with you, and now you are not sure he ever will.  

He really might keep you locked up forever. 

You feel the earth beneath you, hyper aware of the pine needles in your clenched hands, the wonderful smell of the dirt and ancient rocks below. The cool breeze on your bared skin, and the dappled light filtering through the pines. What if this really is the last time you are ever allowed outside? 

There was always a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon for you, that little light of optimism that never quite managed to extinguish, despite everything he put you through. But now you feel it leave you, stealing the integrity from your very bones. You go limp beneath him, only his iron-grip on your hips holding your ass in the air as he uses you. When he reaches down to find your slippery bud you are no longer in the mood, and perhaps foolishly, you try to shake him off. 

“Just get it over with.” 

You already know it’s the absolute worst thing you can say, but now you don’t care. 

“But I thought my darling wanted to enjoy the great outdoors?” He doesn’t sound half as angry as you expected him to, but there is still something sharp in his tone that puts you on edge. Like glimpsing a dorsal fin parting still waters, you know something dangerous swims underneath. 

He slows his thrusts behind you, so that his magnificent length stretches you just right without hurting you. He uses his now expert knowledge against you, weaponizing the hours you’ve spent in bed together making up for lost time. You can’t stop yourself from arching into him, canting your hips to intensify the sensation, and now you bow your head so you don’t have to see his smug smile. “Goddamn you.”

He huffs with laughter, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re too late, I’m sure.”

This time when he touches you, you are desperate for it, your aching walls squeezing him in search of release. It tears a groan from deep in his throat, a sound you know so well by now, and you realize you can use your own knowledge of this man against him too. You squeeze him again, almost in challenge, and it becomes a contest between you, who can bring the other to pieces first. You have to admit that his blunt fingers on your clit are heaven, and your heart pounds too fast in your chest, your head light as you very nearly forget to breathe in your concentration. He tries to hold himself off as you move to take him deeper. He cannot control your body as well as he would like, like this, with his fingers buried in your slit, and you almost smile at his grunt of frustration at you. 

In the end you both lose. 

You cum so hard on his cock you see stars, a ringing in your ears as a merciless pleasure breaks and explodes through you. He fares no better, filling you with ropes of hot seed as he moans, loud enough to echo across the mountains. 

Maybe you do feel a little better, panting in the soft leaf litter with his body draped over yours again, his heavy breathing and soft lips upon your neck. As usual, you feel bereft when he withdraws, wishing you could hold him inside you longer. You didn’t bring anything to clean up with, and you anticipate a soggy walk home back up the hill. 

In fact, after sprinting, then fucking like animals on the ground, you’re not even sure you can walk. 

It’s John who rises first, groaning with the effort. He glares down at you, as though daring you to make another old man jab. For the moment, however, you are out of quips, out of jokes, and out of clever repartee. Even though you know it shouldn’t be so easy for him to tame you, you snuggle under his chin anyway, kissing the swell of his Adam’s apple. For a moment he sags against you, savoring this sweetness, before brusquely leading you back up the trail.  

He is not cruel, or strangely, even outwardly angry now, but somehow you just know you are in so much fucking trouble.

[sixeyescurseuser]

(2)

Geto had sensed Gojo’s presence ever since the alpha entered the infirmary. Because his heat symptoms mainly consist of nausea and muscle cramps, Geto can do nothing more than lie on his side facing away from the door, dying on the inside while the best friend he’s trying to hide from barges into the room like he owns it.

The omega lets out a shaky sigh. 

“What, did you come here to gloat about how you were right this entire time? That’s pretty shitty, even for you, Satoru,” Geto mutters. He doesn’t receive a response. 

The thing is, Gojo isn’t thinking that at all. While he’s admittedly quite dumbfounded at the turn of events, Gojo just knows that Suguru is the only other person who can keep up with him. 

And Suguru is an omega, who is currently very much in heat, in PAIN.

Frozen in the doorway, Gojo doesn’t have time to rethink everything he’s ever been taught. Belatedly, he realizes what his instincts have been yelling at him this whole time.

Suguru’s in heat!

Help him!

Comfort him!

As the silence drags on, Geto becomes more resigned to the fact that Gojo is witnessing him like this. Pathetic. Weak. Vulnerable.

Whatever, Geto feels like vomiting and hiding away forever anyway. Fucking heats, man. 

But Gojo doesn’t leave. Frankly, the alpha still doesn’t say anything, and Geto is just about to tell him to leave when footsteps sound across the tiled floor. Geto tenses up as the alpha rounds the bed. 

Then, a mop of soft, white hair comes into Geto’s view. Gojo kneels down, face at level with Geto’s. Gojo’s expression looks…concerned. No smugness in sight.

Not something Geto was expecting at all.

“Satoru?”

Gojo uses one hand to brush aside Geto’s bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

Amidst the stomach cramps and pounding headache, Geto’s heart swells. 

“Tell me how I can help,” Gojo pleads. Geto’s glazed eyes widen in disbelief. He almost doesn’t register the question enough to answer. 

Luckily, Gojo repeats, “I’m serious. Suguru, please, let me help you. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

Without wasting another moment, Geto grabs at the hand that had brushed away his bangs.

“Take off your shirt,” he rasps out, then as a second thought, “And your pants.”

One minute later, Gojo stands like 🧍🏻in his pink heart-patterned briefs while Geto happily puts the newly-acquired shirt and pants in his nest. Unbeknownst to Geto, he lets out content rumbles during the process. 

Gojo finds it very cute. However, he’s also very aware of how rudely he intruded into Geto’s heat room; the alpha begins to fidget, unsure if he’s allowed to stay any longer. 

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll get going-“

“Shut up and get in my nest,” Geto growls. Gojo immediately moves to comply.

As soon as Gojo climbs in, Geto plops himself half on-top of the alpha, and then drags the sheets on top of them both.

“This is your penance for talking shit about omegas,” Geto states, pillowing himself on Gojo’s pecs. His heat-muddled brain tells him to bite the skin.

“I didn’t- OUCH, that hurt," Gojo cries out, but he still wraps his arms around the omega's waist. "Suguru, I never meant any of that about you. I would never say you’re a burden."

Geto continues nibbling on Gojo's chest.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want you taking back what you said only because I fit into that category,” Geto snarls. He noses his way to Gojo’s neck and doesn’t hesitate to lick over Gojo’s scent gland.

Which was kind of a mistake because now Gojo’s cotton-candy scent mixes deliciously with Geto’s chocolate and lavender scent.

(Oh, they’re both only in their underwear, Gojo thinks. How…nice.

(Gojo @ his dick: “Don’t u fucking dare”)

Geto feels himself slick a little. Luckily, beneath him, Gojo is too preoccupied with the way Geto’s tongue feels on his neck.

“F-fuck- oh my god,” Gojo whines, breathing heavily. Astonishingly, his alpha isn’t roaring at him to flip Geto over and switch places. In fact, it feels more like being pampered than being challenged.

Alas, Gojo is still very sensitive. No one has ever so much as touched his scent gland and Geto is just going to town on it, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin. He tries pushing the omega back but Geto growls at him in warning before going back to his task.

“Suguru, slow down,” Gojo coaxes, lightly pulling at Geto’s hair. Geto raises his head slightly, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. 

But before he can protest, a pair of lips gently presses to the spot between his cheek and eye.

What?

Gojo’s cheeks turn pink, crystal-blue eyes shifting to the side.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be to your forehead,” he admits.

Geto blinks once, then twice, pupils dilating by the second.

“Try again.”

Gojo nods. He leans up and lands a peck on Geto’s eyebrow. 

Geto laughs freely at that. Gojo feels like a goddamn saint for causing that.

The alpha begins littering Geto’s face with kisses: on his nose, his cheeks, his chin, finally his forehead, and then once at the corner of his lips.

Geto purrs deeply, the deep vibrations steady between them.

Gojo now cups both of Geto’s cheeks. The omega’s expression is relaxed, world’s different compared to when Gojo had first entered the room.

Looking at him like this, Gojo yearns to be somehow even closer to Geto. 

“I want to kiss you,” Gojo confesses, caressing his thumb against Geto’s cheekbone. “Will you let me?”

If possible, Geto’s purring even louder. He completely melts into Gojo’s large hands, then wavers a bit as he nods his assent.

But before Gojo can bring their lips together, a knock sounds on the doorframe, startling both of them.

“Geto, I brought the juice pouches you wanted,” Shoko interrupts, placing a carton on the table. She slams a sack down as well. “And stole more clothes from Gojo’s room, because you two will definitely need it.”

She side-eyes her friends, who are frozen in their compromising position. Geto doesn’t move more so because he’s really comfy. He opts for hiding his face in Gojo’s neck.

Gojo, on the other hand, can’t manage anything other than a viscous snarl in Shoko’s direction.

“Woah, calm down, lover boy. He’s all yours,” Shoko says, holding her hands up in surrender. 

“You went through my closet?” Gojo bites out.

“Yep, Geto asked me to,” Shoko answers. “Later.”

With a salute, she walks out and closes the door.

“You really told her to?” Gojo can’t help but ask, urging Geto to come out from his hiding spot. 

Geto nuzzles against Gojo’s scent gland.

“Just in case you reacted badly,” he said. “Cause you know, I lied to you and everything. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left.”

Gojo flinches so hard, he jostles Geto into lifting his head. 

“You thought I would leave you? In this state?” Gojo asks, a bit hurt. Geto shrugs, eyelids lowering. 

“I don’t know. I can’t think straight when in heat, Satoru. It’s easy for my thoughts to spiral,” he says.

Gojo scoffs, but he understands. Ruts can get like that too.

“Well, I’m telling you right now, I’m staying here for as long as you’ll have me,” Gojo declares, cupping Geto’s cheeks again. “You’ll never have to deal with another heat alone again, not if I can help it.”

Gojo pauses, uncertainty flashing across his features.

"If- if that's what you want."

Geto stares down at Gojo with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gojo thinks he’s never looked so beautiful.

Without repyling, Geto surges forward and kisses Gojo’s soft lips, pressing down for a long moment before parting.

But Gojo doesn’t let him go far. The alpha guides Geto down into a second kiss, then a third, and a fourth-

Geto hums in approval, feeling like the luckiest omega in the world with such a strong and caring alpha underneath him, providing kiss after kiss. 

Gojo’s eyes have slipped shut, allowing Geto to control the kiss. A swipe of the omega’s tongue and Gojo is opening his mouth, moaning when Geto boldly licks in.

Their combined pheromones swirl in the air, clogging the room with their scents. They keep kissing, bruising their lips and working their jaws until they’re sore. 

A new energy spreads from their lips all the way to the tips of their toes, and they begin to paw at each other under the covers. 

In the next hour, Geto’s heat officially escalates for the first time.

[doonarose]

GOAD Writer's Guild presents: Give Me Jizz or Give Me Death - A Choose Your Own Jizz (CYOJ) Adventure

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARLOTOFUPDOG OMG!!!!!!!!

(yes, you should feel equal parts pleased and terrified, we wrote you choose your own jizz/graveyard/dark/ghost/crack/weird fic)

And yes, the rest of you can read it too!

Summary: It is a dark and porny night. Everything feels… spooky. And salty. Really, really salty. Tread lightly in this Choose Your Own Adventure fic, our Ineffables have the odds stacked against them as they step foot onto an island with danger around every corner. All they really want is to have a nice picnic… Well, maybe a bit more than that.

Enter if you dare.

TW: Although this is very much for fun (and yay happy birthday, we love you!), we have hit the big ones: major character deaths, graphic violence (and death), noncon. As well as disgusting jizz, ghosts and cameos by characters you perhaps would rather not see in ways you definitely don’t want to see them. Basically: dead dove, don’t eat. On steroids. But for fun.

A/N: Yes, so happy birthday u/harlotofupdog!!! And welcome to the second iteration of the @goodomensafterdark Choose Your Own Adventure style fic. This wasn’t meant to happen. We only had a week or so to whip up something quick and easy to celebrate our dear, dark, jizzy Harlot, and instead here we are with some of the most ghastly, gooey choices a reader will ever have to make.

The premise is simple, borrowing heavily from Harlot’s own very brilliant Good Omens fics, our story begins with Crowley and Aziraphale on a windswept island, out for an adventure and choosing to explore the lighthouse (of course), the graveyard (obviously), or a pub (the trifecta of Best Ever Fic Settings). Within each, our heroes could find their bliss or their very worst endings. How happily they end up depends entirely on your choices.

At the end of each chapter you will have to choose what happens next. Navigate by clicking the links, NOT by clicking ‘next chapter’.

Amazing thanks to u/wingsofopal and u/nosferatini for thinking this was at all a good idea to try to pull off in a week and for wrangling our exceptional writers, betas and cheerleaders!

Shout out to each and every author: u/adverbian, u/-cheeseplants-, u/blackjeans93, u/startledplatypus, u/FuzzyGoblinoid, u/depressedpenguin2, u/yes-its-unholy, u/Natyu0815, u/gaiaseyes, u/nosferatini, u/happynachohologram, u/wingsofopal, u/paperclip_ninja, u/badbitchbarenziah, u/blackjeans93, u/likeafuckingninja, u/sensiblesquirrels, u/she_makes_things, u/doonarose, u/dbacklot99, u/hakunahistata, u/zin_lynn and u/PurpleMoonPagan for the intro limerick.

I think we all found out some interesting things about ourselves and each other during this journey into the darkest, weirdest, jizziest corners of our brains! Many authors also helped beta each other’s work, as well as special shout-outs to u/pepper_bird, u/ghst_signal and u/tawnyowl95 for extra beta help!

Enormous shoutout to u/IneffableCrankShaft for that amazing cover art!!!! And also to u/likeafuckingninja for some extra special saucy art within the fic!

All of this spunky, gooey, frankly quite weird jizz is for u/harlotofupdog to celebrate their birthday!!! And as a little thank you for their lovely/soul-shattering fic!!

Excerpt:

“Well, this place feels…spooky.” Crowley’s words are whipped away in the wind as it lashes relentlessly through the grass. It howls past them, across the red sandstone cliffs and down to the docks they’ve left behind one trudging step at a time. There’s no turning back, not with rain threatening to pour forth from the evening skies at any moment. Not now that they’ve made it this far up the narrow path to the highest peak of the island, panting and heaving a picnic basket back and forth between them. How many books did the bastard pack, exactly? “WHAT?” Aziraphale calls out, and Crowley turns to face him, locks of his own hair flickering like flame across his vision. “I said, this whole place feels spooky .” “That’s why we’re here, my dear.” Aziraphale has properly caught up to him now, his cheeks pink and his pale curls hopelessly tousled. Crowley’s heart twists at the sight, beating faster. “WOT?” Crowley shouts back, attempting a grin. Aziraphale hands him back the picnic basket with a hearty shove and the makings of a smirk about his lips. “I thought you liked spooky! Big, spooky, um, fan, wasn’t it?”

Read the fic here! And don’t forget your amazing bingo card to play along as you go!

[ging-pegger]

Pls can u do ging x reader and reader is gon mother?

THANK YOU - ging x reader

a/n: this prompt is almost two years old. i apologize for the wait and hope it was worth it. warnings: spoilers (chimera ant and election arcs)

summary: after hearing about gon's injuries, you rush to swardani city to see your son, and confront his father. word count: 1,133

the air conditioning system hummed loudly as you sat across from ging in an empty meeting room inside the headquarters of the hunter's association.

there was a feeling of uneasiness, and anxiety that plagued you. it had been years since you had last seen ging. thirteen to be exact.

you had made a heartbreaking departure from him and your son many years ago, due to circumstances outside your control. and now you sat here, heartbroken, looking the man you once loved unconditionally in the eye, now filled with anger and hatred.

how. how could he have let this happen? how could he be so irresponsible? how could he be so immature?

your son, gon, was currently in the hospital. not only was he beyond recognition, he was also in critical condition, facing death every moment with no one having any clue how to bring him back. the moment you heard, you left everything behind and rushed to swardani city, fearful that your son may die before you ever got to tell him how sorry you were for leaving.

you had spent almost every waking hour at his bedside, sobbing. sobbing so hard you thought your lungs would collapse, so hard that you had to gasp for air. crying until you were numb, and the hospital staff gingerly escorted you out of his room, explaining to you that visiting hours had came to a close.

"you have a hell of alot to explain to me, ging." your eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles underneath. it was clear that sleep wasn't something you had been familiar with the past few weeks.

"i dont know what there is to explain. i don't know much more than you do, and frankly i don't appreciate you pinning this on me." he hissed, clearly bitter. after so many years the only time you had made an effort to see him was now. and it was to scold him.

"how could you leave him?" you asked, your voice shaking, the tears began to well in your eyes, burning them.

"hey, i could ask you the exact same thing." ging took no time to remind you that you had also left.

"i left with confidence you would take care of him-"

"but you left so really what right do you have to turn up after all this time and ride my ass about things outside of my control!?" he snapped, his brown eyes were fixed on you, burning a hole right through you.

"at least i came to visit him, that's more than you're doing asshole!"

"did it ever occur to you that i CAN'T go see him." ging replied curtly. he wasn't one to outwardly express emotions frequently, but you could tell something was different this time.

once more the room fell to silence, the air conditioning unit the only sound to be heard, were you not in the middle of the concrete jungle that is swardani city, you likely would have heard crickets chirping.

"what do you mean you can't?? of course you can he's practically right next door!" you angirly hissed back in response. how dare he insinuate hes too busy to see his own son who was barely holding on to life as you spoke.

"that's not what i mean and you know it." his expressionless facade was fading, you were cracking through the mask he paraded around with to look tough. you were seeing a part of him nobody had ever seen, except for you.

you stayed silent, eyes trailing down to the faux wood grain table. waiting for him to elaborate. you knew from past experience this could take a matter of minutes or more. but you waited nonetheless for him to finally speak.

"i don't think you understand the guilt i harbor, ___." ging finally spoke up, his eyes locked onto yours the moment you looked up, not allowing you to escape his gaze of honesty.

"mito knew. . . she knew I'd always be the same guy. she filed for custody of gon, she said my line of work was too dangerous, and that i wouldn't be able to take care of him properly. and to my surprise, I sit here today and admit, she was right." ging spoke, his voice remained level headed and cool, he didnt allow the emotions to play part in how he spoke.

he took a deep breath in, eyes flickering to the ceiling. "despite all the training and trials i laid out meticulously for him to get stronger..." he trailed off.

"i don't know what i would do differently... had he been with me would this still have happened or worse? or would it have been avoided all together." he rambled on a bit longer.

"why didn't you just say all this before, ging?" you asked, brows furrowing, tears still falling softly from your cheeks.

"psh.." he made a face, one lined with disgust, a rare change in emotion.

"ging. it's not your fault."

his eyes darted back to you. "since when do you have a sudden change in opinion?"

"since we've made it to this point in the conversation. " you replied curtly, following suit of his answers prior.

ging mumbled under his breath. "from what i hear he's a lot like you. he's got your optimism." ging responded blankly, a pang sent through your heart as you were brought back into the blinding reality of why you were there with him.

"are you going to do anything to address the issue at hand amongst the zodiacs?" you questioned, checking the clock in the wall. the others could burst in at any moment. "you know its causing a lot of pressure on their backs during the election. many of the hunters are well aquainted with or know of gon, they expect answers and they expect you visiting him.

"it's none of their business to be frank. that's the problem with this whole association, ___. everyone believes theyre entitled to a slice of other people's lives. especially pariston. i'm sick of him being up my ass about this whole situation. " ging rambled on and on about his hatred for pariston but love for the hunt for a few solid minutes before switching back to the current topic.

"look, what i mean to say is, they can spread all the rumors they want, i'm not changing. and i'm not inviting them into our life."

oh ging... still as shy and stubborn as he ever was.

"wait. ___, before you go..." ging spoke, his face flushing and his nerves beginning to tie his vocabulary up in knots. "thank you." he said loudly, though the distance between you and him was nowhere near needing of such volume.

the air conditioning finally kicked off, leaving you in a room of dead air and space. you checked the clock again, the rythmic ticking began to inidicate the nearing of the next hour, when ging would be expected to meet with other zodiacs.

you stood up, pushing the chair you had been previously occupying in and gathering your personal effects. "i suppose it should be time for me to drop back in at the hospital. i hate being away for so long." you turned, reafhing for the door.

"for what.....?"

"coming back."

[makipedia]

francis forever (ellie x reader)

my kind of woman

can u tell im booty cheeks at endings. also descriptions of a panic attack and a slur used like twice

Winter time had to be your favorite season. All the snow building up on the ground and finding a way into your shoes and other parts of your clothes, the cold, brisk air against your skin; the joy of knowing that Christmas was approaching in just a short notice. Jackson seemed like the only place in the world at this time of year, especially when that cute redhead girl you've been talking to went to the dumb dance being held tonight.

Predictably, half the town was there, much to your dismay. You would kick yourself and question why you even went in the first place when you knew a bunch of people would be around—too much for your liking—until your eyes finally caught onto your little crush. Your heart began racing in your chest, your cheeks heating up like you'd been slapped across the face by the sun itself. You looked down to both your armpits, making sure you smelled like how you left your hut—strawberries and honey. To your pleasure at the scent of your own perfume (which you'd put much time and effort into making from scratch), you smiled fondly to your right arm. You looked back up to see if she was still in her spot which, as a happiness filled your gut and reached all the way up to your heart and sent it into a flurry again, she was.

"Ellie!" You found the courage planted somewhere in your achilles tendon and marched across the giant room to the prize you had your eye on. Green eyes met yours, and you felt your footsteps weaken. Your mouth pulled into an even wider grin than what it was when you initially caught your gaze lingering to just Ellie instead of the rest of the room which, frankly, made you claustrophobic. But seeing Ellie in all her loser glory standing there alone during a dance, made the claustrophobia seem just a little irrelevant if it meant getting closer to her.

A loose strand of hair fell from Ellie's bun as she turned her head in your general direction. The sea of people crowding her vision obviously made it difficult to match your voice to your face. In a second, Ellie's eyes seemed to light up involuntarily, green irises watching you make your way over to her with a giddy smile on your face that she wasn't sure what it was about or who it was really for. A feeling in her stomach wished it was for her—despite only just now seeing you and missing the way you were practically blank staring at the space between everyone.

"Hey," Ellie's lips curled into a grin, a grand one, at that. Such a look had rarely ever crossed the features and curves of her face these days. Something struck in your brain that told you that she was probably just as excited to see you as you were to see her.

"Being alone during a dance isn't very pleasant looking," you comment despite your own experience of standing off to the side and observing the event with your eyes peering through the crowd in an evidentiary search for Ellie.

"There's plenty of other people who are alone here," Ellie interjects, cocking her head to half the people of Jackson in one room. She looks back at you and clears her throat, noting that you as well were approaching her alone, marking that you were by yourself the whole time. Though she dares not to speak on that to save herself from hearing smart arguments.

"Yeah, well, a bunch of other people aren't my friends," you shrug. It's silent between you two after that, the air turning awkward as Ellie inhaled deeply. The scent of your perfume wafted into her nose, which her nostrils gladly accepted as she inhaled again and again, like a new high was introduced to her system.

"Do you wanna dance?" You blurt out. The nervousness creeping inside you got the jump on your brain and messed it up; your thought process turning to static and one of the things you wanted to say wound up slipping past the defenses of your mind and out free into the air.

Ellie's heart almost jumps out of her chest. You want to dance? Of course you want to, you're at a dance; but you want to dance, with her. Her train of thought comes by in a flash. You are asking her to dance. That counts as making a move, yeah? But given that this is basically a banquet and it's pretty much an unspoken rule to dance and participate, the more Ellie thinks about it, the less likely it is that you're making a move on her and instead playing by the rules. But you'll be inches apart! You'll be touching her and moving with her! Her hands will be on your waist...such an intimate gesture...or maybe her neck, or her back or something. Ellie doesn't know, she doesn't really dance, either. So to say yes too casually would imply that she doesn't know how to dance, and to let you know that she does not know how to waltz in front of you (whom she's seen do pretty much everything) would set her face on fire from the embarrassment of realizing what she's saying after it's already been said.

And while Ellie is stuck in her all-too worrying train of thought and the color almost draining from her cheeks, your jaw is clenching and your teeth are doing their signature chewing on your bottom lip. The lump in your throat makes the difficulty to breathe increase tenfold from the silence between yourselves. You see Ellie part her lips and you prepare yourself for a dry no or nah. Either way or with some other verbal form of rejection it would light your entire body up in flames from mortification and burst, leaving sparks of your body all around the room scattered to the floor and away from Ellie.

"Sure," Ellie finally breathes. She noticed she'd been holding her breath for the whole time she was thinking out her answer. She was sure she got the point across that she could dance. Then the thought crossed her mind and dawned on her that you probably didn't care if she couldn't waltz and that probably wasn't what you were doing anyway. "Yeah, I'd love to."

You let out a sigh of relief that escapes your lips all too sharply, your smile returning after it fell during the moment of silence Ellie spent carefully contemplating her answer. You breathed deeply right after, feeling the air re-enter your lungs as you held your hand out for Ellie to take. Her eyes shifted downward to your extended arm and your open hand almost in disbelief that she was about to dance with you. Her heart raced at the thought of being so close to you—your perfume would fill her nose and permeate the cells of her body with its nutrients, your eyes would be in a much closer view in Ellie's wandering gaze, your lips would seemingly look extra luscious under the warm ceiling lights.

Ellie shook her head free of her thoughts as they were about to head south, taking your hand in hers. You felt a shot of confidence bubbling in your gut when her flesh grips yours. Your fingers impulsively grip tighter onto Ellie's hand after spending so long gripping guns and your knife on patrols, squeezing her skin. For an unknown reason it felt so right to hold this part of Ellie; your hands were seemingly a perfect fit like missing pieces of a puzzle. You dragged her out onto where all the dancing was which you silently assumed was the dance floor and then stopped, turning to face her.

"Don't step on my shoes," you tease as you move your hand out of Ellie's grasp, both of them finding their spot on the curves of her neck. A soft chuckle was let out when her hands rested on your waist, the tips of Ellie's ears turning a cute shade of red as she felt called out that you just somehow knew she couldn't dance.

"I'll try not to," emerald eyes catch onto yours smugly. "No promises that you won't be leaving with sore toes, though."

"You're weird," you giggle, your cheeks puffing as your smile widens until it starts to hurt and put a strain on your muscles.

"That's just my charm," Ellie interjects. Both of your bodies begin swaying slowly side to side to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. The rest of the room—even the rest of Jackson, for that matter— went away in a second. Whatever was going on outside of your tiny bubble shared with Ellie was simply static to your ears. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own breath hitching every time her hand shifted to a different spot on your waist and your shoes against the floor, and your own pounding heart that drums in your ear if you weren't ignoring it.

A heat fills your entire head when you begin to feel a bunch of pairs of eyes on you both. Or maybe that was just your imagination but you could've sworn you saw a dirty look from one of the older men off to the side. You didn't know what his problem was, but whatever he had going on he seemed to be making it yours too through the disdain written all over his face. Ellie feels the discomfort rolling off of you in waves. She whips her head around, that loose strand of hair following every which way she looked.

"Every guy in the room is staring at you right now," Ellie whispers. Her head leans closer at the same time yours does, her mouth close to the side of your face. You feel her breath slightly fanning over your skin; you shiver slightly from the close proximity. Ellie isn't sure whether you're drunk or not. Maybe you weren't; you were acting like your usual self. Or maybe you were and your perfume was just so good that it blocked the stench of alcohol. Or even she liked it so much that it became a figment of her imagination, another possibility. Not really a probability, though.

"I know," you murmur. Your face being just a few inches away from Ellie's neck made your cheeks burn with blood rushing up to your head. The whole room seemed about a hundred degrees hotter when you quickly scanned around it and saw that every guy really was staring at you—more like you and Ellie both. A thought crossed your mind that maybe it was because you both were girls swaying together when the rest of the room was filled with hetero pairs. The more you dwelled on that sickening possibility the more true it began to feel. You looked around at some of the women who were dancing away, and occasionally you'd catch a dirty look on one of their faces. Your fingers shifted on the material of Ellie's shirt nervously.

"We can stop if you want," Ellie whispers. A part of her wishes it wouldn't stop and that you both could just ignore everyone else just because their bigot attitudes have to be your problems too. But she realizes that you handle things like these differently, and that you aren't up for decking someone in the nose if they dared say nasty shit about you.

"I don't want to stop," you answer. Your breath catches in your throat as Ellie suddenly turns you away from where the dirty gazes seem to be primarily coming from and letting them fall over her shoulders. Your heart jumps at the thought of her sensing your discomfort and handling it more maturely than you thought she would. You swallow the spit collecting from the gums of your mouth, resting your head on Ellie's shoulder comfortably. "I'll just ignore them all."

"You don't have to, y'know," Ellie counters quietly. "I know you don't really like being center of attention in a place like this."

A smile quirks at your lips. You feel your insides growing warm and fuzzy and your brain practically turning to mush. You nibble on your bottom lip as you get more distracted by the feeling of Ellie's hand's solidifying their spot on your waist and keeping you in her grasp. You let your own nervousness of being stared at by every guy in the room slip away and allow yourself to feel more free and confident. Your fingers softly play with the red baby hairs on the base of Ellie's neck when you get a terrible idea. Your lips were growing hungry to feel what the pressure of Ellie's kiss would be like. If any pressure would be there at all, in the scenario that you got the wrong idea and she pushes you away. Your desire for Ellie began to cloud your thoughts as you pulled your head away from her shoulder and looked right at her face—specifically somewhere below her eyes.

Ellie watched as your gaze lingered on the lower half of her face. Her lips parted to say something as she got the feeling something big was about to happen, at least, big to her.

"I'm about to do something stupid," you finally say. The words tumble off and away from your loose lips as your smile beams at Ellie. She swears she'll never get tired of your dimples; she smiles back.

"Maria's favorite medic? Doing something stupid?" Ellie narrows her eyes as to emphasize her sarcasm, chuckling lowly as her hands slowly stroke your waist on their own. Like her hands grew their own consciousness and began doing what her heart wanted to. "You drunk or high, or anything?"

"You wish," you scoff, taking a second to remove your hand from Ellie's neck to playfully swat her shoulder. Your hand finds its place on the crook of her neck once again, your fingers softly playing with her baby hairs. Ellie lets out yet another chuckle as her hands draw you closer. Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden increase in proximity between you two—more specifically, your lips.

"So what's the stupid thing?" Ellie shifts the subject slightly. "Never mind, don't tell me. On a scale of one to ten, how stupid is it?"

"It's pretty stupid," you let out another chuckle. It amazes you how much of a loser like Ellie can make you laugh at things that aren't even remotely funny. Maybe it was the charisma that practically glowed around her. Others would disagree but those 'others' aren't very likable either, so it doesn't matter.

"You have me on the edge of my seat," Ellie's lips part into a slightly toothy grin. Your eyes drift toward her teeth and you wonder how they can be so perfectly aligned. You would think she had braces at some point in her life from how nice her teeth are. Her sarcasm makes you roll your eyes.

"How about I push you right off?" Your voice lowers to a whisper. Ellie could barely hear it with the loud and cheerful music playing in the room. She's no master at reading lip, but she does see that your lips are getting closer to her own mouth. Her eyes wrench wider as your face hovers right in front of hers until your lips are touching. A spark in her chest ignites a fire in her ribcage, making her skin feel like she has a fever. Sweat begins to form on the back of her neck, to which you don't say anything about because your brain is too focused on the feeling of Ellie's soft flesh against yours.

A kiss wasn't quite what Ellie expected. The possibility was playing in the back of her head that she'd be getting a kiss tonight, but she downplayed it and kept it lingering in the back of her mind. A kiss; she barely had any of those in her life. She found her slight confusion to be embarrassing for a moment until she realized you were just as clueless, if not more. From the way your lips nervously moved and trembled against hers Ellie could piece together that this was probably your first kiss. Her heartbeat picked up by about twenty miles, making her breathing grow heavier as she inhaled and exhaled through her nose.

You pulled away when you felt that Ellie wasn't syncing her lips together with yours. A tidal wave of embarrassment washed over you and set your entire body aflame as the fear in the back of your head began creeping up to the front of your brain, telling you that you did the wrong thing, that Ellie wasn't into you like you were into her. The apology was seconds away from rolling off your tongue when the pair of clammy hands pulled you back in, this time her own lips guiding you through.

Your eyes widened until they were practically frying pans, and then sunk a second later. Your entire body—your muscles, your skin, your senses—all melted into the unintentionally intimate touch. Your hands tightened around the back of Ellie's neck, pulling her impossibly closer until you couldn't even breathe through your nose from your faces practically morphing your heads together.

Ellie was about to poke her tongue over your bottom lip to subconsciously give you a French kiss until a gruff, rude, and very unpleasant voice snapped you both out of your euphoria and back into reality.

"This is a family event," the voice, which was coming from a man who seemed drunk with a redness covering his cheeks. You knew better. You didn't have to look twice to know that he was closer to sobriety than the clump of other people in the room.

"Sorry," you huff, your hands freeing Ellie's neck from their soft grip. You hung them in the air in mock surrender, looking at the man who interrupted you two. He stared back at you with hard eyes; he was definitely a bit tipsy, you could always tell the look of a drunk man. The haziness in their eyes, the lazy look they give out to the world.

"Sorry!" You repeat when the man didn't tear his eyes away from you, your hands falling to your sides. You reach for Ellie's wrist and begin to pull her along with you when the man called after you again.

"There's kids around. Maybe save that shit for later, yeah?"

"And you're setting a better example for them?" You call back, turning your head around to look at him with a lifted eyebrow. Ellie pursed her lips to hold back a butcher-knife-sharp sigh she was so close to letting out.

You rolled your eyes once again when you heard a scoff come from the man. Your heart was drumming quickly in your chest; the brave face you put on didn't do a very good job at masking the fact you didn't like conflict at all.

"Great, just what this town needs: another smart-mouthed dyke."

Dyke.

"What the hell is your problem?!" You let go of Ellie's hand. Little did you know that released her of her reigns she had over her temper and let her begin to step closer to the man; you didn't have to face her to sense the nasty frown on her face.

"The fuck did you say?"

"You heard me. Whatcha gonna do about it—"

"Hey!"

Another man shoved the bigot by his chest. You let out a breath that you'd been subconsciously unaware of holding, sighing softly. You felt the stares of everyone around you once again; nervousness and anxiety creeped up the length of your spinal cord, sending chills down your ribs and making your arm hairs stand up. You felt a lump form in your throat that made it painful to even swallow, your heart was racing so fast you felt it would pump itself out of your chest. Sweat collected on your forehead as your breath picked up; your lungs felt weak as you kept panting for the air that your brain wouldn't let you have.

Panic took over you; the room felt stretched out into a spaghetti noodle, making the exit door look like it was a hundred miles away. Your legs felt warm and weak, like they'd been turned to jelly. More sweat collected on your eyebrows as you blinked and squinted your eyes to try and bring the room back to normal. The more you blinked and the longer you squinted, the longer the walls looked stretched out. Ellie and Joel—the other man who interjected the bigot—looked way out of proportion. They both looked much taller than they were, and the colors of their hair, their skin and their clothes seemed to fade away.

A familiar hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality: the room went back to normal despite your fearful thoughts that it wouldn't. Your eyes nervously shifted to find Ellie looking at you with a furrowed brow and moving lips which your brain couldn't process what was coming out of them. You looked at Ellie like she was crazy until her hand squeezed your shoulder, as if she was letting you know that there was no need to panic. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you were panicking, and you felt your heart speed up in your chest once again to a hundred miles an hour.

You shook your head slightly and wiped your face with your sleeve. Your sweat stained the cloth, making you groan quietly. Ellie's hand moved to your arm and gently gripped it, leading the way to the exit and holding the door open with her free hand.

The crisp cold breeze blowing through Jackson was a refresher compared to the hot air of the building. You let the fresh air fill your lungs and numb your senses. Your heartbeat slowed down to its normal rhythm, no longer making a metaphorical out print on the center of your chest. Your eyes felt tired, your arms and legs still felt weak despite the fresh air calming you down.

"You're a little pale over there," Ellie commented. Her hands rested under her armpits to keep her warmth tucked against her body. Her breath appeared in the air from the freezing temperatures, making her shiver slightly. Her cheeks and her nose were tinted red, making her look like that red-nosed reindeer from the Christmas rhyme that the people at the town's daycare sometimes sang to the children. You forgot what it was called, but the look on her skin brought a smile to your face.

"You look like a reindeer," you say while rubbing your arms hastily with your hands. You let them go and brought your palms to your face, blowing hot air and rubbing your hands together in a pointless attempt to keep warm.

Ellie blinked in confusion. "You mean Rudolf?"

"Yeah! That's him," you chirped once the memory came back. The rhyme started playing in your head as you rubbed your hands together again. "Your nose is red."

Ellie scoffed and held one eye closed as the other one looked down at the tip of her nose which was, in fact, red. She opened her other eye and sighed as she glared at you halfheartedly.

"You didn't have to panic back there, you know," she shifted the subject uncomfortably. The image of you staring off into space with sweat drenching your face and your chest heaving up and down was still nagging at the back of her head and it probably would be for the rest of the night. She predicted it would be getting in the way of her sleep, which was much needed for the patrol she'd be sent on early in the morning. "I had it under control."

"Sorry," you huff softly, your lips parting as your breath hitches out of your throat. "It just came naturally to me. I was already on edge from all the people staring at me."

"Don't apologize," Ellie frowns gently, her eyebrows pushing together and forming a small crease in the bridge of her nose. "You don't have to apologize for having a panic attack."

You're about to apologize for apologizing when the door opens again. Joel walks out, whipping his head around with his brown and silver hair swishing behind it. You and Ellie both turn around to look at him, seeing him step closer to you both.

You sense the tension thickening the air around you and take that as a signal to leave and go home for the night. You look at Ellie one more time and give her a soft smile before waving quietly and walking off and away from the building.

[mecachrome]

https://www.tumblr.com/moefroyogurt/753985612025151488

this whole vid is crasy… repeated appearance of Lando’s Personal Oscar Nickname… lando going how dare you assume we’re straight… oscar just folding as soon as he’s prompted to elaborate on his Lando Wouldnt Pay joke, making sure lando knows he doesn’t mean it…

their unscripted content is unbelievable i literally have to pause and rewind to make sure i’m seeing things right

omg anon there is SOOO much fodder in this video like where do you even begin. the face oscar makes before he starts writing lando's name for the first q... 🥺 also kind of endeared by lando getting annoyed about the paying for george's mates bit lol he doesn't want his private interax dissected like dat!!!

but rly they're just so natural and frankly insincere in the most sincere way around each other that it makes their unscripted banter so digestible to me personally... T__T and ik it's already been discussed but i do think it's interesting how landoscar are both equally careful with pronouns and using neutral language, like i'm sure to some degree it's just pr training but it's still an easy thing to slip up on if it's not ingrained in your daily usage and they're both decently consistent. not to give them undue credit or anything for something fairly basic i just think it's sweet.... who would win, the 23 y/o gen z who calls his gf his partner and binge-watched killing eve and sex education and knows too much about bottoming and has an in-joke with lando about his favorite song being old town road or the guy who cosplays bisexual twink when sloppy drunk and said his type was "open" and that "they gotta look after me" in csd? sorry.

also lando's defensive "doesn't mean they didn't have a great time" and oscar kind of high-pitched going "yeah i never said that!!!" NFNNGHGHGHHfghghh. and how do u know that huh :3c

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

!HOW PRO!BAKUGO REACTS TO YOU BEING HIS SECRET ADMIRER!

katsuki bakugo x gn!reader

word count// 384

note// it's my birthday so i decided to be nice and give u guys a present! enjoy! this has been plaguing my brain that’s for sure! borderline ooc bakugo? also if u saw this posted already on my second account awhile ago no u didn’t.

Bakugo was desperate to find out who kept leaving him these little letters, though he’d never willingly admit that out loud, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to reject whoever it was or to take them out on a date; it depends on who it is, he thinks. He knows it has to be someone within his agency, someone who knows his schedule well enough to be able to sneak into his office at any given time and leave the little love letter.

His mind drifts to you, his assistant, but he quickly and begrudgingly crosses you off the list. With your cold demeanor toward him, he thinks there's no way it could be you... That’s why his heart practically jumps out of his chest when he walks into his office only to see you, his aloof little assistant, placing the little love letter he’s becoming oh so fond of on his desk. You still haven’t noticed he’s there with your back toward the door, He takes this moment to pull himself together, to hide the giddiness running through every inch of his body. 

“So you’re the one leaving me love letters?” he asks with a shit eating grin plastered onto his face. 

You immediately stiffen up at the sound of his voice, not even daring to look behind you and see his reaction—frankly, you don’t even want to know, and his tone isn’t doing you any favors. “I’m sor-“ before you can even finish your sentence, you feel a pair of hands roughly wrap themselves around your waist.

“You know, I’m actually glad it’s you and not some shitty extra,” he mumbles against the back of your head. 

You finally find it in yourself to turn yourself around and look at him, a soft blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You are?” you ask reluctantly.

Bakugo rolls his eyes before leaning down and kissing you softly, a harsh yet welcomed contrast compared to everything else about him. You’re still too shocked to even think about kissing him back, but the shock doesn’t stop you from growing so hot that you could give his quirk a run for its money.

Bakugo finally pulls away, a lopsided smirk complimenting his flushed face. “Does that answer your question?” 

© LITTLEXBIMBO

[teabutmakeitazure]

How do u think Yandere chrollo would act if his darling was checking someone else out. Like someone who was taller or had something chrollo didn’t in appearance. And reader just over here, while on a forced date with chrollo, eyeing the dude and not paying much attention to chrollo

There will be three stages leading to the consequences

1. Subtle shoves: Chrollo tries to regain your attention in various ways, one of which is his frankly obscene way of flirting. The sultry tone and words he uses would prove even to the densest rock his attraction towards you. A few passers-by end up being the ones flattered by Chrollo's flirting which irks him further, testing his resolve to remain civil

2. Physical action: A hand on your hip, the other one grabbing your chin a little less than gentle, Chrollo demands your attention with actions. The tall, well dressed male specimen isn't worth your time, can't you see that? A prized ex bachelor who is now in a very loving relationship with you is vying for your time and affection, but you unfortunately do not realise just how lucky you are

3. Revoked privileges: Considering how you simply brushed off Chrollo's grip and sighed like you hadn't just offended your partner by continuing to tell him how he isn't as tall or charismatic, it seems as though a bit of freedom has made you too daring. Fortunately for you, Chrollo knows just how he can take care of that

[sminiac]

hiii do u have any hard thoughts on jinsik? i cant stop thinking abt him😔😔

💌 — Hello!! Of course, I’m here for you ;b

Warnings — Smur focused, MDNI.

The first thought that comes to mind is oddly enough those TikTok’s where they’re “Oooh Jinsik’s jealous” and he’s watching for example Sumin and Hyunwoo interacting with each other, it makes me think of Jinsik watching from afar, simmering in his own jealousy as you’re too caught up in Hunter’s blathering about something he quite frankly couldn’t give less of a fuck about, because how dare you not notice your super amazing sexy kind boyfriend whose squeezing his fists so tightly together that his veins lining the run of his forearms are starting to protrude out.

Hips shifting up as he becomes restless in his seat, just itching to have your hands on him.

He’d continue to suffer in silence until your peaking over at him and once that eye contacts made he’s not letting it fall short, his brows pulled together as he’s mouthing something to you but it’s so indistinct and hasty that your heads tipping to the side in confusion.

Eventually he gives up, rolling his eyes as he’s grabbing at your wrist and pulling you to the nearest empty room, “You’re awful.” He huffs, suddenly letting go of you.

“What is it this time? Was kinda busy out there sweetheart.”

“God— I know, ‘m sorry that was awful just need you to fuck me.”

When his hand comes into contact with your neck he’s much more gentle when pulling you into his lips, his kisses make your lips tingle, almost bruising, like he’s trying to forcefully melt himself into you. His heavy breaths being shortened by his own greed, yet he doesn’t waste time, his tongue dripping with saliva licking against yours, urging you to suck on it while he’s already working at the zipper of his jeans, his hands shaking, clumsy.

“Jin—”

“Please Honey, won’t last long, just— jus’ let me be yours for a second, please.” He’s such a “Honey” person it’s makes me dizzyyyyy.

He’s so sweet, especially when he’s finally got your panties pulled to the side and you’re letting him work his length through your slit. Little “Hhh— huhh”s slipping from his mouth 😣

“C’mon Jinsik, after all that this is what you wanted?”

Is whimpering when you’re the one who starts getting impatient.

Let’s the prettiest, most strained moan out when he’s finally slipping himself inside of you, the warm envelop of your cunt drooling over him as he’s working out small, hurried thrusts into you.

“Thank you, thank you—fuck! I love you, love you s’much.” He’s just the sweetest babbling mess, and just like he says, doesn’t last long at all.

His heads hung low at his shoulder, hair shielding his eyes away from your sight, so you think that he’s just watching the way his cock is just simply fucking his cum back into you, until you see his nose twitching and then the barely audible sniffles start to become louder.

“Hey, hey, oh my gosh, are you okay?” You’re pushing back his hair, softly tipping his chip up with your fingers, and that’s when the tears running down his cheeks catches at the light, the wobble to his lip becoming more intense now that you’re studying his face, trying to see what the cause of all of this could’ve been.

Through tears still thick in his throat he’s explaining to you that he just loves you, that you make him feel so good and that he just couldn’t help it, the pleasure quite literally brought tears to his eyes, ugh😞 just a big crybaby, the prettiest at that.

Loses it when you’re cupping his face, telling him you love him too as your hips start rolling into motion again.

Cue overstimulating Jinsik until there’s no more tears left to cry and he’s a twitching mess :b but Hunter’s definitely starting to become concerned at how long the two of you have been gone🤨

[conceptofjoy]

SHIT I loVee your real boy seb. hes like if autism and adhd had a child. him having selective mutism and hiding behind someone close im crying. ive been feeling down/tired lately and seeing him made me genuinely giggle and smile. AND AHHH his interactions with other kids i love how you do the relationships in your posts not only <333 in your art style he and his expressions look so familiar and close.. hes my baby. my head aches its so good. seeing seb doing his bunny deals warms my heart like chocolate cheesecake in the microwave in fact. HELL FUCKING YEAH DESTA GO ON!!!

btw thats offtopic as hell but im that anon who originally said dorkhell LMFAO i saw you made the word? a whole hashtag uhoh! i opened my jaw like a smol bird opening its beak 180 degrees so that its mother bird would feed it WHEN i noticed. its actually so funny to me because i didnt even think about that too long. just a sudden thought i decided to add. but yes... this is your inheritance now joy (>_0)

well back to seb im about to disintegrate into sand. i really like how everyone uh... treats him in some sense? though he, i admit, may be a little disaster here and there but they love him <3 so, the way people treats seb with some kind of understanding (im not sure if thats the right word b i cant find anything better than this) is frankly comforting. i just go all "god damn it" as a person who was that neurodivergent child growing up. i may repeat, but i just adore your relationships between all the characters and I DARE to wander into another field BUT the vriska polycule,,... damn yes thats the thing anyone needs to see to make their earth spinning like its should. and they all care deeply about each other despite their ways of showing it is different. i see now!!!!

i literally cant form sentences anymore but they all are so dear. tyyy for making&sharing your art w random people on the internet again!! puts a turtle in your hand and frogblinks at you

AAAA THANK U puts turtle in a well maintained tank. everyone loves little seb n even though no one rlly has experience talking with kids, all of them are nd + have sibling energy/experience. his mischievousness matches a lot of the others lol.

hes a smart kid and knows how to use his cuteness/ how to play dumb to get out of situations (youngest child behavior) but is also incredibly silly. he takes after hal a lot in his smugness and dirk in his explosive displays of affection.

guh thank u so much for ur kind words. im glad i could make u feel better :) also dorkhell was just so good lol its so fitting. i should def elaborate on the vriska polycule l8r but it would take SEVERAL posts lmfao