#neon-lit sky

[ghosts-of-love]

really do think that listening to sometimes by james is the closest i'll ever get to a religious experience

[ikiprian]

Clark is taking Kon and Jon out for a classic, super-style bonding flight. Just a quick jaunt around the US and back!

They don’t get far. Somewhere in Illinois airpace, they run across another family.

The three (a hulking man, a snarky teenage boy, and a cackling youngest girl, each a grayscale blur in the blue, blue sky) throw neon-lit beams of energy at one another, quips and insults flying almost as fast as they do. It looks like training. It looks like fun!

The boy of them looks like a younger version of the man. Exactly like, even. Clark is familiar with clones.

The youngest, a girl, looks like both of them, but not quite. Perhaps she will, age sharpening her childish features, but it’s hard to say. More likely, she’s the man’s daughter.

Interested, Clark introduces himself to Dan. He seems to be a hero in his own right, even if Superman’s yet to see him in action. And it’s not often Clark sees a family so like his own!

[baronessvonglitter]

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[suzayaaa]

ೃ⁀➷ 11:47 PM ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: anton x reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.0k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: fluff, established relationship

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: thunderstorm

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: first anton post yippee

The storm is loud. It’s heavy, dark, and almost agonizing, and as you’re choosing a movie to watch, you can’t help but look outside the window. It’s something between awe and terror—the sky, although dark and kind of foggy, roars every few seconds, making the silence of your and Anton’s shared apartment somewhat disturbing.

You don’t think much of it when your feet carry you through the dark home to the spare room. You open the door softly. The blue light from the computer screen gleams on his face, defining his features in the otherwise unlit room. You walk over to him and tug at his sleeve. He flinches, eyes jolt to your face only to relax immediately.

He moves the headphones from his head to his neck. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?” You look at the screen and observe the character’s flowy movements in the game’s lobby.

“Playing, wasting time,” he sighs as he turns his chair toward your body. His big hands land on your waist, touching it through the material of your pajamas barely, but securely. “Why? Is everything okay?”

You hum and the room and the sky flash pure white for two seconds and a loud growl follows. It echoes through the walls to the floor and to your feet, crumbling into your skin and clutching your muscles and lungs and throat and squeezing the air out of you in one sharp motion. Just as your hands grip Anton’s forearm, the world turns quiet and black again. You look back at Anton, not realizing your head snapped toward the window, and gulp.

“Hey,” he massages your sides with his thumbs, eyeing you attentively, “it’s okay. Come here.”

He pulls you closer until you’re sat on his lap. Your face buries in his chest, calves hanging loose on the side of his gaming chair as your fingers start to play with the hem of his shirt. His left hand moves to your hip to steady you and the other one goes back to the keyboard lit up in a pretty neon rainbow.

“I’m not that scared of thunders,” you mumble into his body, although you’re pretty sure you don’t sound that confident. “This one is just kinda,” your voice fades away because you don’t really know how to describe it.

It’s big, loud, and scary, and every time you look at the blinding thunders or hear the grumbling noises it feels as if it’s coming straight for you, your boyfriend, your apartment, and everything and everyone else around you; as if it’s going to strike right through your window and kill both of you, or worse—kill one of you and leave the other one in eternal pain, fear, and agony of losing a partner and make one of you suffer every time there is a storm.

“I know, I could hear it through the headphones, even though I think they’re noise-cancelling. I thought you’d be asleep by now.” His soft breath fans the top of your head as he logs off the game and closes all apps. You glance at the time in the right corner of the screen—11:47 pm—and hum.

“I wanted to watch a movie. Not like I’d be able to fall asleep anyway.” Anton chuckles at that, and although it comes off awkwardly, you ease into his chest when it vibrates against your ear.

“We can do it now if you want,” he offers as he turns his PC off. The keyboard and the mouse’s neons slowly fade out, leaving you in pitch black.

You hum absentmindedly. The storm seems closer without the light, more real. Your muscles stiffen at the thunder growls, even under your boyfriend’s touch.

His arms move under your knees and back as he pushes the chair away from the desk and gets up. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, although he doesn’t display any trouble carrying you.

You arrive at the living room. The TV is still on. The list of shows and movies you saved to watch later is your only source of light, but it’s enough.

He lays you on the couch and you sit up, feeling the cotton under your palms until a remote lands in your hand. In the meantime, Anton goes to the kitchen and comes back with leftover snacks crunched up in his fingers. He puts the bag on your lap and you move to the edge of the seat, making space for him to lay down. When he does, you drop the remote onto his chest, pull the coffee table closer to the couch to place the bag of snacks on it, and finally lay yourself on top of him. You cover your bodies with a blanket you grabbed earlier and wrap your arms around his neck. Before your head lands on his chest, he takes the remote from it.

“What do you want to watch?” You hear just when you are about to ask.

“I don’t know. Something not scary.” He fiddles with the remote for a good minute and then you see the search bar slowly fill up with letters—your comfort movie.

You can’t help a soft smile grace your features and you know Anton is also smiling from the way his hand, the one that is free of the remote, squeezes your waist, and his lips press a peck to the top of your head. It’s a small reminder of his love, a silent message of what you are to him and what he is to you, but it brings such relief to your mind and body, melting you into him under the warmth trapped by the blanket.

As the movie’s first scenes roll out and Anton’s light breaths fan over your head, you slowly forget about the sharp lightning bolts dancing in the sky. Anton’s big arms over you, his cologne tickling your nose, the comfort of his presence pulling on your muscles and tendons and setting them free, light like a feather. It’s all so familiar, but so lovely, and paired with his steady heartbeat, you let yourself fully relax for the first time tonight.

Because everything is and will be alright—as long as you’re in his arms.

suzayaaa 2024 𓆩⟡𓆪

[sheerfreesia007]

Pool Games

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Word count: 2,096

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: It’s all fun and games at the pool with the boys and you but when there’s betting involved Changbin is such a sucker for you. What happens when you come to collect your reward?

The sun is streaming down from the bright clear sky heating the tiled pool deck as Changbin and the rest of the guys all gather around the lounge chairs while talking animatedly and excitedly. Chan had organized a pool day for the group of them to try and cool down in this sweltering heat that they were dealing with. Changbin grinned as he watched Hyunjin ruffle Jeongin’s hair harshly as the younger boy cried out exasperatedly before shoving Hyunjin away from him. Growing impatient with the boys not getting in the pool, Changbin leans down and grabs the football from the large tote bag that Chan had packed for all of them. He stands up straight and looks over at Seungmin who eagerly watches him waiting for him to throw the ball, Changbin nods his head towards the pool and Seungmin takes off doing a cannonball into the pool with Jeongin and Felix following him quickly as they cheer loudly. Just as Changbin was winding back his arm to throw the football to the waiting boys he heard the locker room door open and he frowned softly as his head turned to Chan with slight irritation coursing through him.

“Yah! I thought you said it was a closed pool?” Changbin asked Chan with an annoyed frown on his face. Chan grinned as he looked over to the locker rooms and nodded his head at Changbin.

“It is but I invited someone to join us.” Chan explained and Changbin frowned some more before whipping his head to the person who had entered the pool deck. He watched as you walked out along the tiles while excitedly shedding your extra large baggy t-shirt that looked like one of his old ones that he had been missing for a few months now, when his eyes darted down to your bright neon pink bikini he instantly felt light headed and as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

Your body was beautiful to him as he slowly grazed his eyes up and down it as he watched you move quickly towards them all. Your face was lit up with happiness and excitement to see them all as your shoulders and upper chest were bare to them as your pretty bikini had straps criss crossing across your skin. The top looked almost like one of those sports bras he had seen you wear at the gym when you would join him and it fit your sporty style easily which made him grin. But the bikini bottoms are what caught and held his attention, they molded to your body like a second skin and while they covered everything from his wandering eyes but they made your ass look perkier than your workout pants he’s seen you in. That fact alone made his breath stutter out of his chest in pants as you moved closer to them.

“Changbin Hyung! Ball!” shouted Seungmin momentarily distracting him as he launched the ball into the water without looking at him.

“C’mon Seungminnie, you know you can’t overwhelm Changbin Hyung when he’s focused on something. He malfunctions when he’s given too many things to focus on.” Han teased loudly, causing the boys to laugh.

“More like focused on someone.” Chan agreed with Han and Changbin snapped his eyes to his Hyung who smirked at him before nodding his head at you. Changbin knew that the boys all knew about his crush on you and would often tease him about it but you were always so clueless thankfully and he’d managed to keep his crush under wraps from you. But now with you joining them for their pool day he had a feeling that he’d be fielding more teasing remarks from the guys, he’d be fighting for his life.

“Binnie!” you called out in your sweet happy voice effectively dragging Changbin’s sole focus to you as you waved at him. Growing nervous and desperate to keep you away from the boys, Changbin moved without thought as he watched you drop your t-shirt or rather his stolen shirt onto the closest lounge chair. He dropped his shoulder and effortlessly wrapped his arms around your torso as he tackled you into the open pool as you squealed and cried out in surprise at his move.

Changbin kept his arms around you and your body close to his as you both fell into the water with a large splash. You break through the surface a few moments before Changbin does and you’re waiting for him when he finally does as you splash him aggressively and he laughs loudly at your attempts before he wraps his arms around from behind and pins your arms to your sides.

“Give up Yeobo, I’m too strong for you to fight me.” he teases you as you struggle in his arms.

“What gives Changbin?” you cry out exasperatedly as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. He grins widely at you before the football flies through the air and lands in the water splashing the both of you with water.

“Noona! Be on our team!” calls Han as he, Chan, Hyunjin and Lee Know get into the pool while the younger guys are all swimming quickly over to you and Changbin.

“No way, she’s on my team.” Changbin calls out before slowly releasing his hold on you. You move away from him and Seungmin quickly grabs your hand and drags you over to his side as Han and Chan easily crowded you with smirks on their faces as they stared at Changbin.

“She’s on our team. She’s our only defense against you.” Chan says proudly and you chuckle at his words before giving Seungmin a high five as he laughs at Changbin’s disgruntled look.

“Fine, fine. But I’m coming straight for her.” Changbin says menacingly as he points at you. You grin at him before widening your eyes and raising your hand to your mouth in mock horror while Chan laughs and Changbin rolls his eyes at you.

The game is quickly underway after that and soon Changbin is focusing all of his attention on you as you move through the water to get into a good spot to catch the football from Han. Changbin moves effortlessly through the water while you struggle slightly from being shorter in height, when Han throws the football Changbin easily swats it out of the air away from you causing you to splash him water as you pout at him. His answering smirk earns him another splash making him laugh at your antics.

The next game you’re able to get past Changbin and manage to catch the football from Chan but Changbin grabs you around your middle when you move to swim into his team’s endzone. He lifts you high above his head as you squeal loudly while still holding onto the football. Changbin then begins to lower your body back down into the water but you’re flush against him and as he feels your body slide down his own he can feel his face beginning to heat with desire and embarrassment of having you so close to him. You smirk up at him seeing how flustered he’s become before you toss the football to Han who scores a point for your team. YOur happy cheer at your team’s victory pulls Changbin from his dazed headspace and he smiles softly as he watches you and Han do a wild victory dance.

Another round comes up and Changbin figures out too late in the game that you’re the one designated to score this time as Chan and Han block him from getting to you as you dodge and weave around a confused Hyunjin and an unenthused Lee Know to score a point. You whooped loudly with pride as you jumped in place while Seungmin wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a hug at your score. Changbin frowned as he watched Seungmin hug you tightly before he heard Chan chuckle softly.

“Yah! You wouldn’t have scored that point if Chan and Han hadn’t stopped me from tackling you!” he shouted at you and you grinned at him wickedly as your eyes still sparkled with your win. Changbin feels a prickling in the back of his head at your knowing look as you make your way over to him, Chan and Han, he feels as if he’s suddenly prey to your predatory look and he can’t help but internally shrink away from you.

“Alright Binnie, let’s make a bet.” you challenge him and he scoffs at your bravado. “If I can score another point then you owe a reward.”

“You’ll never score another point on me Yeobo.” he taunts you and you smirk wickedly at him before holding your hand out to him.

“Any reward that I want if I score another point on you.” you challenge and Changbin feels as if he’ll be making a deal with the devil if he shakes your hand but he does so anyway. Your answering grin is blinding to him as you look up at him with eager excited eyes. You then gather your team over to you and begin talking strategy with them and Changbin quickly turns to his team who all stare at him with varying degrees of enthusiasm causing him to sigh softly.

As the last game starts Changbin is slightly nervous, your whole team has looks of determination written across their faces and he knows he’s only half a shot of winning this game since half of his team are interested in playing. He holds himself back and watches as Chan keeps the ball as you, Seungmin and Han all rush Changbin’s team. Jeongin matches up with Seungmin trying to keep him back but Seungmin manages to push Jeongin back just barely while Han faces off with Felix who tries to grab onto Han like a clingy koala to keep him tied up which causes Han to begin laughing manically at Felix’s attempt. And then that leaves you who tries rushing through the water on your legs but when Changbin smirks and tries to grab onto you you dodge him and dip under the water to begin swimming away from him towards the end zone.

When you come up for air he’s waiting for you but you manage to be just a few feet ahead of him and Chan launches the ball into the air. Changbin lunges for you but you’re already jumping into the air catching the ball squarely in your arms before cradling the ball to your chest with a loud war cry that makes Chan, Seungmin and Han all cry out loudly. Changbin grumbles as he watches you do another victory dance but then begins laughing as you horribly try to mimic their dance choreography for Thunderous before you spike the ball into the water and throw your hands up.

You suddenly whirl in your spot and Changbin feels the air in his lungs punch out at the wild happy look in your eyes when you spot him. Swimming up to him you slowly stand to your full height and slide your arms up and around his neck causing him to wrap his hands around your waist to hold you up.

”So you owe me a reward.” You say softly to him and he watches as your eyes crinkle slightly at the edges with delight.

”What reward do you want Yeobo?” He asks just as softly. His mouth drops open in shock as you pucker your lips and point to them, he can feel his whole face flush with desire before he begins to giggle loudly at your action. Leaning forward he moves to peck a quick kiss to your lips but when he goes to pull back your hands are threaded through his hair and hold the sides of his head to keep him still as you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. He grunts surprised but eagerly kisses you back while sliding his arms tightly around your back and holding you close to him. When he feels your legs wrap around his hips he feels as if he’s ten feet tall and as if he could lift a bus right now. You pull away slightly and smile dreamily at him when his mouth moves to chase yours before he speaks up. “That’s a good reward. I think you deserve more of those.” 

Suddenly there’s loud cheers and cooing heard all around you as Seungmin gags loudly causing you to laugh at all of their reactions before Changbin moves in for another long deep kiss.

[sophrosynesworld]

With all my love, pt 6

Our car drives out of Tokyo, the once vibrant neon lights dimming in the rearview mirror. Inside the vehicle, a heavy silence hangs like a storm cloud. 

Bakugou sits rigid beside me, jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Izuku, in the driver’s seat, occasionally glances at us through the rearview mirror, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

The bustling cityscape fades into the countryside, the stars now twinkling brightly against the night sky, freed from the city's light pollution. It’s been so long since I left the city, the last time was for our training camp at UA. What happened to us?

"Can someone please tell me what happened back there?" Izuku’s voice cuts through the silence, his eyes darting between us in the mirror.

Bakugou's grip tightens on his knees. I take a deep breath. "It’s complicated, Izuku. Katsuki and I... we’ve been going through some things." I sound like a mother breaking bad news to her child.

Izuku’s gaze shifts to Bakugou. "You two need to talk. This silence isn't helping anyone."

Bakugou scoffs. "Talk? She thinks I’ve been cheating on her."

Izuku's eyebrows shoot up, but he stays silent. For once, I’m grateful.

"You’ve been distant, Katsuki. Coming home late, missing our dates, disappearing for days. What else was I supposed to think?" My arms cross over my chest, frustration bubbling.

Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You really think I'd do that to you? I’ve been hiding something, but it’s not what you think."

"What is it, then?" I question him, but he averts his gaze, staring out the window instead.

The landscape outside changes subtly, flat fields giving way to gentle hills and clusters of trees. Moonlight casts an eerie glow, illuminating our path.The car falls silent again, the tension thick as Izuku navigates through the dark roads. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Izuku turns down a dirt road, leading us to a modest house. Bakugou lets out a deep breath, his grip on the door handle tightening.

"Come on," he says gruffly, stepping out of the car and gesturing for me to follow. ‘

I follow Bakugou up the path to the house, my heart pounding in my chest. He stops at the door, fumbling with the keys before pushing it open. 

As we step inside, I take in the surroundings. The entrance hall is warmly lit by a small chandelier, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floor. A plush rug lies beneath our feet, muffling our steps. The walls are adorned with tasteful art pieces, and a small table by the door holds a neatly arranged stack of mail and a decorative bowl for keys. I slip my shoes off next to him. 

Bakugou leads me into the living room, and I can't help but marvel at the space. It’s furnished and beautiful. The room is spacious yet cozy, with large windows that offer a view of a well-kept garden outside. A comfortable-looking sectional sofa dominates the room, adorned with an array of throw pillows in various shades of blue and gray. A coffee table sits in front of it, holding a few magazines and an empty vase. The walls are painted a soothing shade of light gray, complemented by dark wooden bookshelves filled with an assortment of books and knick-knacks.

A large flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall, and below it, a sleek entertainment center holds various electronics and neatly arranged DVDs. The soft hum of an air purifier is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Everything is meticulously arranged, reflecting a sense of order and calm.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here.” I tug on Bakugou's sleeve to get his attention, my frustration clear. The room is shrouded in dim light, with the moon casting its soft glow through the windows, painting the walls in a subtle hue of silver. “Why did you bring me into the middle of nowhere?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his back towards me as he walks towards the large glass window overlooking the garden. The soft rustle of leaves and distant chirping of crickets create a serene backdrop to our conversation.

“Whose house is this?” I ask, my voice rising with a mix of confusion and anger.

"It's ours," he admits, turning around slowly, his voice low and strained. The moonlight catches the edges of his face, highlighting the contours and curves. "It was going to be the home we raised our children in."

My heart skips a beat as I process his words. "What are you talking about?" I press, confusion consuming me. "This isn’t our home."

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "When you got hurt, it was one of the few times I’ve been afraid." His voice cracks, and I can see his shoulders tremble. "The doctors didn’t know if you’d ever wake up."

I want to reach out, to comfort him, but I stay silent. He needs to get this out.

"When you opened your eyes and called my name," his voice wavers, tears spilling from his eyes, "I knew I wanted to spend eternity with you."

I’m stunned. "You’ve been planning this since then?"

"Six months ago, I bought the land. I picked up extra shifts to build this. Every detail, every corner, designed with you in mind. I wanted to build this home for us, to show you that I’m serious about our future.”

I look around the room with new eyes. Everything reflects my tastes. My heart aches with the realization of his efforts. The soft gray walls, the comfortable sectional sofa adorned with an array of throw pillows, the sleek coffee table—every detail reflects my preferences, my style. The thought of him working tirelessly to create this place tugs at my heart.

"You’ve been working on this for six months?" My voice softens as I slowly begin to understand..

"Yeah," he murmurs, regret mingling in his eyes. "I wanted to surprise you. To make up for all the times I’ve been absent. But I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to ruin it."

I know I should be ecstatic, but anger ignites within me. "You kept this from me while I worried we were falling apart? Do you know how that feels?"

His expression hardens. "I was doing it for us! To prove I could give you everything you ever wanted!"

"But I never asked for this!" I shout. "I just wanted you, Katsuki!"

"I was trying to make things better!" he yells back. "I thought if I finished this place, you’d see how much I care!"

"What do you want from me?" I scream, tears spilling over.

"I want you to be my wife!" His voice cracks, the raw emotion behind his words slicing through the tension in the air.

I stare at him, shock consuming all of my words.

"What?"

Without another word, he storms to a drawer, yanking it open with a force that rattles the whole dresser. He pulls out a small velvet box, his hands trembling. "I wanted to propose to you here, in the house I built with you in mind." he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet charged with desperation. "I love you more than anything and if I don’t ask you now, I might not be able to later. 

Katsuki drops to one knee before me, holding out an engagement ring that catches the light with a mesmerizing sparkle. The band is a delicate, platinum twist, leading up to a stunning solitaire diamond, flawlessly cut and glistening like a fragment of a star. Smaller diamonds are embedded along the band, adding an extra layer of brilliance. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Will you marry me?"

Tears blur my vision. "Katsuki..."

The weight of Bakugou's words hangs in the air, his raw admission still echoing in my ears. As he kneels before me, holding out the ring, time seems to stand still. My heart races, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Shock, confusion, anger, and a glimmer of hope—all tangled together.

"No more secrets, no more running away. Just you and me, building our life together. Please, say you’ll be my wife."

I look down at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his face. His eyes are filled with a mixture of desperation and vulnerability that I’ve rarely seen. This strong, fierce man is baring his soul to me, and it breaks something inside me.

My hands tremble as I touch his face. "Yes, I’ll marry you."

Relief and joy light up his face as he slips the ring onto my finger. He pulls me into a tight embrace, the tension finally dissolving.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, building this place for us. But I see now that I was wrong to keep it from you. I was afraid, afraid that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Tears blur my vision as I kneel down to be level with him, our faces inches apart. “All I ever wanted was you, Katsuki. Not some perfect house, not grand gestures. Just you.”

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing away my tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, we just sit there, on the floor of this beautiful house, holding each other. The anger and hurt begin to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching love. The road ahead is still uncertain, but I can see a glimmer of the future we could have together.

[katiscrying]

Sweet as a peach ୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋆˙

Benny Cross x f!Reader

18+ MDI

cw: PWP (?), f!reviving oral, smoking, fingering, cum eating, not proofread

You hadn’t even thought of showing yourself up in a biker bar until Kathy insisted on you coming with her. Never once did you assume you’d be getting fucked by a random biker boy let alone falling in love with him.

╭──────────.♡..─╮

𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒍

╰─..♡.──────────╯

•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*

The night started settle over the sky and the neon lit sign of the bar that the Vandals claimed lit barely anything but under where it hung and your caught eye. Kathy looks over at you as she pulls into the parking lot, noticing your leg bouncing. She let out a scoff of laughter as she looked over at you. “Nervous?” You nodded before quietly speaking; “a lil’ bit.”

“What for? It’s just like any other bar, ya’ overthinking it.” You knew she was right, you’re overthinking what could go down in such a place, nothing good in your mind. You both got out and she handed you a cigarette and you just tucked it in the pocket of your jeans while she lit hers after offering to light it. You both walked in but you trailed behind, taking in the sudden sight of all different builds of men who were either shitface drunk or getting close to the goal.

Kathy lead you back over to where Johnny usually sat with Brucie and where she did as well with another friend as they usually drank or smoked through conversations about anything. After feeling countless hands smacking your ass, you finally sit next to Kathy and once more, continue to take in the surrounding. Quite a few were staring at you but your eyes wandered off to the pool table where it was like an erotic movie scene; the tan and toned arms of an unknown man supported his body as he lifted his head up.

You couldn’t help but just stare, it was almost natural in the way you did so. Your eyes traveling his arms, taking in the sight of his tattoos and then up to his face where you could practically feel the heat rising to your face and southbound of your body.

You lean closer to Kathy and with your eyes still fixated on him as you nudge her. “who’s that guy over at the pool table?” She almost couldn’t hear you over the noise surrounding all around but she caught what you were asking. “Him? Tha’s Benny. P’robly the youngest since Danny.” You nod, but Kathy could see the unsure expression on your features.

“Here,,” She starts, propping her elbow up on the table and point over at a black haired guy guy with sideburns and three guys next to him. “That’s Cockroach, left is Cal, and right is Corky.” Your brows contort as she says this but she turns to her left pointing once more. “That’s Johnny, he’s the leader and next to im’ is Brucie.”

“..okay” you nod slowly, just taking it all of the rapid fire names in. Kathy turns her attention back to her previous conversation with her other friend. You knew you could smoke in the bar but, you always had the habit of walking out to. So you did. You went under a dimly lit orange light on the side of the bar’s wall. You picked the cigarette out of your jeans, praying it wasn’t snapped in half.

“Son of a bitch-“ you cursed yourself as you pulled the snapped filter from your pocket, huffing as you dig around for the other half. The door to the bar opens and closes swiftly but you assumed it was some drunk fucker on his way to potentially kill himself on the road. Oh how wrong you were.

“Ya’ need a cigarette, Peach?” a low yet gravelly voice spoke, causing you to jump. You look up from the two halves of once one whole cigarette to see his face. “You— you?” You question, noticing the cigarette tucked between his vermillion lips. He nods, taking the cigarette between his long pointer and middle finger. “Is that yes?” His rough voice spoke again. But you couldn’t react. Not a head shake or sound escaping you.

He takes a step closer to you, now invading any personal space you had. His other hand taking your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze as his thumb pulled at your chin; pulling your bottom lip down. You still couldn’t react. You were starstruck by this man and his astonishing looks. He took the cigarette and tucked it between your lips, gently letting your chin go.

“There.” He says with a sense of pride that you didn’t fight him. You pulled the cigarette from your lips to flick the ashes. “Thank you—?” You say back, returning the politeness.. if that’s how he showed it. “Here alone?” He asked. The sudden question almost made you cough on smoke but you silently composed yourself. “Nah,, I’m here with a friend.”

“Kathy?” He questioned as you nodded, exhaling the smoke, handing it back to him. He followed with the same manner as he inhaled and exhaled two times before offering it back but you declined. “Y’know her?” you gave him a look, was Kathy setting you up with this guy? No way. “Barely.” He stubs the cigarette out on the wall, letting the bud drop onto the gravels.

You had never had a conversation so awkward with another guy but here you were, nodding in silence, basically showing your submission to him even if you had just met him.

“Yer a quiet thing ain’t ya’ peach?” He observed your behavior very closely but it oddly wasn’t making you uncomfortable. Might as well not lie so you just squeak out a “yeah” with a softer tone. “You’ll be broken out of it after we’re married.” Wait. What? Marriage?

“Marriage..? I’m sorry, I don’t know you at all..?” You could feel that you weren’t recovering quickly from that whiplash. “Ain’t got to. We got time after.” God. He’s persistent. “I don’t even know your name! Why the hell would I wanna marry you!?” You protest. “Benny cross. You?”

… “y/n. And I’m not marrying you Benny.” You firmly said but you could clearly see it in his eyes how he wasn’t budging. “Mhm. I’m sure you’re not, Peach.” You give him a look, one he found adorable while in your mind it was intimidating.

It went quiet. But the look on his face was still, he clearly want backing down from his claim of marriage over you but he’ll play into the whole “no I won’t” response.

“I can change yer mind, peach.” He was persistent but that only made you curious in what he’d do to “convince” you otherwise. “I don’t believe you can Benny.” You are also persistent and you weren’t letting up so easily.

You’re quickly caught off guard by benny taking your soft hand in his and guiding you to his bike. He looks at you and without saying anything, the gaze from his eyes spoke up You wanna come with me? And you just nod on response as if he actually asked. Just like that, he slings his leg over and kicks the stand down before kickstarting the bike, beckoning his finger. Like gravity never existed you found yourself floating towards him and hesitating to sit but that inner curiosity of him “convincing you” took over, basically screaming at you to get on. And so you did.

It’s new to you but it’s like a second nature that your arms snaked his waist and held tightly onto him. As you felt the rumble of the engine between your thighs it only made you grip him tighter.

You are nervous, you’ve never been on a bike before as you’d explained to him but with his eyes giving gentle commands, you just couldn’t say no. You hadn’t even thought of leaving without a word to anyone or any eyes witnessing but that doesn’t matter at this point. You’re far too curious and far too willing to follow him like an obedient puppy.

As he pulls away from the bar and onto the road that lead to the expressway you can feel the wind comb through your hair despite the criminal amount of hairspray you used to keep it down. You’re trying everything to not rest your head on his back, that’d prove him right, that he’d get his way. But he’s so warm. A contrast from the cool night wind.

He’s like a magnet just making you gravitate closer and closer to him before your chin rests comfortably on his back as your arms remain around him. Every turn he makes he notices how you hold him tighter like he’d let you fall but in reality he’d never do anything like that. Not to you.

It was one last turn until you finally looked up and he had brought you to what seems like the middle of absolutely no where. The engine slowly dies down and then eventually off as he puts his feet to the ground to stop any movement entirely. “Ya’lright back there?” He says as he stabilizes the bike. You take a moment to observe your surroundings to realize it was far from the small town and looks like no one would be out here for miles.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you say as your arms unwrap from his waist. He slowly stands up from the seat and then slides his leg off from the other side to kick down the kickstand as his rougher hand met your much softer hand to help you off. You’re quick to steady your balance with a “thank you” out of impulse and just general habit.

Your eyes wander around the secluded area and you admittedly do feel weary but he doesn’t seem like he’d hurt you. “Where are we..?” Your eyes lock onto his but he doesn’t say anything, but instead he steps closer to you, invading any personal space you had previously as two fingers of his come up to lift your chin. “I told ya’, peach. I’ll convince you.” His words send shivers down your spine; the thought of what he’d do to you is almost exciting with the lingering thought of the dangers that could be potential.

“do y’trust me, peach?” you just met him.. how the hell is he asking this so soon..? But you nod in agreement. “I— I trust you” your voice is damn near weak but you’re genuine. Your arms wrap carefully around his neck as his plump lips meet yours, pulling you into a sudden, deep, passionate kiss. Your mouth opening up to him as his tongue doesn’t hesitate to slide in and map out every bit of your mouth.

You can’t help the little breathless and choked out whimpers and whines that escape you. This only causes him to wanna continue, to go further with you. And that’s what he’ll do.

You break the kiss to catch your breath but you see the look in his eye that clearly shows no signs of being done with you. Not now. His arms carefully warp around your waist and carefully guide you onto your back directly on the leather seat of his bike, sliding himself on the seat as well to steady the bike. Your eyes lock onto his icy blue ones, your lips parted yet no words are formed.

His calloused hands trail down to the waistline of your jeans, his ringed fingers hooking onto them. “Can I take em’ off?” his gaze is still locked onto yours, his eyes clearly hungry for more of you. “Mhm” you hum, but that’s not good enough for him. He needs you to say it. His hand gently grabs your chin, bringing you closer to his face “ah ah, I need an answer, peach. Can I take em’ off?” He repeats;

“Yes, yes, you can.” You give him a real response this time, your voice dripping with need and underlying desperation for him. “atta girl,” he praises you as he unbuttons your jeans, the zipper coming down with no effort to it at all. He skillfully tugs your jeans off of your frame, slowly sliding them down, drinking in every inch of your pale, smooth skin.

The cool breeze hitting your lower half causes little goosebumps to form all across your thighs, shivers running down your spine and blood flowing to your face from the embarrassment of being pretty much half nude in front of a man you hardly know. All thoughts in your head calm as his warm palms run over your thighs, carefully approaching your inner thighs with much caution. He can see you’re all embarrassed over him, and he is reveling in it.

His touch is warm and tender and you’re practically melting under him. “Benny-“ you say softly but he quickly cuts you off; “shh - peach. Patience.” His voice was sultry yet tender. His fingers trace your panties, feeling how damp you’re he’s making them. His fingers carefully map out what makes you squirm, what makes you whimper, anything that’ll give him a reaction. His fingers graze over your clit just to keep you on edge.

“Already so needy f’me, hm?” He’s toying with you. You enjoying the way you react as his fingers toying with your clothed slit. His pants growing uncomfortably tight just watching you react to what he’s doing to you. Tonight isn’t the night to fully claim you, though he’s already claimed you as his wife.. though you won’t wouldn’t let him.

He gets you on edge, close to making you cum yet he’s holding out. Listening to how pretty you sound when all he’s doing is barely teasing you, dragging his fingers up and down your slit. You can only sound better. He brings his finger that is covered in your slick up to his mouth and sucks it clean off, all with intense eye contact. His hands then grab your panties and gently tug them down your thighs and around your ankles, then off completely.

Despite the still setting sun casting shadows and darkness around, the slick pooling your cunt is very obvious; as if it already weren’t. He lowered himself down, eye level with your glistening cunt. His calloused hand wraps around your thigh, almost holding you up dangerously close to his face. You manage to prop yourself up to fully gaze down at him and observe what he’s doing to you.

His tongue slowly guides out as he carefully lick up your slit, your sweet slick collects on his tongue doesn’t make it easy for him to be gentle but, nonetheless, he manages. His skillful focus on your clit makes your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy, your moans are desperate and needy even when he’s giving you what you didn’t know you wanted.

A sharp gasp escapes your parted lips as two ringed fingers slide down to penetrate you, carefully pumping in and out of your heated flesh as he continues to swirl his tongue around your sensitive bud. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your orgasm slowly building. “Benny — I —“ you stutter, earning a rumble of laughter against your cunt, sending vibrations through you which only enhanced your pleasure “y’taste so sweet..”.

Through desperate moans and hushed curses fill the now dusk filled sky all around. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling at it, as if you’re trying to pull him off but he’s restless. His fingers continue at a now relentless pace, his tongue still lapping at your swollen bud. You know you can cum at any minute and he can tell from your walls clenching around his fingers. Your moans turning into choked cries and squeals.

“Benny m’ gonna cum — !” You cry out, he takes this as a cue to continue but at his relentless pace. “Go ahead, cum f’me, sweet peach” you were already holding back but now that you’ve got the green light you just let it spill.

Your head throws back as you let out what can only be described as relief and hellish ecstasy. He slows the pumping down from his fingers before they come to a grinding halt, letting you ride out the pleasure. After you’ve stopped shaking as much, he carefully removes his cum coated fingers and grabs your chin with the hand that was previously clasped around your thigh, your eyes open as he smirks, guiding his pointer finger in between your lips, making you taste yourself. As your tongue swirls his finger and you suck your own secretion off of his finger. He follows in suit by sucking his middle finger clean, crashing his lips against yours. Forcing you into a heated kiss.

As he pulls away from the kiss, observing your spent and weak body underneath him he asks,

“Did that convince you, peach?”

•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*

[yanderemisery]

Yandere Gojo Satoru

TW: non-con, stalking, obsession, out of character Gojo, rushed fic.

In the labyrinthine sprawl of Tokyo, where the city breathed in neon and exhaled shadows, there was a girl named Darling.

Her name, though simple, carried with it a resonance of warmth and affection—a name that mirrored the essence of her spirit. Darling was a young woman of unassuming charm, a tender blossom amidst the concrete jungle, oblivious to the darker currents that surged beneath the city's vibrant facade.

She had come to Tokyo in search of knowledge, her heart brimming with dreams and aspirations. Yet, in her naivety, she remained unaware that her every step was being traced, her every movement observed by a pair of eyes as blue as the boundless sky. These were the eyes of Satoru Gojo, the most formidable sorcerer of his time, a man whose power transcended mortal comprehension. But power alone had never captivated him— until he saw her.

It was a chance encounter in Shibuya, or so it seemed. Darling, with her soft smile and gentle demeanor, had been perusing a flower stall, her fingers brushing against the delicate petals of lilies and roses. In that moment, she had unknowingly ensnared the attention of a man who could bend reality to his will, yet found himself powerless in the face of her innocence.

For Gojo, it began as a curiosity—a fleeting intrigue. He had seen countless people, their lives mere blips in the vast expanse of time, but Darling was different. There was an ethereal quality to her, a purity that stood in stark contrast to the corruption he had witnessed in the world. Her very existence seemed to beckon to something primal within him, something possessive.

As days passed, Gojo found himself gravitating towards her, orchestrating

"coincidental" meetings with a precision that only he could master. He engineered moments where their paths would cross: a shared ride in an elevator, a brief conversation at a café. Each interaction was a thread in the intricate web he wove around her, binding her to him ever so subtly. And Darling, in her trusting nature, saw nothing but serendipity in these encounters. She laughed at his jokes, blushed at his compliments, and began to think of him as a guardian of sorts-an enigmatic figure who appeared whenever she felt the slightest bit lost.

Yet, for all her innocence, Darling was not a fool. There were moments when she felt a strange disquiet, a sense of being watched even when she was alone. But whenever she tried to voice these feelings, she found herself silenced by Gojo's reassuring presence. His charm was undeniable, his concern for her genuine-or so she thought. What Darling couldn't perceive was the darkness festering behind those cerulean eyes, the way his affection had curdled into something far more dangerous.

Gojo's desire for Darling had grown into an obsession, a consuming need to possess her wholly. The idea of her with anyone else, even in the most innocuous of interactions, filled him with a rage that he struggled to contain. He began to view the world through a distorted lens, seeing threats where there were none, and enemies in those who merely existed near her. In his mind, Darling was his, and his alone.

One evening, after a late lecture, Darling found herself walking through the dimly lit streets, the city's usual hum subdued by the encroaching night. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, though Darling, lost in thought, barely noticed. Her mind wandered to Gojo, to the strange magnetism he seemed to exude, and the inexplicable comfort she felt in his presence. Yet, beneath that comfort was a growing unease, a flicker of something she couldn't quite name.

As she turned down a quiet alley—a shortcut she had taken many times before

-Darling froze. There, standing beneath the weak glow of a streetlamp, was Gojo.

His tall figure cast an elongated shadow that seemed to stretch out towards her like a spectral hand. His face, usually lit with a disarming smile, was now a mask of inscrutable intent.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent shivers down her spine.

"I've been waiting for you."

There was something in his tone that unsettled her, a possessiveness that she had never noticed before. It was as though the gentle flirtations and casual conversations they had shared were stripped away, leaving behind only the raw, unfiltered truth. She hesitated, taking a small step back, but Gojo was already moving towards her, his presence overwhelming in the narrow space.

"Gojo-san," she began, her voice faltering. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to protect you," he said, his words laden with a weight she didn't understand. "You don't know how dangerous this world can be, Darling. You need someone like me to keep you safe."

The intensity in his gaze, the fervor in his voice, struck her like a physical blow. This was not the man she thought she knew.

This was someone else entirely, someone whose affection had twisted into something dark and suffocating. Panic began to rise in her chest as she tried to take another step back, but Gojo was faster, his hand reaching out to gently-but firmly-grasp her wrist.

"You don't need to be afraid," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll always be here, Darling. Forever."

Darling's heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear.

She had no idea how deeply Gojo's obsession ran, how far he was willing to go to keep her by his side. To him, she was no longer just a person-she was his, a possession he would guard jealously, even against her will.

As the night closed in around them, Darling realized too late that she had become ensnared in a web.

[transform4u]

Just for Laughs

This story is heavily inspired, by the now defunct bouncyboytfs story, Straight Up Comedy. Which was one of my favorites of all time and got me into writing. The neon lights of West Hollywood flickered against the night sky, casting a vibrant glow over the bustling streets. Calvin Andrews, a 28-year-old grad student with a quick smile and a penchant for lively debates with online trolls defending the so called woke agenda, navigated through the Friday night crowd with an air of anticipation. Dressed in a casual yet stylish ensemble—a vintage band tee under a light denim jacket paired with slim-fit jeans and worn-in Chuck Taylors—he exuded the laid-back confidence of someone comfortable in their own skin.

Calvin had grown to love the sunny West Coast since leaving his East Coast hometown, finding a vibrant new community at UCLA where he pursued his dual passions in English and Gender Studies. His professors often praised his sharp intellect and unwavering dedication to his studies, qualities that were fueled by a deep-seated belief in social justice and equality. His love for literature spanned from the canonical works of Virginia Woolf and James Baldwin to contemporary voices like Roxane Gay and Audre Lorde, whose writings inspired his activism and shaped his worldview.

Outside of academia, Calvin was a prominent figure in UCLA’s LGBTQ+ community, serving proudly as the president of the Gay-Straight Alliance. Advocating for inclusivity and understanding, he dedicated himself to fostering a supportive environment where everyone could thrive. Music was another cornerstone of Calvin's life, his eclectic taste ranging from indie-pop sensations like Troye Sivan and Florence + the Machine to the introspective melodies of Sufjan Stevens.

Tonight, however, Calvin was eager to unwind and reconnect with friends over drinks in West Hollywood. Yet, unfamiliar with the labyrinthine streets, he found himself wandering off course as his phone battery dwindled. Spotting a promising glow ahead, he approached a lively bar, hoping for directions or at least a place to charge his phone.

Inside the dimly lit establishment, Calvin was greeted by the no-nonsense bartender who offered to charge his phone in exchange for staying to watch the comedy show and ordering a drink. Annoyed but realizing he had little choice, Calvin relented and requested a Vodka Cranberry, only to be met with a dismissive comment about "girly drinks." Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he opted for a whiskey neat, settling into a seat as the bartender tended to his phone.

As he sipped his drink, Calvin’s attention was drawn to the stage where the next comedian made his entrance. A tall, muscular figure with a rugged charm and a broad smile, the comedian commanded attention with his Southern drawl and easy charisma. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that radiated warmth and mischief in equal measure. Dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, he exuded a casual confidence that immediately intrigued Calvin.

The crowd erupted into laughter as the comedian launched into his set, weaving anecdotes with razor-sharp wit and a touch of raunchy humor.

As the comedian delved deeper into his set, Calvin's initial intrigue turned swiftly into dismay. What began as harmless humor quickly morphed into a barrage of misogynistic and homophobic jokes that cut through the air with a venomous edge. The crowd roared with laughter, but Calvin felt a sinking sensation in his gut. "Now, I ain't sayin' women are dumb," the comedian drawled, his voice carrying easily over the laughter of the audience. "But have you ever seen a woman try to fix a car? It's like watchin' a blindfolded chimpanzee try to play Jenga!"

He squirmed in his seat, hoping to finish his drink and leave before the comedian's offensive routine could infect his evening further. But as the laughter grew louder, a dull ache throbbed in Calvin's temples. It felt as though a heavy fog was descending upon his mind, slowing his thoughts and dulling his senses.

Amidst the uproar, the comedian's voice cut through the haze, singling out Calvin with a mocking tone. "Big guy over here knows what I'm talking about!" the comedian exclaimed, pointing directly at Calvin. The audience chuckled as Calvin, bewildered, tried to comprehend the comment. He wasn't particularly muscular; in fact, his frame was slender from years of dorm food and late-night study sessions.

As Calvin sat there, bewildered by the comedian's unexpected focus on him, he felt an unsettling surge of energy course through his body. It started subtly, like a tingling sensation in his fingertips, but quickly intensified into something more profound.

First, he noticed his arms. What were once slender limbs now pulsed with newfound strength. His biceps, previously unremarkable, swelled visibly under his sleeves, each muscle fiber standing out in stark relief. The transformation seemed surreal, as if his body were defying the boundaries of what he knew possible.

His stomach tightened next, a sensation akin to his abdomen being sculpted from within. Calvin could feel the muscles beneath his skin contracting and tightening, forming a defined washboard of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 distinct abs. They appeared with startling clarity, delineating a newfound athleticism that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Even his chest, once a featureless expanse, began to change. The fabric of his shirt stretched slightly as his pectoral muscles expanded, rising with newfound prominence. It was as though his entire torso was being reshaped, redefined into a physique that bore little resemblance to the Calvin of mere moments ago.

"Earth to meathead… earth to meathead," the comedian quipped, the audience erupting into laughter once more. The word 'meathead' echoed in Calvin's ears, his brain caught in a strange loop. His thoughts grew sluggish, as if encased in molasses, struggling to resist the comedian's words.

In that moment, Calvin's world seemed to shift. The audience's laughter blended into a distant hum, and the comedian's words resonated with an unsettling clarity. The room swirled around him as Calvin felt an inexplicable pull toward the stage, the comedian's charisma and authority casting a mesmerizing spell over his senses.

With each passing moment, Calvin's resistance waned. His mind, once sharp and critical, now dulled under the weight of the comedian's rhetoric. It was as though the jokes, laced with prejudice and disdain, were rewriting his perceptions, reshaping his reality.

As the comedian continued his routine, Calvin's gaze fixed on the stage, his expression slackening. The once vibrant grad student, advocate for social justice and equality, now sat transfixed, his identity slipping away like sand through his fingers.

As Calvin's physical transformation seemed to solidify, so too did the shift in his mental landscape. At first, there was a subtle fog creeping into his thoughts, blurring his once clear convictions and values. Laughter, loud and boisterous, erupted from his throat as the comedian spun crude jokes that would have previously repelled him. Calvin found himself guffawing at the very punchlines he would have condemned as offensive and insensitive.

The comedian, sensing a newfound ally in Calvin's transformed demeanor, launched into a tirade against what he mockingly termed the "liberal woke agenda." Panic seized Calvin momentarily; he knew this rhetoric contradicted everything he stood for. Yet, as the comedian continued his diatribe, Calvin felt an unsettling resonance with the words. The criticisms of political correctness and social justice initiatives began to make a twisted kind of sense in his altered state.

Slowly but surely, Calvin's mind underwent a profound metamorphosis. His once staunch progressive beliefs faded into the background, replaced by a growing skepticism and disdain for what he now saw as excessive sensitivity and moral righteousness. The comedian's words burrowed deep, reshaping Calvin's worldview with each passing moment.

He found himself nodding along to the comedian's rants, chuckling at the caricatured portrayal of "snowflakes" and "social justice warriors." The shift was disorienting yet strangely liberating, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Calvin's thoughts grew simpler, more black-and-white, aligning with the comedian's jabs at political correctness and cultural inclusivity.

The comedian paused for effect, his eyes scanning the audience before landing on Calvin. "You know what I hate about the woke agenda?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's all about being inclusive and accepting of everyone... except for straight white men! We're supposed to be ashamed of our skin color, our gender, and even our sexual orientation! Well, I say enough is enough!"

The crowd roared their approval as the comedian continued. "I don't care if you call me a bigot or a racist or whatever else you want," he said defiantly. "I was born this way - just like my love for country music and pickup trucks." He paused again, letting the tension build before delivering the punchline: "And if that makes me a bad person in your eyes? Well then... maybe it's time we stopped trying to force everyone into some politically correct mold!"

Calvin found himself nodding along once more, feeling a sense of camaraderie with this man who dared to speak truth against an oppressive cultural regime. The joke resonated deeply within him; it felt like validation for all those times he had been made to feel guilty or ashamed simply because of who he was.

When the comedian singled him out with a mocking jab— "Man, oh, man. I thought I was a douchebag, but you're loving it, meathead!"—Calvin barely registered the insult. Instead, he grunted in agreement, downing the remainder of his drink which had transformed into a beer, the amber liquid soothing his newfound sense of camaraderie with the comedian's perspective.

"Another one!" he hollered to the waitress, his voice carrying a newfound bravado. As the waitress returned with his drink, Calvin slouched comfortably in his seat, his once critical faculties now dulled by a haze of conformity to this new ideology. It felt easier to go along with the flow, to embrace the simplicity of the comedian's worldview rather than challenge it.

And so, amidst the laughter and applause of the crowd, Calvin Andrews—once a passionate advocate for social justice and equality—found himself transformed into something unrecognizable: a meathead, laughing heartily at jokes that once would have pierced his conscience, his mind now echoing with echoes of a worldview he never thought he would adopt.

As Calvin sat there, engulfed in the comedian's toxic rhetoric, the word 'douchebag' echoed incessantly through his brain. Each repetition seemed to reinforce a transformation that was unfolding before his very eyes. His thoughts grew muddled, his once sharp intellect now clouded by a burgeoning sense of entitlement and bravado.

Physically, Calvin felt a strange sensation ripple through him once more. His features seemed to shift subtly but unmistakably. His face hardened, acquiring a squared jawline adorned with a meticulously groomed chinstrap beard. His nose, once unassuming, grew slightly more pronounced, adding to the newfound aura of masculinity that seemed to radiate from him.

As his appearance morphed, so too did his sensibilities and personality. Calvin's hobbies and interests underwent a startling transformation. Gone were the days of poring over the works of Virginia Woolf or engaging in critical discourse on gender studies. The pursuit of knowledge and social justice gave way to a shallower existence, focused on more basic pleasures.

His academic aspirations shifted abruptly. No longer driven by a passion for literature and social change, Calvin found himself contemplating a business degree—a path he deemed more practical and financially rewarding. "College is just a stepping stone to better parties," he mused, a cynical smirk crossing his newly chiseled features.

His once eclectic taste in music narrowed to mainstream hits blaring from frat house speakers. The melodic musings of Troye Sivan and the introspective lyrics of Sufjan Stevens were replaced by pounding beats and lyrics devoid of substance but laden with machismo.

In conversations, Calvin now echoed the comedian's disdain for what he perceived as "liberal nonsense" and "PC culture run amok." His views on gender and sexuality grew rigid, laced with misogyny and homophobia that would have appalled his former self. He found himself making crude jokes and engaging in locker room banter, relishing the camaraderie of like-minded peers.

As Calvin's descent into this new identity deepened, he felt a strange satisfaction in his regression. The complexities of his former life seemed distant and irrelevant. He no longer remembered how to spell "Virginia Woolf," much less appreciate her literary genius. His vocabulary dwindled, replaced by a lexicon of bro-speak and corporate jargon.

But with each passing moment, the cacophony of his new life as a masculine conservative douchebag—grew stronger.

As the comedian's joke about his attraction to women resonated through the bar, Calvin felt a seismic shift within himself. It was as if a fog lifted, and suddenly, everything clicked: women were hot. This simple revelation seemed to rewrite the fabric of his existence.

In that moment, the pieces of his gay identity began to unravel. Memories of leading the Gay-Straight Alliance at UCLA, advocating for equality, and embracing his LGBTQ+ community faded like wisps of smoke. The vibrant nights out in West Hollywood, filled with laughter and solidarity, were replaced by scenes of testosterone-fueled football games and raucous frat parties.

Calvin's dorm room underwent a drastic transformation, shedding its previous décor of social justice posters and indie band artwork. In their place, posters of cheerleaders in provocative poses adorned the walls. The atmosphere shifted to one of hyper-masculinity, with empty beer cans littering the floor and the air thick with the scent of cheap cologne.

As Calvin struggled to reconcile this newfound identity, a name surfaced in his mind: Chaz Prescott. It was a name that embodied everything Calvin once scorned: arrogance, conservatism, and a relentless pursuit of female attention. Chaz was not just a new persona; he was a complete overhaul of Calvin's former self.

Chaz Prescott strutted confidently through the world, his speech peppered with crude jokes and objectifying remarks about women. He reveled in the attention of his fraternity brothers, engaging in locker room banter and boasting about conquests that existed more in his imagination than in reality.

Gone were the introspective moments and intellectual pursuits that once defined Calvin. Chaz scoffed at discussions of literature and philosophy, dismissing them as irrelevant to his pursuit of a business degree and the next weekend's party. His once sharp intellect dulled, replaced by a superficial charm and a penchant for shallow pleasures.

With each passing day, Calvin's transformation into Chaz Prescott seemed irreversible. The memories of his former life grew distant, replaced by a bravado that masked a deep-seated insecurity. He no longer questioned the comedian's crude jokes or the ideologies that once repulsed him; instead, he embraced them with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism.

As Chaz Prescott, he navigated a world where women were conquests to be won, and sensitivity was equated with weakness. The complexities of gender and sexuality were reduced to stereotypes and caricatures, and the vibrant spirit of Calvin Andrews faded into the shadows, a whisper of a past life that Chaz no longer recognized or acknowledged.

And so, amidst the laughter and approval of his new peers, Chaz Prescott—a creation born from a single joke—emerged as a symbol of everything Calvin had once rejected, a testament to the transformative power of identity and perception.

As the comedian wrapped up his set with a flourish of applause and laughter, the announcer's voice boomed through the venue: "Up next… you love him, you hate him… it's the king of the frat house… Chaz Prescott!" The name sent a jolt of recognition through the audience, eliciting cheers and whistles from those who knew the persona well.

Chaz, now fully embodying this brash and confident alter ego, flashed a cocky smirk to himself as he swaggered onto the stage. His presence commanded attention, exuding a blend of arrogance and charm that seemed to magnetize the room. Without missing a beat, he launched into the crudest, most provocative set of the night, each punchline hitting its mark with precision. "So, I was at this party the other night and I saw this girl wearing a 'Feminist' t-shirt. So, I went up to her and said 'Hey baby, is that an 'I heart dicks' shirt under there?' She got all mad and started yelling at me about how feminism isn't about objectifying women. And I just laughed and said 'Yeah, well you sure as hell aren't making it easy for us guys to respect you.'"

The audience erupted into stitches of laughter, hanging on Chaz's every word as he spun tales of exaggerated conquests and raunchy escapades. His delivery was impeccable, each joke laced with a raw energy that resonated with the frat house culture he now embraced. "But seriously folks, can you believe these woke snowflakes? They think they can come into our frat houses and try to change the way we think? Well let me tell ya something - we ain't going down without a fight! We are men! We like boobs! And beer! And sports!"

After his set, Chaz found himself surrounded by admirers, basking in the afterglow of his performance. Among them was a pretty blonde girl, her laughter still echoing from the front row. Chaz turned on the charm, flashing a smile that oozed confidence as he engaged her in conversation.

Gone was the introspective Calvin who once pondered the complexities of identity and social justice. In his place stood Chaz Prescott, a larger-than-life figure who reveled in the spotlight and thrived on the validation of his peers. As he bantered effortlessly with the blonde girl, Chaz felt a surge of adrenaline, reveling in the attention and adoration that came with his newfound persona.

Chaz couldn't help but notice the blonde girl's ample cleavage as she approached him. Her tits were like two perfect melons, begging to be squeezed and sucked on. He couldn't wait to get his hands on them, maybe even give her a little slap across those plump cheeks just to see if they jiggled.

As he engaged her in conversation, Chaz couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to teach this dumb feminist bitch what a real man was like. He imagined himself throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off into the night, fucking her brains out until she begged for mercy.

The girl was stunning - long blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders, big blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief, and lips painted red as cherries. She had an air of confidence about her that made Chaz want to take control even more. "So, what's your name?"

"I'm Lily."

Chaz just flashes his pearly whites "Well, Lily, I think it's time we got out of here. My frat is just down the street."

As they entered the frat house, Chaz couldn't help but feel a surge of power course through him. The room was filled with rowdy brothers, cheering and laughing as they watched on eagerly. He led Lily towards an empty pool table at one end of the room where several guys had already gathered around them.

"Alright boys," he shouted over their laughter,"This is my new friend Lily here - she wants us all to give her some pointers about how real men treat women!"

The room erupted into even louder cheers as several guys jumped up from their seats eagerly approaching them while others grabbed beers off nearby tables ready for whatever might happen next.

After a great set, there was nothing that made Chaz felt more powerful than ever. He loved the way his jokes made people laugh, but there was something even more satisfying about belittling fags and women. It made him feel like a real man - strong, dominant, in control. And nothing turned him on quite like that feeling of power coursing through him.

Without further ado, Chaz grabbed Lily by the waist and lifted her up onto the pool table. She squealed in surprise but didn't resist as he pushed her legs apart and positioned himself between them. He gripped her hips tightly, using them to control her movements as he thrust into her with forceful strokes that made the entire table shake beneath them.

As he looked down at Lily's big tits bouncing up and down with each thrust of his hips, Chaz couldn't help but grin devilishly. He gripped her hair tightly in one hand while using the other to slap her ass hard enough to leave a mark - all while maintaining his brutal pace on top of her.

The guys around them cheered him on, urging him to go harder and faster while they laughed at Lily's helpless moans of pleasure. It was clear that this wasn't about making love - it was about dominating a woman who had dared challenge their alpha male status.

[shibaraki]

BITE INHIBITION ┊ CHOSO

tags: GN reader, no curse au, human reader, vampire choso, bites (aphrodisiac effects), drinking of blood, creatures and monsters aren’t widely known, sexual tension, kissing, ambiguous relationship

wc: 1.3K

Above, you note that pinpricks of light are beginning to show behind rust-edged clouds as the sky darkens.

You inhale.

The hug of old houses act as sentries to the alleyway. A narrow space covered by a canopy of vivid neon signs, washing the darkened surroundings in a red-yellow glow. It’s crowded. There’s nothing unnatural about the scene in front of you, just everyday people gathered for drinks to wind down after work, and yet knowing what—and who—could be hiding amongst them has you on high alert.

You exhale. With resolve you begin to weave through the throngs of tipsy salarymen. They slur apologies and obscenities and stumble at your intrusion. Your eyes scan their flushed, slack faces, unsure what it is you expect to find there. Something fearsome and monstrous and unfamiliar.

“In here”.

Ice coils around your wrist. You yelp as you’re tugged aside and pulled through a pair of curtains hung across a dim-lit doorway. Immediately, as if stepping into an entirely different world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You land against a solid surface and start to squirm.

“Be calm. It’s me. Are you alright?”

Hushed and gentle, Choso’s breath puffs right against your ear. A plush lower lip brushes the delicate shell. You shiver, and in realising he is holding you to his chest, your heartbeat ricochets—blood rushes to the surface of your skin, heat slipping in the cracks between capillaries, and when his fingers dig deeper into your hip you know he can sense it.

“Yeah—I’m alright. Nobody followed me,” you reply, making no effort to extract yourself from him. “Give me some warning next time. Fucking hell”.

He kisses your temple in lieu of an apology.

Choso is deathly cold. You can feel it under his simple, loose clothing. Today he’s wearing a t-shirt with a low collar and dark jeans, fitted around his thighs and his ankles, paired with laced up heavy duty boots. Unfairly handsome. You know well enough that the absence of warmth has nothing to do with his lack of layers. And despite that absence, you burrow closer as though he were a hearth.

Choso tenses beneath your casual affection, hands intermittently flexing before he ultimately decides to keep you close while guiding you deeper into the building. This was not your usual meeting place. From what you can discern it is just another izakaya—or at the very least, it’s masquerading as one. The waitstaff doesn't so much as bat an eyelid at Choso as he whisks you through the main seating area to the few private rooms in the back.

“Are you sure it’s safe to do it here?”

There’s little detail about the small space but it is cosy. You’re pliant as you allow him to usher you in and recline you into the plush couch cushions. “Yes. We won’t be disturbed,” he says, tone needlessly quiet.

The air around you feels unusually charged today. Trepidation prickled at your nape. You observe while he perches beside you with a darting-rabbit expression and arch your brow. Loose strands of dark hair slip forward to frame a pale face. Paler than usual, a shard of moonlight. The black markings that extend over the bridge of his nose have begun to bleed outside the lines and his irises are ivory-red, thin bands around dilated pupils.

“Choso…” you murmur with realisation. You reach to touch him and he flinches, shaking under the effort of his restraint. Your fingers snaked into his hair, a tangle of silky, black strands. The long spill of it slips through your knuckles and back over his shoulders. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“There wasn’t any need,” Choso’s eyelids shutter, feline how he turns into the tender caress. “I have endured worse than this,” he replies.

“That hardly matters. You shouldn’t starve yourself. You’re shaking with it—”

Any further admonishment you might’ve had is immediately cloven to the back of your teeth as his nose bumps the heel of your hand. His lips part against your wrist and he inhales deeply. He groans. A crease forms in his brow, pinched in helpless desire.

“Not because I’m starving. Because of you,” he says. “I promised to pace myself with you but I needed…” there’s a sort of mindless drawl to his words. Lost in your scent, and in the healthy beat of your pulse. “Everything else tastes so dull in comparison”.

Arousal lances through you at the first sweep of his tongue. You press your thighs tight and he shudders, a soft whine pulled from his throat. “Choso,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” and you hear the true meaning behind it. It’s preemptive. It’s a warning.

Choso gives a chaste kiss to your wrist. Then his fangs are splitting open the skin there like soft fruit. His frame shuddered as he drew a deep gulp. The pain is fleeting, a sharp pierce that dwindles into muted pleasure. You slump as his larger body cages you against the cushions to suck and bite and take his fill of you.

Around you the room turns rosy, and then shadowed, and then dark. Your shallow breaths come faster and the tendrils of want curling low in your belly are stark. They thaw the ice spreading outward from your chest and keep you in a state of oscillating bliss. Choso hums, then huffs through his nose as a thin stream of blood leaks to the crook of your elbow. Tendon and sinew, you lazily watch him unlatch from the fount of your wrist to chase it with his tongue, laving a wet stripe up your forearm.

The markings on his face have receded. His lashes flutter, framing elderberry eyes. His lips are rouge, rough—rivulets have seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. It should scare you. Had it been anyone else it might’ve; yet you find him beautiful like this.

Though sensation is subsequently returning to your throbbing wound, the discomfort comes second to your need to have him closer. You cup the back of his head, too weak to apply any meaningful pressure, but that alone is enough for him to understand. Choso dips forward. He kisses you, wet and sticky with congealed blood. He sips at your mouth, firmly, but petal-soft as not to draw more blood.

You arch into him, trying desperately to display your enthusiasm while having none of the energy for it. Choso hums and lavishes you with a leisurely pace, licking past the seam of your lax lips before drawing back. At your plaintive whine he smiles, trailing fingertips over your chin.

You sigh as his thumb swipes the blood that is no doubt smeared across your skin, “Did you make a mess?”

“I made a mess,” he echoes fondly. Then his focus drifts to the closed door. “You should eat too”.

You follow his line of sight, remembering that there are people behind it, sharing meals of their own, none the wiser. Your head lolls against your shoulder, conceding. “Your turn to feed me,” you tell him.

His smile widens a fraction. Blood or no, the gleaming pride and self-satisfaction on his face makes Choso look eighteen and thirty six all at once while being close to neither.

“I’d love to”.

[carolmunson]

spin doctor | e.m. x reader

mini ficlet, eddie munson works at a record store. he’s a little snobby. sort of shy!reader if you squint? it’s the very late 90s.

tw: 18+ references to smut/virginity, all around meet-cute-ish.

The rain slaps off the top of your coffee cup and into your eyes while you take a sip, woefully regretting not bringing an umbrella because the weather man said it was only misting. This isn't mist, this is just under a downpour, the hood of your dad's old canvas jacket doing little to protect you from the rain while it darkens with each drop the green fabric absorbs. You stop at the corner, protecting yourself from the weather under the awning of a laundromat. Squinting up towards the overcast gray sky, you double check the cross streets, two more blocks and you'll make it there. There being the record store that you found in the yellow pages after you inherited your parent's record player in their latest attic clean out. Your dad was smart though, sold all of the records that were in mint condition to collecters -- which left you recordless and sort of at a loss of where to start now that they were only sold at specialty stores.

You hurry your way down the next two blocks, finally seeing the sign for VI Chord Records lit up across the street in buzzing red neon. You wait to cross, seeing the reflection of the light in the wet asphalt while the sky starts to darken. Winter easing in slow these days while the nights start to come quicker than expected.

The door jingles when you open it, two guys at the check out counter looking up breifly and then back to their conversation; the other patrons don't even look. You take a breath, happy that at least no one is paying attention. You've never been to a record store before -- bought music, sure; CDs and cassettes but never vinyl -- that was like an old people thing. But your dad couldn't stop going on and on about how music just sounds better when you listen to it like that; and to be fair a lot of your favorites from the 60s and 70s sounded flat on your Walkman. You were on the hunt for the authentic experience now, the real deal.

You start at the 'New Arrivals' bin, pulling down your hood and taking off your headphones to put in your nylon back pack while you search. You sip your coffee while your fingers flick, flick, flick through the sleeves, crunching on and over the plastic protective covering of each record. You don’t know who most of the artists are, names hidden in intricate artwork or vulgar close ups of tits and crotch. You laugh at a few under your breath.

You continue your search, going over to the K section to see if you can find Carole King’s Tapestry, only to be inundated with Kiss record after Kiss record. Kix, Krokus, Kick Axe — King nowhere in the bunch. You let out a soft sigh, eyes scanning the back wall over the guys heads at the check out counter. Guitars hang on the velvet wall paper, gleaming with a fresh sign with scribbles of signatures on them. You land over by the S section, fingers flick flick flicking again to run into Slayer, T’s taken over by Twisted Sister. You don’t even realize how much time has gone by until you take a sip of coffee and nothing is left.

“Can I help you find something?”

You jump, not expecting to head a disembodied voice by the back of your neck, “Huh?”

“You just seem like you’re not finding what you’re looking for, can I help?”

You turn while he asks, one of the guys from the counter who looks like he’s stuck somewhere in the 80s and his grunge phase. His hair is to his shoulders, wavy and cut into a shag that put your moms 70s hair do to shame. The slight stubble on his chin and cheeks stretches with his smile — customer service perfection, but only for pretty things like you.

His crosses his arms over his army green tee, matching your coat that’s nearly dry now. His tattooed arms bulge slightly in the stance, straining against the small sleeves. Your eyes focus on the guitar pick dangling in the center of his chest; suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

“Um,” you start, eyes flicking up to meet his brown ones — soft and eager, like he’s excited to talk to you. Your eyes scan down to the black and gray flannel tied around his narrow waist, falling limply over his dark wash worn jeans into combat boots.

“Uh,” you stutter for a second, trying to not to get caught up in this handsome stranger, “I’m sorta new to records. My dad just gave me his but he sold all his good stuff so um — starting from zero I guess.”

“Ooh, nice,” he grins, “So a virgin, huh?”

You sputter, “Well um — no but —”

“Vinyl virgin, sweetheart,” he winks, “Don’t worry. I don’t need to know the horny details.”

“So what were you trying to find today?” he asks, leaning against the stacked milk crates full to the brim at the center of the room, “We actually just got some solid rares in if you’re trying to start a good collection.”

“I just wanna listen to oldies,” you laugh.

He laughs too, it’s smoky and cool, “Nah, nah, I hear you. What kinda oldies like — early Black Sabbath or…?”

You bite your lower lip, “I was more thinking like um, Motown? The Temptations? Maybe some James Taylor. I was mostly trying to find The Flamingos single for —”

He laughs while you continue on but then realizes you aren’t joking, head coming back to center, “Oh you’re, you’re serious?”

You feel heat lick at your cheeks and chest, sweat slickly creeping on the top of your back, “Yeah I thought…it’s a record store so—”

“Not that kind, princess,” he shrugs, hands dropping to lean against the crates behind him, “We only sell hard rock and metal here for the most part. You could check the dollar bins for drop offs, we don’t really sort those.”

“Oh,” you nod, averting his gaze while you see the big bin in the corner labeled ‘Dollar Donations’.

“Yeah maybe you’ll find your doo-wop stuff in there or something,” his voice has a hint of teasing to it that makes your teeth grit.

“Are you like, shitting on me?” you ask shakily, kind of surprised this is actually happening to you. That this guys is legitimately being a jerk over wanting music that maybe he’s not into.

“No, no, no,” he urges, “No. I’m sorry, seriously. It’s just that we don’t really get people who come in here not looking for what we sell. We’re kinda well known for being a vintage metal store.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t know that so,” you shrug, defeated weighing down your shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he assures, sweet smile tugging his lips up to reveal deep dimples, “You’re a vinyl virgin, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” you roll your eyes, making your way to the bin while he follows behind you.

“Maybe if you tell me what kind of music you like now I can find a good one for you,” he offers, hand resting on his chest that’s covered in silver rings and chipped nail polish, “I’ve been told I make great recommendations.”

“I’ve been liking Blink-182 lately. Backstreet Boys on the other side of the coin,” you shrug, “And um, one of my friends has been trying to get me into Nine In Nails.”

“Now we’re talking,” he smiles, “There we go. Anything else? What’s the other older stuff you like?”

“Uh, um,” you shrug again, “Elton John? Eric Clapton?”

He nods again, “Okay, some of this stuff I can work with. What about uh, hmm, Fleetwood Mac? Sort of your vibe?”

You smile at him without meaning to, making him nearly stutter at the site, “Yeah, that’s sort of my vibe.”

“Alright,” he nods while he racks his brain for the perfect album to pick for you, “I think I got an idea of what to pull for you.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms with a smirk, “Fine. I hope it’s impressive.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grins cockily, “Never had anyone complain about me popping their cherry.”

“At least take a girl for a drink first,” you joke back, “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Eddie,” his hand extends out and you take it, his skin warm and slightly clammy at his never ending bumbling when talking to girls like you, “Happy to be taking your vinyl virginity today.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand slightly when you introduce yourself before letting go, “Be gentle, please. I’m new to this.”

“C’mon,” he cocks his head to the opposite wall by the ‘F’ section, “I got a lot to show you. We’ll go slow.”

He winks again; making you swallow hard. It might not have been where you meant go today, but it might have been exactly where you were meant to be.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— colder than my heart, if you can imagine

SUMMARY : you and soldier boy can’t seem to get along, but it may be because of something deeper than hatred or jealousy. 

PAIRING : soldier boy (ben) x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Payback

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), soldier boy cloak-hating, dirty talk

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : title from a day to remember’s song. this fills the square rivals AU on my @jacklesversebingo card. I know, no smut in the presence of soldier boy?! what?!! xx 

This was it.

This was where he belonged. Soldier Boy. In the field. Well, it was a forest.

But this was home to him. 

The sound of weapons firing, bullets hitting trees and leaves and dirt. Soldiers on both sides and his team were shouting in every direction. 

Thick smoke clouded his vision, coppery blood and gunpowder invaded his nose, and stale sweat filled the air to make it all better. 

He inhaled deeply as a group of poorly-armoured men headed in his direction, their guns were immediately pointed at him. He smirked and counted them in his head as he drew his gun from its holster with impressive speed.

Faster than he could pull the trigger, though, he watched you drop down from the sky like the fucking Devil getting cast out of Heaven. A loud boom shook the ground, the trees shook, dirt rose and shot outwards, and all the smoke ran from you. 

Your cloak snapped at him mockingly and he clenched his jaw, nearly broke his gun in half as you stole the fucking spotlight again.

There you fucking were, a neon sign that begged to be shot at. 

Ice cold sheets travelled in front of you as soon as you hit the ground, your knees bent in what he could only imagine was your graceful pose. 

Arrogant little shit.

The ice searched for warm bodies, freezing everyone in icy cocoons within fifty metres while you stood there in your brightly lit, colour changing suit, and your stupid fucking cape.

He’d heard of you. 

Winter’s Wrath. 

Unstable. Literally. As expected, with a name like that. 

He watched you jump upwards, three times the length of your body before you smashed back down and every pillar of ice that was once a person, shattered into nothing. The ice quickly melted in the summer of South America, as if those glacial shards could do so only with your permission. 

“I had that,” he grunted, stomping forward to get in front of your face. Your dark grey cloak was lit by delicate, fine wires of light that changed colour: red to orange to yellow to green to blue to violet, and finally to pink before going right back. 

“I’m just here to help,” you assured him softly. 

Your eyes met his, but it was like he was only a ghost to you. Your gaze was distant at first, then you blinked once in confusion, and finally focused on him. He realised quickly, you were just watching the lights of your armour change and brighten his face. 

Yup. There was something wrong with you in the head, at least that’s what the other Supes said about you. 

“Stay out of my way,” he warned, his voice nearly a deep growl as he stood in your personal space. You considered his words with a blank face and he huffed out a breath of irritation when you stared at him for a good minute. Then, he stepped away and walked forward to rendezvous with his team. 

He heard the soft press of your feet against mud and the quiet ruffle of your cloak before he heard the gentleness of your unused voice. 

“Can’t,” you said more playfully, “I’m part of your team for this mission.” 

It’s like you knew he wanted anything but that. Someone that would outshine, outperform, and outdo him. He hated it. Everyone was already terrified of you. But he especially hated the colourful lights that followed you and the stupid sound of your cloak whipping your armour as you walked. 

“Got a problem with that, Ben?” You asked when you started to match his pace. He stopped to answer and expected you to do so, too, to listen to him like everyone else always did. Instead, you continued to walk forward while he remained behind you. He growled softly when you passed him and told him, “talk to Stan Edgar.”

He couldn't wait for them to put you back on ice. Preserved. Asleep. Like you always ended up after being awake any longer than a month.

For whatever reason.

“For three years, the CIA and the DEA have been trying to bring down Victor Santiago,” you heard over your ear piece. 

You spaced out as you admired the green of the Ecuadorian forest. A smile tugged at your lips as you breathed in the fresh air of untouched atmosphere, petrichor, wood. Leaves kissed each other, branches bent to touch their companions with quiet creaks, and animals sang their songs of peace and joy. 

Finally away from the city. 

“Santiago got his hands on sensitive Vought information. You’re here to keep Vought’s secrets safe from whatever Santiago has planned. Push into the forest, find his base, and take him out.”

It didn’t take long for you to remember that you weren’t actually alone. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” Tessa complained, mostly to her twin brother. 

“And all this fuckin’ leather doesn’t make it better,” Tommy agreed. You heard him stretch the leather away from his body and snap back at his skin when he got enough fresh air in. 

You rolled your eyes at them and instantly smelt the irritating stench of cigarettes from Soldier Boy. He made his way next to you and took a deep long drag that turned the butt of the cigarette red before releasing the smoke from his lungs in front of him like a damned smoke grenade went off. 

Leave it to the assholes in Payback to ruin what would have otherwise been a great time. 

“All right, fuckheads,” Soldier Boy started, walking a few feet in front of you as he adjusted his shield. “You know what to fuckin’ do and don’t forget…” He turned around and locked eyes with you—even pointed accusingly at you. “…Victor’s mine.” 

You bit your lip to hide your smug smirk, but settled for a fake cough as ideas to ruin his day swarmed through your mind. 

He ventured deep into the forest with Payback spread out to cover more land. 

He could still hear the buzz of Swatto’s wings on his left and caught glimpses of the Crimson Countess a few feet away to his right. 

But most importantly, you were off elsewhere, somewhere he couldn’t see. 

He didn’t want to see you or even feel the coldness of your existence near him. 

He’d had enough of the way everyone seemed to be drawn to you because of your abilities. His team, Stan Edgar, other Supes, and people who wrote articles about you—practically worshipped you. 

He could always control his team and keep them beneath him, within the shadow of the name he built for himself through Vought. But you were impossible to tame, like a blizzard. You froze everyone so they could only stare in awe at you, even himself. And he hated every second that you captivated him, caught up in your powerful presence. 

But it was inevitable. You were inevitable.

No matter how big the forest was, he’d converge with you one way or another as you and his team made it to Victor’s compound around the same time.

But you made sure it was clear that you were there first. 

He felt the ground shake and a gust of cold wind bit his cheeks when he entered to find the enemy forces that you came across completely frozen.

He knew you were doing it on purpose, leaving their fully frozen bodies untouched for him to finish off. He wasn’t going to play that game with you.

He ignored the call for his name and the red sphere from Crimson Countess that shattered the bodies when Ben hurried to catch up with you instead. 

He joined you when you came to an entrance where the guard stood, he could feel you start up again. The coldness of you beat down the heat of him, an ice pack to a swollen joint. He might literally become nothing if you climbed your way up above him.

You left the guard beaten, out of his mind in pain, and focused your attention on freezing the door until it burst open. He shot the guard carelessly between the eyes, his fiery gaze burned into you, but you were unphased.

You turned to face him, your lashes fluttering prettily at him. Smug. Challenging.

If he didn’t hate you, he might’ve liked the way you looked at him. 

But you left him standing at the entrance, looking over your shoulder with a tiny smile on your lips as you came near to a new, massive space with shipping containers and an infantry of what were most-likely henchmen.

There you went again.

Delicate. Elegant. But so irritatingly powerful. 

You took most of them out with the wrathful frost of your abilities. A fresh skiff of snow fell to the ground, on his armour, on his warm skin. He felt the shiver run up his spine but he ignored it to keep up with you. 

That’s when his team finally caught up and it gave you a chance to leave the remaining henchmen to Payback. It was still a race to you, the childish game you were playing annoyed him, but it provoked him into playing along to prove he was the best. He ignored his struggling team and stayed a step behind you as you made it to an old elevator where a small group of goons attempted to escape.

He grunted as he was shot at and punched. He staved off a few attacks with his shield, he punched at whoever got in his way, stabbed at whoever tried to stab him first, and finally was able to reload his gun while he watched you hold the elevator in place.

He joined you once he killed the last few henchmen and helped you drag the elevator all the way down. The thick wires creaked and snapped and blazed at the force of his pull. 

Your laughter distracted him momentarily. Your hood fell back and your soft hair swept over your flushed face when you leaned down towards the three men. You dragged the two of them out by their ankles with a playful grin.

Their attempts to shoot you were futile, the bullets fell from your body like rubber hitting metal. You still kicked away their weapons and pressed your boot into one of the men’s neck. Ben killed the other two as you began questioning the squirming, fearful man.

“Where’s Victor?” You loosened the force of your foot on his neck and the man gripped the bottom of your boot for a proper breath. 

“Come on, fuckface,” Ben urged impatiently, “answer the lady or you’ll end up like these guys.” The man hesitated and considered you and then him. You looked indifferent and cold and Ben looked furious and hotheaded. 

The man conceded with a vehement nod. “T-There's a base underneath.. That's w-where you'll find V-Victor.” 

Ben watched you release him entirely and you went to help the man up, but Ben shot him—casually. The man’s fingers grazed yours and he flopped back down in a pool of his brains and blood. 

You turned to glare at him.

“Yeah?” Ben rolled his eyes at you. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“He gave us the information,” he shrugged, then made his way to the elevator with you close behind him for the first time since the mission started. 

“It’s not gonna be an easy path leading up to Victor, Ben,” you berated him. He rolled his eyes at you again and pounded the button on the wall with a fist to take you both to the lowest level. “He could’ve made it easier for us.”

“Well, since it bothers you so much, I give less of a fuck than I did before.” You scoffed at him and your jaw clenched. He smirked at your reaction and reloaded his gun to be fully prepared for the next fight. “I don’t think we’ve ever been together in such a small space for this long before,” he pointed out hotly and stepped closer. 

He really didn’t like you, but damn you were hot. Your ass looked so damned tight in your irritatingly light-y suit. He really wanted a piece of you, maybe, especially because you frustrated him. 

Your eyes narrowed at his tone. You looked up at him boredly. “That's because I don’t like you.”

“No?” 

“Yeah, no.” 

“I could make you cum like all your ice went through a fuckin’ heatwave.” He watched your eyes drift away as you pondered his words, your cheeks suddenly frosted with pink. He bit his lip at your reaction.

But the elevator shook as it stopped, landing on the floor where Victor would be. And you were out of there before he could add more to his offer. 

You continued to push through more loyal soldiers, making your way deeper inside. He helped you navigate several hallways and eliminate more enemies. You both split up again, but you always ended up at a nexus point, a hallway that led to a dead end up ahead.

He watched you go into a hallway across from him, but when he emerged from his, you didn’t meet him at the centre. 

He knew you must have found Victor. 

He swore angrily under his breath and stomped into the hallway you’d disappeared into. The lights flickered above him, there was a frozen path you’d created leading into the room he assumed you were in. 

He didn’t expect it, but you kept Victor practically untouched—he just didn’t know why. His feet frozen to the ground, there were no weapons near him. You were sitting on top of a desk, a frozen dagger began melting with warm blood in the head of Victor’s right-hand-man.

He looked away from them, away from Victor with a patch of ice over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his voice. You bit your lip and gazed up at him seductively when he contemplated you with wary eyes.

“Truce?” 

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[hobiebrownbrowser]

Date Night

Hobie Brown x FEM!Reader 💜

Summary: Hobie takes you out on a date, A small skating ring tucked away in the crevice of a tall building inside a pub.

It was late at night. The bright lights of the city shining through your window. It was around 11PM. The sound of cars driving past your window as you play some soothing music, Scrolling through your phone to spot something that would clear your everlasting boredom.

You eventually gave up, Letting out a sigh and tossing your phone on the bed. It was a quiet foggy night. Cold air seeping through the crack in your window. You poked your head out, memorized by the stars that lit up the night sky.

You couldn't help but close your eyes, Listening to the music that played from your speaker that was tucked away on your desk, Tapping your finger against the cold window headboard. Not having to deal with any kind of problems tonight.

"Pretty lil thang aren't ya?" You look up a bit startled. A smile soon beaming on your face as a certain punk spider makes his way down towards you. It was Hobie, Hobie Brown that is. The famous punk who happened to also be your boyfriend.

"Only for you Hobs~" Hobie took off his mask, placing his scarred calloused lips on your soft ones, His lip piercing clinging against your teeth. You pulled him closer, a chuckle leaving his throat as he slowly pulled away.

"Seem' like someone's been missin me." You smiled, Opening your window wider for him, Letting the tall 6ft man climb through. You took time staring at his gorgeous eyes. The same smug smirk still plastered on his lips.

You couldn't help but return the look, Placing a peck on his chin. Hobie wrapped his arms around your waist, turning you around until you were face to face with a wide opened window.

You looked up at him a bit confused. A cheeky grin on his face as he tells you to get ready for a special night. You wanted to know where he was taking you but he kept quiet, Teasing out a few hints but you were still stomped. You eventually gave up trying to get it out of him, Looking through your closet to see what you had.

You ended up just picking out something random. Hobie putting a thumbs up even if he wasn't looking directly at you. You rolled your eyes, a chuckle coming out after. You got dressed, Hobie making a few quick glances before you'd caught him staring.

"Like what you see baby?" Hobie raised his brow, grabbing your hand and twirling you around so he could get a good look at you. You could hear him agreeing before a gasp left your lips. The palm of his hand making contact with your ass.

"Yea I do actually luv~" You playfully punched him in the arm, getting the rest of your things and letting Hobie take the lead out the window, Taking your hand in his as he waits for you to get a firm grasp onto his vest, Intertwining your legs with his.

"Ready beautiful?" You nodded, a gust of wind hitting your face as he swings above the alarming city. You leaned in on his shoulder, clinging onto him until his feet had hit the ground. You slowly peeked around, A purple neon sign catching your eyes as Hobie leads you down a small stairway tucked in a back alley.

He swings the door open and steps aside, Dozens of people skating with loved-ones. Genuinely having a good time. You gave Hobie a questioning look that was replaced with laughter, Letting him lead you inside and towards a small bar in the corner.

"Ayo, what up young chap!" The bartender greeted Hobie with a handshake. Hobie returning the favor by giving him a high five.

"This my gal I've been talkin' bout. She the sweetest person I've eva met." You shyly wave, the bartender greeting you with a salute before handing Hobie a few drinks he ordered. You take a small sip, your mouth curling as he'd ordered tequila.

"Too strong luv? I can get sum' else for ya." You shook your head, swallowing the tequila like it was nothing. He praised you for your brave actions, Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You couldn't help but feel flustered.

He smirked, placing a finger under your chin and pulling you closer to him. You hummed as you can taste the bourbon on his tongue. Wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to get as close as possible to him. You whined once he pulled away, chugging the rest of his drink down before leading you to the skating course.

Hobie helped you put on your skates, slowly leading you to the ring. He immediately wraps his arms around you, Matching his rhythm was easy, placing your head against his chest as you both let the music tingle your ears.

You could feel the alcohol starting to kick in, Closing your eyes and letting the man you love lead you anywhere. Shivers sent down your spine as he praised you every now and then.

You could feel your body temperature rising, The feeling of his hands touching your body going straight to your arousal. You intertwined your fingers, looking in his eyes. You were practically pleading for him to touch you. His hands wondering towards your hips, caressing them.

He could feel how desperate you were, Your back arching away from his chest as you purposely grind your hips. One of his hands in your back pocket while the other rested on your abdomen.

"You alr' luv?" He whispers softly. Occasionally biting the top of your earlobe to bring you back from euphoria. Your body burning as his hand glides down towards your thighs.

You wanted him, Watching as he squeezed your thigh in his large palm, The clothes blocking him from touching your skin fully. You gasped as he slid his hand across your chest, Teasing the sensitive buds under your shirt.

"Hobie..." You could feel his chest heaving, The song slowly coming to an end. Hobie leading you off the skate ring and towards a door that was tucked behind the bar, The music being cut off once you both were inside, Hobie locking it behind himself.

Moans escaping your lips as he pressed you up against the wall, Showering your neck in kisses. Your lips quivering as he gently pulls on them. You plead out his name again, His hands roaming under your shirt until his palms made contact with your breasts.

Your body trembling under his touch once he pinched your nipples between his fingers. You wrapped your legs around his waist, Feeling his cock twitch underneath you. You clasped your finger on the rim of his belt, wanting him to desperately take them off.

You wanted nothing else but his cock buried inside of you, Shimmering out of your undergarments until they rested on your ankle. A shaky sigh leaving you once he trails his fingers inside your mouth. You cry out as he spreads your folds, Pushing a finger inside of you before adding another.

Incoherent mumbles falling from your lips as he teased your clit with his thumb. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of charred wood and bourbon coming into contact with your nostrils, Your arousal seeping down your thighs.

You whined from loss, Hobie pulling his fingers out and hosting your body up. His cock catching your eyes before he pushed himself inside of you.

You cry out in pleasure, Wrapping your arms around his neck. He whispered how good you were for him, your legs trembling as he devours your body.

Your cried drowning out the muffled music from outside, Every thrust making your body grow weaker. You begged Hobie to go deeper. His chest putting pressure onto yours. Your arousal coating his cock, Your mind in a complete daze, His groans getting louder every second that's passed.

You tightened your grip, Your moans turning into high pitched squeals as you cum all over his cock, so fucked out of it until you were seeing stars. Hobie's orgasm sending you over the edge as you scream out his name.

Hobie gently placed you down, Making sure you don't slip or fall. He kissed your temple, Showering your face in kisses. He waited for you to calm down, Cooing you out of your fucked state before picking you up bridal style and leaving out of the bathroom.

Your sweaty body shivering as the cold air pierces your skin. You slowly come back from your senses, Still a bit cock drunk from what just happened. You watched as Hobie took off your skates, To worked up to say anything.

You both finally looked at each other. Lovable smiles on both of your faces as he takes you home for tonight. Hand in hand as you both decided to walk.

"So how was it?" You looked at him, narrowing your eyes with gleaming eyes. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to reward him with such praise.

"I had fun tonight.." You look away clearly flustered, Hobie placing a kiss on your cheek before hosting you back up towards your apartment room. You bit your lip, not wanting to leave his side just yet.

"Please stay with me Hobie.." All he had to do was say yes, His brow arching slightly before climbing in the window and closing it behind him. He laid down on your soft comforter, Patting his lap for you to come closer.

You happily obliged, Sitting between his legs. His eyes softened once he got a closer look at you, Pulling you closer by your hand until you sat on top of him. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, His hands caressing your hips as he closed his eyes.

You placed a hand on his chest, Gliding your finger across the scars that were on his stomach, Placing one last kiss on his lips for a good night's sleep before putting on some pajamas and climbing by to his side.

"Goodnight Honeybun~" You placed a kiss on his forehead before following suit. Closing your eyes as you lay down on his bare chest.

Damn I write a lot. Hope y'all enjoyed lol

[k0juki]

You don't wanna dance?

vampire hunter!Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader au!

Warnings: mentions of drugs and killing but it's just a mention!

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also picture is not mine! Credit goes to the owner! Request are open!

More posts here! I'm gonna make it a little series.

Words: over 2k.

---

For the last couple of centuries, I spent my importantly traveling and hiding from vampire hunters. They almost killed all mine kind and because of that, vampires have become mere legends and myths.

A lot of them died, but others learned how to survive. Most of young vampires stayed in groups with others, more older vampires. Who protect them.

And in the heart of the loud city, where cobblestone streets echoed with human laughter, stood a lone figure cloaked in shadows. It was Lando.

Lando is a renowned vampire hunter, prowling the night with purpose, his senses honed to detect even the faintest trace of the undead. He always knew what he had to do. What is his purpose in this world. And mostly, he knew where to look for his prey.

They always hide in places like this, with loud music and a lot of people that spend all their money on doubtful drugs that get them killed.

Places like night clubs and bars are no stranger to Lando, and if he wasn't tangled up in this kind of job, he would have joined everyone there and enjoyed his young life with pretty women and one night stands.

"It's always clubs, never the quiet, relaxing places." Lando sighed and stepped inside. Saint and Sinners, an amazing name for a club. The air was a lot heavier and smoke from cigarettes could be smelled. A perfect place for vampires.

Amidst the pulsating rhythm of the club, neon lights danced and shadows whispered secrets in dark corners, the vampires were here, he was sure of it. Lando stood like a solitary sentinel, his gaze sweeping the crowded dance floor with practiced vigilance.

He's from a family full of vampire hunters and as a seasoned vampire hunter, he was no stranger to the dark allure of the night, but this night would test his resolve in ways he could never have imagined.

Across the smoky haze of the dimly lit room, his eyes locked on one woman whose back was towards him. Her hair was moving around as she danced carelessly. But then it was like something had stopped her.

As she turned around and her eyes locked with his, it was like when time stops. Who is she? What a girl like her is doing here? Surely she wasn't here for some drugs, she isn't this type of girl. And when you live long enough, you start to recognise the same people in different bodies but with the same intrigues.

She knew who he was the moment she saw him, only a fool wouldn't know who he is, but she wanted to know what he was doing here. She decided to move towards him with an ethereal grace, her every step a was grace and allure that she knew that drew him in like a moth to flame.

That woman is Y/n, a vampire whose beauty defies description, her eyes like pools of liquid moonlight that held him captive with their magnetic gaze. Despite the danger she posed, Lando found himself unable to tear his gaze away, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of fear and fascination.

As the music pulsed through the air like a heartbeat, Lando felt the pull that drew him ever closer to her, like two stars destined to collide in the vast expanse of the night sky. With each passing moment, the distance between them narrowed until they stood mere inches apart, the air thick with anticipation.

"Who are you?" Lando's voice was barely a whisper, lost amidst the cacophony of the club around them.

Y/n's lips curled into a seductive smile, her voice a melody that sent shivers down his spine.

"I could ask you the same thing, handsome stranger." She replied, her tone playful yet tinged with a hint of danger. "But I think we both know the answer to that."

Lando felt a surge of heat rush through him at her proximity, his senses overwhelmed by the heady scent of her icy perfume and the electricity that crackled between them.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Y/n's smile widened, her gaze never wavering from his. "What do you think I want?" she teased, her words laced with a hint of danger.

She stepped closer to him and said "Isn't it obvious? I wanna dance." She whispered in his left ear and wrapped her arms around his neck. Inhaling his scent that filled her lungs, she felt as he put his hands on her hips.

His cold rings burned against her soft, yet cold skin, but his hands were so much warmer. She knew that she will lose control, but he smelled so godamn good.

"Dance? Is that what you want?" He thought that was a strange request, so he couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, you're at the night club and you don't want to dance?" She started to pull away, but he was quick to take her back in.

"No, no, I just…I don't know you, you know? How could I trust you?" He still wasn't sure if she was a vampire, but vampires are known for how they can manipulate you into things you would even dream about. And he felt like she could be one of them.

"Hmm…you're right, we don't know each other so well," she spoke "and you're right, you can't trust nobody" and completely pulled away from him and stepped back, so he couldn't grab her like last time.

"Maybe it's better if it's stay like that." She answered somehow coldly, she wanted to vanish into a crowd of dancing bodies when she felt his hand grasp her wrist.

Turning to look at him, she was about to say something, but he beamed her with "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry." He felt the cold skin in his hand and decided if his theory of her being that mystical creature was true.

Y/n wasn't stupid. She knew he was a very dangerous man and that she shouldn't be playing around with him, but because she knew who he really was, she thought it could be fun to mess with him a little and play along with her being just a tipsy little girl that has a little drunk crush on him.

"It's alright. Let's just dance, yeah?" She asked and he just nodded with a smile on his face. She tugged him more into the dance floor and gosh, he was beautiful, with his green eyes that had sparks in them, his curly hair that was so soft to touch and with that gorgeous smile, he was just amazing.

"So" She started, breaking their silence.

"So?"

"So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Curious little thing she is. Always needs to know all the answers. And you know what they say, curiosity killed a cat. But, well, she was already dead, so she couldn't care less though.

"I could have asked you the same thing?" He wasn't going to tell her that he's here because of her kind. That he's going to kill her if she is something that he thinks she is, no, he knows it.

"Yeah, but I asked first."

"I'm looking for someone." He stated after a few seconds. His green eyes looked around the club and then back to her.

"For who?"

"I don't know yet," he started "but I think it could be you." He wasn't so smooth about it at all and took her back in his hold.

She knew what he meant by it and he knew it was her that he was looking for, but she just smiled at him and pulled him closer by the collar of his white shirt that had a few open buttons down.

"Yeah? And how do you know it's me you are looking for?" She chuckled, maybe because she knew he couldn't do anything to hurt her. There was too many people and other vampires that were watching them in dark corners and if he even tried something, she could end him by just snapping fingers. That's how powerful she really is.

He didn't say anything, he just looked at her and as they danced together in the dimly lit room, Lando found himself drawn deeper into this woman's web of temptation, his every instinct screaming at him to flee, even as his heart urged him to stay.

"You know I can't stay here" he whispered, "stay here with you." His voice barely audible above the din of the club. It was something about her that just took him in and he knew he had to leave or else things could get bad.

Y/n's eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability passing across her features, strange. "I know," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the moment while it lasts."

He was mesmerized by her. She wasn't just an ordinary vampire, no, he was pretty sure that she is one of the vampires that lives so long because they live in clans, with other, more older and wiser vampires.

This could be his chance.

His chance to get closer to her and her vampire family. To kill them. To kill all the remaining vampires like he promised to do, because that's his job. His purpose.

But each of them, was playing their own dangerous game.

"I'm Lando, by the way." He introduced himself with his British accent. "Lando Norris."

As Lando extended his hand towards her, Y/n's eyes sparkled with mischief, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She knew the game he was playing.

"It's nice to meet you Lando," she answered "but unfortunately for you, I already know your name." Her smile was getting bigger and that sweet playfulness was now becoming a little less and less funny.

That made him stop. She knew him? How does she know him? They had never met before, did they? Confusion could be seen on his pretty face and she loved every second of it. She lives for it.

"You really think I'm this stupid?" She said as laughter left her mouth. The music swelled around them and Lando leaned in closer to that pale woman, his voice a low murmur against her ear.

"How? How do you know my name then?"

"I had hanky-panky with your father too," she pointed out back in his left ear, "and with your grandfather as well and so on...you are all very similar.”

Lando said nothing. He just stood there like a fool. Who was this woman? Was she really this old vampire that knew his family members better than he did himself?

"Your family is notorious for hunting my kind Lando. You really think I wouldn't know you? Or your family?" She teased, her voice a soft melody that sent shivers down his spine.

And he knew that he should be afraid. He was in the lair of vampires. He had every right to be afraid. But then again, he needed to know her. Her true identity and what she is capable of, if she is a threat.

"You won't tell me your name?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "I haven't decided." Y/n liked to play hard to get. It was in her nature.

“You want to know my name hunter?” she felt his hands tighten on her hips and how he started to rub his thumbs up and down.

“Yes, of course I do.” What was he doing? He should have left and not be asking for her name. And definitely not holding her close to him.

“It's Y/n”

It's Simple, but effective. He liked that name, he liked her. She had this something inside of her, that he hasn't seen in everyone else. Something special.

As the music continued to pulse through the club and the crowd swirled around them, Y/n suddenly pulled away from Lando's soft grasp, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor, bewildered and disoriented.

"Well...I guess i will see you around, Lando"

For a moment, Lando stood frozen in place, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched that strange vampire woman disappear into the sea of dancing bodies.

He felt a surge of panic rising within him, a sense of vulnerability he hadn't felt in years. "Wait!" he called out, his voice lost in the loud music of the club around him.

But she was gone, vanished into the dark club without a trace, leaving Lando to wonder if their encounter had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. No, no, she was real. She has to be real, she knew his family, she knew him.

As he stood there, alone in the dimly lit club, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within. He had been so sure of himself, so confident in his abilities as a hunter, but now he felt lost and adrift in a world he no longer recognized.

With a heavy heart, Lando turned and made his way towards the exit, the sounds of the club fading into the background as he stepped out into the cool night air. He felt like he could finally breathe again.

As he disappeared into the darkness, he couldn't help but wonder, if he would ever see that woman again, or if she had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion in the night.

—

Do you want a part 2? Or just some blurbs, imagines, etc. from this au?...write me!🩷

Don't copy or translate my work!

[vernons-girl]

what about like your in the car with mingyu at midnight, your just friends but a storm hits and the roads are closed so you go at the nearest motel to stay the night but they only have ONE BEDDDD(suggestive but no smut?)

a blessing in disguise | kim mingyu

fluff, suggestive? (making out and heavy petting),w.c:1k6

a/n: i'm living for the only one bed trope omggg!! i hope you like it <3 (also tumblr literally wouldn't let me post this so please give it lots of love hehe)

You and Mingyu were on one of your usual midnight drives, as the both of you often had clashing schedules, random night drives were the only way for you guys to meet up in the middle of your hectic schedules.

You guys were chatting, laughing, singing along to the music coming from the speakers, all in all, everything was doing great.

Until it started raining. Hard.

The rain pelted against the windshield as Mingyu navigated the car through the deserted roads. Midnight had long passed, and the world outside seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber. Inside the car, however, a tense silence hung thick between you two.

"We should probably turn back," you suggested, glancing nervously at the storm brewing outside.

Mingyu shook his head, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "No way, we've only been out for what? Like 30 minutes? Besides, the storm will pass soon." Mingyu tried to convince you.

You nodded, though you felt a little uneasy. You had agreed to this late-night drive under the guise of friendship, but lately, something had shifted between you two, at least that’s what you felt. Mingyu's laughter seemed to linger a little longer, and you found yourself stealing glances at his figure more often than before.

As if on cue, lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that seemed to shake the very ground they drove on. The car swerved slightly, and Mingyu cursed under his breath, his knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel so tightly.

"We should at least find somewhere to wait until the storm calms down" you suggested, voice barely audible over the storm.

Mingyu nodded, his expression grim. "There's a motel up ahead. We can wait out the storm there."

The motel appeared out of the darkness, its neon sign flickering ominously in the rain. Mingyu pulled into the parking lot, the tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement. As rushed inside while he held a jacket over you guys’ head to protect you from getting too drench before seeking refuge from the tempest.

The receptionist eyed the two of you warily as you approached, water dripping from their soaked clothes onto the linoleum floor, the jacket had not been that useful, you thought.

"Um, good evening. We.. We need a room," Mingyu said, his voice urgent, handing out his card without a second thought.

The receptionist nodded, handing him a key without a word after handing him back his card. "Room 12," she said, gesturing towards the stairs.

You followed Mingyu up the creaky staircase. The air between you two crackled with tension as you reached the door to your room. Mingyu hesitated for a moment and looked back at you before unlocking it, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway.

The room was small and dimly lit, with a single bed dominating the space. Mingyu cursed under his breath, running a hand through his damp hair. "Looks like we'll have to share," he said, avoiding your gaze.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending the night in such close proximity to Mingyu. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach.

“You should go take a shower. Warm yourself up. We’ll have to put our clothes to dry too.” he said.

“Mh, yeah. Right.” you replied, heading to the small ensuite bathroom before jumping into the shower, the hot water almost burning your freezing skin.

Mingyu had taken off his clothes and hung them on a chair to dry, sitting on the bed, waiting for his turn in the bathroom.

After a few minutes, you finally stepped out of the shower and slipped your underwear back on as it was the only thing dry enough to be considered wearable.

You came out of the bathroom holding the towel tightly against your body, only to be welcomed by a half-naked Mingyu. You gulped.

“Your turn,” you simply said, “there’s another towel on the sink.” you added, feeling your face heat up at the unusual scene happening.

“There’s another chair for your clothes.” Mingyu said before standing up, his shoulder brushing against your arm as he stepped into the bathroom to shower.

After putting your clothes to dry, you slipped under the covers since it was so cold in the room.

You could still hear the rain hitting the window and the wind whistling as you waited for Mingyu to come back.

You closed your eyes, trying not to overthink the situation too much, the click of the bathroom door startled you out of your attempt as you caught a glimpse of Mingyu’s body in the doorway, the light behind him darkening his silhouette that was ever so perfect.

He wasted no time in lying down on the bed, over the covers.

“What are you doing ?” you asked “Aren’t you cold?” you questioned upon seeing him slightly shake.

“Yeah but, you know,” he started “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being under the covers with you.” he finally admitted.

Gosh why did he have to be such a gentleman? Your heart swelled at his word before you urged him to get under there before he could die of hypothermia.

You two laid on your backs, trying to keep as much as a distance between your bodies.

Nothing could be heard aside from the storm that was still raging outside.

As the minutes ticked by in the dimly lit room, the tension between you and Mingyu seemed to thicken with each passing second. The storm outside showed no signs of abating, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. Despite the awkwardness, there was a strange sense of intimacy in the air, as if the storm had brought forth an unspoken understanding between you.

Mingyu shifted slightly beside you, his warmth seeping through the covers and mingling with yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, tempting you to inch closer, to seek solace in his embrace. But you hesitated, unsure of where these newfound feelings would lead.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Mingyu spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen."

You turned to look at him, confusion etched into your features. "What do you mean?"

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I mean... I didn't plan for us to end up in this situation. Alone. In a motel room. With only one bed."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, the implications of his confession sinking in. "I know," you murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "But what are we supposed to do now?" you asked rhetorically.

The back of his warm hand lightly brushed against yours as Mingyu hesitated for a moment before reaching out to gently take a hold of it, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I don't know about you, but... I can't ignore how I feel anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat at his declaration, the words you had been too afraid to say out loud hanging heavy in the air between you.

You turned on your side, facing him with your hand remaining in his before he did the same, your gaze now locked despite the darkness of the room.

His other hand reached out from under the covers to cup your face in his palm.

"I've been trying to fight it, but I can't deny how much I care about you," Mingyu confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Being stuck here like this, it's made me realize that I don't want to hide my feelings anymore."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to his words, feeling a rush of emotions flood through you. "Mingyu, I... I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

He leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

You reached out, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. The electricity between you was palpable as you melted into each other, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as you shared a moment of deep intimacy.

He leaned into the kiss, pulling you closer to him by your waist, his touch hot against the expanse of your skin.

As the kiss deepened, all the pent-up emotions and desires came rushing to the surface. Mingyu's lips moved with a hunger that mirrored your own, his hands roaming over your body with a gentle urgency. The world outside seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of being with him.

With each touch, each caress, the barrier between friendship and something more dissolved until there was nothing left but the raw, unbridled passion that simmered between you two. Mingyu's fingers traced patterns along your skin, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

You found yourself tangled in the sheets, your bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Mingyu's breath mingled with yours, his heartbeat echoing the rhythm of your own as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming tide of emotion that swept over you both.

The intensity of the moment seemed to drown out the sound of the wind and rain, leaving only the sound of your beating hearts.

After a moment, you finally pulled away from one another, pants coming from the both of you.

Mingyu brushed a few strands of hair before speaking up :

"Maybe this storm was a blessing in disguise," he said softly.

You nodded, your heart racing as Mingyu leaned in closer, closing the distance between you once again. And as the storm raged on outside, you found solace in each other's arms and closure in your relationship, your growing feelings finally laid bare in the darkness of the night.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

DAY ELEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

pairing: fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance

summary: you and tess go in to dismantle a cult, neither of you were expecting to find a rugged fallen angel being experimented on.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: possessive!joel, piv, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, violence

a/n: this was heavily inspired by miyazaki's on your mark music video! also we're almost add the end babes, only one more to go, isn't that exciting!

Ash sticks to your skin. The air is warm and damp, the scent of it churning your stomach and making you want to vomit. You observe the city as the aircraft inch closer to a particularly fancy and tall building. Purple and blue neons bleed into the night sky, blurring the sight of the stars. Both you and Tess are standing at the edge of the opening, ready to make the jump down below. You look at her and she nods with a fleeting smile. 

“Let’s get these fuckers,” she says, her voice modulated as it echoes in your earpiece. “See you on the other side.” 

She extends a fist and with your heart still beating madly in your chest, you bump it. Without speaking, she counts down, one finger going down at a time.  Your gaze flits between the building and her hand, sweat building at your temples and sliding down your spine. You’ve heard of this place before. A religious cult famous for abducting people and in some extreme cases experimenting on them if they refused to follow the leader’s guidance. 

The last finger goes down and you both jump in unison. 

Your visor comes down, blocking the vicious wind from cutting your skin. Tess is slightly ahead of you, her helmet also fully materializing around her skull, brunette hair fluttering at her neck. The mission was simple. Go in and arrest who you can find, shoot those who resist. 

The two of you touch down on the rooftop of the target building and quickly pull out your weapons. Tess leads the way as you both enter the building through a concealed access point. The interior pulses with a neon-laden atmosphere, where every corner is bathed in vibrant, shifting hues. Holographic information displays punctuate the surroundings, casting an ever-changing cascade of colors across the sleek, polished surfaces. 

You and Tess navigate through the dimly lit corridors, guided by the faint hum of machinery and the eerie whispers of cult members echoing through the halls. The air is thick with tension, and every step feels like a potential trap. It almost feels like a labyrinth with the way the halls constantly turn and twist, you faintly hear Tess cursing from underneath her visor. You share her sentiment. 

Moving deeper into the building, you finally encounter the cult's followers. They wear a strange blend of traditional robes and cybernetic enhancements, their faces obscured by eerie masks that display holographic symbols and patterns. 

The confrontation escalates quickly. They don’t even have any weapons on them yet they jump you, before you can start shooting one of them gets the better of you and knocks you to the floor. Tess is there in an instant, a laser blade to the throat is all it takes for the person to go limp on top of you. 

The room erupts in chaos but it doesn’t mean much to either you or Tess. This wasn’t your first mission together, and the two of you had adapted a fighting style that complimented each other’s strengths. The deafening blasts of energy illuminate the room with dazzling bursts of color. Bodies fall, and the cult's resistance begins to crumble. 

You press on, determined to reach the heart of this twisted cult. Along the way, you discover hidden chambers filled with bizarre experiments and technology. You take a mental note to come back later on and investigate. The air is thick with the smell of chemicals and the unsettling hum of machinery. Tess makes a sharp turn and you follow, entering a dim room. More cult members attack you, they look like scientists, they fall just as easily as the rest.

“What the hell is this place?” Tess mutters, walking ahead and looking around. A blue hue coats the entirety of the room, the sound of liquids making up for most of the background noise. 

You notice a table right in the middle and without a second thought you head towards it, ignoring Tess’s warnings to be careful. Something draws you to it. To him. Your pulse quickens as you notice a man lying on top of the metal surface, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. His chest is bare, the lower half of his body covered with a thin, dark pair of sweatpants. 

He’s beautiful. Rugged features scorned with cuts and bruises, but still stunning. His hair is a mess, lips chapped. He’s barely breathing, a sudden worry surrounds your heart, turns your stomach sour. 

“Hey, check it out,” Tess says, walking around the table. Her hand moves over a lifeless wing, feathered and dark as night. You hold your breath, eyes going wide. “Do you think these are real?” 

You don’t touch the wings, feeling like it might be disrespectful to the handsome man. You eye them warily and think about all the things these maniacs must’ve done to him. “They look real to me,” you murmur. “What should we do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If we bring him with us surely the government will experiment on him too,” you point out. “He’s been through enough.” 

Tess drops the wing and raises an eyebrow, “You in love with him or something?” she shakes her head. “We really need to find you some good dick.” 

“That’s not what this is,” you hiss, cheeks burning up. “You know it’s not right. He can stay at my place.” 

“And you think they won’t come looking for him?” 

“They can’t look for something they don’t know that exists.” 

Tess contemplates your words for a moment and you worry this might be where she draws the line. Her kind eyes flit between you and the half-naked man, then her shoulders drop, yielding, she lifts her hands. 

“Fine, let’s get this hunk of meat out of here.” 

However, neither you nor Tess had calculated how heavy he would be. 

“Holy fuck, how much does he weigh?” Tess groans, holding him by the ankles. You had your hands tucked under his armpits, barely keeping him from dropping to the steel ground. 

“Maybe the wings add to it,” you answer, short of breath. Using the strength from your knees, you jerk him up so your arms can get a better grip. Sweat beads at your temples and slides down your cheeks. “Fuck—” 

“He’s gonna suck your fridge dry,” Tess huffs. “All the gadgets in the world and not one to carry a heavy. . . what is he? A damn bird?” she shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.” 

“If you could shut up for two seconds,” you say, gasping for air. “This might be easier. Besides, we’re at the door.” 

“Oh fuck, we actually are.” 

Tess manages to kick it open and you both peer down the rooftop, you hold on to the unconscious man tighter, scared he might fall. 

“What now?” you shout from over the wind. 

“Now,” Tess says, her gaze meeting yours, she flashes you a smirk. “We jump.” 

Despite the multiple rules you’ve broken by taking in Joel—a fallen angel he’d explained when he woke up, much to your disbelief— to your home a week ago, your mornings start surprisingly calm. You have a small apartment and as you head to the kitchen, you watch the trickles of the morning light warming the floors. You enjoy these silent hours in the city. No bright neon light burning your eyes, no constant buzz of huge billboards humming in your ears; just the sun, the soft sound of birds chirping and soft wind carrying notes of clattering dishes. 

You fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove, turning the flame on to let it slowly come to a boil. While waiting, you reach for your favorite coffee mug, the one with a chip on the handle that you can't bear to replace. As you retrieve the mocha pot from the cabinet, you notice a slight, fleeting shadow out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see Joel standing in the doorway, his wings tucked neatly against his back. He hadn’t been able to open his wings fully yet, his wounds too deep to heal. 

A sudden anger simmers in your soul. The things he must’ve endured and all for what? For a bunch of people to feel good about themselves? For the to find out how to be immortal? All of it was absolute bullshit. 

You pull out another mug. 

His dark eyes meet yours and you swallow, a shudder rolling down your spine, “Good morning,” you choke out, pouring some ground coffee into the mocha pot's filter basket and assembling the pot. The soothing sound of the kettle on the stove fills the room as you watch Joel walk closer, his steps nearly soundless. 

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, standing right behind you. His presence frying your nerves and making your hands tremble. “What’s that?” 

“Coffee,” you answer. You place it on the stove and turn on the heat. “I’m making you some too. You can try it,” then you turn, eyes going wide upon noticing just how close he is. His eyes bore into yours, observing your soul and every inch of your face. Your eyes trace the bridge of his nose and linger on his lips; so lush. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip entices you to come closer but you hold your ground. “Are you hungry?” 

He nods, eyes untrusting. 

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I’ll make us breakfast. How are your wings feeling?” 

He licks his lips, “Better.” 

You nod and look towards the fridge, your lips pressed tightly together. He finally backs away, allowing you to prepare an omelet for the both of you.

Joel silently watches as you crack the eggs and mix in the basil, tomato, and cheese.  He watches as you pour two cups of coffee and bring out the plates. He watches as you sit and finally turn to look at him; still standing in the kitchen, watching. . . observing. 

“Come sit,” you say and pull back a second chair. “You watched me prepare it there’s no poison in it promise,” you give him a playful smile and you swear the corners of his lips twitch. 

He sits and picks up his fork, you cut the omelet in half, sliding it over to his plate, “So since you never had coffee before I didn’t put any milk and sugar in it, you can taste it and if it’s too bitter I can add some.” 

Joel picks up the mug, his wings slightly raising in alarm as he sniffs the hot beverage. He raises a brow, eyes meeting yours, “How do you drink yours?” 

“With lots of milk.” 

“I feel like that defeats the purpose,” he closes his eyes and takes a sip. He smacks his lips slowly, eyes fluttering open to give you a look. “Not bad,” he says. “I like how the taste alerts me.” 

“Well,” you answer with a smile. “Don’t have too much of it or you’ll be up all night.” 

“Who says I’m already not?” 

You stiffen at the words, meant to be a playful quip turn real in mere seconds. Joel seems unaware of the sudden pressure forming in your shoulders, around your spine; he bites into his omelet, moaning at the taste—which adds a whole different kind of pressure. . . mostly gathered between your legs.

“Can’t you sleep?” you ask silently, looking down. “Because of. . . what they’ve done.” 

Joel lowers his fork, lifting his gaze in hopes of meeting yours, he furrows his brows upon realizing your downward-looking lips and your eyes that don’t meet his. 

“That’s a small part of it,” he says, the soft authority of his tone bringing your gaze back up. “I remember those moments in bits and pieces, they come and go. . . It’s the fall that still keeps me up at night. ” 

“The fall from. . . heaven?” 

“Yes.” 

And that’s it. He continues to eat, continues to drink until all of it is wiped clean in front of him. 

“Let me clean your wounds,” you say and stand up from the table. Joel hadn’t been able to fly at all since you and Tess busted him out of that hellhole. He had been reluctant to treatment but realized quickly that he needed modern medicine if he was going to get better. “I’ll be right back.” 

When you come back you find him sitting on his usual stool. It was high enough so that his wings wouldn’t drag across the floor. He sits silently, eyes like those of a hawk as he watches you place the supplies on the coffee table. You start by delicately peeling off the old bandages, ensuring they don't cause any pain or pluck a feather. The only sign that he feels any discomfort is the rapid pace of his breathing

You find that you enjoy these moments of vulnerability. Some part of you doesn’t want him to go. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, crumbling the old bandages and throwing them to the floor for later cleaning. 

His spine straightens, “For what?” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t.” a moment of silence stretches between you before he speaks again. “You saved me.” 

“Tess did too,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips. Those two had been butting heads as soon as Joel woke up. 

“She told me on multiple occasions that she would’ve left me to rot.” 

“That’s how Tess cares.” 

“Humans still confuse me.” 

You snort and begin cleaning the wound, he winces a bit, “We’re not all bad.” 

You’re happy to see that he’s nearly completely healed. His red, wet wounds from before now a tender pink. Your eyes move up to his neck. You’ve always stared at his neck since the very beginning. It reminds you of the columns of old temples that now lay in ruin thanks to the new world. His sun-kissed skin is a temptation, your lips tingling with the need to feel bare skin, wondering if it’s as warm as you thought. 

“I don’t think I should bandage up the wounds anymore, they should breathe,” you murmur, your voice coming out hoarser than you thought. “But still, you need to be careful.” 

Joel doesn’t say a word but his wings twitch as if they can sense your sinful thoughts. Maybe they do. You have no idea how angel powers work, or if he has any. 

He’ll leave soon, you remind yourself. You’ll be alone again. 

You don’t know what it is that guides your hand, but you realize in shock that your fingers start to dance along the exposed skin of his nape. Indeed it is as warm as you thought. You feel the way muscles tense under your touch, hear his heavy breathing. 

Reality comes crashing in and you pull away with a sudden flinch, an apology ready at your lips— 

He’s fast. Inhumanly so. Joel takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you to his lap, you fall sideways with a sharp yelp. The angel doesn’t say a word and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You shudder at the touch of his lips. Whimper at the way he runs his nose down your collarbone. 

“I can smell the arousal on your skin,” he drawls and tastes your skin with the flat of his tongue. “I can taste it too. Such a sinful little thing.” 

“I—I’m—” You’re what? Sorry? You don’t feel sorry. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“You don’t have to. . .” 

Joel snorts, “I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he answers, he grips at your shirt and tugs you down while grinding up, the heft of his cock rubs against the swell of your ass. You both groan at the contact. “You feel that? You feel what you’re doin’ to me?” 

Your heart leaping, you guide his hand to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes flashing with desire, he slips his fingers under the fabric, you shudder at the drag of his fingers between your folds. Joel burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his chest rattling with a growl. 

“So wet,” he musters, the pads of his fingers stroking your throbbing clit. 

“Now you know what you do to me.” 

His wings suddenly stretch out from one side to the other, making him look even larger if possible. Your eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You imagine if you stare at them long enough you could see stars. 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. He pulls his fingers out and holds your waist in an iron grip. You whimper at the loss. “You don’t know me. This ain’t a game.” 

“That’s right I don’t,” you answer. “I only know what I feel. And what I feel, Joel, is something I’ve never felt before. Something that both excites me and makes me want to run and hide because soon enough, I’m going to have to deal with it all on my own. You’ll be gone and I’ll be here, trying to gather the pieces of my bleeding heart.” 

You think you might be imagining it, but his wings become a shield, caging you in. His gaze seems almost broken. Distraught. He mumbles something inaudible. Your brows furrow and you ask him to repeat himself. 

“My wings are healed. I lied to you.” 

You think you misheard him but at the same time you know you hadn’t. You blink rapidly. You don’t understand, how can be healed? 

“You can fly?” 

“I can, sweetheart.” he pulls you closer, your covered nipples grazing against his firm chest. Your breath catches in your throat. “I lied to you because. . . I don’t want to go.” 

“Joel. . .” 

“You still want me?” he asks, cutting you off, voice rueful. “I’m selfish. I get what I want and do anythin’ to make it happen. Why do you think I was cast out? Not exactly one of god’s favorites.” 

You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks. His voice deep, dripping like sweet molasses. You brush your lips together and his chest heaves, his grip on you tightens, his cock throbbing. 

“You’re my favorite,” you whisper. 

The dam breaks. 

You find yourself bent over the low coffee table, the wood creaking under your weight, your cheek smooshed against it. Joel holds your arms behind your back, rutting against your ass like some wild animal in heat. Arousal pools between your legs and you feel a fresh wave of wetness spreading within the threads of your underwear. 

“Do you even know how to fuck?” you ask, hoping to gain some kind of edge despite the obvious difference in strength. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d be surprised.” 

He pulls down your sweats and the heft of his cock weighs heavily between your ass cheeks. Slick gathers between your folds. A soft whimper trembles in your throat. You can’t see him but you can imagine him looking down at you, seeing how desperate and needy you are. Joel parts your cheeks and presses forward, his cock gliding between your soaked tighs. He groan rattles in his chest and you feel the bulbous head of his cock stretching your entrance. 

“Oh god. . . Joel. . .” 

A choked-out sound drops from your lips as he wraps his fingers around your throat and pulls you up, it’s harder to breathe in this position, your body bent in a way so that your eyes can meet. He kisses your forehead. 

“Not god,” he says, thrusting forward and filling you to the brim. Your face goes slack, brows pinching with pleasure and a hint of pain. Your moan is loud and long, your eyes still glued to his. You shudder at the intimacy. “It’s just me, sweetheart. No one else. I’m the only one that get’s to fuck this pussy—the only one that gets to see your face like that.” 

You lick your lips and breathe heavily. When you nod, Joel releases you and you fall forward, bracing yourself with your elbows at the very last second. 

“Look at you,” he groans, large hands stroking your cheeks. “Do you even know how soft and warm your insides are?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls back, your body is set a flame, pleasure building and winding you up like a doll. Your thighs shake, he just watches you drown in your lust. He’s intrigued, you think, because he just waits with the head of his cock still inside. You wiggle your ass, hoping for him to move, to fuck you senseless. 

You’re reprimanded with a sharp smack to your ass but you welcome the pain, embrace it. 

You can’t see it yet you feel it. The vicious drip of his spit on your stretched-out hole. You shiver and your eyes roll back into your skull, his thumb traces where you two connect, smearing his saliva, “J—Joel, please,” you beg but you know it’s futile. He’s going to take you apart only to piece back together. 

“You still think I don’t know how to fuck?” he hisses, a cruel taunt you didn’t expect. You shake your head and close your eyes. Another smack follows, prompting the clench of your cunt. He groans. 

Joel finally gives you what you want. What you need. 

His pace is brutal, fast and hard, desperate, just like you feel. He knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust, the smack of his hips bruising. Joel has no shame in the voices he makes, he groans, moans and fucks you harder, forcing you to be loud with him. When you let out a particularly high-pitched whimper, he covers your body with his own like a blanket and ruts into you. His wings rustle and shake, the tip of it touching your lips before it moves away. You see bright starts when he grazes upon a particularly sensitive spot, your jaw dropping and body tensing. He mouths at your neck, hand sliding between your legs, the pads of his fingers brush against your puffy clit—

A knock. A loud one at that.

The sound startles you both into stillness, and you let out a hiss from under your breath. You’ve forgotten that Tess was going to come by. Apologetically you reach back and manage to squeeze Joel’s thigh, your fingers sliding over the muscle from sweat. Joel understands that this will have to wait but instead of letting you go like you expected, he lifts you up from the coffee table, your back flush against his chest. You both face the door and another knock follows, your body tensing. 

“I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you for no one,” he groans, pushing even deeper. Your head falls to his shoulder and your nipples tight. “She can come back.” 

“Joel, she might hear us,” you hiss but make no move to actually stop him. You feel him smirking against your skin. He slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you—hard. Your body jerks and you cover your mouth last second before a moan can slip out. 

“That’s it, just keep quiet and she’ll be none the wiser.” 

Tess’s voice calls out your name through the door and knocks again, louder this time. Your eyelids flutter, your orgasm rapidly building from the thought of being caught. If Tess decides to break the door, which you don’t put past her, she’d see you in your full naked glory; your breast swaying with every ruck of Joel’s hips, your face dazed as you attempt to keep your noises to yourself. . . 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet—you’re turned on, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you like the idea of your best friend seein’ you gettin’ your brains fucked out?” 

You don’t dare answer and instead, you just take it. His fingers toy with your clit, swirling and drawing shapes over and over until your entire body is trembling and your core is tight. Joel’s hips stutter, pacing frantic, “Yes yes yes yes—come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you so bad, come on, that’s it—that’s it—” 

It happens both suddenly and torturingly slow. Your body locks up and you squeeze around him, gushing and moaning helplessly into your palms. Your nostrils flare. Joel holds you tight, preventing you from accidentally jerking away and falling face-first into the table, you think Tess is still knocking but it soon ends. Your body is quivering, slick dripping, and sliding down his length. He kisses your cheek, then drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. 

He starts to move again, “Joel,” you whimper and he stops, lips decorating your skin with more kisses. “I want you to come inside me.” 

You swear his cock swells even more. 

“Yeah?” he sounds amazed, almost. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” 

“Please.” 

“A’right sweet girl, I will, I will,” he bites the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips drilling into you even harder than before. Your brain short circuit. Your poor, sensitive cunt tingling with overstimulation. With every snap of his hips you feel slick gushing from your core and your hands fully drop from your mouth, your body pliant with pleasure. 

It doesn’t take Joel long to come undone. He fucks into you one last time and keeps you still on his cock. Another orgasm rips from you at the pressure, his come filling you with violent, desperate spurts. His hips twitch. Joel licks the salt off your skin and then kisses the damp skin. You sigh with relief, hand dropping to your stomach. It feels good. So fucking good for him to claim you in such an intimate way. 

“Mine,” he growls, fingers biting into the flesh of your stomach. Again, his wings form a shield around you, trapping you two together. 

You smile and thread his fingers with your own, “Yours.” 

Note to self, always go to the door when Tess comes over. 

But honestly, how the hell were you supposed to know that she came over to warn you? 

You’ve seen the text first. You were out on the street doing some quick shopping before you returned home to Joel, however, before you could process what she had written you were surrounded. Familiar symbols of the cult decorated their suits and before you knew it, your vision blacked out. 

When you open your eyes once more, you notice that your hands are bound to the ceiling to keep you up. You hear the familiar buzz of the purple binds, much stronger and deadlier than regular rope. The back of your head throbs, an unpleasant pressure behind your eyes, you hiss and look down. 

The door opens. 

“Where is he?” a man with a white mask asks, stepping into the dingy cell. 

You raise your gaze, “Who?” 

You can’t see his face but you know he’s angry underneath the cheap plastic. He balls his hands into tight fists and before you know it, his knuckles hit you square in the jaw. You groan and spit up blood. 

“Where. Is. He.” 

You cough, the taste of iron overwhelming your taste blood. Still, you don’t yield. You look him straight in the eye and force a broken smile. 

“Who?” 

Joel knew all of it was too good to be true. 

The good food, the sex, the woman who loved him despite what and who he was—it should’ve tipped them off that it was only the calm before the storm. The solitude before ruin. He’d seen it many times before, why had he ignored it now? 

His eyes narrow and his wings fold, aiding his sharp dive to the building Tess had described. The wind slices at his cheeks, deafens him.  

Joel knows why he ignored it. 

It was because he was happy for the first time in forever. 

He crashes through the glass ceiling, shards of it bursting across the hard marble floor. He sees familiar people in suits covered in symbols. Joel snarls at them, his wings close to him. They’re the same people that imprisoned him—and now they had found the only thing he cared about to lure him into the wolf's den. Well, his capture won’t be easy this time. 

He’ll make them pay. He’ll make them all pay. 

Joel spreads out his wings and watches the foot soldiers cower in fear. He feels the dark energy pulsing in his palms, adding to his strength, and without a second thought he unleashes it, sharp arrows of darkness spearing their hearts, making them see their worst nightmares before falling.  

He kills, kills, and kills. They all feel his eternal pain before they fall, a fall that is much kinder than the one he had to endure. Joel leaves a trail of corpses on his way to you, his heart locked in fear of what might have happened to you. 

Joel senses you—your fear, your pain, your hope. He follows those strong feelings. You lead him to a hard steel door, and with the flat of his palm, the door turns to dust. 

Joel’s heart stops beating. 

You’re strung to the ceiling, your temple caked with blood, your body battered and bruised. You can barely breathe, your lips parting with short gasps. 

His rage is sudden and blinding. His shoulders raise with his wings, he sees the other man in the room with you, his gloved hands wet with your blood. The man turns to grab a weapon but Joel doesn’t grant him the favor. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of him, his hands on his jaw, he forces the snap of his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the small chamber. 

He deserved something worse than death for hurting you, momentarily Joel regrets giving him the easy way out. 

“Joel,” your voice drags him away from his thoughts, his heart breaks at how soft it is. “Is that you?” 

Joel’s wings drop. He realizes his hands are wet with blood and shadows, he shakes the shadows off but the blood remains. 

“Joel?” you say again, and this time he snaps out of it fully, making his way towards you. He cradles your cheeks, kisses you deep before shattering the cuffs around your wrists. You sigh when you feel the familiar broad chest against your cheek, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Joel.” 

“It’s me,” he answers. “I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. In the end, you got here, didn’t you? That’s what matters.” 

He should’ve come sooner. Shouldn’t have waited around for Tess, he should’ve broken into every building and burned this city down until he found you. Leaving the chamber, Joel is careful not to make any sudden movements. His eyes soften, a hard knot in his throat when you nuzzle into him while he carries you away. 

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re safe,” his grip tightens around you. “I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you. Never again.”

His steps come to a sudden halt as he feels your weak touch on his cheek. Joel looks down in worry but you’re smiling, his chest lightens. 

“Same goes for me,” you say, voice hoarse. “They can break every bone but I’ll never let them take you. Never again.” 

Joel looks at your weathered body. Humans were always so fragile, so prone to death. You’re nothing but a speck of dust compared to the dangers that lurked in this world—compared to him. But human resilience has always been something that immortals had feared. 

He smiles and nods. 

Joel firmly believes, deep within his heart, that he is safe as long as you’re here with him.