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a-killer-obsession · 4 months

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PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3

PART 1/6 - LAY OF THE LAND

CW: None for this chapter, just R18 mentions of sex.

WC: ~3k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin

A/n: I'm vaguely setting this in my home country of NZ, based on a campsite I frequent, for entirely selfish purposes but also because it's easy to describe a place you've been to a million times. Anyway, when I mention forests those are the kinds I mean, no fear of a rogue bear or mountain lion ✌️

You pulled into the quiet campsite in the middle of nowhere as you did every year around this time. Set between large mountainous hills covered in dense forest, and boasting a pool heated naturally by nearby geothermal activity, the site was a popular, bustling location in the on season. You, however, enjoyed the off season, when it was quiet, almost entirely abandoned save for the grounds keeper and his dog, and a handful of long term residents, living out their retirements in quiet bliss in the RVs that lined the very back of the campgrounds. You parked your humble car in front of the office that was built alongside a small shop, usually selling entry and icecreams to locals who came here for the pools, but also held a selection of basics such as toilet paper and cup noodles for campers in desperate need of a grocery trip.

The gravel that lined the carpark crunched underfoot as you made your way to the wooden ramp that led to the office and store building, the whole complex no bigger than a shipping container. The eggy smell of sulphur from the nearby geothermal activity filled your nostrils, unpleasant at first but a smell you'd quickly get accustomed to as you always did. A bell rang as you opened the door, the older woman assigned to mind the store today hurrying out from out back, you could hear the TV she'd been watching as she came out front. This time of the year customers were nil to none, so the counters relied on bells for service, usually unmanned otherwise. The chances of someone stealing from the store while it was unoccupied were slim, but you could assume they had a camera set up to watch from a screen out back anyway.

“[Y/n]!” The old woman exclaimed, taking her seat behind the desk, “I was happy to see you on our books this morning”

“Can't miss my mid-year vacay, Marg,” you replied with a smile, pulling out your wallet and leaning against the desk. You'd been coming here for years, and Margie had worked here for just as long. “What do I owe ya?”

“Minus the deposit you already paid, that'll be $65 sweetheart,” she smiled, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard at a snail pace as she worked on printing a receipt. You handed her the cash and the til made a clunk as the drawer popped open, Marg replacing your four twenty dollar notes with a five and a ten and handing them back to you. You slipped them back into your wallet and she handed you a keycard for the gate that kept pool visitors and strangers out of the campgrounds. Well, their cars anyway, they could absolutely just walk around it.

“Usual spot sweetheart, I'm sure you don't need a map,” she stood to return to her back room. She was definitely getting older, and standing was clearly more difficult for her than it had been in previous years. You'd be sad the year you came to camp and weren't greeted by her friendly face

You thanked her and made your exit, getting back into your car and making sure to roll down your window. You slowly made the short distance to the card receiver, leaning out your window a little to hold the card against it. A small light flashed green and the metal arm creaked as it began to raise. Your car was small, so you didn't have to wait for it to raise completely before you were passing underneath it and navigating the familiar gravel roads to your favourite spot. There were no additional parking spots at each spot, you were expected to either park on them or leave your car in front of the office, so you pulled onto the grass alongside the road between the brick lines that marked the boundary of your spot.

Your usual spot was close to the middle of the grounds, directly across from the communal kitchen building, and just a thirty second walk from the main toilet and shower block. There were other, smaller toilet blocks scattered around the grounds, but this was the only one that featured showers and laundry. The kitchen building was also just a nice place to hang out, having a semi covered outdoor area framed by benches, one of the only places other than your own rented spot where you were allowed to drink alcohol, so it was a great place to meet other campers. At first glance, anyone would think a lone woman coming to a campground on the off season was here for peace and quiet. On the contrary, you found during the busy season there were usually far too many large families and happy couples. The off season was for singles, and you were here for one thing and one thing only: sex with strangers.

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you were here to spend time alone, always turning down offers from friends to join you. At first, that had been the case. A spontaneous camping trip in the middle of the year to cool down after a particularly stressful project at work finally wrapped up. But you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger. The campsite being so empty also made for additional excitement, after many years here you'd had sex in or on most of the campground's amenities. The kitchen, the pool, the showers, on top of a laundry machine. It was an excitement you struggled to find in the big city you came from, without wasting money on a hotel room there was no good way to have sex with a stranger without being caught and without them knowing where you lived and getting attached, because like hell were you going to a strange man's house on your own.

You quickly set about working on your tent, pulling item after item from the back of your car and setting up with well practised speed. Soon you were closing the car boot and admiring your work. A decently sized, two chambered tent - the first chamber holding your cooler and a small fold down table for prepping a quick snack at night. The kitchens had multiple large fridges available for use, but you liked to keep your beer and soda in an ice bath in your tent for easy access. Every morning and evening you would go to the small camp store and buy a bag of ice, but for now the cooler was empty. The second chamber was larger and held most of your belongings, as well as a queen sized, double layered, inflatable mattress, already set with comfortable bedding. You even had a small fold down side table and camping lamp, which had a handle for late night toilet visits, and you'd run an extension cable from the site provided power you'd paid extra for, to your side table, so you could charge your phone and laptop from the bed. There was no internet here, and barely any phone signal, but you'd downloaded plenty of movies, tv shows and e-books before leaving home, as well as bringing a handful of actual novels, a switch console and drawing supplies. You weren't a fantastic artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a hobby you enjoyed and liked to practise anyway.

Outside your tent you'd also set up a small gazebo, after your first few years you'd gotten sick of being trapped inside the tent whenever it rained, and it also provided shelter for a large trestle table and tabletop barbecue so you could grill regardless of the rain. There were also a few collapsible chairs under the gazebo, a larger reclining one where you spent most of your time, and a smaller more basic one in case you had a guest. Aka another camper you intended to, or hand already fucked.

Satisfied with your setup, you took a quick break to check your phone and let your friends know you'd made it safe and sound, before climbing back in your car and heading to the grocery store in the small nearby town. The town was about a twenty minute drive away, a small oceanside tourist town that was mostly a pass through for those heading to a nearby famous beach, or to board boats or small privately run helicopters for whale and dolphin watching. You'd never bothered with the tourist traps, but you had once or twice hit the beach when you'd come during the on season with friends.

Thriving on local tourism, the town was humble compared to the city you'd come from, but large enough to have two supermarkets and a decent size home goods store, as well as a long stretch of boutiques and cafes. You head to your favourite supermarket, pulling into the half full car park and heading inside. You pulled up your list on your phone as you approached the doors, grabbing a trolley and setting about your shopping. Food for several days, beer, condoms, all very important. A novel that caught your eye, some trashy magazines, snacks for late night movies. A comically large cucumber caught your eye, and you snapped a pic to send to your friends with the caption ‘finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦’

Everything on your list gathered, you headed for the checkouts. A big, noisy, red ute pulled into the carpark as you started loading your groceries into the reusable totes you kept in the back of your car. It parked nearby and four fucking massive men jumped out, shoving each other and laughing boisterously. Definitely not locals by the looks of it, the back of the ute loaded up with what looked like camping equipment, tied down with straps and a piece of blue tarpaulin that didn't cover everything. You wondered if they'd be staying at the same grounds as you, it was the most well known in the area given its pool that was free use for the campers and the nearby hiking trail that offered incredible views of the entire area all the way out to the ocean. You licked your lips at their beefy builds, a girl could certainly dream, any of them would make a fine target for your sexual escapades.

The red haired one among them wolf whistled as he passed by, as you bent over the boot of your car to reach an extra tote that had fallen under a seat. You turned back to him, a hand on your hip, and winked playfully. He blushed, clearly not having expected that reaction, and his friends whooped and smacked him playfully. The group followed behind the redhead who was fleeing as fast as he could, and you continued packing away your groceries and returned your trolley before heading back to camp.

When you got back you unpacked everything, putting your chillables in the provided fridges, your name written in clear black marker over each package, and filled your cooler with the bag of ice you'd grabbed from the camp store on your way in before putting your beer and soda in to chill. The food that didn't need refrigeration was stored in your tent in a small latchable plastic box to keep any rodents away. All done with your chores, you ate a quick lunch of some pre-made food you'd grabbed at the supermarket, and decided to hit up the pool.

You made your way back up the gravel path from the pool, slide on sandals on your feet and a towel wrapped around your body. You were still in your bikini, your wet hair sending droplets of fresh water from the rinsing shower down your body. You watched a bird native to the area fly overhead before the sound of boisterous laughter caught your attention. Usually, at this time of the year, campsite guests would pick locations far away from each other, most people came here this time of the year to be alone. The grounds were arranged in blocks, each block holding ten or twelve sites, split with half to one road and half to another. There were a good amount of blocks, the grounds could probably accommodate a good couple hundred people at its peak, though right now you could only see three other tents far from yours.

You could hear the group before you spotted their red ute, the same one from the grocery store, obscured by your own setup until you got closer. They'd rented what looked like multiple sites right next to yours. Usually, you would be annoyed, but being that they were all so delicious you were delighted. This was going to be a successful holiday indeed.

The group was made up of four large men. There was the redhead who had whistled at you, he looked to be the youngest of the group, as wide as he was tall with a thick scar that ran down his face, giving him a natural bad boy appearance. He was soft looking, but in a strong, could definitely throw you over his shoulder sort of way, like a boxer. You noticed now that he was missing his left arm, it must have been facing away from you at the store. He wore eyeliner, which you noticed now they all did, along with a vibrant red lipstick that matched his hair. He looked very punk in dark ripped jeans and a leather vest he wore open, showing the scar that ran over his torso, along with a big fuck-off belt buckle and multiple silver chains hanging from his belt. The nails on his one hand were painted a darker red, and he had a black fabric headband holding back his wild hair.

Next was the shortest of the group, though certainly not short by normal standards. Dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans, his impressive blond hair went all the way to his hips. His sharp featured face was partially obscured by messy straight bangs and a fluffy goatee, his lips painted purple as he flashed a bright toothy smile at the redhead.

The other two both dressed in a punk aesthetic much like the redhead, two slightly older men with impressive heights, one of them towering above all four of them. The shorter man had pale blue hair set in dreads, his face covered in unusual scars and thorn like tattoos wrapping around his neck and down his arms. The taller hid his hair under a black hoodie, but you could see pointed sideburns peeking out under them. He looked deliciously muscular under the tight netting shirt he wore.

The four of them were going about their setup, four separate single chamber tents laid out on the ground to sort their positions while the blond and tall one carried an excessive amount of grocery bags to the shared kitchen. It was just as well there was hardly anyone at the camp, they'd need a whole fridge on their own with that much food. Deciding to make your intentions clear as soon as possible, you laid a towel over your reclining chair and grabbed a beer, relaxing in your bikini that showed off your fit body. The redhead was quick to notice, and you tilted your sunglasses to wink at him. He realised why he recognized you and you heard him swear and scurry away. Cute.

You watched their entire setup process hungrily, watching their muscles flex as they unloaded the ute and set things in place. The redhead was no help with the tents, so he worked on setting up smaller things like their large barbecue and chairs while the other three got the tents erected. You couldn't help but notice that they hadn't brought a gazebo, they must be newbies. Hopefully the weather would be fine for however long they were staying, you hoped for more than one day, and given the amount of food they had you would guess at least three.

All of them eventually took notice of you, catching sly glances where they could. The blond one seemed the most confident, openly flexing and showing off, flashing you wide grins that you eagerly returned. Oh you would definitely be climbing that tree. The redhead continued to act shy, doing things that were clearly to show of his strength but refusing to meet your eye. The bluenette gave you kind looking smiles, and the tall one looked at you with suspicion, which you always responded to by changing which leg was crossed over the other, giving him a full view of your barely clothed centre. It didn't seem to phase him though, curious.

Your phone pinged at some point and you checked it, starting a conversation with your bestie about your current view. She was the only person who knew the real reason you took these holidays. You snapped a quick, sneaky pic of the four men as they set up.

You: [one attachment] You: finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦 Bestie: LMAO finally a man that can satisfy You: might have found a few more of those Bestie: yeah? Good huntin? 👀 You: new neighbours You: [one attachment] Bestie: fuck me Bestie: or rather, fuck you, hopefully You: the blond one is giving me eyes for sure Bestie: yeah? You layin down that charm girlie You: lets just say i just got back from the pool, and im enjoying a nice beer on my recliner 👙 Bestie: yes queen! Give them a good look at that meal, they're gonna be eatin you up in no time! You: fingers crossed 🤞 you know im in dire need of a good fuck, heres hoping they're not all just a gay polycule, that'd be just my luck Bestie: well it sounds like at least the blond is dtf You: hes got a cute ass smile, cant wait to ride it 🤠 Bestie: girl you are nasty! 😂 Go get that dick queen 🍆 ttyl, ily! You: luv u!

You put down your phone and finished your beer, deciding you'd laid around for long enough and it was probably time to get started on dinner. It was already late in the day, if you were going to attract any of the boys it likely wouldn't be today, you needed the novelty of camping to wear off for them before they came sniffing around for more excitement. Not to mention you were tired from driving all morning and setting up. You pulled a few things from the kitchen, carrying them back on one of your plastic camping plates, and grilled yourself a steak while you scooped a few premade deli salads onto your plate. You enjoyed your meal while reading your new book, noting the smell of meat in the air and the sounds of sizzling and beer cans opening nearby as your neighbours settled in for their own dinner.

When it got too dark to read you took your dishes to the kitchen to wash them, grabbed your toiletries from your tent, and took a quick shower. The weather was warm enough to make the short walk in your nightie, so you strutted back to your tent with your legs and cleavage on proud display, your nipples pert under the satin night dress which was trimmed with thick lace, hanging from your shoulders by delicate spaghetti straps. You'd never have walked around in public like this if you had neighbours you weren't trying to fuck, but you were more than happy for the boys to look at you, and look they did. You gave them a short wave before you entered your tent, grabbing a new beer and your laptop and settling in to watch a movie.

[NEXT PART]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates #eustass kid #kid one piece #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates x reader #wire one piece #wire x reader

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ador3sturniolo · 1 year

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chris fic based off the song les by childish gambino🙏🏼

“I kinda hope they catch us”

An - Hey my lovely’s! Sorry I haven’t posted in like a week😨 but I’m back! I’ve just been busy with school and other things so I found some time in my schedule to write for you guys! Im just going to go off a couple lines from the song because I already have a plan for it! anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing - Chris Sturniolo X FemReader

Summary - You and Chris have a private relationship

Warnings - Kissing, (Not proofread, LEAVE ME BE ABOUT THAT 😭)

Requested - Yep!

Master List

Chris and I have been dating for almost 8 months now and we’ve been able to keep it a secret for a long time. It’s not that people haven’t noticed tho. There would be ship edits of us all the time so I don’t think it would be that bad if we went public, but there’s always a couple of people that can’t handle it and have to hate.

“Are you almost ready?” I heard Chris shout from the living room. I’m almost done getting ready for the party we’re about to go too.

“Yeah! Just give me 10 minutes at most!” I should back, starting to hurry up with my hair and makeup so I can get on my outfit. I start to put on my outfit. I put on a small, strapless, and slim black dress. Simple but cute. Chris loves this dress and goes feral whenever he sees me in it. I top it off with a simple necklace and heels. The heels would be easy to walk and dance in. I spray my favorite night out perfume and grab my wallet off the dresser and walk out to Chris. All three of them were in the living room, waiting on me.

“Okay I’m ready.” I say, grabbing the boys attention. I could tell Chris’s jaw was on the floor by his expression. They all get up off the couch and come towards me.

“Wow, I am literally shook. You look so hot.” Nick says as he grabs my hand and twirls me around. I smile at his compliment.

“Thank youuu!” I say with excitement.

“You pulled it off once again” Matt spoke up.

“Oh why thank you.” I say taking a bow and then laughing. Chris doesn’t say anything, just smirks. We didn’t think anything of it and we all started to walk out when Chris grabbed me by my arm and pulled me in close. Matt and Nick didn’t even notice and kept walking.

“What are you doing my love?” I ask tilting my head.

“You know what your doing right? With that dress your wearing right now.” He says eyeing me up and down.

“Well I Hope so.” I say smirking.

“Because god, you look so god damn good right now.” He says biting his lip just barely. I don’t say anything just smirk as I walk out, taking him with me. Me and Chris sit next to each other and I lay my head on his shoulder, holding hands until we get there. We get out of the car and I brush my hair with my fingers before we go in. The smell of alcohol fills my nostrils almost instantly as I step into the building, the music, blasting all through the the building. The room pitch black, but with constant flashing lights, it’s was like the whole room was lit. Nick and Matt walk off together so it’s just me and Chris. To prevent people catching us together, we decide to separate ourselves and go to different parts of the room. I could see that girls kept going up to Chris and talking to him. I decided to brush off and go get a drink. I get a drink and sit down at a table, still making sure I had a view of him. A guys sits down next to me, I hadn’t even noticed him until he started talking to me.

“Well hey there doll.” The man asked sipping on his drink.

I smile awkwardly and look back at the crowd.

“Are you here all by yourself? Need someone to keep you company doll?” The man asked smirking.

“I’m here with someone so no thanks.” I say getting down from my seat and walking into the bathroom. I hood over the sink, gripping on the sides of the sink, looking down, trying to forget what just happened. I start to wash my hands as I hear a knock on the door.

“One second.” I try to shout but with the music I don’t think they would have heard me. I kept hearing more knocks constantly so I went up to the door angrily. I was about to start going off on who was at the door, but when I realized who it was, my gaze softened. It was Chris.

“Hi ba-“ I get cut off by his lips on mine, stoping me from my sentence. I pull back giggling.

“Chris what are you doing” I say with a slight giggle. I feel his arms wrap around my waist as I look up at him. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Was that man doing anything bad to you? When you were sitting down.”

“No, I left before he got to do anything else.” I smile at him. He lets out a relief sigh and smiles back as he leans back in. I make my way, and sit on top of the counter, pulling him in between my legs, not breaking the kiss.

“Wait should we close the door?” I say catching my breath. He turn to look at the wide open door. He shakes his head no, and eagerly goes back to kissing me.

“I hope nobody catches us.” I say within the kiss.

“But I kinda hope they catch us” He smirks. I pull back laughing.

“Ooh I like that, trying to be risky.” I say going back in for a kiss. A little bit later I hear a know on the door, someone trying to get our attention, Chris turns around and a look to the side. It was Nick.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Nick says walking in.

“Cant you see we’re busy, can’t you go somewhere else?” Chris says annoyed.

“No, this is the only bathroom that’s kinda available, now can you two get out.” Nick says playfully shoving Chris shoulder.

“Fine.” Chris says helping me off the counter, and going out of the bathroom. I hear my name being shouted from a table not too far. It’s was my friend, who was a boy. Chris dosnt like him very much but I know why. He is a good looking man and lots of girls like him. I go up to him, hugging, I see chris walk off with an annoyed expression, but I brush it off because I only see him as a friend. Chris goes back to where he was before, with girls surrounding him.

It was great to catch up with him considering I haven’t talked to him in a while. I walk over to Chris, nodding to the door saying that I wanted to leave. I leave a couple minutes before he does. Nick and Matt told me that they would get an Uber home, so I decided to drive. I wait in my seat for Chris to come out. I go on my phone while I wait for him. I jumped as I heard the door open and someone gets in.

“Jeez Chris you scared me.” I said with deep breaths.

“Sorry my love.” He says as he pulls me in for a kiss. I pull back, remembering there’s people around us.

“Cant do it here.” I say putting on my seatbelt. He scoffs as he crossed him arms, sinks in his seat and pouts.

“You can be a baby sometimes.” I roll my eyes as he starts making baby noises.

“Okay stop it.” I say laughing, starting the drive.

“Make me.” He says, slightly sitting up in his seat. I don’t make a noise, just focusing on the road. I wait till we get to a red light before I take tissues and form them into a ball and shove it in his mouth. He spits it out instantly and starts scratching his tongue in disgust.

“You are disgusting” He exclaims as I laugh.

“I love youu.” I say trying to make it up to him, still giggling a little.

“Love you too.” He says annoyed. I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. That cheered him up.

—————————————————————

An - Hey my lovely’s! Sorry if that was cringe or anything! I hope you guys don’t take this the wrong way and think I’m trying to write inappropriate story of Chris 😭 Anyways, I still have more things to write but leave request!!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo

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ratgrinders · 4 months

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Which of the ratgrinders never has their phone charged and which is always at 100

GHJKFSDFSF this kind of turned into phone headcanons along the way

Kipperlilly - AGHAST that anyone would leave their phone below 15% and then just forget to charge it. She comes prepared with a portable charger in her bag at all times and considers 70% to be low. Has a nice, slim wallet case with a screen protector, and the phone itself is nice and well-maintained Android but far from top-of-the-line.

Ruben - Is the one who forgets to charge it. Luckily though he immediately got the FANCIEST phone he could after he got rich, and it thus has a relatively good battery life and only gets down to about 30%. While the phone case itself is damaged, the actual phone is mostly fine with only some minor scratches on the side. The case has a sticker with 'I made you a cookie, but I eated it'.

Ivy - Loses her phone constantly, and is always forgetting to charge it so it keeps hovering at around >5% and dying on her. Has a brand name designer phone case and the latest iPhone, but the phone screen itself is shattered.

Oisin - His nepo baby ass probably got some fancy experimental Google phone (or equivalent). Keeps it charged up most of the time but generally doesn't pay much attention to it, just casually keeps it in a simple black leather phone case.

Mary Ann - Has a cutesy Hello Kitty phone case, specifically one of those otterbox type cases that's meant to withstand a lot of shock. Her battery indicator actually broke a while ago and doesn't show correctly, so noone can ever tell how much battery is left.

Buddy - Generally keeps it charged. Used a flip phone until VERY recently (Ruben gifted him a phone at the beginning of Junior Year), and is still making the adjustment. Hasn't even gotten a phone case yet.

Lucy - Is pretty anxious about keeping her phone charged actually, since she always wants to be able to reach people/people can reach her. Her phone case is a clear, light blue. It broke the day she died in the Far Haven Woods.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #original post #rat grinders #kipperlilly copperkettle #ruben hopclap #oisin hakinvar #lucy frostblade #buddy dawn #mary ann skuttle #ivy embra

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dira333 · 4 months

Text

One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings - Akaashi x Reader

"One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings please," you ask and the cashier, a teenage girl, nods her head excitedly. She's probably new to the job, you think, and let your eyes wander while she works.

The store is small and there's a bell that twinkles whenever someone steps inside - like right now. You turn on instinct and can't help but gasp. Messy dark hair, dark blue eyes behind glasses, well-dressed even for a late Sunday morning, Akaashi looks like someone just cut him out of a fashion magazine. You turn back around before he can notice you staring, his eyes still pretty much glued to his phone.

Ever since you've sat next to him in the library you can't get him out of your head.

Not his looks and, more importantly, how you embarrassed yourself.

Thankfully, your drink is ready. The girl's already typing in the price and you move to fish your wallet out of your bag - only to come up empty-handed. Cold sweat breaks out along your spine. No. Nonono No.

"Everything okay?" A smooth voice asks behind you. Of course. Of course, Akaashi has to witness this too.

"Just peachy," You cough, "I just... uh, I forgot my wallet, could you... I'll be back in a minute, I just-"

"It's on me," Akaashi leans forward, his chest pressing into your back. There's the telltale beep of the card reader and the whirring of the printer but your mind's still caught in a frenzy, your body locked in between a state of frozen and burning.

Are you imagining things or can you feel Akaashi's heartbeat through the thin shirt he's wearing?

"You okay?" He asks, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he talks.

"Oh yeah, thanks, yeah!" You babble, grabbing your drink and booking it out of there. In hindsight, probably not the best idea. He's going to think you're rude and a Klutz.

"One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings," You look up on instinct, too tuned into this voice to ignore it. Akaashi's at the front of the line, his back to you. If you book it right now, you could avoid him for another day. Just as you move to grab your bag, the door opens and another flood of customers enters the shop. You know you should have gone to the smaller one that's closer to College but you can't go back there before they've all forgotten your face.

Maybe, you think, Akaashi didn't even notice you. After all, you're a nobody to him. An embarrassing, forgetful, clumsy nobody.

"Here," a drink settles in front of you, the plastic sweating. "Your drink's empty."

You look up at only to see Akaashi smiling down at you, the curl of his lips making your stomach fizzle in a way you didn't know was possible.

"I-" You start but he puts another drink down and turns to the table next to you, taking their chair after a short conversation. "I'm Akaashi."

"I know," you squeak before you can stop yourself. If only you could sink into the floor and disappear.

"Oh," he looks a little taken aback. "I don't... I didn't catch your name."

A nobody. Like you said.

You mutter your name in embarrassment, your palms sweaty where they're holding onto pen and paper.

"I don't want to be too forward," he stops and you notice how he swallows, a little nervously. You might not have noticed if not for the fact that his neck is slim and pale and extremely nice to look at and your eyes are looking for something that's not his eyes. Maybe, you think, he's also nervous?

Not that he has a reason to be. He's Akaashi, after all, the hottest guy on Campus.

"I'm sorry I saw your sketches," he whispers, voice low, "If anyone saw my doodles I'd probably freak out too. But I wanted... I think..." He's blushing now, red dusting over his face as you stare, unable to look away. Is he-? No way, that can't be-

"Could we have a drink together?" He asks, pushing your bubble tea toward you, "And get to know each other?"

Before you can stop yourself your hand moves and you clink your cup against his as if toasting him.

His lips pull into a wide smile.

"One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings," Keiji sets the Cup in front of you with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, "Don't stay up too late."

"Yes, Dad." You joke, squeaking when he pinches your hip.

"Bokuto? They had this Fruity Blast Special today. That okay for you?"

"Oh yeah, I want to fruity blast myself away!" Bokuto almost throws you off your chair in his haste to get his drink, awkwardly shuffling his hand through your hair when you both caught your balance.

"Uh, it's tasty," he dances back to his seat, sits down and leans forward, squinting to read the small text.

"Wait, what did you say again? What do I have to do here?"

You turn to look at Keiji, but he's sending you a wink and a smile before disappearing into the kitchen. You know what that means. He's got kitchen duty so you can explain Bokuto's Homework to well, Bokuto.

"Read the Question out loud, Bokuto," you ask him, "You already know it."

"Oh yeah, sure," he laughs easily, "Sorry."

"No need," you take a sip of your drink. "I'm sure Keiji's up for some Volleyball later when you feel restless again."

"One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings," you order, grinning from one ear to the other.

Keiji rolls his eyes at you. "This is not helping our savings account."

"What? I'm keeping you in business."

"By going bankrupt?"

You push your lip out in a pout and he leans forward to bite it.

"Harassment," you tease him, "I'll call the police."

"Who's going to serve you your Bubble Tea then, huh?"

You snort and he winks, turning around to prepare your drink.

You pull out your phone, take a picture from his behind - that uniform really is doing him a favor - and open your messenger app.

"Bokuto's coming over later."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we're going over the stuff for next week's exam. By the way, I have this friend who'd be very cute with Bokuto-"

"Don't set him up," Keiji turns around, "You're going to regret it."

"Excuse me, Ji? She's really sweet, he'd like her."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right. But it's so much sweeter if he does it by himself, you know."

"Like you did?" You ask and if you hadn't already been in love before, his shy smile would have you swooning now.

"Fine," you huff, moving to grab your wallet, "I'm just going to invite her over for our next movie night, okay? We can invite some more friends, make it a small party, see where they take it themselves."

"Drink is on the house," Keiji insists, putting a hand on your wallet. "But you can buy some groceries on the way home. It's Asparagus season."

"Ew, healthy." You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. "So responsible. Makes me want to corrupt you."

"You already did," he jokes, "Why do you think I've started drinking Bubble Tea too?"

"What's your order?" You ask, already smiling.

"One Taro Bubble Tea, no Toppings."

@luvring

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#Is this way too cheesy? Yes #Am I your best friend who you were going to set up with Bokuto? Of course #Just had to get this out of my system but now I have to pack and get everything travel ready #my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #haikyuu drabbles #akaashi #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi #akaashi keiji

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hrts4kyo · 5 months

Text

2Nite — ♕

♡︎ switch!theo x fem!reader

♡︎ genre: smut. strictly, mdni. (wc; 2,7k)

♡︎ sypnosis: you and your friends decided to go to the clubs to celebrate your birthday, and of course, your closest friend Theo had to be there as well. Despite you both denying the rumours of something going on between you two, everyone could see right through the clear facade. Maybe, there was something more. Something that was unspoken and hidden from everyone else.

♡︎ warnings: semi-publc (restrooms), fingering, manhandling, not an established relationship yet, praise + degration, slight exhibitionism, pet names (e.g baby, sweetheart), alcohol intake, oral (m receiving), handjob.

♡︎ song recs: 2nite - p1harmony + formula - labrinth. ✭

You swung your bag over your shoulder, getting out of the taxi with a bright smile on your face. It was finally your birthday, the day you had been looking forward to for ages. You flattened your slim black dress before paying the cost of the taxi and shutting the door with a nod.

At last you headed towards the entrance of the club, taking your ID from the purse and showing it to the tout that stood tall infront of the entry. Once you got the pass, he clicked open the gate and signalled you to go in. You did so confidently, heading straight to the booth that you and your friends had rented for the night.

As you made your way through the loud crowds, you found yourself swaying along with the music.

Once you finally made it to your booth, you were greeted with a loud cheer from your favourite friends. All of them immediately errupted into a loud “Happy birthday” and you could not help but slightly get embarrassed, ducking your head in your hand and laughing quietly.

“Heyy y/n!! We were looking forward to you finally arriving, took you long enough” Keeho smiled, patting down on the seat next to him as you made your way to sit.

“Okay, I know I was late but I couldn’t help it, my uber was late as fuck” You sighed, placing your bag on the table.

“You’re always so stubborn, I told you I could’ve picked you up on the way here” Intak shook his head, smiling in a way of saying “I told you so”

“Oh please, with the way you drive, I’d rather be late. You drive like your in a formula car lets be so real right now”

And everyone nodded, agreeing with you.

“Anyways, It’s my birthday, drinks are on me so what are we getting?” You stood up, taking your wallet out so you could head to the bar to order drinks.

“Hey thats not fair, It’s your birthday, we should be the one getting you the drinks” Jiung added, putting his hand over your wallet.

“I agree” Jongseob added, tilting his head towards Jiung.

“Can all of you shut up for once, trust me I want to buy you all drinks, It’s my treat! I mean come on we’ve been friends for several years and none of you guys have let me buy drinks before” You slapped Jiungs hand off, chuckling as you told them all that it’s okay.

“Works for me, I’d love some tequila shots” Keeho shrugged.

“Ooh, Me too” Shota added, following Keeho like he always did.

“Okay fine, I’ll just have a beer then” Intak said.

“I’ll have a beer along with Intak” Jongseob added.

“Yeah beer sounds good” Jiung replied, content with the choice of drinks.

“What about you Tae?” You asked, trying to memorise all of the drinks that the boys had asked you for.

“I’m not too sure, can I come to the bar with you so I can check the menu?” Theo questioned.

“Of course, Tae”

And he got up along with you, both of you heading towards the bar, blending in with the large crowd.

As you dissapeared and left the boys’ line of vision, Keeho looked towards the others with a grin on his face.

“Is it just me who thinks there’s something goin’ on between them two?”

“Definitely not, yangie always acts different around her, its hilarious to see” Intak smiled as he leaned into the booth.

“Oh for sure, Whenever we go to the clubs without y/n he just gets a fireball. It’s his favourite drink. There is no way he actually didn’t know what he wanted today.” Jiung snickered.

The boys laughed loudly, seeing right through Theo.

. . . . . . .

You and Theo walked through the heavy crowds, music blasting out of the industrial speakers. Due to it being a Saturday, the entire venue was packed with people, several couples on the dance floor and other strangers just hanging with their friends.

At some point you felt like you had lost Theo, looking around you as you panicked. Finding him in the large mass of people would take ages, and you didn’t want to worry the other boys. So, you called his name out, trying to overpower the speakers, but of course, you were unsuccessful.

While your heartbeat quickened, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, then lower onto your hand. You looked behind you, locking eyes with him.

“Theo, for fucks sake you had me worrying” You cried out, relief washing over your entire body.

“Sorry sorry, some random girl grabbed my shirt and pulled me to her, told her I had a girlfriend and so she left me alone”

Your eyes widened.

“Since when did you have a girlfriend oh my god?” You laughed, genuinely shocked with him.

“I dont know, since now apparently. I just pointed to you and she let me go” Theo shrugged, a smirk plastering across his face.

He didn’t wait for your reaction, pulling you by your hand to the bar through the heated bodies on the dance floor. You still had not recovered from that small remark, feeling yourself blush as you patted your cheek to make sure you weren’t heating up. To your dissapointment, you were scorching, meaning you were one hundred percent blushing. Shit.

You both arrived at the bar before you had even realised, Theo letting go of your hand slowly as he sat down on one of the stools along with you. You looked at him, admiring his calm expression as he searched over the menu board that was placed on the wall.

You were broken out of your trance through a bartender, a small girl that had her hair in a sleek ponytail.

“Hi! what can I get for you and your partner today?” She grinned, pointing her hand towards Theo that looked at her with a twisted expression, stuck in between laughter and keeping his mouth closed.

“I-We aren’t partn-

“We’d like 2 tequila shots, 3 beers, and one fireball. What would you like baby?” Theo asked, looking towards you.

At this point you couldn’t shut your mouth, your jaw hanging low as your eyes were wide.

“Oh, um, I’d just like one white wine please” You responded, mind spinning and your stomach churning. What was with Theo today, and more importantly, what was with you today? Why were you feeling like this….towards your best friend?

“Easy, will get them now” The bartender responded, making her way to the large selection of drinks.

You and Taeyang nodded, waiting for her to leave before you both made eye contact.

“Mind explaining yourself?” You questioned, leaning into his ear to make sure he could hear you.

A smirk made its way onto his face, bringing his lips close to yours as he breathed down your neck and spoke in your ear.

“You think I couldn’t see how you blushed when I dragged you by your hand y/n? the club lights dont do you much justice, neither does your body warmth.”

You felt your whole world spin, your bones suddenly feeling weak.

Theo took his hand off the counter, slowly bringing it up your thigh as he played with the hem of your dress.

“This dress new?” Theo smiled, looking down at the silver accents that rimmed the corners of the dress elegantly.

“Nah, Just never wore it, It’s kind of uncomfortable” you muttered, your heart beating at an unsteady pace. Theos eyes dragged from your thighs, to your stomach, to your cleavege, than to your eyes. You could feel him pierce through your skin, his touches feeling heavy.

“Uncomfortable hm? Guessing you wouldn’t mind it being ruined then?” He began to trace circles in your inner thighs, causing you to tremble slightly, tensing your entire body up.

“No, I wouldn’t mind” You wanted to see how this played out.

“How about we forget the drinks and the other boys for a little then?” Theo stood up from his stool, extending his hand for you to grab.

without a second thought, you took his hand in yours, allowing him to lead you wherever he had in mind. You mindlessly went after him, watching the way his black locks brushed over his forehead underneath the orange and red lights.

Before you knew it, Theo had stopped in his tracks and pulled you into one of the bathrooms, his chest against yours. You looked up at him, admiring his gorgeous features.

“Mind if I—“

“Kiss me, Theo.”

And you were swept into a tender kiss, his lips crashing against yours. His teeth dragged across your lower lip, allowing his tongue to gain entrance and twist with yours in a heated dance. His hands made their way from your waist to your thighs, hoisting you up so you were pinned against the wall, his hardening bulge pressing against your clothed heat.

You felt arousal pool at your panties, the kiss fogging up your mind while he slightly rubbed against you. You moaned into his mouth, your dress riding up so your ass was nearly exposed. One of his hands gripped your ass harshly, causing him to groan while you broke the kiss to throw your head back from the sensation. His hand moved from your ass to your pussy, pressing right against your sensitive bud.

“Shit, Taeyang..Need more” You sighed contently, leaning your head against the graffitied wall of the restrooms.

“Whatever my princess needs”

And within seconds, his hand had moved your panties to the side, teasing your bare entrance with his long digits. Your breathing faltered as he slowly put you down, turning your back into his chest as your ass lined up with his hard cock. He pulled you infront of the full length mirror of the bathroom as one of his hands spread your legs apart and one hand found refuge on your neck.

Your dress was now pooled at your waist, your entire cunt dripping and bare infront of the mirror. The sight was exotic, a whimper escaping your lips as you watched the way Theo’s hands circled your cunt. You turned your head to the side, the sight becoming too much for you to handle. But, before you could fully look away, Theo scowled in your ear.

“Look at yourself through the mirror gorgeous. Don’t look away now…you’re practically dripping for me.” Theo scoffed underneath his breath, watching you through the mirror as well.

You looked at yourself, and finally, Theo pushed one of his digits into your cunt, a moan escaping your lips at the coldness of his finger. He slowly took it out as he plunged it back in roughly, your eyes shutting in pure ecstacy.

Suddenly, you felt another finger probe at your entrance, your hole aching as it slid its way into you. Theo’s free hand slightly tightened around your neck, resulting in your mind fogging up and a loud moan making its way out of your lips.

As his fingers made its way in and out of your bruised cunt, you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge. His fingers pressed against your gummy walls so sweetly that you couldn’t help but clench around them. Within just a few moments, you were coming undone around his hand, your juices leaking down your thigh and onto Taeyangs palm.

“There we go, thats my pretty girl” Theo whispered in your ear, plunging his fingers in and out of you softly as he pushed your cum back into your swollen pussy.

Theo twisted you back around so you were facing him, checking up on you as he brushed your stray pieces of hair back.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Theo looked down at you with concern, his hands brushing over your red face and checking your pulse on your neck.

You smiled, a small giggle escaping your lips as you watched the way Theo began to worry at how silent you had become.

“That felt fucking amazing Taeyangie” You put your hand atop of his, sighing into his touch.

“Fuck you had me so worried” Theo exhaled.

You looked down at his pants, his bulge still erect. You could feel your mouth watering as you imagined taking his length in your mouth. You looked back up at him, wanting him to enjoy this night just as much as you.

Your hand brushed over his dick and pressed it slightly, causing him to wince and suck in a deep breath through his teeth.

“I can help you with this, Can’t I baby?” You smiled, pushing Theo into one of the stalls and pressing his chest down so he sits on one of the closed toilet seats. You kicked the door shut, locking it quickly before settling between his legs.

“Fuck you look so hot right now y/n” Theo responded, his voice raspy.

Your confidence was at its peak, your hands making their way to his belt, unbuckling it in a hurry. You took his jeans down along with his boxers, His dick snapping against his toned abs. His flared mushroom head was practially leaking with pre-cum, begging for release.

And so, you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, Theo groaning at the slightest touch.

You swatched your thumb over the head, gathering some of the slick and dragging it along his length. You began to twist your hand around his throbbing cock, Causing Theo to mutter unrecognisible words.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, feels so good”

As you felt Theo twitch in his seat, you could see from his expression that he was close. His brows furrowed together and mouth wide open. You took your hand off his dick, a dissapointed growl escaping his plush lips. Before he could complain, you kissed his tip, your warm mouth taking him in.

Theo arched his back, taking one of his hands off the seat and grabbing a fistful of your hair. You slowly took him in your mouth, your eyes watering around his girthy and long length. He was undeniably big, maybe the biggest you’d ever seen, and so you took as much as you could in your mouth and brung one of your hands back to cover the remaining length.

Theo was practically hyperventilating, his breath ragged while his chest heaved up and down in a rush. He was close to cumming, his hand that was located in your mouth guiding you to speed up. You gagged around his harsh length, turning him on more.

“‘m gonna cum, fuck, where do you want me” Theo asked, looking down at your teary eyes.

You held onto his thigh, signalling that you want him to say in your mouth. And with one last thrust into your mouth, Theo painted your throat white, his thick white spurts of cum spilling in you. You swallowed every last drop before kissing his tip and allowing him to pull out.

“Shit…That was so sexy y/n, god I love you so much” Theo said, standing up from the seat and pulling his boxers and pants back on as he buckled his belt with shakey hands. You kissed him on the lips before smiling.

“I love you too, my boy”

“Im all yours y/n.”

You held onto his hand as you quickly dragged him out of the toilets, both of you becoming a laughing mess as you made your way back to the booth. It hadn’t been that long right?

You both were met with an empty space, a note placed on the table.

Theo picked it up, wrapping one of his arms around your waist as he read it out loud.

“You guys were super loud in the bathrooms by the way, anyways — congratulations guys, we had all the drinks you both ordered sooo. . . ya’ll missed out on drinks! we’re all at my house now, come over but make sure you both are clean, don’t want cum on my couches <3

— Love, Keeho (aka cupid duh)

You both erupted into laughter, hugging each other closely before walking out of the clubs, calling a taxi. There was still a whole night ahead of you two.

Please reblog and like! lmk if you enjoyed it, and remember, requests are always open.

and thank you to the lovely anon who gave me this idea x x

#p1h x reader #p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #piwon #p1h smut #theo smut #taeyang smut #choi taeyang smut #piwon smut #theo x reader #taeyang x reader #choi taeyang x reader #p1h theo #p1h taeyang #theo ff #kpop smut #p1harmony smut #p1harmony hard hours #p1harmony hard thoughts

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raccoonspooky · 9 months

Text

Don't Buy The Entire Pig For Just One Sausage

Bo Sinclair X Fem Reader, NSFW 10k words. Rated E. Y/N Device is not used in this fic. Second Person, Bo POV. Full list of tags on ao3, highlights include: Unsafe sex, stranger sex, Bo is having a great time until he is not. This fic is not kind to Bo. Bimbo! Reader Nothing is safe or sane, consensual yes but hmm..

*Alternative ending included!

You’re overly confident and the dominance you think you deserve is pulled directly out of a delusion. Bo’s sure that it wouldn’t take much to teach you your manners. Someone failed you somewhere down the line. You were either given too much freedom or not enough, and now you’re running about wearing hot pink in biker bars; lifting wallets like some kind of whorish raccoon.

Full fic under the cut, or on ao3!

Last month, the grimy old dive bar Bo frequented for twenty damned years decided to kick the bucket. The place was run by some old git who either was the son or the grandson of the original owner and Bo imagined the fucker just curled up and died in whatever shithole he lived in. Ain't like he had family left to close the place proper, it locked up one night and it’ll stay locked up till someone decides to pry open the casket.

No one ‘round these parts had any concept of legacy to cling to, most folk were just sitting around with their thumbs in their asses, sitting in their graves and watching the world die around them. Figures that this shithole of a bar would eventually run dry. Bitter as he was, Bo knew it was a long time coming. Place was standing longer than most places lasted round these parts, it’d seen the birth and death of multiple nearby towns, it’d seen that big ol fire that burnt down the mill in Ambrose.

It wasn’t all that hard to find another place that suited him, it was closer to Baton Rouge than he would’ve liked but sometimes a man’s got an inherent need to get some pretty thing drunk. Back home, it’d been slim pickings recently; no tourists, no one on the road. Bo was stalking further and further away from home and every inch he stepped away from his front door added a new crick in his neck. One day, he’s gonna put Mama’s dream on the maps and he needs more materials to make it a reality. He’s got work to do and this fuckshit corner of the world is trying his fucking patience.

Sitting in his truck in the parking lot, white-knuckled on the wheel and glowering at nothing in particular —as if his bitterness had hypnotized him into staring blankly into space like a goat— a dancing gut punch of pink floats past his vision and Bo snaps into focus. The single-braincelled goat becomes a coyote in an instant and his fingers uncurl from their death grip on the wheel and finally steps out of his truck. He gives himself a once over in his driver-side window’s mirror before taking his hat off to smooth down his hair. When he first got into his truck, he wasn’t sure where he was going and now he regrets not finding an outfit better suited to picking up chicks.

He sucks his teeth audibly before spitting on the ground after clearing his throat. His skin itches in the way it does whenever he’s got the scent of something good in the air. No one would believe him, but Bo’s always thought that he had some sorta sixth sense on top of all the looks and charm. These blessings keep his dick wet and fill Ambrose with all kindsa new wax neighbors. Mama always said he stole his brother’s face, but Vincent wouldn’t know what to do with it. Dumbshit ‘ain't the same kinda predator he is.

As he heads inside, he sorta elbow pushes the door open while pulling his pants up a little as he looks around for the pink thing that had his arm hair standing on end. He doesn’t see you right away, but he’s already got a picture of you in mind. So far all he knew was that the blur of a person he saw was that it was vaguely feminine, walking stupidly, and likely some kinda whore. The rock solid assumptions are backed by years of work in this field, therefore he’s sure that this night is gonna end up in the exact same way it always does.

The case he’s building on you quickly begins to bloat. First of all, any unaccompanied bitch in a place like this must be some mix of stupid and a slut. The second biggest wedge in the mental piechart that he’s currently working on building is branded with four big bold letters spelling SLUT. You come in here, some dirty fuckin sticky floored joint that smells like sour beer and piss dressed in pink? You lookin’ to suck some hillbilly cock?

Of the few times Bo’s visited this place it’s been full of dusty old bikers and their floppy-tittied old ladies with sour cunts that smell and look like leather. Sometimes he’s seen some real fuckin backwater bushes folk, but girls sure don't frequent this place, sure there's lot lizards and other night stalkers like them but those don’t count as women. They’re more like walking fuckpockets full of rotting meat that’s more or less shaped like a woman.

Mindlessly, Bo finds himself with a cold beer in his hand and a tinge of agitation beginning to blossom behind his left eye. The routine that he’s kept to all these years right now feels like a collar buttoned too high up, one of those stiff starched church shirts where his mama would tie his tie damned near to choking him. He wants to rip it off and run at you like a bull, fuck the rules. It ‘ain't fair to keep someone like him contained by all this bullshit. This is a dog-eat-dog world and he ain’t the bad guy for being the first one to bite most often. Whoever you are? You’re prey and you know it walking in here in what he assumes is a pink dress. Maybe you have a death wish? Maybe you’re one of those dumb sluts who’s coasted through life with batting her eyelashes and shoving your tits at your problems. Over the years, Bo’s mastered breaking apart girls exactly like you, and from the way his throat tastes and the twitch in his eyebrow, he’s sure that you’re exactly what he assumes you are.

Bo saddles himself at the furthest end of the bar where he can get the best viewpoint of the whole place, there’s a pool table to one side and a forever out-of-order cigarette machine that’s got a nest of roaches inside. First time he came in here, he jiggled the machine just to see if anything would come out and a big fat roach fell out of it dead right atop his boot. Everyone else here looks blurred, he’s got tunnel vision and everything he can see, smell, and hear is pushed to the background in favor of setting all his focus on you.

His ears pick up on you before anything else, which is weird ‘cause he sure as fuck took a look at the group behind him and he didn’t see no pink thing in the mess of bald-headed fucks. You jingle as you walk, the sound of metal on metal and clothes shifting together and in another moment. You all but skip past him trailing some skinhead looking motherfucker behind you. Bo didn’t get a look at your face but he got an eyeful of everything else and god damn is there a lot to see. Your boots clip clop on the floor and they cling tight to your calves despite the pointed cowboy toe of ‘em. They’re shiny looking, like the vinyl seating of an old car. Bo’s mind registers legs, naked skin, the general shape of your body, and just as he’s on the cusp of a full thought, the most annoying voice he’s ever heard spouts from your lips and you chirp, “Follow the leader!” with a singsong voice at the asshole behind you.

So far, Bo was right in his assumption about you wearing a dress. Well… it’s some kinda skirt and a little shirt but that’s the same thing. Your lower back’s bare and he can see the hint of a tramp stamp peeking out of your waistband, it’s frilly up top like old lady bloomers or something but it’s got that sorta floaty look like in old movies. It might look old if it wasn't barely covering your ass. Bo’s not taken a single sip out of his beer and all he can do is stare at the back of your hair, dry swallowing and feeling his blood turn acidic in his veins.

Who the fuck are you? You’re like something that crawled right out of a trashy porno and into this shack as if you were summoned by the stench of ball sweat and violence. You sit atop a stool near the bar, sitting on your knees so you can sit higher and lean over toward the grizzled woman working the taps. You squeal something high-pitched and Bo feels his brain rattle against his skull. That fuckin’ noise reminds him of those fish bitches who sing dumbasses to their death, luring them with their fish titties while wailing them to their graves. The tone of your voice is gratingly annoying but he’s already imagining what other kindsa noises you could make. There's a perfect moment between three points of hurt, scared, and needy that Bo’s got several tape recordings of. He’s already thinking of what to label your tape with.

— “Pleaaase? I have to pee so bad and I just got over a bladder infection.” You press your hands together in a mockery of prayer after slamming your giant purse onto the counter with a thud. “You gotta know how it is! Cranberry juice for days and it’s not all that good of a drink when there’s no liquor in it!”

The woman at the bar huffs, surprisingly amused, and Bo glares. He’s tried charming the fuck out of that old gator but he’s never got so much of a twitch of a smile out of her. Old ladies fucking love him and that old bitch was completely immune to everything he was laying on. You continue to beg for a bathroom and it comes to Bo’s attention that sitting like you are, leaning over like that… there’s no way that you’re not just showing your panties to everyone who cares to look. There ain't anyone behind you and he gets up to casually walk your way to take a gander. No one’s looking at him, so he doesn't care to make a show of why he decided to get up and move to a booth directly behind you.

Bo’s convinced that anything he assumes is correct and raking his eyes up your exposed thighs and up to the slope of your ass. Your skirt giving him a good eyeful of ass is all the proof he needs to convince himself that he’s the smartest man in the universe. His assumption that he could take a peek at your panties is correct, sure he had to squint and pretend to pick something up off of the ground but he’s able to see just a hint of white fabric.

Fuck, white panties. Something about ‘em makes his dick jump to life in his pants. You think you’re some kinda sweetheart huh? With the frills in your skirt and your Barbie pink boots, d’ya think you’re some kinda doll? Plastic cunt hidden away by painted on panties? He remembers using scissors to cut the hand off of one of his mama’s childhood dolls; it didn’t have the same thick weight of slicing through meat that Bo’s come to enjoy in the years since then. You’ve probably got dainty lil hands, soft and with manicured nails. Bo’s fist clenches around nothing and he realizes that he left his untouched beer at the corner of the bar. With a huff, he gets up to retrieve his drink and you shout across the L-shaped counter,

“Ha! Pretty boy like you shouldn't be leaving his drink uncovered, c’mon that’s like rule one of being hot.”

In response, Bo coughs. And then he coughs again. He pounds on his chest with his fist and you giggle at him. He’s not looked at your face yet and glaring at you down feels like a nightmare he once had of his mother dragging him through some department store while glitter-faced makeup ladies from the counters laughed and pointed at him for being a grown man holding hands with his mama. What the fuck did you just say? Was that a threat? You think he’s…. pretty?

Instinctively, Bo latches onto the closest semblance of composure he can find,

“Speakin’ from experience sweetheart?” He sneers while finding his seat in the booth again.

You blow him a kiss and the gator behind the counter hands you a key and points. The big guy behind you stumbles and you hop off your stool with a sickly sweet smile that’s almost convincingly real. To anyone less versed in fake smiles, it might’ve gone undetected. Behind you, the guy looks woozy. The guy behind you shuffles as he walks, you stand him in front of the door and he steps away as if uncomfortable and you pull on his belt loop to force him closer. Bo can’t hear your command exactly, but it seems as if you were using the guy to guard the door as you took a piss. Fucking weird.

When the door opens again, you basically slam it into the neanderthal guarding you and he barely reacts. He turns around like a lurching zombie and your face screws up in mock concern.

“Are you feeling okay, big guy? I thought you were gonna show me your Harley!” You leave him for a moment to return the bathroom key and the dude slowly collapses into the nearest seat. You make a show of putting your hands on your hips and huffing, you nudge his boot with your own and sigh when he groans you roll your eyes, big lashes making the expression cartoonish. “Nighty night then lightweight!” You say cheerfully before basically skipping away from him with a big grin on your face. You hold your big bag low at your side and Bo notices for the first time that it’s bulging and looking as if it’s barely able to zip closed.

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Fuck you’re the most annoying thing he’s ever fucking seen. You seem to feel his gaze on you and Bo only challenges your “I caught you” expression with a raised eyebrow. You’re a fuckin loud ass flamingo with tits, of course he’s looking. Why would you dress like that if you didn’t want people to stare? He tilts his bottle at you, (still barely sipped) in invitation and you prance your ass over to him like a pony.

“Are you gonna buy me a drink? Cause otherwise I’m going home.” Your tone is completely bitchy, and you reach into your dumb little shirt and presumably your bra to dig out a tube of lipgloss. Your lips are already glimmery and Bo takes a slow drink from his bottle while imagining ‘em wrapped around something long and hard. Not everyone has his higher than average people reading skills, but any fuckin’ moron could look at you and determine that you’re good at sucking cock.

“I heard that guys who prefer bottles over cans have daddy issues.” You blow a small bubble with the gum he hadn’t noticed you were chewing and your sentence ends with a snapping noise as you pop it with your teeth. Your lipgloss disappears back into your tits and a lightning strike of rage splinters up his spine. He could slam your face into this fuckin’ table so quickly that you wouldn’t be able to so much as cry about it before you’re choking on your teeth! In a place like this, no cameras, cash only you’d be one more face in a god damned Walmart’s missing people plastic box by the return center you fucking bitch.

Ignoring his facial expression and the general violence radiating out from his person, you sit next to him which cages him into the booth without any escape.

“Where do you get off sayin’ this shit huh?” Bo spits, low and dangerous. You’re so fucking dumb. Usually, Bo’s got a little more tact when it comes to finding someone for one of Vincent’s new projects. He knows how to sweet talk, Bo can put on the fuckin’ ritz for every dumbass type of bitch in the world but you’re tearing apart every bullshit line he could pull on you as if you knew that he was barely keeping it together in the first place. You don’t know fucking shit about him, you’ve got it all twisted around you bitch. He’s reading you, you’re the prey here. Not the other way around.

“Hmm.” You look upward, thinking. “Where do I get off? Ummm…. my bed usually. Where do you? Are you an alley pervert?” You speak before he can. “Oh! No, no ways. You’re like one of those guys who takes sneaky upskirt pics.”

Fucking what? Bo feels like he stumbled into another fucking dimension. “The fuck is wrong with you? Jesus.”

Your laugh is grating, a little nasally. “You seem like a photo guy is all. Everyone has their things. You asked where I got off, so I told you, duh.” You roll your eyes and Bo imagines how good your pretty makeup would look running down your face. You wouldn’t be all that sassy while bleeding out in his basement. The murderous thought is sliced clean through by your suddenly meowing phone, you unzip a pocket of your bag and dig around for a good minute before you find your phone and flip it open to answer the call.

“Nuh-uh!” You partway scream through a laugh as Bo just… stares at you, mouth breathing. He spent every last Thursday of every month buying two lotto tickets and treating himself to a burger and maybe some pussy, and he hadn’t won shit from the lottery in the twenty years he’d kept to the damned ritual, he hadn’t scratched off the tickets yet but with your stupid ass he feels as if he’s got a million dollars folded up in his wallet.

—” Oh you bitch! You did not,” You snort, actually fucking snort. “Did it hurt? What about lube?”

Bo clears his throat and you hold up a finger, “Ugh alright, fineee.” You pout into your phone, “Talk later babes, I forgot there's a guy next to me.” You pause for a moment and then turn to Bo to look at him with an analyzing expression.

“Hmm, he’s like a solid seven. Hot in a DILF way.”

Bo’s breath jumps up a few notches and he feels a growl building in his throat. Something is fucking wrong with you and you’re a gift from fucking god at the same time. He imagines your limp body, legs bruised, blood seeping from beneath you. You’d beg him to kill you in the same way you’re gonna beg for his cock. Bo blows a slow breath through his nose and shifts in his seat, resisting the urge to adjust his dick that’s steadily swelling with blood the more you run your stupid slut mouth.

In a flash of movement, your phone is put away and you unzip your purse just enough to get your hand inside to pull out a worn brown leather wallet. It’s a bizarre contrast compared to the rest of you, it looks cheap but not cheap like you. You smell like dollar store perfume and your jewelry sure as fuck ain't valuable. Getting by as he does, he’s gotten good at figuring out if jewelry and shit is worth any money. You use the tip of your pink rhinestone-adorned talon to dig through the bills in the wallet and your eyes go wide as if surprised to see what was in there. Two twenties are removed and you curl them lengthwise as if offering money to a stripper.

You wiggle the bills toward him and Bo scoots further away from you, scowling. The only thing he wants to do is wrap his fingers around your neck and squeeze, he doesn’t want to waste any words on you because right now they’re in short supply. He’s unraveling at the seams and beneath his exterior he’s an animal thing desperately in need of a good fuck or a good kill.

“C’mon pup, get me a drink? Please? You can keep the change! My treat!” You flutter your eyelashes. Throwing money away like it’s fuckin nothing to a stranger? You don’t seem like a rich girl, but the thought pisses Bo off just the same.

“That ain't your wallet and I ain't a whore.” Bo decides on a safe response to spit out. He’s yet to fully comprehend that you just called him “pup.” as if some sort of mental barrier simply wouldn’t allow him to hear it otherwise he’d suffer a series of incoming strokes.

“Debatable.” You hop out of the booth and you point to the bar while blowing another bubble with your gum. “Something with a cherry in it?”

“Aint no fuckin cherries here girl.”

“Wine..?”

You look so miffed that Bo chuckles, he gets out of the booth and plucks the money from your fingers before pocketing it. It takes a tremendous amount of effort but he manages to even out his breathing. He’ll get what he wants, he’s never learned to be patient but if things go right he shouldn’t have to wait long.

“I got wine at my place.” He offers, putting on his best attempt at charm. If he could just get you back home things would work out perfect and he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind and either fuck you right here or now or break every bone in your body with a fucking audience barely ten feet away.

“Sure!” You grin, “We both know we’re gonna fuck in your car anyways. Might as well pretend it's headed for wining and dining.”

“Confident ‘aintchya?” Since the moment he set eyes on you Bo’s imagined about thirty detailed plans for what he wants to do to you and most of ‘em don't end up all that good for your well-being. He’s never met a girl quite so fuckin glib about shit like this, but he’s beginning to think that you’re missing a handful of marbles and your skull is full of cotton candy and cum instead.

You meet his gaze with big, moony eyes and there's a distinctive moment where your gaze turns sharp. The expression barely surfaced but Bo easily saw the face he’d be wearing if it weren’t for all this stupid pretense. Your big ass bag is hauled up and you hold it in front of yourself, “Carry my purse and maybe I’ll swallow.”

What the fuck would keep him from taking your purse and leaving with it? Your stare oozes nothing but confidence and your smile is an obvious challenge. His cock twitches, more blood surges through him and Bo swallows dryly. He used to volunteer to carry his mama’s purse when he was a kid, mostly cause he wanted to root around in it for candy but secondly, because he liked feeling important. Doing things for her was the only way she’d give him any ounce of positive attention and your tone cuts through him in a way you’d sure as fuck never live long enough to understand. Bo takes the stupid fucking purse and you preen, “That’s a good boy.”

You’re fucking lucky that you mentioned swallowing because otherwise, wrapping his hand around your throat as your mouth’s stuffed with cock and watching your face turn purple and your eyes bulge red sounds pretty goddamned good right now.

Bo has to push past you somewhat as you begin to walk ahead of him, as soon as you’re both in the dirt lot outside, it's clear which car is yours. An eyesore of a blotchily painted rattletrap is parked some ways away, one of its doors is a completely different color and the entire car is tilted as if your tire pressure’s low. There’s no doubt in his mind that if he were to turn on the engine, the entire dash would light up with every light there is.

He leads you to his truck and you giggle, “Man I thought I was driving a real shitbox. Look at this dinosaur!”

Bo’s jaw gives an audible cracking noise and he wrenches the door open to forcibly shove you inside. He doesn’t give a shit if it hurts if your surprised yelp is anything to go by. Your bag is tossed in next and he wastes no time in crawling over the bench seating and forcing your legs up to make room for himself. You’re like a dead bug on its back and he hates that you were right about him being a “photo guy” because he’s sure that he wants to remember you but he hates the idea of proving you right. This part of the show is easy, he feels more in control of the situation now that he’s found out how to get back on track, he’s barely aware of his thoughts as his body remembers who and what he is.

His hold on your thigh relents in favor of working on his belt and you contort your body, sitting with your knees over the back of the seat and your side twists as you unzip your purse. You tut an annoyed tone and then lay back to set your purse on your stomach, you tuck your chin to look into it and the angle causes an avalanche of shit to tumble out onto the floor.

“The fuck are you doing?” Bo grunts out, the conscious flow of thoughts to his brain cut off just about when he saw that blur of pink disappearing into the bar. It’s been weeks without any pussy, nothing’s stopping him from taking it by force, but he wants to savor the motions he has in plan for you. It’s a long ride home and it’d be easier and a hell of a lot less messy if you’d go compliantly. Maybe he’ll keep you around, fuck you for a few days till your cunt’s worn out. That’s the best a girl like you can hope for and that’s the highest offer he’s willing to place on the table.

“Looking for a condom, I dunno where you’ve been!”

Mentioning a condom is an instant boner killer and Bo shakes his head no while watching your purse spill more and more shit out. He sees makeup and a couple of wallets. Two belts, what looks like an entire outfit change, and countless receipt papers. “Girl you’re fucking killing me.”

You scoot a bit, bending and squashing yourself until you can sit up after seemingly giving up on your search. Fluidly, you lean closer into him and up close your perfume is almost cloyingly sweet. It tickles his senses, not enough that he wants to sneeze but enough that he wants more of a sample to determine whether or not he likes it. For someone who looks so sugar-sweet, who wants to smell like a lollipop you’ve sure got a fuckton of presumably stolen wallets. You’re a sticky-fingered little freak and a fucking cunt to match. Easy girls are never good ones, someone like you couldn't have possibly been raised right.

Slowly, your head tilts and you assess his face curiously. Bo only allows it because lately he’s been pushed past desperate, he’s fucking starved and he doesn’t want to know what the fuck comes after he’s skin and bones. He needs this to work out right, he needs a fucking win. It’s been forever since he’s stolen something he wants to play with and without that distraction, his mother finds her way in to bitch and moan at him from beyond the grave.

Your lips slant over his before Bo realizes what you’re doing and his stomach twists in disgust. Kissing is for pussies and your lipgloss is tacky against his mouth. Your tongue tastes like bright citrus, like an orange creamsicle and he feels you manipulate your gum to sit between your teeth and gums. The thought is gross and Bo grimaces against your kiss, you manage to straddle his lap without breaking the kiss, and on instinct his hand reaches to cup your ass, squeezing hard while using his other hand to hold your hip

The candy-mouthed kiss feels all kinds of wrong but pulling away from you is far from his thoughts while you grind your hips down, rubbing yourself against his undone jeans. Your breath hitches when he slides his hand up to one of your tits and he pinches your nipple through your shirt, hoping to hear you complain about it. He’s made aware immediately that your tits are pierced and he’s unable to keep himself from groaning into your mouth. Your pussy could feel like a sandpapered ant hill and he wouldn’t give a single shit about it if you’d let him slot his dick between the perfect tits in his hands. Unfortunately for him, you pull away from the kiss which leaves him fat-lipped and dumb. “It’s a total bummer that we can’t fuck.” You sigh, speaking plainly, sounding almost bored.

“Why not?” He almost spits, his tone takes on defensive but it comes out sounding bitchy. If he was anywhere but here, he wouldn’t have to play this stupid fucking game. He could just take.

“Hello? Weren’t you listening? We need a condom and I can't find one.” You cross your arms, looking every bit the bratty doll that you are. Remembering that doll hand that he severed that got him locked in a fucking cabinet for a day makes his cock throb. His daddy woulda called him a sissy for playing with dolls, but the old man might’ve keeled over and died he caught wind that his son was about to fuck one.

“I haven't slept with anyone since my wife died.” Bo lies, settling on a random story for who knows why. It’s the first thing he landed on and a familiar face he often wears to garner some pity pussy.

“And you’re a forty dollar whore. Maybe your wife was a slut like you are huh?” Your garble out with genuine venom. It’s completely random and Bo blinks at you, surprised by what the fuck you just said.

Your bottom lip quivers and you suddenly slump over him to wail into his neck, he doesn’t know what the hell is happening but he doesn’t fucking care. Not when he can feel the heat of your cunt just a few thin layers away from where he wants you. Your shoulders shake and Bo wonders if he could reach under his seat and find something to get this over with before you’d even know what was happening. He had to have something… a knife, a syringe, a piece of broken glass. Just as quickly as your sniffling came, you sat up with a bright smile though your eyes look blown wide and manic. “Sorry.” You glance to the side, “I hate hearing about other girls. I just went through a breakup and everything still hurts y'know?”

God damn it. For some reason your insanity has his cock barking like a damned dog to get inside of you. If he just slid it in, maybe you wouldn’t notice? Your claws come to curl around his bicep and girl you’ve got a fucking grip on you. You wriggle your hips as if in frustration and Bo finally forces you to sit up so he’s able to reach between your bodies to free his dick. He strokes himself just once and closes his eyes, praying to god that he can hold onto his patience. You’re too good to waste on dumping you in the bayou. You’re a crazy fucking bitch but your mama blessed you with a face worth preserving and a body torn out of his favorite porn searches. Curled over him like this, tucking yourself in to be as small as possible makes it difficult to get at your tits, unfucking fair.

“—I thought he loved me.” You whimper though you confusingly begin to grind on his dick again. “I would’ve been so good, if only he gave me a chance. I would’ve been a wayyy better girlfriend than his slut wife and I wasn’t wrong for putting water in her gas tank. If you’re in love you’ll do anything right? So what about chemical burns and a missing poodle!”

Through your ramble, you readjust yourself and Bo takes the opportunity to pull your panties to the side. He wants to take a look at your pussy but right now it seems like a better idea to treat you like a wild animal, like one wrong move would have his head ripped off. You’re officially one of them one flew over the cuckoo’s nest sorta bitches but Bo can’t give a single fuck about it right now. Your body figures out how to slot his dick between your lips and you sigh, eyes closing, pussy soaking his length as you move. Seeking pleasure even while you continue to run your stupid mouth. On Bo’s end, he barely hears you and he’s pretty sure he mumbled for you to shut the fuck up, though he might’ve choked the sentence to death while fighting back the moan that wanted to croak out of him.

The truck’s cab ‘aint all that big and you lean back, blindly reaching behind yourself to press your palms against the dashboard, your dumb frilly skirt rides up on your thighs and you whimper when you manage to figure out how to move to rub his cockhead against your clit. “Fuck that’s so good,” Your voice comes out small and your face is adorably screwed into a pout.

“Look at me and shut up.”

Stubbornly you shake your head no and your eyes scrunch as if forcing them to stay closed. “No thanks, you’re too pretty.”

Bo lifts you to stand on your knees and takes hold of his shaft to position it between your lips, his cockhead just teasing your entrance. He can’t see your pussy on account of your skirt, Bo supposes he could easily look but little freak shits have been making Barbie get naked for decades and he likes the idea that he’s the first smart fucker who figured out how to use the bitch’s plastic pussy. If he looked, maybe all he’d see is the flat mound that other dolls have.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He finally remembers to speak after letting your previous words marinate. “Your mama drop you on the head or what?”

You open your eyes to glare, “I mean that you’re hot and if you ask nicely I’m gonna do something stupid and let you fuck me like I want you to.”

He can’t help the shudder that racks through him in response, girls ain't supposed to be forward and Barbie sure as hell ‘ain't but call him handsome all you want, he’ll allow it. He leans up to graze his teeth over your collarbone before easing you to raise your arms and get rid of your shirt and the cupless flimsy thing that’s apparently a bra. Your tits spring free and Bo wastes no time in pulling you toward his mouth. His tongue curiously flicks the hardening bud and he’s not shy to nuzzle into the soft flesh against his face. All points of contact of his body against yours are met with soft tits and skin, the slick glide of wet pussy, and hard, cold metal against his tongue.

Vaguely, he’s aware that every man on this planet knows the golden rule about sticking your dick in crazy but no one ever fuckin’ told him that crazy had the most fuckable, ruinable body all done up with perfect tits to match. Even now he’s barely able to resist baser urges, if he can't hurt you in the way he wants, he needs to at least gore out your pretty cunt with his near painfully hard dick.

It’d take a while but he wants to cover you head to fucking toe in cum, his stomach feels tight as if he’s going to cramp up if he doesn't bury himself inside of you right fucking now, his throat works the taste of steel down into his gut and no one would be able to resist you wet and writhing on his dick, telling him he’s attractive and downright begging for him to fuck you. Not even you could fault him for holding your hips and forcing you down to take his cock. He can't find it in him to savor your surprised gasp and the way your body yields, biology taking over delusion. His inner monologue clears away any conscious thought besides a desperate chant of hot-wet-tight.

Everything you are can be summed up in a simple “What the fuck.” Three hard thrusts in and he stammers, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he fights back the pressing urge to blow his load. He needed this more than he knew and your walls squeeze and suck at him as if trying to keep him deep inside of you, reluctant to let go. His fingers dig into your hair and Bo pulls you down to kiss him again, he wants to fuck your mouth with his tongue because he doesn’t have enough cocks to shove one down your throat. Your teeth clack against his and your hand slips on the dash, blindly you reach for the wheel and whatever you did causes the damned thing to click in a way that would normally have him bursting a gasket. All he does is mask a moan with a savage bite to your bottom lip instead.

“W-wait,” You pull away from him panting, “I didn’t give you permission—”

“Nuh-uh. Your pussy was fuckin’ begging for it.” He says smugly, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

Your brattiness finds its way back from wherever Bo managed to fuck it from you and you cross your arms. “Only my boyfriends get to fuck me raw.” You poke him in the chest, enunciating your words with poke after poke. “You. Are. Not. My. Boyfriend.”

He takes your hand, unable to take you seriously. You’d look so much better with some fucking respect spanked into you, “Who’s your boyfriend? That fucker you left in the bar after you robbed him?” His thrusts slow and you sit up to hold onto his shoulders for leverage as you lift your hips until actually pulling off of him before sinking down inch by inch as if to take in every detail of the undoubtedly perfect fit.

You snort, “I have lots of boyfriends. Just most of ‘em don't know they're mine…”

Bo’s palm finds your lower back, his fingers slip into the waistband of your skirt and he traces the raised texture of your tattoo with his thumb. He’s still not seen it yet, but he wonders if you were dumb enough to get some asshole’s name branded above your ass. Over the years, Bo’s known plenty of stupid and slutty, or slutty and stupid… he’s not yet met a mix of slutty, stupid, and batshit until you. If he knew that girls like you had pussies that felt like they were manufactured for the sole purpose of draining his soul out of his balls, maybe he would’a snagged a girl like you years ago.

“Some of them think they’re taken. They’ll figure it out soon enough,” You continue, snapping your gum again and Bo takes your face in his hand to squish your cheeks and he uses two fingers to physically remove your gum from your mouth. Your only reaction is a pout and he sticks your gum onto your discarded shirt. He would’ve assumed you might’ve bitched about that but you’re already caught up in an incoming rant.

“Nobody’s gonna break my heart never ever again, I’m not gonna let them.”

Ugh, Bo closes his eyes and does his best to ignore your words because he couldn’t give less than a shit about them. Your already piss-poor job at riding him slows even further and you reach next to you for a moment before one of your hands comes to rest on the side of his neck where your nails just barely dip into his hair, your breath is hot against his ear and the unrelenting heat wrapped around him squeezes hard as if for his attention. Your teeth graze against the shell of his ear and the smallest murmur of a moan escapes his involuntarily parted lips.

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend, pretty boy?” You whisper, and your sharp nails curl around to the back of his neck, “I’ll be good to you, let you fuck me whenever you want. You can cum inside right now if you say yes…”

With a mind of its own his cock twitches inside of you, agreeing to any and all unspoken terms. All you fucking do is run your mouth and half of what comes out of it ‘aint fit for a lady and the other half is batshit insanity. You don’t get to claim him you dumb whore, but he can play along for now. If he can bite back the twisting wave of hate, all he has to do is behave for thirty-some miles back to the house. Once you’re in Ambrose, you’ll play by his rules and learn your fucking place. You’re overly confident and the dominance you think you deserve is pulled directly out of a delusion. Bo’s sure that it wouldn’t take much to teach you your manners. Someone failed you somewhere down the line, you were either given too much freedom or not enough, and now you’re running about wearing hot pink in biker bars and lifting wallets like some kind of whorish raccoon.

He can domesticate you. He’s always been decent at fixing shit, and he wants to put you back together so it’ll be all the more satisfying when he breaks you apart. Of course, he nods to your question, he’d be a right fuckin fool to say otherwise.

“Ah-ah,” You tut, “Out loud. Tell me.” The hand not on him shifts next to your side.

Lying is one of the things Bo does best. It’s effortless to look at you and spread a slow smile over his lips like sizzling butter sliding toward the edge of a pan, it’s greasy but it melts easily. He schmoozes hard enough to tilt his head to press his lips against your inner wrist. “I ain’t makin no promises tonight darlin’, let's get to know each other huh? Tell ya what, if you come back to my place tonight, I’ll take you out tomorrow.” His tone drips and oozes.

“A date?” You gasp, grinning. “Oh! That’s great! And here I was, ready to ride you at gunpoint till you said you’d be my boyfriend! This works out so much better, I think you’re gonna be my favorite.”

Bo jolts with the first mention of the word gun and you bring your right hand up, finger on the trigger of a cutesy little derringer that you must’ve pulled out of your purse. You didn’t have a condom but you had a gun? He’d wonder what was wrong with you if it weren't for his kit of zip-ties, xylazine, and duct tape beneath the seat. Instinct tells him to fight, to wrench your arm back until it cracks. You point the thing at him, squinting an eye closed and he feels as if some sense of self preservation should activate. “Bang bang!” You laugh, finger still on the damned trigger and Bo’s stomach flips, his cock surges and he growls, frustrated with the fact that you’re just sitting on him as his dick all but begs for movement. He should give you a taste of your own medicine, show you his own kit of weapons if you’re so excited to play show and tell…

The gun in your hand is so ridiculously small, it looks like a toy and you’ve seemingly stuck a few stickers to it here and there. Hello Kitty adorns the tiny barrel and a yellow dog thing decorates the handle. You’re so… stupid, god it’s like you can’t get any dumber, any more ridiculous, and then here you are, sitting on his dick and demanding that he hand himself over to you on a silver platter. You’re fucking lucky that he’s desperate, if he wasn’t so starved for an ounce of pussy this might’ve ended the moment you stepped outside the bar. Your body would’ve been hauled limp into his truck bed. You had no idea who he was, but he knew everything about you. his nostrils flare and his pulse races every screaming ounce of his sanity tells him to get rid of you because it’d be a mercy to put you down. Y’aint right, you’re fucked in the head… you’re a violent, demanding little psycho bitch who throws pussy around like you don’t care where it ends up and—

Bo unleashes an almost animal noise as the frustration building inside of his gut erupts into sparking violence. Your wrist is cruelly twisted and your fingers spread out to drop your weapon, Bo picks you up to slam you down onto your back, he thrusts back inside of you and the instant gratification nearly has his eyes rolling back in his head. Sure, you’re meant to take cock but you sure as fuck aren't supposed to take it while thinking that you get to decide whether or not it's for your benefit or his. No. He decides whether or not you’ll get it and bitch you’ve been asking for it since your stupid ass got dressed and got in your ridiculous fucking car to drive down here.

“Mm… You’re strong huh?” Your giggle clips into a moan, your weapon falls to the floor and you don’t pay it a second glance. Of course, you’re vocal. Hell, likely no one’s ever told you to shut up before tonight. Bracing himself with one knee on the seat and one knee on the ground, he uses the back of the seat for leverage while the other finds your throat. Feels fucking good to squeeze down, it’s just a taste of what he wants to do to you but for now, it’s enough. You choke on a half-spoken syllable, and every time he drives back into your cunt it’s as if the longer you’re without air, the wetter your sloppy pussy gets.

“Y’like it when it hurts sweetheart?” He lets up from your throat and you suck down needy lungfuls of oxygen. You only grin dumbly, neither confirming or denying his question or maybe you just didn’t hear him. Your body is unfair, your tits bounce against the force of his thrusts and he wishes he had some way of recording this. You’re all smiles, eyes half-lidded as if loving this treatment. Your body seems to understand what it’s made for even if your mind’s skipping around the maypole twirling a gun by the trigger around your fingers while thinking you’re anything but a living fuckdoll. Absently, Bo wonders if your so-called boyfriends ever thought of lobotomizing you or if he’s the first genius to cook up the idea. He can’t imagine being able to stand being around you for more than a parking lot fuck. Good ol’ Doctor Sinclair’s still got a handful of tools in his dusty old office. Maybe that’ll be step one into your redesign.

Whoever you were going on about must be some sorta delusion of yours because there ain't no way in hell that any man could listen to you and submit to whatever stupid bullshit you demand of him. Your pussy’s too tight, too perfect to have been stretched over anyone else. Hell, anyone besides him wouldn’t be man enough to take on a piece of work like you. Bo’s always wanted a fucktoy who ain't got right or reason to think herself a person and with a body like yours, you might as well be the best bet for a walking, talking cocksleeve.

Thinking about you floating through his house all dreamy-eyed and soft smiles, constantly available and with nowhere to go, your dollar store perfume a permanent feature of the place seems so fucking right. Hell, he can get rid of you whenever he feels like but Bo thrives on having goals. He might not want that forever but it might be nice for a while. If he plays his cards right, you might not even need the good ol icepick to the eye socket.

“You like my cock better than your “boyfriends”?” Bo emphasizes his disbelief in the concept and your sleepy fuckdrunk eyes brighten into coherence. Your lips twist and you bite your lip, thinking and Bo immediately regrets asking.

“Third maybe? We’ll have to try out some other things before I’m sure.”

“Wrong answer sweetheart, try again.” He sneers, hating how he’s been biting back his orgasm since the first thrust inside of you.

“But—” Whatever you were going to say is cut off with an open palmed slap to your cheek. He didn’t hit hard, there wasn’t any wind back but your attitude changes in an instant. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and your mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Your expression just about melts and you shudder beneath him, breath kicking into little high-pitched gasps. That’s it, Bo can just about see the pretty little fuckdoll right beneath your skin. You just needed someone to put in the work.

Your inner walls constrict and Bo grunts, feeling as if your cunt already knows who it belongs to and it doesn’t need to be taught a thing about being a good girl for him. Your legs twitch outward with an almost funny tremor and after another savage thrust, your back arches upward and you hiccup out a jumble of broken sounds that coagulate into a throaty, low moan. The moment your orgasm began to build in intensity was the breaking point of Bo’s pulled-thin restraint, a lightning strike of heat spits through his cock and he buries it deep inside of you with a feral need to drive impossibly deeper into your body. He can't stop, he can’t keep going, his orgasm seems pissed at him for the fact that it’d been too long since the last cumdump and he pulls out of you, groaning only to immediately thrust back inside because the loss of your body is an almost jarring sensation.

“Christ” Is all he can say as his brain threatens to leak out of his nose.

You hum, looking up with starry eyes and you speak after a long moment of quiet. “Did you like it?”

Bo takes a deep breath, “What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Yay!” You clap your hands together excitedly, “I wasn’t sure what I stole from that douche I roofied, figured it looked like coke so I decided to take a test run on it when I went to the bathroom.”

After coming as hard as he did, Bo can barely comprehend what you’re saying. You’re everything he’s been raised to hate and he sits up to lazily stroke his flagging shaft, already wondering if he can force his way into another quickie.

“I’ve never been able to come without anyone touching my clit before, so I think a little bit of coke in my pussy definitely did the trick.”

Immediately, his eyes threaten to bulge out of his head, and a vein bulges on the side of his neck. “Wh—” His shock turns to anger and Bo shoves you, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fuck!” The world around him threatens to cave in, crushing his skull with the weight of a lifetime of American morals and a Christian upbringing.

“I told you that I wanted a condom. You’re the one who decided to fuck me like a rabid dog! And I loved it, but you have no right to be pissed at me, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy feels like an insult and the truck cab that’s usually his happy place begins to feel like a coffin that’s steadily being covered in dirt. Genuine dread keeps Bo tight-lipped and quiet. Someone needs to do something about you but you’re vermin rather than prey. You’re a pest. Despite the cold shoulder, you roll your eyes and laugh right in his face. “Are you seriously mad? You’re so cute!” Your bottom lip juts out obnoxiously, “It’s a joke! I’ve tried that before, it’s only good for like thirty seconds.” You giggle and for some god-awful reason, a hateful breath of heat tickles his cheeks. He’s not embarrassed if that’s what you’re getting at.

You pull your shirt over your head without your bra and do your best to get the gum off of it, the wad of orange is tossed to the ground and your purse makes a weird beeping noise. Looking like Winne the damned Pooh, pantsless and likely dripping cum onto his seat, you pick up a bright blue egg-shaped thing from the floor and press two yellow buttons.

“Ugh!” You whine in a high-pitched wound of a noise, “My Tamagotchi died! I take a ten-minute fuck break and the little shit poops itself to death!” The little egg’s screen is shoved into his face and Bo grabs your wrist, glaring.

“God damn it girl, how much of a dicking do you need for you to shut the hell up?” You don’t seem to think you need to respond to his words and you take a moment to pull out a pad of paper from your ridiculous garbage bag purse you hum while scribbling a few things down. When you’re finished the sheet is torn out and you place it in his lap, after patting it a few times.

“The fuck is that?”

“Read it if you’re so curious!”

He swallows the number of things he wants to say in response and Bo picks up the paper, he reads as far as the list’s header before crumpling the paper up and throwing it behind himself. The only thing he needed to read was “Rules of being my Boyfriend.” and that was enough.

You’re more or less dressed soon enough, all your shit is hastily stuffed back into your bag. “Can I get a goodbye kiss?”

“You’re sayin’ goodbye? Thought you were coming back to my place?”

You answer with a laugh, “Oh, you’re adorable. I’m not that dumb pretty boy.”

Bo sneers, patience broken and he hastily reaches over you to push the lock down on your door. It clicks satisfyingly and the incoming sense of gratification has his tone dripping toward bitchy. “Nah, here’s the thing sweetheart. I thought we had a damned agreement.”

“Oh! We do! I wrote it up for you!” You respond cheerily as if not quite understanding the threat you’re under.

He’s not listening, Bo grabs you by the hair with the intent of either knocking you out via asphyxiation or slamming your forehead into the dashboard. The violence he’d been uselessly sitting on all night roars to life and—

Something velcro rips apart and cold metal is shoved beneath his ribs, moving faster than what should be possible. A button clicks and his vision warbles in and out before splintering like glass. Piece by piece it all begins to crash and cut him apart and he chokes on a gasp, tongue feeling too thick to let him open his mouth to suck a lungful of air down his throat.

His door is forced open and you hop out, once again reduced into a pink blur of a person, and a sparking pink rectangle spits lightning, still sharply crackling in your hand. Through insurmountable effort, he manages to force his body to slump forward and just as he regains the general concept of feeling his fingers and toes, a cloud of stinging, whipping heat seemingly rips through his eyes and mouth and he gags, coughing on the gaseous fire that seems to get worse the longer his mouth stays open.

“Oh, I really wish you hadn’t grabbed me like that. I hate when guys get handsy!” The sound of a zipper is the only thing he can discern, Bo tries to open his eyes only to be met with another dose of wet acid that begins to melt his flesh from his bones. Fuck it fucking hurts.

“Toodles babe!” You chirp, “Pleaaase read that paper you crumpled. It’s got my number on it! Rule number one to being my boyfriend, call me or else!” The last word of your sentence is heavily emphasized but Bo barely hears you, all he can do is curl up into a ball to rub his involuntarily leaking eyes into his seat, his freshly tased mind is only able to rely on instinct rather than conscious thought.

Gravel crunches beneath your boots and you walk away unhurriedly, the general pattern of your footsteps is off kilter as if you’re skipping. “Call me!” You yell from a distance repeating yourself for emphasis, “Don’t make me say or else again! No other girls, No fucking around! I’ll know!”

Your sing-song voice is a tornado siren and Bo can’t help but feel as if he just stuck his dick in the eye of a storm. Everything hurts. He can’t see, his mouth and nose are on fire and his bones feel as if he shook hands with god. You’ll be hearin’ from him alright, count your blessings there sweetheart.

ALT ENDING (If you told the truth over whether or not you actually bewitched him with pussy cocaine)

Course you're a druggie. Figures. You're everything he's been bred to hate and you used him. Violated him as if his body was yours to ruin. He feels dirty for the first time in his life.

“Rule number one of being my boyfriend means you have to kiss me.” You wave your hand in front of Bo’s face and all he sees is buzzing flies and rot. Every southern superstition he ever laughed at currently taunts him in his mama’s tone and inflection. She spent her life warning him about how easily the devil finds its way inside of you and he never thought it would feel so fucking good to let it in.

“Okie Doke,” You quip after hearing no response. “You’ll call me then. Rule number two.” You tap the paper on his thigh. Bo wonders where your sissy little pistol went and if he’d still get a usable corpse out of you if he plugged a bullet through your skull but he knows that a clean kill won't be enough for him.

He fucked up. He was stupid and strayed too far from home and look where the fuck he ended up. Already, he wants more of you, and every deluded thought he had about making you his still felt like the best idea he ever had. Fuck you for taking that from him and fuck you in general. Your stupid bag unzips and the distinctive sound of a knife flipping open pulls him from his trance.

Quickly, you hop out of his truck and before he can think to react, you shove a pink, automatic switchblade into his fucking tire. It sinks in again and again as if you’re somehow used to knifing tires.

The dread withers away into animal rage and Bo launches out of his vehicle, seeing blood red pulsing in his vision.

“There’s a three-strike rule! It’s on the paper!” You yell, running at a full speed away, your stupid platformed shoes thwacking the ground while Bo lumbers after you with his pants undone and every nerve ending in his body on fire. Usually, he likes a good chase. He likes to win, but you’ve already scored several points over his tally, and at first, it was cute but now it ain't acceptable anymore.

“Strike one, you didn’t wanna kiss me… so you don’t get a tire! It’s only fair!” You stop running once reaching your car and Bo cracks his neck, thanking god for your stupid little brain for thinking the chase is over. You might think this is a game, but it sure as fuck aint a game to him. Your purse is dumped in your passenger seat and before you can close your door Bo shoves his hand in the way, which hurts but he reacts only by flaring his nostrils. Using every ounce of strength Bo fights to wrench your door open but you let go, causing him to stumble backward.

The hammer to your dumb little pistol clicks backward and you smile, “I’m sorry! Ugh I hate fighting on first dates, it’s uncute.” You turn your key in the ignition and your engine sounds like a croaking frog, subconsciously he’s sure that your radiator’s fucked just from the sound of it but right now he cares about killing, not cars.

“ I promise I’m gonna be good to you.” Your voice is pleading, “Don’t worry! Now walk back to your truck like a good boy now,” Your fingers wiggle and you jut your chin toward his truck, “These things are hard to aim and it’s only gonna kill you if you’re up close. I’m running low on boyfriends so I’d really hate to have to shoot you. That’s usually a third date thing!”

The little gun only has two bullets in it and Bo rushes you with a growl, hoping to catch you off guard. There’s a low chance you’ll get him bad enough to kill him and—

Your pink knife finds its way home right above his knee and Bo crumples. You take his moment of shock to slam your door. His leg refuses to respond to the urgency of the situation, he can move it but it comes with blinding pain that intensifies as you peel out of the parking lot. The way he fell seemed to have dug the blade in deeper and he can only yell in outraged agony as your trashy pink car gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

Thanks for reading all this! I opened a year old single paged draft and just spat out 10k words lmao. I love the idea of this bitch in his home, Tamagotchi beeping like the fkn telltale heart like just fkn HAUNTING him and he doesn't know where the beeping is from. I also love the idea of her smelling some other cheapo perfume on him and having a fkn meltdown because she'd NEVER wear such a trashy perfume!! Like she's fine with the MURDERING but how dare he even look at another vaguely feminine person, he's a cheating!!! HORRIBLE PERSON!! Jail! Jail for boyfriend #5 for one thousand years!

#House of Wax #House of Wax 2005 #HOW fanfic #house of wax fanfiction #Bo sinclair x Reader #Bo Sinclair #Slashers #Slasher Fandom #Slasher Community #Poki writing

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lavenderbexlatte · 1 year

Text

day 6: size difference

monsta x 1.2k words female reader insert Reader x Lee Jooheon NSFW

🖤 warnings: nonsense. descriptions of body size/body image, mild and undefined size kink 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

There's no way to describe the look on this guy's face other than...shook.

It doesn't seem like it's a bad reaction, though. You smile at him nervously, as he works through whatever is sending him. He's watching you approach the table with that unmasked surprise, waiting as you weave your way through the crowded cafe.

You'd expected some awkwardness on a blind date. It's fine.

At least he's cute.

Super cute. He's got a lovely strong face, deep dimples that you can see even now when his face is at rest. His tight t-shirt and fitted jacket do nothing to hide his strong chest, and he sits in that confident man-spread, legs apart and a deep slouch.

He straightens up a little as you get closer.

For all of his apparent struggles, he does speak first. "Hey."

"Hi," you answer, slipping your coat off in the warmth of the cafe and settling it on your chair back, mostly for something to do with your hands.

"So, you're Jun's friend," he says.

"Yeah." You tell him your name, just in case, and he nods.

"Jooheon."

"Cool."

You're settled into your chair, thinking mostly about what you're going to go order to drink, but also a little bit about this guy and his continued astonishment.

And finally, he lets you in.

"You're short."

It's not your fault. You laugh. You can't help it.

"I guess I am," you agree. "Kinda."

You think you're pretty average. You certainly have coworkers and friends who are shorter, and smaller. But he's looking at you like he's never met someone smaller than himself.

"It's cute," he clarifies, as if suddenly realizing how he's acting, how a different person might take offense to his bluntness.

"You don't meet short people often?" you ask.

Jooheon smiles, and instantly, you're melting. Those dimples sink even deeper, and his eyesmile threatens to overwhelm his whole face.

"I work with famous people," he says. "Tall, dark, and handsome."

You know what he means, even if it's an off-target line to use about women. Celebrities are so often tall and delicate, a cold and sharp kind of cultivated beauty. Not exactly words to describe you. It makes sense, you guess, that maybe wasn't expecting someone like you. But that's an interesting tidbit, overall.

"Famous people?" you repeat, curious.

"I produce., and write."

"Music?"

"Mm."

So, he's a musician. Jun said he was in entertainment, but this is much more interesting than you'd expected, more low-key. You'd been half-expecting a local newscaster, or, like, a theater director.

"Are you ready to order?" you ask him.

"Yeah, lemme..."

He leans forward, retrieves a slim wallet from his back pocket.

"I can pay for my own," you say, as you stand up again.

You can feel Jooheon following you to the counter, and you're hyperaware of him standing a polite distance behind you as you speak to the cashier. Maybe you're shorter than he'd expected, but he's also taller than he looked sitting. You think he can probably look right over you, can see the cashier clear over your head.

The idea of it sends a little thrill through you.

It's not like you go for tall guys, exclusively, or anything. But Jooheon's immediate fascination with your size has you feeling...something.

You're too stuck in your own head, because as the cashier reads out your total, a hand darts in from the side, supplying a card that the cashier takes without even blinking.

"Aw!" you protest.

"I got it," Jooheon assures you.

Oh.

He's very close, now, leaning right up against you, hand propped on the counter as he waits for his credit card back.

"You are cute," he says.

It's a simple compliment, but the sincerity of it leaves you standing there for several dumb seconds after the purchase is completed, and Jooheon has already walked away.

Maybe that's how you find yourself pressed to the wall of his apartment building lobby.

Not even the apartment itself, but the lobby. Next to the elevator bay, right beside the button panel, waiting for the elevator car to come down and meet you.

Jooheon's pouty lips are feeling you out, straying from your mouth, down your jaw, your throat, and back. He has one knee propped against the wall, between your legs, threatening to hold you off the ground completely.

"You're so strong," you say breathlessly.

You hadn't realized he's quite so strong, or so broad. He's got the kind of solid filled-out look of a guy who works out, but also eats well. Working muscles, rather than aesthetic muscle.

Jooheon just feels so big.

He pulls back to wow you with those dimples again. "Thanks."

"Should we be doing this here?"

"Who's gonna stop us?"

It's a valid question, but any complaints about public indecency are answered for themselves when the elevator arrives, and Jooheon sweeps you into it.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

He's holding you gently by the waist, fingers playing up your spine like piano keys. You're kind of lost in him already.

"Yep."

"Cute."

He keeps saying that. He better stop, before you believe it.

You can't remember the last time you kissed someone this much, spent so much time just exploring another person. That's probably why you're so smitten, right now. Pure overwhelm.

His apartment is nice. The lobby was a giveaway, but you can tell by a hazy glance at the interior in the dark that he makes comfortable money. You'd want to take a look around, in other circumstances.

In these circumstances, there's no time.

"I want..."

Jooheon takes an agonizing moment to hang up his jacket, and yours, and he glances at you with mirth in his eyes. He's making you wait on purpose.

"What do you want?"

"Just...I mean..."

"Me?" Jooheon asks.

He lets his expression go wide and curious, childish wonder. He's teasing you, acting cute on purpose. The effect is ruined - or enhanced, you can't decide - by the sight of his broad chest and big arms, biceps wrapped in the tight cotton of his fitted tee. That face and that body-

"You," you agree.

"Then come get me, cutie."

He walks farther into the apartment, and you follow.

On your back beneath him, both of you bare from the waist up, you can't help but compare. The planes of his muscles, the jut of his ribs, the sheer breadth of your chest he can span with only one hand...

"So fuckin' little."

He mutters it, but it sets you on fire.

"I'm not that little," you say.

Jooheon laughs, dimples out full-force. He leans right down until you're face to face, his body covering yours so completely. "Yeah, you are."

As if to prove it, he draws back, takes you by the hip, and turns you right over onto your knees.

Flustered, you let your forehead rest on the mattress. It's like he can just do whatever he wants. He's so solid, so capable. You can't even see him, now, and he's still looming, demanding all of your attention.

"How much can you take, cutie?" he asks.

He's a big guy, in general, but the question has you tingling.

As well as you can with the constriction of clothing on you lower half, you arch into him. "How much do you have to give?"

"Wanna find out?"

#kinktober 2023 #kpop kinktober #monsta x fanfic #joohoney fanfic #lee jooheon fanfic #monsta x smut #monsta x joohoney fanfic #lee jooheon smut #joohoney smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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scarlettriot · 2 years

Text

Hide & Seek • 73 Days

Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader

Warnings: Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI, Trespassing, Vigilanteisum, Blood, Passing Out due to Injuries, A Very Corrupt Commission

Contains: Aged-up characters to late 20s. Reader is a vigilante, Kiri is still a Pro (for now). Reader makes changes to her appearance as a means of disguise. Reader also has a quirk. Kiri calls Reader Sweets as a nickname.

Summary: When a mission goes very wrong, you decide you can't be a part of the cover-up and therefore go off-grid. Kiri can't stop looking for you though.

Tag List: @meggsngrits • @weebaboobs • @katditca • @silverhairsimp • @bigmooncheeks

Word Count: 2,532

A/N: Brand new series! I hope you all enjoy it. If you saw my post regarding this fic a few hours ago and read the blurb, you can skip to below the cut. My editing on this is probably ass so sorry in advance. Happy reading ♥️

There was more than one type of villain in the world. They didn’t all wear dark clothes or hide in the shadows of back alleys.

Being a Pro Hero allowed Eijiro to see the very scum of the earth. People who got their rocks off by doing some of the vilest of things. But, what he was never able to wrap his brain around was the fact some of those people blended into the daily masses. They existed right in front of his nose, and there wasn’t a damn thing he, or any other Pro, could do about it.

They were untouchable.

It was all pretty words and red tape that kept the heroes in line. Being led to believe they were doing everything for the right reasons so they could rest easy at night. But, Eijiro wasn’t resting easy anymore. Each time he signed a new NDA or was told to withhold information during an interview or conferences, it was like a part of his very soul was being ripped away. What little he had remaining was torn away as soon as he read your letter…

He’d known something had been wrong after the mission. You didn’t immediately turn over the NDA but instead took the 24-hour timeframe they allowed and left work for the day. You didn’t text him aside from letting him know you made it home okay. He hadn't heard from you all night long. And then he woke up in the morning to find that fucking note slid under his front door.

You had to tell someone, it said, and he was the only person you trusted completely.

He thought he knew what it was going to say. After all, cover-ups were such a shitty thing to deal with, but this one, it was so fucking bad. It pushed you too far. He thought you turned in the NDA and were just going to take some time off. That you needed to clear your head. But it was so much more than that.

I can't stand by and do nothing anymore. Someone has to end this.

The note didn’t say where you were going or what you intended to do precisely; you didn’t want to put him in the middle of anything since the commission would be after you now. But there were a few words at the very bottom of the page that captured all his attention. He read them over and over:

I really hope I get to see you again someday. I love you, Ei.

You were one of his best friends, and now you were just gone?

No. No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t accept it!

He was supposed to be in the office today but going to work was the furthest thing from his mind. He drove right to your house, hoping there was some slim chance you might still be there. He used the spare key you’d given him for emergencies and found your home in its usual state… minus you.

Your backpack was gone and your favorite sneakers weren’t by the front door. Those seemed to be the only things out of place. You’d left your purse behind with all the cards in your wallet. Cash was gone though.

He found your cell phone, agency access card, and hero license on your nightstand right next to the picture of you and all your friends at graduation. Stuck to the corner of the frame was a yellow sticky note with four words: I really am sorry.

Eijiro had held it together right up until that point. But with that yellow little square piece of paper in his hands, he sat on the edge of your bed and let grief and rage take over. It was like you knew he’d come looking. Like you knew he’d beat any commission agent here.

He left everything exactly the way you left it except for that sticky note. That little piece of paper he kept with the letter, tucked away in the lining of his wallet where he knew it’d be safe.

When the commission questioned him about your disappearance, he played the fool. Acted as if he had the same information everyone else did. Of course, he didn’t have to pretend to display hurt and anger. Those came naturally nowadays.

They went through your office and locker. Talked to all your co-workers. Tore your home apart looking for any clue where you might’ve gone or what you planned to do.

There was some twisted part of Eijiro that hoped you had the courage to do what none of them did and blow the lid off this whole damn thing. Expose them for who they really were. But, days passed, and then weeks, now months had slipped by, and nothing even remotely close to that happened.

You were barely brought up outside your group of friends anymore. The commission kept a file open on you, and it was well known that if anyone had information on your whereabouts, it was to be brought to their attention immediately. Until then though, it was just business as usual.

Patrols and missions, office work, and press conferences. The world went on, but your friends couldn’t. Certainly not Eijiro.

It was tearing him up not knowing anything about where you were. If you were okay. If you were safe. He felt sick, couldn’t eat like normal, and lost so much sleep.

Those quiet hours that should’ve brought his mind peace only filled it with worry. He’d pull your letter out, now fraying at the edges, and read it time and time again even though he had every word of it memorized.

I love you.

The two of you tossed those words back and forth between each other for years now. Since you were students at UA. Eijiro couldn’t remember when the meaning of them changed. When the love he felt for you grew into something bigger. But, he could recall staying up until dawn with you trying to sort through it.

A single night wasn’t enough to figure it out. Years weren’t enough time to figure it out. You both kept pushing it off because admitting love and being in relationships in your line of work was so fucking dangerous.

So, you’d hold each other a little too long, let your lips linger on his cheek, let his fingers fill the spaces between yours, and sometimes, warm each other's beds when nights got a bit too lonely. It was enough. Or that’s what he told himself.

But now, in these ungodly hours, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and never let you go again. He wanted to kiss you and pour out his heart. And he would. Gods, he was going to if it was the very last thing he did. He’d never give up on finding you. If he couldn’t bring you home, then he’d go wherever the hell you were because he was confident, now more than ever before, that wherever you were was where he was meant to be.

For 72 days, his determination never once wavered. The search for you was completely off the radar, so the commission wouldn’t have a clue he and the rest of your friends were still on the hunt to find where you’d gone.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they had found out. You were wanted after all, and they were under strict orders to bring you in if found. Not that any of them intended to do such a thing if they ever actually did find you. When they found you.

The search was exhausting. In Eijiro’s free time, he visited your favorite places, hoping you might have a craving for your favorite drink from that little cafe you always went to. Or, on nice days, he’d head into the park and walk right by that tree you loved reading under. Even when he was on the clock, he’d use his patrol shifts to ask around, hoping someone matching your description might sound familiar to a shop owner. He stopped into the hospitals on many occasions or asked around hotels. Anything he could think of!

For 72 days, there hadn’t been a single lead. But, the 73rd would bring a ray of hope in the form of an envelope tucked away in a file he’d just received.

I can only buy you a day's head start before the commission sees this too…

Eijiro knew Kyoka’s quick slanted writing. She went on to explain that a woman had been spotted lurking around the warehouse district for the last three nights. There was no detailed description, not by a long shot! Just a feminine figure, in their twenties maybe, wearing dark clothes with a hood. There wasn’t a hint about if they had a quirk or not. The whole report would probably be laughed off by the commission, and maybe that was a good thing. They weren’t desperate for a lead like Eijiro was. Things they just blew off, he clung to like a lifeline.

It nearly killed him waiting for night to fall. He made himself dinner and a drink to try and calm his nerves, but it didn’t do any good. He just ended up pacing around, nearly wearing trenches in the floorboards.

By the time he left his house, he had his bright hair tied back and hidden under the hood of the dark jacket he put on. There wasn’t much he could do about being as tall as he was, but he hoped this late it wouldn’t really matter. Still, just to be safe, he avoided the patrol routes he knew by heart while still taking the most direct path to the district as he could, making only one stop along the way.

It was a seedy little shop, but he needed a phone since he left his back at his house that way, it couldn't be tracked. If shit got real bad, he had a couple numbers memorized just in case.

He hopped the fence to the rows and rows of warehouses when the camera’s turned away. Hardening his skin to easily make it over the wiring at the top and landed on the opposite side with ease.

There was a lot of ground to cover. It would’ve been better if he had help, but he wasn’t willing to drag anyone else into this. At least, not until he had actual confirmation it was you running around here.

The rooftops of the massive buildings seemed like the most logical place to begin scouting. He carefully made his way in between buildings, peaking in windows just in case something might stick out, and then headed up the six flights of stairs when he reached an access point.

With the additional height, he was able to move around in the shadows more freely, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that might seem out of place. The problem was, nothing did.

Two hours had passed, and aside from a couple trucks that seemed to be making legitimate pickups and deliveries, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No suspicious vehicles or dark figures running about (besides himself). But, he’d stay out until daybreak if it meant having a chance of finding you.

Another hour went by, and he’d been crouching low on one of the roofs he’d jumped over to. He had a decent vantage point of one of the few warehouses that had several lights still on and thought maybe something might happen if he watched it long enough.

He’d spotted a figure walking into and out of one of the beams of light, but they were moving slowly, reading something. He didn’t think much of it. But he’d been too preoccupied watching this person that he didn’t hear someone else creeping up behind him.

A pair of arms slipped around his neck before he knew what was happening, and he activated his quirk as second nature. The person held tight though, even as they hissed in pain. Eijiro stood, his arm reaching behind, trying to get a good hold to yank them off, but they just wrapped their legs around his torso.

For a moment, he couldn’t think if he should actually fight back since he wasn’t on duty, and he sure as shit wasn’t supposed to be here. But, any official security wouldn’t have jumped him without identifying themselves first…

They still pulled their arms together against the sharpened plates of his neck like they were determined to choke him out. He felt the warmth of their blood seep into the cracks of his skin, and enough was enough.

His fingers cracked and sharpened to their claw-like points. Reaching behind him again, Eijiro ripped through the fabric of their top and pierced right through to their flesh. He threw them over his shoulder, and they landed hard with their back smacking down on the cold cement roof.

He wasted no time. Eijiro yanked their hood off and watched hair spill out that he didn’t quite recognize. But, when their eyes cracked open, gods, he would’ve recognized those eyes anywhere.

Fear pumped through his veins and brought him to his knees.“Y/N…” He’d finally found you only to throw you on your back and see blood trickling from the edge of your mouth.

“Ya got me good this time, Eiji.”

He knew he did too. Your blood ran hot down his fingers and it made him feel ill.

You coughed, and more came up with it. Not willing to waste a second more, he gathered you up in his arms and tried not to think about how hard you hit your head.

“Eijiro, p–please don’t take m’in. Just ‘tend like ya never found me.”

“I’m not takin’ you in!” He jumped down the flights of stairs back down to the ground. “I just gouged out a chunk of your back and whacked your head on fucking concrete! I’m gonna patch you up, and you’re not gonna complain ‘bout it!”

Your weak laugh made his heart clench. “If– If I don’t complain, will you lemme walk away after?”

He swallowed thickly, “If I can’t convince you to stay…”

He didn’t care about property damages. He barely even waited for the cameras to turn away before he was sprinting back to the fence and sliced a hole clean through it to get the two of you to the other side.

“I’ve almost found ‘em again, Ei.” Your head fell against his chest, eyes fluttering closed, and he ran faster than he ever had before down the sidewalk.

“Hey! Sweets! Don’t do this! I’ve taken you down way harder than that before, " That was a lie, "Don’t you go passin’ out on me now!”

“Gonna get ‘em. Go–gonna brin’ ‘em back…”

“Sweets–!” He tried jostling you in his arms, “Y/N!”

You were still breathing at least. He pulled the burner out of his pocket and called the only person he thought could help. “It’s Kirishima, I-- I didn't know who else to call. Can you meet me at my place? It's an emergency.”

#mha #bnha #mha fic #kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima hurt comfort #kirishima fic #scar's writing again 📕#best red rock shark ♥️🦈

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deada55 · 1 year

Text

The Clicking of the Chain (The Silence of the Lambs Parody) (#1 of 2)

for kloktober day 11: horror movie crossover

It's a parody, not a crossover, and I used a lot of the original script for this sequence to make sure it 'accomplishes' similar things for the main plot. I've always wanted to do this sort of thing... I like doing kloktober pieces that are for me more than the audience, but I hope you enjoy this retelling of one of the most quoted scenes in The Silence of the Lambs featuring Charles Offdensen and Magnus Hammersmith.

tws: body fluids, sexual harassment

At the bottom of the stairs was a left turn into a dingy cream-colored space kin to a car rental window at a crusty regional airport. A bulletin board held seven year-old thank you cards and a sign-in sheet for personal visitors. From a slim staff door came a short man in his sixties in an Orioles ball cap and white coveralls and an extended hand.

“Hi, I’m Mashed Potato Johnson. He told you, don’t get near the bars?” Damien Cornickleson’s footsteps were still volleying down the stairwell.

“Charles Offdensen.” He took the handshake with a bit of a dip. ”Yes, he did.”

“Okay. Past the others, he’s in the last cell. Stay to the middle, now. I put out a chair for you.” He pointed through the door to the gray wall of the corridor, where there was a security camera mounted to the wall. “I’m watching. You’ll do fine.”

His even steps echoed down the dim corridor, lined on one side with cameras and the other with iron bars holding back men of all sorts of shapes and sizes and muttering. Right before he’d reached the end of the hall, a green, black, and white blur threw itself against the bars, bearing wet, darkly streaked, yellow teeth. The white cast on his face rubbed off on the iron, and his crudely-colored green mane of matted frizz was trapped in his grip on the lock.

“Cocaine!”

Charles flinched hard enough to set his glasses off-kilter, but he only stalled on a single step before he was standing squarely in front of Magnus Hammersmith behind bars.

His cell was kept more lit, and had the addition of nylon netting on the exterior side of the bars. The inside of Magnus’ cell was covered in swaths of butcher paper decorated with black and white modern art patterns of various scales, with or without interlocking phantograms of all manners of polygons.

Charles cleared his throat and lowered the briefcase in his hands. “Mr. Hammersmith, my name is Charles Offdensen. May I speak with you?”

Magnus looked up from his magazine, eyes shining behind the tight waves of his hair. His ankles stretched at least a foot past the hem of his hospital pajamas and his skin, historically photographed to be a warm medium tone, was bleached and dusty from the windowless basement floor. Despite the menacing angles of his face, his voice was indignant, not commanding.

“And good morning to you, too,” he sneered, then went back to his reading.

Charles took another step forward.

“Magnus, we’re having a hard time with a case, and we believe you might have some guiding information. Do you mind answering a short questionnaire?”

“ ‘We’ being the Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico… But what’s a suit like you doing there? Huh? Fraud investigation wasn’t the thrill you expected?” He chuckled at his own joke and tossed the magazine on the floor with a resonant slap. “You’re one of Roy Cornickleson’s, I expect.”

“I am, yes.”

“Show me.”

Charles whipped his wallet out of his pocket and opened it to his IDs, holding them out in front of them.

“Closer, Charles. I have two eyes, but only one of them works.”

Charles clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t make a face and inched closer each time, but didn’t dare lean.

“Expires in a week. You’re not real FBI yet, are you?”

“I’m still in training at the Academy.” Charles pushed his glasses back up to his nose and squared his feet.

“Old Roy’s showing me off to a trainee? Well-”

“We’re talking about investigation, Magnus. You can decide for yourself if I’m qualified.”

“Smart, Officer Offdensen. Sit down.”

The rusted hinges of the chair bent when he sat down. If he were any heavier, he’d have been tipped into the floor. Magnus mirrored him and sat back down on his cot.

“Now, what did Rockzo say to you? Don’t look stupid– Dr. Rockzo, the Rock n’ Roll Clown in the next cell. He lunged at you. What did he say?”

“He said, uh, ‘cocaine’.”

“Of course he did. He does cocaine. Or did. Whatever. But you… you don’t have that kind of money, do you? You brought your best briefcase to see me today, didn’t you?”

Charles pulled at his tie before he remembered to stop himself. “Sure.”

“It’s better than your shoes, but not great. Not the cocaine type.”

“Not now, no.” Just like that, Magnus was out of things to say, and started to bounce his leg. The movement of his subway-sized foot was comical… if he had a pair of spoons in his hand, they’d click together nicely. The nervous bouncing on such a long, flimsy frame made him look like a dancing toy.

“Did you do those drawings?”

“Yes. Do you care much for contemporary art?”

“I’m not familiar… they allow you to keep a compass?” One of the works was a system of interlocking circles, some of them chained together in links, and others that looked like they were out of a spirograph.

“No. The scratching of the pen is what I have instead of a tune. Can’t let me get a hold on wood or string, can they?”

Charles looked down as if bowing his head in church before taking out a questionnaire from his briefcase. He held his chest higher.

“Magnus, if you’d please…”

“I’ve had my fair share of shrinks and investigators, Offdensen. You’ve been courteous, you’ve established trust and complimented my art, but this segue into your little survey is a bunch of bullshit. It’s boring, it’s stupid, and that’s not going to cut it.”

“I’m asking you to look at it. Either you will or you won’t.”

Magnus snorted and stretched his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. “Roy Cornickleson must be strapped for time hunting down the ‘Metal Masked Assassin’ if he needs help from the likes of amateurs like you. Did he send you here to ask me about him?”

“No, I-”

“How many people has he used up so far, that Assassin?”

“Five, so far.”

“Flayed?”

“Partially, but that’s an active case, and I’m not involved, s–”

“Do you know why he’s called the Metal Masked Assassin? The newspapers don’t say.”

“I’ll tell you if you look over this form.” Charles passed it into a metal hatch which opened on Magnus’ side when the door to the outside was closed. Once Magnus picked it up, Charles began…

“It, uh, started as a joke, about wearing their faces, like that one movie…”

“And you can’t remember the title.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Right.” Magnus set the questionnaire on the cot beside him. “Show me what you have to offer. Why do you think he takes their skins, Officer Offdensen?”

“Uh, well, most serial killers take a trophy, sometimes for excitement or-”

“I didn’t.”

“You ate them.”

“So it would seem.” He smirked and picked the forms back up, only to begin tearing them in a frenzy that exploded out of nowhere but the air around them. As he struggled, his grunts and the struggling, shearing sounds of ripping copy paper volleyed in the stony ward.

“You think you’re so clever, so ambitious, don’t you Chuck? You’re a fraud dressed like a bourgeois bagman. Good nutrition has given you well-fleshed features, but you’re not more than one generation from salty white trash, are you? That New England accent you prune so delicately to hide all the junkiness of Maine fishmarkets– What was your father, huh? Did you have one, or did he roll from his bed into the sea like every other frozen drunk on his lobster boat? I bet the other boys without fathers found you just fine in locker rooms, with wound, wet towels and cracked lips, while all you could think about was a less physical path of being, of being at all… and power. Powerful as the F.B.I…”

“You see a lot, but are you strong enough to look at yourself? Write it on the piece of paper.”

“And you’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

“If you weren’t a coward.”

“You think you’re tough one, aren’t you?”

“... I decline to comment.”

“Oh, but you’d hate if I thought you were anything but superior! It’d break you to little fucking pieces. Don’t worry, Charles. If you hold your head high enough, everyone will assume you’re tall someday soon.”

“And the questions?”

Magnus turned his back. Charles leaned forward in his seat and slammed the door of the meal hatch open and shut again. Magnus was up and snarling at the bars in a flash.

“A census taker once tried to test me, Charles. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. I hope a degree from Harvard will help you piece together that fucking around making noise in a ward of prisioners and psychos won’t give you a bigger dick! Go back to school. The boys miss you!”

He retreated from the bars to stand in front of one of his works, and Charles took his invitation to leave.

“Ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo!… Dr. Rockzo don’t feel so good. Ohh, it hurts, it’s all infected, shit all over this mess, ooh-hoo! K-k-k-lookit-”

When Charles paused at the cry, he took half a load of semen into his face from Rockzo’s hand. While he howled, Magnus bellowed, “You stupid fucking clown!” Charles fumbled in his pockets for a frayed pink tissue and tried not to let the clown’s cum anywhere closer to his eyes and mouth. Just when he’d passed Dr. Rockzo’s cell and saw the light streaming in from the room he was in before, away from the din rising up in the corridor, he heard Magnus shouting above them all.

“Officer Offdensen!”

With burning eyes and sharp features as contorted and pinched as the acid-trip Devil that leads partygoers to slit their wrists or jump out of bedroom windows, Magnus stood again at the bars of his cell. Charles hurried himself back over, although he couldn’t see further than his armspan while he carefully wiped the body fluids off the lens of his glasses.

The veins in Magnus’ neck were thick as snakes. “Look, I didn’t want that for you. Excretions are disgusting to me, and bad manners-”

“Then do the survey for me.”

“No, but I’ll do you one better. Advancement. Go to Split City, check on an old bandmate of mine, Ravenwood. Just like you think it’s spelled. Now leave. I don’t think Dr. Rockzo could manage again so soon, even if he is crazy. Don’t wait around to see– Go!”

#my writing #metalocalypse fanfic #magnus hammersmith #charles offdensen #dr rockso #kloktober2023

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Text

I feel the rush, addicted to your touch

AN: sorry, not sorry - Have some brain rot filth courtesy of that scene from Crowded Room and Tom Holland’s slut era….As always an aged up Peter Parker…

Beta’d by no-one, bwahahahaha, but enabled by @buckyismybicycle

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me, with images from The Crowded Room courtesy of www.TomHolland.org

Master list

Summary: Peter’s on a mission. Whether he gets what he’s expecting is a different matter.

Relationship: Peter Parker x Sam Wilson - No powers au

WC: 1.4k

CW: Disaster Gay Peter Parker, Strangers to lovers, drug use, unsafe sex, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied previous SA, hooking up, anal sex, spit as lube, daddy kink, oral sex, face slapping (once) being shared, angst. This is messed up - you have been warned.

I’m so fucked up right now!

As the thought crossed Peter’s mind he giggled to himself at the dual meaning. Because he was fucked up - his life so far had seen to that, but he was also high as kite, tripping his balls off after the two lines he’d done at home before heading out, so doubly fucked up.

He supposed he’d been a normal kid once. It was so long ago that he didn’t remember much. He got flashes now and then, memories of his mom singing to him, his dad reading him a story. But that part of his life hadn’t lasted long, courtesy of a drunk driver. He remembered being scared and confused when he went to live with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. Things had settled down, at least for a bit, and he’d had some semblance of happiness.

However, the universe decided that it hadn’t tortured him enough, so it sent a mugger who accosted and killed Uncle Ben over the $47.32 cents in his wallet. That’s when things really went downhill. The reduced income, the cost of the funeral. To say he and May had struggled financially was an understatement.

Peter had had prospects before then. He was smart, capable, excelling at school, but he’d had to get a job to help out, and his school work suffered. He got angry at everything and everyone around him and made bad choices. Choices which lead him to trust people he shouldn’t have trusted. People who gave him things, did things…

Peter shook his head. Tonight wasn’t about being maudlin. Tonight was about having fun. He might be fucked up, but he was planning on just being fucked too.

Black eye liner rimmed his dark hazel eyes, smokey eyeshadow spread across his eyelids. He’d tried to tame his milk chocolate curls by slicking it back - there was still a cowlick at the front - and it curled at the nape of his neck.

He sashayed into the club, hips swinging as he pushed through the crowd, so obvious in what he was after that the only way to be clearer would to have a light-up sign over his head like a cab. His black jeans were so tight they were almost painted on, moulding his pert ass and highlighting his slim waist. His matching black shirt was almost sheer and barely buttoned, giving a full on view of his toned abs and pebbled nipples.

With the bass thumping and the red lights pulsing, Peter shucked his leather jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way to the bar. He straddled a stool, and started to look around, peering out from under his long dark lashes, and chewing on his thumb. He wasn’t exactly sure what - who - he was looking for, but he knew he’d know it when he saw it, or rather, him.

A-ha!

Eye contact was made and not broken. Two knowing gazes locked together, assessing each other. The man walked over, dark skin shining like mahogany under the club lights, and leant over, lips close to Peter’s ear.

“You want a drink, sweet thing?”

A large hand rested on Peter’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“Whisky please, daddy…”

A shudder running through the body next to him let Peter know he’d played it right.

“You old enough for the hard stuff, sugar?”

Peter turned on his stool, even as the man signalled the bartender. He hooked his calf around the back of the man’s thigh, pulling him between his legs.

“I’m old enough for all the hard stuff.”

A raised eyebrow, and then the hand on his thigh was tightening.

“Good to know.”

Two whiskeys were ordered and quickly knocked back. Peter slid down from the stool, letting his body rub up against the one in front of him. Now he was on his feet he could fully appreciate the height and breadth of the man, and he could feel the lust rushing through his veins alongside the coke. With his hand fisted in the man’s shirt, Peter walked backwards onto the dance floor, wholly enraptured by the sparkling eyes and knowing smirk aimed in his direction.

Once he’d got into the middle of the throng, the press of bodies almost as intoxicating as the whiskey, Peter turned his body, pressing his back to the stranger’s front. Two large hands grasped at his hips, grinding them back, and Peter let his own arms raise up over his head, so his hands could rub over the cropped dark hair of his soon-to-be lover.

Peter felt dizzy, beautifully out of control, as he gyrated, letting the music flow through him. The hands left his hips to rub over his abs, sneaking under his shirt to feel his heated skin and to skim over the front of his pants. He arched up into the touch, sucking in air and rolling his body.

It was only a few minutes later when Peter found himself pressed face first against the wall of a stall in the men’s room. The music from the dancefloor, although muted slightly, was still loud. His pants were pulled down, and rough fingers, only lubed with spit, were rubbing at his tight hole. He gasped as one, then two, were harshly pushed inside him, a mere nod to prep, and then oh!

His lover’s hands covered his, fingers linked, and Peter cried out unabashed as his body was thrust up against the thin wall. He was so full! The stranger flexed his hips, thrusting his cock in and out, hitting that spot that made Peter whimper and clench in pleasure.

It felt so fucking good! He could almost forget everything.

It was over too soon, their fervour, their feral lust, pushing both of them over the edge, and Peter gulped in air, head still resting against the side of the stall.

“Come home with me, sweet thing. I got some more sugar for you, Sugar.”

Peter inhaled through his nose and threw down the rolled $20, before falling backwards onto his ass. What day was it? How long had it been since he left the club? Did he even care? He was high again - or was it still? - and he’d been fucked seven ways from Sunday. He giggled, rolling over and getting to his feet, to bop around to the music playing through the stereo. He only had on his underpants and a t-shirt given to him by his lover, but he didn’t care. For once the voices in his head were quiet and he felt so fucking happy.

He put on a flirty little show for the man in the chair, but after spinning too fast, he fell back over onto the floor. Laughing again, he came up onto his knees and crawled over towards his lover.

The sun coming in through the thin curtains made the man’s skin glow golden as he slouched, relaxed in an easy chair, smoking a joint and puffing perfect rings into the air, watching Peter dance. As the young man got closer, he spread his legs.

Kneeling between them, Peter undid the belt that was stopping him from getting to his prize. That damn knowing smirk had returned, and Peter smiled back before ducking his head and taking the thick, cut cock into his mouth. Fingers tangled into his curls, holding him in place as he swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks.

Somewhere, on the periphery of his consciousness, Peter heard a knock on the apartment door, and noticed it opening from the corner of his eye, but he was too caught up in own blissed out state to pay it much attention. That was until an enquiring voice broke through the fog swirling in his brain.

“What you got there, Sam?”

A grunt, and a flex of hips made Peter gag for a moment, but it didn’t deter him.

“Got me a sweet little thing.” A sharp tug on his hair made Peter lift his head up, and he looked around, mouth agape and eyes wide. A tall, dark haired man was leaning against the shelving unit. His arms were crossed and he was observing Peter with his crystal blue eyes.

A light slap across his face brought his attention back to his lover.

“You listening, Sugar? This is my main man, Bucky. He’s a good friend and I share all my shit with him, sometimes while I’m still using it, so just relax, honey. We’re gonna send you sky high…”

Tag list: @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel @kmc1989 @mrsmischief209 @sebstanwhore @preciousbarnes @jobean12-blog

#peter parker #sam wilson #peter parker x sam wilson #disaster gay peter parker #inspired by the crowded room #tom holland fan fic #late writes

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 years

Text

Awake

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

PART THREE

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6K

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST

[THIS SERIES WILL CONTAIN INACCURATE MEDICAL CONDITIONS. I HAVE CERTAINLY MADE THIS DISEASE UP & DO NOT CLAIM ANY OF IT TO BE ACCURATE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. 18+. MINORS DNFI]

a reminder that Rafe uses the alias Adrian in this story

You locked the door behind you as you stepped into your apartment, resting against it momentarily. Your chest was fluttering. Adrian had invited you up to his apartment, & you nearly accepted—anticipating him being the piano maestro. But you didn’t want to be disappointed if he wasn’t. You knew he couldn’t be. The chances were so annoyingly slim. Besides, you resolved that he would’ve mentioned being a piano player during your impromptu dinner.

So though you ultimately declined the offer, you made up for it by setting another date for you to buy dinner. Adrian accepted, seemingly excited to see you again. You couldn’t deny that you felt the same. You wanted to see more of him, to know him. After all, the two of you had a decent amount in common to set the basis for a friendship.

But your heart swelled when you thought of how he had smiled down at you. It was clear he had a flirtatious inclination towards you, & while you were flattered by it, you were still unsure exactly how to feel about it. This would be the first time you’ve developed a potential attraction to someone since your rebirth. Perhaps you should call your therapist tomorrow night.

Tossing your wallet onto the island, you disappeared into the bathroom to shower before logging on for your shift.

You spoke with five people throughout the duration of your shift, but you felt guilty as thoughts of Adrian never left your thoughts. It made you the unreliable listener that the call-line prided themselves on.

Once you clocked out, putting your headset & laptop away, it was nearly five in the morning. You were filling up your tea kettle with water, contemplating between valerian root & chamomile when you heard it. The windows at the corner of your living room were pushed slightly ajar. The notes from a piano slipped in.

They were playing again. Forgetting the tea on the counter, you lingered in your dimly lit living room, intently listening to the distant music. You really wondered if other tenants in that building hated the music, especially this early in the morning. Of course for you it was like a lullaby, just in time for you to fall asleep. Though your bed was officially in your bedroom, you often found yourself falling asleep on a lounger by the window.

Still though, it was five in the morning. You knew it couldn’t be Adrian. He had seen you off almost six hours ago. Like everyone else in the normal world, he was likely fast asleep.

But who could it be?

Snagging a soft blanket out of a nearby basket, you drew the black out blinds down but left the windows open. Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you rested atop the lounger, feeling yourself grow more tired. As the piano notes continued to waft through your apartment, you let your eyes grow heavy. The tea & kettle left forgotten.

Tonight was the night.

You stood before the floor length mirror in your bedroom, scrutinizing your outfit. It was the middle of October but the city wasn’t as chilly as you expected it to be since being raised in the coastal south. Your outfit consisted of a high-waisted slim fitting denim skirt, a tucked-in black turtle neck, thick hosiery, & a pair of black Chelsea boots. Your jacket a dark blue raincoat with a hood. It had been raining a lot.

Fixing your hair once more, not wanting to spend too long on your appearance, you stepped up to your bedroom windows, looking out. A significant gray cloud blanketed the tops of buildings, the lights left on in office building rooms peered through the fog like curious stars. The panes of your window were thick but you could imagine the sound of the rain as it pelted against your window. Your fingers ghosted the glass as you dropped your gaze the street.

It was a little after 8 on a Monday. There wasn’t much activity. When you & Adrian made plans to meet up for dinner you had hoped to walk to the food carts again. But with the rain you knew it wasn’t a possibility. That made you nervous. It’s not like there could be a ton of options left at this time on a typical work night.

Your phone vibrated behind you. Your dimly lit bedroom glowed momentarily from the light on your phone. A text.

Unlocking your phone, a small smile breached your lips. Adrian.

‘Ready when you are, neighbor.’

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond or if you should, quite literally, rain check because of the weather. But the thought made your stomach flip. You were surprised by how much you craved human interaction. For the last two years you had plenty of it, most of it unwanted, yet here you were getting sad at the idea of not going out with a stranger rather than holing up in your apartment.

Shaking off the nerves, you sent him a quick & casual response then slipped into your jacket. It took you less than three minutes to get the lobby of your building. You were heading for the glass doors, in the process of pulling up your hood when you heard your name being called.

Pausing in your steps, your lips parted at the sight of Adrian standing just to the left inside the lobby. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“How’d you get in here?” It was after 8 so the front desk staff were gone at this appointment. There was a security guard on watch but you hadn’t ever seen him on any of your nightly ventures into the outside world.

“Hey to you, too.” Adrian responded teasingly but you could hear the undertone of discomfort in his voice.

“Sorry,” You scoffed, realizing how rude you must’ve sounded, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be inside here.”

“It was good timing, someone going as I was coming.” He assured you, an innocent smile on his face.

“Right, yeah.” What did you expect? For him to wait in the pouring rain? It wasn’t weird. Besides, he looked especially cute what with his hair in the process of drying.

“Anyway, it’s uh…” Your eyes fell to the doors, “…raining. I wasn’t sure what the plan was.”

“Well,” Adrian began, following your line of sight to stare out the doors as he stepped nearer to you, “my offer still stands to have you over to my place.”

You must have looked visibly uncomfortable at Adrian’s suggestion. He immediately followed it up with another option, “There’s a bar I go to nearby. It’s not a restaurant per se but their beer battered fish & chips is to die for.”

“Mm.” You replied before you could stop it, “You & fish. You really like it that much, huh?”

“You can take the man away from the sea but not the sea from the man.” He joked.

“Well…” You let your thoughts trail with thoughts of how tonight could go. Adrian’s apartment was out of the question. You weren’t sure why. At first you thought it was because of the disappointment that would surely follow once confirming he wasn’t the faceless maestro. But now you weren’t sure what to think, or why. You just didn’t want to go to his place.

A bar also didn’t sound ideal. You weren’t a drinker. Since your rebirth your doctors & therapists had heavily advised against it, worried it would fuck with your psyche what with all the medication you were on in the beginning. And after waking to a world where you didn’t know anyone, the idea of getting drunk never appealed to you.

But just because it was a bar didn’t mean you had to drink. Plus, you reminded yourself it was Monday. Not like there would be a mass of people who would be belligerently out of their minds. The only remaining option was taking him up to your place & that too you weren’t jumping over the moon about.

As you played with the decisions in your head, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you, breaking your concentration.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry.” You rubbed the sleep from yours eyes, “Just feels like I’ve been awake all day instead of just getting up.”

Adrian’s brows furrowed in confusion. You realized then that he didn’t know about that. Or really anything regarding what makes you you. Or why.

“Ignore me.” You waved your hand, dismissing his curiosity, “I’m not making sense. Bar sounds good, let’s go.”

You didn’t wait for Adrian as you headed for the doors but he caught up to you, holding the doors open as you both went out. The second you stepped into the rain, a blast of cool heavy air hits your face. It’s refreshing & you breath it in deeply, the lobby having been unnervingly suffocating.

The walk to the bar is carried mostly in silence, except for the pounding of the rain as it beats against the cement. Any time you crossed the street, Adrian was sure to walk in the side closest to the road, his arm always finding a polite way to move you away from the road. Every time he did it a small smile would grace your features. It made you think of how your mother told you that a gentleman never lets a woman walk on the side closest to the street. You didn’t care much for the sentiment but as it kept happening you couldn’t help but find it charming.

The bar itself was far from. Called The Captain’s Quarters, Adrian’s go-to bar proved to be exactly what you’d expect. It was a dive-y bar with traditional American style seating inside with plenty of US NAVY insignia decor inside. Only other patrons in the bar were older men by themselves, enjoying their beers & grueling over politics. The bartender was a middle aged blonde woman who probably saw more fights than the patrons did while in service. She didn’t smile as you & Adrian approached the bar.

“Hey kid,” She greeted once Adrian was in front of her, “the usual?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Cut that ‘ma’am’ shit out. This isn’t the south.” She snarked before turning her attention to you. You glanced briefly at Adrian expecting him to look upset at your tone but he’s grinning knowingly, shaking his head.

“Same for your friend?” She asked Adrian but was looking at you.

“Yeah, two orders of the—“

“No!” You interjected, rather more firmly than you’d have liked, “Nothing fish. Please. Do you have a veggie burger?”

Adrian pressed his lips together as the blonde narrowed her eyes at you like you were asking the stupidest question in an unknown language, “Do we look like we have veggie burgers?”

“Guess that’s a no…” You mumble, flipping over a nearby plastic menu. You perused it quickly before settling on something smaller, “Mac’n’cheese is fine.”

“Got it.” She turned her back to clack her fingers onto a touchscreen. Your eyes briefly met Adrian’s who mustered a forced smile before turning focusing on something else. You rolled your eyes, sensing that this second dinner was already going south. Your stomach flipped.

The bartender sighed heavily as she placed a plastic number in front of you, “Five minutes on those. What to drink?”

Adrian ordered a beer then gestured to you, sure to not order for you this time. You were internally grateful, “Juice is fine.”

The bartender smacked her lips in amusement as she bent down beneath the bar to retrieve a glass. Placing it carelessly on the bar top, she grabbed a nearby nozzle & poured a clear liquid into it. Your lips parted in disapproval. It certainly wasn’t juice. Then as if she read your mind, or saw your blatant expression, she slid the glass toward you, nodding at the drink, “This is a bar, not a kids restaurant.”

The condescending tone of her voice made your cheeks flush with heat.

“Water’s fine.” Adrian butted in, grabbing the glass of water & his beer, “Thanks, Mo.”

Adrian led you away from the bartender as she moved on to passively insult other customers. Once the two of you sat at a booth in the corner, you exhaled heavily, feeling your nostrils flare.

“Pleasant.” You snipped, shaking your head.

Adrian half laughed but nodded in agreement, “She’s an acquired taste.”

“Why do you come here, again?”

He took a sip of his beer, licking his lips as leans back into his side of the booth, “Fish & chips. They’re worth every grouchy bartender in the country.”

“Psh. Yeah. Right.” You groveled momentarily before remembering his attempt at ordering for you, “Hey, so I just wanted to say that I really don’t like you ordering for me. Or anyone, for that matter. I appreciate it, & I know you want me to like what you like because we’re both coastal transplants but I left home for a reason.”

Adrian’s eyebrows raised further up his handsome face as you spoke, realizing you must have been sounding harsh, especially after such a piss interaction with a shitty bartender.

“Sorry.” You started, “I’m just worked up. I’ve just been ridiculously dependent on a lot of people for the last two years so my independence & autonomy is important to me. Plus I really don’t like fish.” You finished, offering a small smile to show that you’re not mad.

“Okay, yeah. That’s my bad. It’s a bad habit of mine.” Adrian replied, as he stared aimlessly at his beer, “Not the first time I’ve been told that.”

You felt yourself frown in mild confusion, “To not order them food?”

At the tone in your voice, Adrian seemingly snapped out of whatever little mind dump he fell into. He grinned widely, the same one from the first time you met. It warmed your heart & suddenly the bartender was forgotten about.

“Something like that.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to lower his voice, “I’m a bit of a control freak.”

The confession made you nod, so you leaned forward to match his level of volume, “This might not work then.”

The two of you stared hard at one another, a challenge. But then you broke. A small chuckle escaped your pursed lips. Adrian smiled once more, leaning back in his booth, “We’ll see about that.”

Begrudgingly, the mac’n’cheese is killer & you truly wished it hadn’t been. You wanted to hate the food as much as you hated the damn bartender. But as your second outing with Adrian continued into the late hours of the night, you found that you couldn’t really hate anything about the place. Adrian made you like it too much. Simply put though, that was only because of his presence.

It was nearly one in the morning when the two of you left the bar. The rain had stopped but the smell of it was still wafting heavily in the air. You hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol but you felt drunk. Part of you was unsure of what being drunk really felt like but as you swayed up the sidewalk alongside Adrian, your foot placements erratic as you stared at the tops of building, you thought maybe that was a moment of the old you. Not really the old you, but at least the one that knew what it felt like to be drunk.

You hummed softly to yourself, happy & impressed with yourself for going out to a bar with an almost perfect stranger in a big, unknown city into the wee hours of the night. Your parents would be sick.

Beside you, Adrian watched in amusement as you continued to appear drunk, “You’d think it was you who was drinking tonight instead of me. You sure you didn’t sneak any sips of my beer when I went to the bathroom?”

“Surely.” You replied, turning so you were facing him & walking backwards.

Your eyes met. His blue eyes looked especially dark under the street lamps & fog overhang. But despite that, you could see something beyond them. Something that looked at you like you meant something. Your feet stumbled beneath you.

“Careful.” He reached out, grasping your forearm. You winced, yanking your arm away from him. The second you do, you hold it to your chest like it was in pain. But you weren’t. He hadn’t hurt you. He helped you. What the hell was wrong with you? Maybe you were drunk.

“Sorry, Adrian.” You brought your hand to your forehead, “Really. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I reacted like that. Thank you for helping me. It could’ve been ugly.”

The hurt look on his face slowly faded as he shrugged, tucking his hands safely into the pockets of his jacket, “Or embarrassing.”

At the teasing comment, you’re relieved the awkward tension has passed & turn on your heel to fall into step with him, “Thank you for tonight, too.”

“It was my pleasure.” He replied, gently bumping his shoulder into your own, “Thank you for buying my dinner & three beers.”

“Thank you for letting me.” You joked.

Silence passed momentarily as the two of you got closer to your buildings. You inhaled deeply, sobering yourself though you were plenty sober. Who knew human interaction could be so inebriating.

“So, what happened two years ago?” Adrian’s abrupt & out-of-the-blue question makes your falter in your stride.

“What?” Your response comes out a little more defensive than you have liked but you couldn’t talk yourself into the ‘proper’ way to respond to that.

“You said ‘two years ago’ earlier.” He continued, jogging your memory, “When you told me to not order for you anymore.”

“Oh…” You couldn’t recall saying that but shook your head, “Nothing happened. My parents are just overbearing. It took a lot of convincing for them to let me move hundreds of miles away. So, being my own boss is a priority. That’s all.”

Adrian remained quiet after, seemingly mulling over what you had said. It wasn’t like you lied. You were telling the truth. Your parents are overbearing & you do value your independence. You just didn’t want to tell him about the accident. At least not yet. If ever.

For some reason though, as your building came into view, you felt your heart flutter in a panic. Had you said something wrong? Why was he being so quiet all of a sudden? Why would he question you like he knew you were hiding something? But if he was questioning you, wouldn’t he have been asking questions? He was just being quiet. Quiet wasn’t so bad…

“Adrian—“

“_____—“

You both began simultaneously, the two of you trading smiles. You couldn’t believe the relief that flooded you with his smile. You didn’t want him to be upset. You didn’t want to ruin his night.

“You go first.” He offered, the two of you now outside your building.

“No, you.” You insist when it looks like he may argue.

“I want to be honest, here.” Adrian began & the start of it has your stomach flipping with renewed anxiety. Was he going to question you right there, right then?

“Okay…” You muttered, unsure of what to say so you said nothing more.

“When I want something I’ll do whatever it takes to have it. I’m merciless like that. I don’t beat around the bush or make passive comments that hint at what I’m thinking or feeling. I’m an open book & I hold myself to a standard to be an upfront kind of guy.” His eyes peered acutely into your own, making you shiver.

“I expect the same back but I hardly ever get it & I’ve gotten used to that. Most people are hiding something, scared it’ll push people away. But not me.”

Everything he was saying was making your mouth dry. What was he saying anyway? Why the sudden topic of being an open book & honesty & hiding things? Your feet shifted in discomfort.

“So, I’m going to say something & I hope you can handle it.”

You felt the air in your lungs stir as you unknowingly held your breath. Adrian took a single step closer, closing the gap between you. The closer he was the more you had to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest.

“I like you, _____.” Adrian almost whispered. Your head began to feel dizzy. What?

“I liked you the moment I met you. I like spending time with you & I want to have more dinners with you. I don’t want to have a third one with you unless you know what my intentions are here. And I don’t want to end this night without telling you that I want you.”

Your chest burned at his proclamation. The cool air did nothing to aid in the sweat collecting under your layers. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to breathe evenly.

In. Out.

Soft. Slow…

You recalled your sessions with your therapist, hearing her words echoing in your head. You continued like this until you felt your heart beat almost a deathly slow pace. As you slowly peeled your eyes open, you licked your lips, desperate to regain moisture in your mouth.

But when you raised your eyes to meet Adrian’s, an inaudible gasp escaped your lips. His eyes were hooded as he stared heatedly at your lips, his own pressed firmly together. Your heart soared, your practice gone out the window.

“_____.” Adrian said your name again, his breath brushing your forehead as he inched closer, “I’m going to kiss you.”

No. But yes. But no. But please. Your thoughts ran wild as you watched in slow motion as Adrian bent forward, his hands gently grasping the sides of your face. His mouth was getting closer. You weren’t stopping it.

Just before his lips met yours you finally managed to get out one word.

“Adrian.”

Then his mouth descended over your own.

Part Three of Awake. Man. Thank you ya'll for your patience! I've been writing as much as I can on both Awake & Always You & I promised they would be updated before the end of October but I'm only able to uphold half of my promise. So, I hope the wait is worth it & I seriously appreciate the love I have recieved so far.

I'm imagining this mini series to be about 8 or 10 parts so it will be a slow burn & a lot of building because it's essential that Rafe/Adrian x reader develop a rapport with one another. But if you stick with it I think you'll enjoy it quite well.

Let me know what you think by commenting, reblogging, dropping an ask, I love the interaction & feedback.

Hope the wait was worth it! Always You is next. It is midterms week though so fingers crossed I don't get my ass kicked by the education system.

Thank you for reading!

oona<3

PART FOUR

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #dark!fic #awake #part three

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itzkhloekadija · 3 months

Text

🔞THE STORE LADY🔞

🔞HIGHLY RATED🔞

There is this liquor store in the mall where I usually do my shopping for groceries. I’ve been coming in there for several years every now and then to buy my booze. Most of the time when I came in the store, there was the same lady behind the counter, who really attracted my attention. She was in her early fifties, I guessed, not too tall and somewhat chubby. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. Her face was nice and friendly, with kind blue eyes and nice full lips, but rather plain nevertheless, with relatively short brown hairs draped around it that sometimes were dyed blond. Not that it was her hair that attracted my attention. What always caught my eye was her massive chest. This lady had some seriously big boobs. She usually wore plain and rather wide clothes, but even so the massive mounds she carried always stood out clearly. Sometimes she wore a sweater or something that showed just a bit of cleavage, which always made my day.

When I came in on Saturdays, when it was always very busy, there often was a girl about sixteen or seventeen years of age with her. I always assumed this was the lady’s daughter who was helping her out, because there was a certain resemblance in both women’s facial features. They shared the same blue eyes and full lips. Otherwise the younger woman looked quite different, being quite slim and substantially taller than the older one as well as having much longer, curly blond hairs. Though she was slim, she did sport a nice ass and a pair of decent boobs, even when these were nowhere near as large as the older woman’s.

Though I was certainly very much attracted to the liquor store lady, I never seriously considered making a pass at her. I assumed her to be married – I don’t know why, maybe because of her daughter that I really wasn’t even sure was her daughter – and maybe because she was some twenty years older than I was. She was always very friendly to me, but then I supposed she would be friendly to all her customers. We never had a conversation that went beyond meaningless chatter.

Whenever I was in the liquor store, though, looking around at the selection of scotch they carried or standing in line with the bottle of my choice, I could never keep myself from eyeing the lady’s huge chest. I always thought I managed to do this in a discreet manner and I assumed she was too busy with other customers to notice anyway. I was wrong, though.

One Friday night, after having done my grocery shopping, I walked into the liquor store shortly before closing time. There weren’t any other customers inside and the only person in the store was the lady, standing behind the counter as always. I said hello to her, smiling and she smiled back. As usually, I walked over to where the bottles of scotch were. I glanced over the selection for a minute before settling on a bottle of Talisker. I picked up the bottle, walked over to the counter and put it down. The lady smiled and told me how much it was. I had already noticed she was once again wearing a sweater that showed just a bit of cleavage and while I took out my wallet and she opened the cash register, I couldn’t help but stare at it. I gave her a bill and she handed my change. While I was putting the bottle away in my grocery bag, she suddenly said, “you like looking at me, don’t you?”

This remark completely took me off guard and could do nothing but stare at her with what must have been a pretty silly look on my face.

She smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief in her blue eyes I had never seen before. “Or rather,” she said, “you like looking at certain parts of me.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammered, blushing, “I didn’t mean to offend you, I just, I mean, I couldn’t help but notice you are very attractive.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. She leaned over to me, resting her massive mounds on the counter. “I’m flattered a young man such as yourself finds a woman my age very attractive.”

I didn’t know what to say, being quite taken aback by this sudden turn of events.

She straightened and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. While she wrote something down, she said, “I’m going to close up shop for the night. This is my address. Meet me there in an hour. That is, if you really find me very attractive.”

She handed me the piece of paper. I took it, scarcely being able to believe this was actually happening. “Sure,” I said, “I will.”

I went home and put away my groceries. The address the lady had given me was only a few blocks away from my own home, so there was no need to hurry. I took a shower and put on some clean clothes, wondering what was going to happen. I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen, of course, but still I felt a bit uneasy. What had happened so far still felt somehow unreal to me. I still had a hard time believing the liquor store lady had been so forward with me. Then I looked at the piece of paper she had given me and concluded that however strange this all seemed, it actually was real. I glanced at my watch and concluded I might as well go.

I walked over to the address she had given me and found it to be a modest apartment building. I went over to the door and quickly located the door bell next to the number that had to be hers. I rang the bell and with a buzz, the front door opened. I swiftly made my way through the hallway and took the elevator to the third floor. Arriving there, I located her apartment to find the liquor store lady waiting for me in the door. She was still wearing the same brown pants and brown sweater she had been wearing earlier.

“Come on in,” she smiled, and turned around. I followed her in, closing the door behind me. She led me through the hallway to the living room. It wasn’t very large and it was full of old-fashioned looking furniture.

“Yeah, this place is a dump,” she laughed, “my parents used to live here. Most of the stuff here was theirs. I don’t mind though, I don’t really care about such things.”

“Neither do I,” I smiled.

“Sit down,” she said, indicating a large leather couch, “do you care for a drink?”

“Sure,” I said, sitting down on the couch.

She opened a wooden liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of sixteen-year-old Lagavulin, a single malt of very fine quality. “I know what you like, of course,” she smiled while she put two glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch. She opened the bottle and filled the glasses rather generously. “I get a discount on this stuff,” she said, before sitting down on the couch next to me.

She grabbed one of the glasses, as did I. “Cheers,” she said and took a sizable swig. I followed suit. The excellent scotch felt very nice going down.

“So,” she said, putting her glass back on the table, moving nearer to me and putting a hand on my leg, “are you in the mood for small talk or shall we get down to business?” The lascivious smile on her lips said more than the words, though.

“I’m not really in the mood for small talk,” I grinned. My nervousness was fading. The liquor store lady really managed to make me feel at ease.

“Well then,” she smiled, straightening, “I guess you’ll want to get a better look at what you have been peeking at from a distance for so long.”

Without further ado, she grabbed her sweater and pulled it over her head, partly exposing her huge breasts that were barely held in place by a large white bra. The cleavage she now sported made my di*ck rock-hard in an instant. Smiling at the obvious bulge in my pants, she said, “well, I guess you really do find me very attractive . . .” She unhooked her bra, let it slip from her tits and threw it on the floor, giving me my first look at her incredible boobs in all their naked glory. They were just a big saggy, but the sheer size of her mounds was amazing. Her areolae were huge and her large nipples were proudly erect. My eyes were simply glued to these wonders of nature. I think I could have just kept staring at these boobs for hours if the lady hadn’t spoken. “Go ahead, touch them,” she said in a sultry voice.

I simply threw myself at her bre*asts, licked them, buried my face between them, rubbed and kneaded them with my hands and eagerly sucked on her hard nip*ples. Moaning and groaning with delight the liquor store lady enjoyed the treatment I gave her amazing boobs.

When I had been enthusiastically playing with her brea*sts for a while, she gently but firmly pushed me away. “Take off your pants and lie down,” she said.

I did as I was told. I pulled down my pants and my underwear, freeing my massive erection from these restraining clothes. My di*ck stood up proudly while I lay down on my back on the couch.

The lady bent over me and put her huge boobs on my rock-hard cock. She rubbed her tits up and down on my shaft for a while before she spit on my prick, grabbed it and put it in between her massive breasts. She then put her hands on her tits and began wanking my di*ck with her boobs. She licked her lips and smiled at me. “You like this, don’t you?”

I could only let out a grunt of pleasure in agreement.

“I thought so,” she grinned, “all men do.”

She continued to pleasure my cock with her boobs in this fashion. Then she let my massive member slide from between her tits, grabbed my shaft with her hand, spit on it again and engulfed it with her mouth. She managed to take my prick into her mouth almost in its entirety, all the way down to my balls. Noisily going up and down on my shaft, she constantly flicked her tongue over the head, giving me an amazing sloppy blow job. Her saliva ran all over my prick while she worked my dick-head with her lips and tongue in a way that made it clear she very experienced at this. This was a blow job that was much and much better than even the best I’d ever had from a woman my own age.

She kept sucking my cock for quite a while, until I felt I was about to come. Apparently she noticed this too, since she abruptly stopped and let my prick slide out of her mouth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she got up. “You’re not coming until you fu*ck me hard,” she grinned, “come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

I got up too and followed her into the bedroom. She took off her shoes, pants and underwear and I took off the rest of my clothes as well. We were now both completely nude.

She lay on her back on the bed and spread her legs wide. Rubbing her tits with one hand and her pussy with the other, she said, “now come and eat me.”

I was so happy to comply. I climbed onto the bed and put my head between her legs. I pushed my mouth against her soaking wet cunt and began licking it. The smell of her vagina really aroused me and I frantically licked her pussy lips, pushing my tongue inside at the same time. Every now and then I gently nibbled at her clit, which she apparently liked, since it made her groan. Her juices were dripping down my chin and before long I felt the muscles in her cunt contract. Moaning loudly, she came.

When her orgasm subsided, she lifted up her head and looked me in the eyes. “That was good. Now f*uck me.”

My cock was still rock-hard and I climbed on top of her. She put her arms around me, pressing my body against hers. While I enjoyed the feeling of her massive boobs pressed against my chest she easily guided my stiff prick into her pu*ssy. Immediately I began to thrust like a madman. I was too worked up by now to take it easy. I thrust faster and faster, causing her huge tits to swing back and forth. She moaned softly while I was fucking her like a madman. It wasn’t too long, though, before I felt I was about to come. Sensing this, she pulled me close and whispered, “you want to cum between my tits, don’t you?”

I nodded and stopped my thrusts. I let my prick slide from her cunt, straddled her and put my stiff rod between her enormous tits. I started to move back and forth while she pushed her tits against my dick. I started moving faster and faster and it didn’t take me long before I was on the brink of orgasm. I felt the semen coming and quickly took hold of my prick, just in time to aim my load at her boobs. Thick squirts of semen landed on her enormous tits, almost completely covering these enormous mounds with cum. I couldn’t remember having shot a load that big ever before.

When my ejaculation was complete, I lay down next to her, exhausted, while she was rubbing my sperm all over her brea*sts. I just enjoyed this sight for a moment. Every now and then she would swipe some semen from one of her boobs with a finger and put it in her mouth. This sight was so horny that I could already feel my now-limp dick stirring again. She noticed this too and, stretching out a cum-covered hand, she grabbed hold of my prick and started to slowly stroke it. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of this incredibly horny middle-aged woman masturbating me.

Then all of a sudden, I heard some noises coming from the hallway. Immediately, I opened my eyes again and straightened myself. The liquor store lady showed no sign of alarm, however and didn’t let go of my stiffening rod.

“Who is that?” I said, on the verge of panic, “your husband?”

“Don’t be silly,” she laughed heartily, “my husband and I were divorced ages ago. I haven’t seen the bastard in years.”

“Then who . . .” I began, but before I could continue, my question was answered. Smiling, the girl I had sometimes seen at the lady’s side at the liquor store on Saturdays walked into the bedroom. She was smiling, apparently not surprised at all to find the liquor store lady in bed with a much younger man, stroking his di*ck while her massive boobs were covered with his semen.

She was dressed differently from when I had seen her at the liquor store. She had already been dressed less modestly than the liquor store lady herself then, but now she simply looked delightfully slutty. She was wearing incredibly tight jeans that really showed off her lovely ass and a tight blue top that left most of her belly bare as well as being so low-cut that it gave me a very nice view of her firm teenage titties.

“Hi mom,” the girl smiled, confirming that she was indeed the liquor store lady’s daughter, “I see you picked up another customer. From the looks of it, he was quite satisfactory.”

“Meet my daughter, Jolie,” the liquor store lady said, “she went out clubbing tonight, but I guess she didn’t find a guy to take home.”

“Nice to meet you,” the girl said to me, smiling mischievously while eyeing my prick that was rock-hard again by now. “Yeah, I went out tonight, but all the guys there were losers. Young guys with attitudes, you know.”

“Well,” the liquor store lady said to her daughter, still stroking my stiff rod, “you’re free to join us. I’m sure this guy wouldn’t mind you sucking his dick.”

Jolie smiled and climbed onto the bed, without even bothering to take her clothes off. She knelt between my legs and bent over my crotch. Her mother let go of my rock-hard cock to make room for her daughter. Jolie grabbed the base of my prick, which was still soaked in her mother’s juices, and swiftly took in into her teenage mouth in its entirety. In spite of her youth, she must have had a lot of practice since she managed to take just as much of it down her throat as her mother had earlier. It surely felt wonderful. Jolie let most of my member slide out of her pretty mouth again and proceeded to give me a very wet, sloppy and noisy blowjob.

I looked aside at her mother, who was still lying next to me. She was intently watching her daughter suck my cock and apparently enjoying the sight, as she was rubbing her clit and pussy lips with both hands. Her enormous boobs were invitingly close to me so I bent my head towards her chest and started to lick one of her tits. I could taste my own sperm on her breast, which was quite a strange yet arousing sensation.

Thanks to Jolie’s expert administrations, my di*ck felt harder than it ever had before and I could feel it would not be long before I would cum again. Jolie then stopped blowing me and began taking off her clothes. First her blue top, exposing her firm tits, then her shoes and jeans and finally the blue string she wore. Without saying a word, she climbed on top of me and guided my stiff prick into her wet, tight pussy. While she began to slowly move up and down on my dic*k, she leaned over me and pushed her perky tits in my face. Though nowhere near as large as her mother’s, they were beautiful and I passionately licked them and sucked on her erect nipples. When she straightened herself again and moved faster and faster, I concluded from her moaning that she was close to coming. Her mother was still lying next to me, watching her daughter ride my cock and masturbating eagerly.

When she came, groaning loudly, I was on the brink of my own orgasm, but I managed to hold it back for a while until Jolie’s orgasm had subdued. Her climax fading, the girl continued to ride my stiff prick, now going up and down on it slow and deep.

When she sensed my semen was finally about to erupt from my balls, Jolie let my prick slide from her wet cunt and knelt between my legs. Her mother grabbed my cock and began stroking it fast. It didn’t take long before I came. While my sperm gushed forth from my prick, the liquor store lady aimed the river of semen at her daughter’s face and tits. Thick blobs of my seed splattered all over Jolie’s cute face and tits. When I was done discharging, I saw the girl licking my sperm from her cheeks. Her mother bent towards her and began licking my semen from her own daughter’s tits. Then, both their mouths filled with sperm, mother and daughter kissed each other on the mouth, exchanging my seed between them. The sight of this was so amazingly hot that I could feel my limp dick stirring again.

When they were done kissing, mother and daughter turned to me. “That was fun,” Jolie smiled, rubbing my sperm over her titties, “now, are you ready for more?”

“I think he is,” her mother grinned, bending over my crotch, “I’m sure I can suck his dick stiff again in a matter of minutes.” She took my cock in her mouth and began sucking it slowly, while Jolie licked my balls.

I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the administrations of this lewd mother and her horny daughter. I couldn’t believe what had happened to me this day and wondered how much further this would go . . .

THE END!!!

If you enjoyed the story, kindly comment. Your comments are the feedback which MOTIVATE me to post more interesting stories for you.

#my story #storytelling #original story #stories #short story #psychotically irrationally erotically codependent

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