#steamy coconuts

[sailorsallyart]

It’s been a while since I made something simple in just 2 colours ^_^

close up crop below since I always end up making art in dimensions sm doesn't like

[risuola]

▶ BOUNDARIES — the day when Suguru entered the shower with you.

contents: college!au, roommates — 1,3k words

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Don’t freak out.”

You blame it on the water. Hot, steamy and falling right onto your head, your reaching up face and the hum of it filling your ears. A monotone murmur of drops pitter-pattering and bouncing off your exposed skin — it made you disconnect. A moment of relaxation, and it worked wonders to your body, your tensed up muscles, your clattered thoughts. It quieted you down, made your breath slower, soothed the hectic beat of your heart — effect of an unpleasant confrontation with your classmate in the morning. A girl upset and nervous, jealous and heated, took it all out on you and you couldn’t do nothing but take it. Wasn’t the first time, certainly not the last as well and over the years you grew to tolerate this sort of events as they were inevitable, they came along the very close friendship you shared with your boys. It’s fine, you always tell them and it is, in fact, fine, but the attack you endured just two hours before was oddly, unnecessarily personal and it stung.

You took it under the shower, making use of the empty apartment — both Satoru and Suguru being out for classes and practice — and just enjoying the sizzling hot water warming your skin. It was comforting, meditative almost, and nearly as soothing as a cuddle session. It felt good. So very good that when the environment changed suddenly, your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Suguru?” Your head snapped to the side, your entire body flinched in shock as the matted glass of the shower doors moved and you caught a frame twice your size entering the tight area of the stall. The sight of your roommate somewhat calmed you down. “What is happening?”

“I’m sorry sweets, I really am, but I called you, knocked, but you didn’t hear and I really need to wash up quick and run,” your friend explained, his tone more frantic than you’re used to and for few moments you watched him, frozen. He was already lathering shower gel over his body. Intense scent of skincare filled in the steamy air with a mixture of fresh seagrass and coconut, and soon you snapped out of the haze.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear,” you said dumbly, still very much confused, confirming his words and shifting a little closer to the wall, making more space for him.

It was awkward — it should be — but somehow, you felt at ease with him there. It was the very first time you saw him fully naked, and vice versa, but Suguru was a safe space and besides a heat that creeped right up your cheeks, that surely got lost in the flush you already had from the hot stream of water, you weren’t too worried. Tearing your eyes off his muscular, strong built — a sculpture carved out of the finest marble — proved itself to be the most difficult as you handed him the showerhead.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said, already washing off the fluff and bubbles of his shower gel. “They moved the lecture for earlier, I had to cut my training short and I just couldn’t go all sweaty. I’m really sorry sweets, I’ll apologize properly later, okay?”

“It’s all fine. Good luck, Sug,” you offered him a soft smile and took the sprayer back as the man moved to exit. Before he left completely, and despite the rush he was in, he managed to spare a second to press a tender kiss to your temple.

It wouldn’t be Suguru if he didn’t make time to smother you with love.

“You’re gorgeous by the way. See ya later!” And he was gone, just like that, leaving you flushed and so very confused, in a cloud of heated condensation and empty cage of tiles.

* * *

Few hours passed until the lonely, quiet apartment filled up with the playful banter that seems to never end whenever your roommates are together — which is a lot. You were already in bed, nuzzled against the pillows and wrapped in blankets. Tired. You were so tired after that day, the few classes you had to attend to after the shower sucked the life out of you. It piled up — the tension between you and your classmate, the unannounced test from one of the subjects you don’t particularly like nor study for, the rain that caught you in the middle of your relatively short way home from the college and the absurdly microscopic amount of cheese in the absurdly overpriced cheese sandwich you bought in a rush. Should’ve taken the ham.

But the day was soon over and it’s a matter of minutes now until you’ll be able to truly rest in a safe and moderately suffocating embrace of long limbs and warm bodies. The sleeping dilemma that at first seemed to be the greatest worry about the apartment, now was your favorite aspect of it — you often find yourself longing for the late night hours, especially on days like this one. You like the everlasting amount of heat that your friends produced and even though you were often trapped or squished, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey,” a soft, honey-like tone reached your ears and forced you to lift up the heavy eyelids. You smiled seeing Suguru’s gorgeous features and feeling his fingers along your cheekbone. “Are you angry at me?”

“Huh? Why?” You asked, moving towards him, lifting your head just slightly to study him more. He looked troubled, worried and you couldn’t place it. What was the reason?

“For the shower situation from earlier?”

“Oh… no, god, absolutely not,” you shook your head and dropped the weight of it back onto the pillowy clouds. “I don’t care if you see me naked, don’t worry about it.”

“Either way, I bought you the chocolate you like so much.”

Chocolate.

“The diabetic bomb?”

“Yeah, that one,” the boy smiled and showed you the gift. A bar of the most divine chocolate you’ve ever eaten — expensive too — filled with sinfully decadent, luscious coconut mousse and little pieces of gooey caramel chunks. A diabetic bomb, as Suguru always mocks it, because in a scale from zero to ten, its sweetness is easily a sixteen.

Suguru ripped the package open and broke off a piece, putting it into your waiting mouth and you moaned. It was sublime, it was posh and sensual. It could easily be an aphrodisiac. A heaven, melting slowly on your tongue, spreading its glory across your very soul and you melted with it. It felt like a sin, it felt wrong and so, so right.

“You didn’t need to buy me anything, Sug,” you spoke finally, once your senses came back from the trip of pure, primal pleasure. “But I do appreciate it even though I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t hear you.”

“You know that I wouldn’t push your boundaries like that if it wasn’t so very urgent.”

“I know and also, I told you already, I don’t care about any of you seeing me naked,” you said it again, reaching your hand to brush a piece of his bangs away from his eyes. He smiled and for a moment his eyes drifted away and you kind of knew what to expect.

“Who’s naked?” Satoru’s cheerfully cocky voice cut through the gentle atmosphere like a lovable razor and you felt the bed yielding underneath his weight as he climbed on and dropped right behind you. His body pressed tightly to your backside, his arm wrapped securely around your blanket-wrapped form and he pulled you towards himself, leaning his head over your shoulder and smothering your cheek with kisses. Affectionate. Suffocating. “I heard our roomie had a bad day, huh?”

“It’s fine now,” you chuckled, reaching up and ruffling his white, short hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

“Our poor little mochi, it’s alright now,” he cooed, teasingly sweet and then, in his very usual behavior, he tried to bite your cheek but you were quicker, stuffing his open mouth with a piece of chocolate. Suguru managed to roll his eyes and left you unattended with a bar of divine candy and your gluttonous friend. “Oh my god that is good.”

Safe to say, the chocolate didn’t stand a chance against you and Satoru.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu, @juicedcherry, @themoreeviltwin, @stevenknightmarc, @ms5m1th

[megamindsecretlair]

Have Mercy

A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!

Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.

Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.

Word Count: 5,284k

A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings

“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.

“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 

Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 

You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 

Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 

“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 

Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 

“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 

The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 

You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 

You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 

You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 

“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 

He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 

“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.

“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.

You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.

“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 

“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 

He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 

“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 

You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 

“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 

He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 

The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 

You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.

“You trynna find out?” He asked. 

“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 

Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.

You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 

You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 

“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.

“What you say that for?” You asked.

“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.

His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 

“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 

“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.

Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 

Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?

“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 

The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 

He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.

The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 

“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 

You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 

“Been a while,” you said. 

He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.

You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 

“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 

You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.

Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 

His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.

He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 

“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 

“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 

A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 

“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 

“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 

“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 

Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 

Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 

He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.

He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 

He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.

He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 

This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.

Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.

“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 

You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 

Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 

“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 

You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 

You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 

He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.

“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 

You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 

You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.

You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 

Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 

“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 

You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 

“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 

“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 

Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 

He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 

You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 

He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 

He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 

He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 

He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 

Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.

“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 

“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 

The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.

Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 

“Please, please,” you said. 

“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 

“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 

“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 

“What?” 

“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 

“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 

He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 

Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 

“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 

You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 

You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 

“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 

When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 

Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 

He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.

How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 

Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.

“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 

“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.

You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.

He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.

“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 

“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 

“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.

Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 

He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 

You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 

“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 

You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 

He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 

He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 

Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 

Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.

He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.

“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 

“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 

His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 

He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 

“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 

After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 

“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 

“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 

He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 

He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.

You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 

“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 

He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 

“Please, no more,” you said. 

“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 

You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 

“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 

You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 

He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 

Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 

On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 

He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 

As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 

Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 

“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 

You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 

“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 

“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 

He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 

“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 

Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 

“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 

You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“I know,” he said. 

He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.

“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 

He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 

He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 

“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 

“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 

Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 

You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.

&&&

You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files

[bimbobaggins69]

Hard times (part one)

roommate!eddie munson x roommate fem!reader (established friendship)

Summary: after getting your electricity and water shut off, you and your roommate are desperate for money, so desperate that you’re willing to have sex with each other on camera, but will your 10+ year friendship be able to with stand all the drama that comes a long with shooting a porno?

⚠️warnings: eventual smut 18+ mdni, financial hardships, angst, use of the nickname ‘mini’ no use of y/n, unwanted pining (one sided for now), eventual best friends to lovers, mentions of porn.

note: this concept is loosely based off of the movie ‘Zac and Miri make a porno’ (don’t forget to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

wc: 3.3k

You were exhausted and you needed a shower, the day was long and you felt sticky and sweaty. So as soon as you and your best friend Eddie, who also happens to be your roommate, walk into the front door of your apartment, coming back from the closing shift you both worked at family video. You head to the bathroom and he heads to the kitchen for a late night beer.

You pull the baby blue shower curtain to the side as you work the knobs to start your nice steamy shower, you’ve been thinking about it since mid day. But you were most excited to slip on some pajamas, get into bed and cuddle under your fluffy duvet while some tv show plays in the background. You just needed to wash the day off, first.

As you sing a tune you heard over the video stores, speaker. You reach for your coconut scented body wash and loofa, washing your body down from neck to toes. Next, you move onto your hair, grabbing the blue ‘finesse’ bottle of shampoo that sat on the small window seal, you pour a generous amount on your hand, bringing it up to lather your hair that felt heavy from the excess hairspray you used on it this morning.

Once the shampoo is ready to rinse out, the water cuts off, leaving you in a state of shock, as the shampoo from your head begins to run down your neck, and onto your back. ‘What the fuck?’ was all you could think, as you began to play with the shower knobs trying to asses the problem, with no such luck you decide your next best option is to call for your roommate.

“Eddie!” You scream as you yank the curtain open, sticking your head out

You hear his loud boots barreling down the hallway, coming towards you.

“Yes?” He says as he cracks the door open, not wanting to stick his head in, in case you were indecent.

“I’m covered you can come in,” you sass

“Hey, just makin’ sure” He says with a smirk, as he walks in, putting the toilet seat down to sit on.

“What’s the problem?” He asks while studying your face.

“Did you pay the water bill?” You squint your eyes at him

“I thought it wasn’t due until Friday?” He mumbled

“No, it was due last Friday, Eddie! I told you that.” You didn’t intend for it to come out so brash, but given your current situation and your need for sleep, you were a bit more snappy than usual.

“Well, I had to pay for the parts to fix the van. I took some money out of the bills, but I mean I thought I had time to put it back.” He says scratching the back of his neck, as his shoulder deflate.

“Okay, well they shut the water off and I still have shampoo in my hair!” You whine, as you scrunch your nose up in anger. It came off way too cute to take to serious, and if Eddie wasn’t in a panic to help you, he would’ve teased you about it.

“Shit, okay okay, hold on. Let me find something to wash it out with.” Eddie says as he looks around the bathroom frantically.

“The toilet, grab that cup and get some water from the toilet, please?” You say as you motion your head towards the little white cup by the sink.

He grabs it before lifting up the toilet seat, only to gasp “fuck, I took a piss earlier and forgot to flush.” He says, cheeks a rosy pink as he looks back at you with sympathy.

“Eddie, not that water! Lift up the back, there’s clean water in there.” Pointing your finger towards the back of the porcelain bowl

“Oh yeah, I knew that.” He says with a small smirk as he dips the cup into the water and walks over to you, “okay, put your head back, I’ll get the shampoo out.” He motions you back with his free hand.

You tip your head back, gripping on the shower curtain for dear life as he begins pouring the water on your hair and scrubbing to get the shampoo out. His fingers were surprisingly soft and gentle, you almost got lost in the feeling of his nails scratching at your scalp. You and Eddie have been friends since kindergarten and have done many things together but this by far is the most intimate, you couldn’t help the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach. ‘It just feels really good, that’s it.’ You told yourself as Eddie continued to wash the suds from your hair.

After the shampoo was fully washed out, Eddie handed over your black silk robe that was hanging on a hook behind the door, you delicately placed it on your damp body, wrapping it around your front and tying it as tight as it would go, all while behind the closed shower curtain as Eddie stood on the other side, sat back on the closed lid of the toilet.

“So? I guess I’ll call them in the morning and see if they’ll give us an extension, at least until this friday.” He says as he bites the side of his cheek, arms crossed over his chest.

You open the shower curtain, stepping out onto the soft floor mat of the same color. “We asked for an extension last time, isn’t there like an extension limit or something?” You ask as you grab your toothbrush, applying a dollop of minty toothpaste before bringing it to your mouth. “Well I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” Eddie says, glancing at the way the black robe hugged the curve of your ass before looking away, he stands up onto his feet, as he starts walking towards the door, it was getting too hot in here for him, and he almost couldn’t breath.

Before he was able to make it out, you turned towards him with your back up against the sink, toothbrush held in your hand as toothpaste suds covered the sides of your mouth. “What do we do if they don’t give us one? Where are we gonna get the money to turn it back on? Not to mention the late fees.” He could hear the worry in your voice, that was the dynamic of your friendship; you’re the uptight worrier while he’s the careless, laid back, “everything will work itself out” kinda guy. It was a good balance but that’s not to say it didn’t absolutely drive you up the wall.

“I’ll take care of it mini, don’t worry okay?” He gives you a small smile, before turning back to the door, “cmon Eddie we’re not kids anymore, can you please use my legal name?” You chuckle as you turn back to the sink to spit the rest of the toothpaste out, wiping your mouth on a wash cloth “you’ll always be my mini though.” He walks out, softly closing the door behind him and heading back to his beer he abandoned on the kitchen counter that was now dripping with condensation.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Mini, was a name given to you for your small stature, you were petite growing up and nobody let you forget it. You would say you’re about average height now, maybe a little under average but somehow the nickname just kind of stuck.

You decided to worry about the whole water situation in the morning, nothing you can do about it now. You just really wanted to get into bed and maybe watch the arsenio hall show until you fell asleep, which is exactly what you did.

Eddie’s night most likely went how it always does; he drank all six beers, smoked some weed out of his sticker infested bong and then passed out while still in his clothes, classic Eddie.

The next day Eddie called the water company to try and work out an extension. He said he would try everything to get the water back on, but when he got on the phone the tech basically laughed at him, telling him there’s no way he was able to give Eddie an extension due to ‘the recurring late fees’ so basically you were shit out of luck on the water unless you had the full payment, it was the last thing you wanted to hear and you were in a sour mood because of it. You understood that Eddie did what he had to do, if the van hadn’t gotten fixed you’d have no ride to work for the money to pay bills, but that didn’t stop you from closing yourself in your bedroom and just wanting to be alone.

You and Eddie worked another closing shift, so you had time to sulk and brainstorm with yourself about how this could be handled. Come as you are by nirvana played in the background as you laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing for an idea, maybe something you could pawn or sell, you didn’t want to have to get a second job but that was your last resort.

You were so close to saying ‘fuck it’ to pawning the necklace you never took off, it was a name plate necklace your grandma gave to you the Christmas before she passed away, it was very special to you but you were that desperate.

As long as you and Eddie had been living together you’d never struggled this hard, but after Eddie got fired from his mechanic job (where he got paid way more than he was making now) for fucking one of his customers in the back seat of her car and getting caught by his manager Tom, you had no choice but to get him a job at family video with you, so this was your current situation.

You were quickly thrown from your thoughts when the radio on your dresser abruptly cuts off, you sit up looking around your room trying to decipher what happened, but when you notice the alarm clock on your nightstand and it’s lack of big red numbers, you scrunch up your face in confusion.

“Fuck!” Is heard from down the hall, you jump up, opening your bedroom door and making your way out to the living room where your roommate is throwing a fit on the couch, Doritos chip bag by his side, his white and red Reebok pumps hiked up on the coffee table, knees bent with his Super Nintendo controller in hand. “What happened?” You question. “Cocksuckers turned off the electricity, I told them I’d get it to them by Monday.” He says through gritted teeth, tossing his controller on the table making you jump from the loud clatter.

You wanted to be mad, but you couldn’t. Eddie was tough enough on himself after the whole being fired ordeal so you quietly padded over, plopping down on the couch beside him. “Well, I think I have an idea.” You say as you cross your socked feet, pulling them close to you. “Okay, let’s hear it.” His tone laced in defeat as he rubs his hands down his face.

“I can pawn the necklace my grandma got me, that should be an extra $250. I mean it’s not much but it’ll help with some late fees.” Eddie’s head snaps towards you, eyes meeting yours. “No, no way mini! I’m gonna figure this out okay? I know how much that necklace means to you and I’m gonna do everything I can before we have to start pawning our shit.”

“Ed’s, c'mon there’s not much else for us to do, I mean I guess we can get second jobs? We can donate blood, or-” you ramble on before eddie intervenes “I’m gonna start selling again, I’ll walk to the payphone and call Rick in a few and see what I can get, maybe he’ll front it to me and I’ll pay him back once it’s moved.” He says as he shakes his head while his eyes scan the living room.

“Eddie no, there has to be something we can do that won’t get you thrown in jail. You remember what Callahan said, one more fuck up and you’re going away for awhile. Let’s just look at our options here, okay?” You’re on the verge of panicking, if Eddie picks up selling again and gets caught he’ll be prosecuted to the fullest extent, as per what the new chief of police told him.

“Let me handle this Min, just sit there and look pretty, alright? I’m gonna get this taken care of. I promise, okay?” His sneakers hit the floor as he shoots up, walking towards the front door, he takes his leather jacket from the hook and throws it on before walking out. “Eddie please, just be rational, please!” You beg as the words ‘just sit there and look pretty’ bounce around in your head. You weren’t sure if you should be offended or flattered, but with the butterflies fluttering around in your insides, you realized it was the latter.

Eddie got back once you were ready for your shift. You decided since it was a pretty warm day that a button down floral dress, and your doc martens would suffice, next you threw on the always flattering green ‘family video’ vest. You walk back into the living room after pulling your hair into a claw clip.

Eddie walks through the door with a sullen look on his face, “how’d it go?” You timidly ask. “He gave me the fucking run around, talking in this bullshit code, anyway he said he can’t help me right now.” He shrugs, moving down the hall towards his bedroom, before he stops to look back at you. “I’m gonna go smoke and get ready for work, you wanna join?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec.” You say before joojing your hair a couple more times in front of the entry door mirror

You spent the remaining time before your shift laid out on Eddie’s bed as you both passed a joint back and forth, it was weird not being able to turn on some background music while you two talked like usual, and the apartment was starting to get humid even with the windows half open as a light breeze crept in. You were pretty sure there was something in this weed that was a little stronger than usual because you couldn’t take your eyes off of Eddie as he moved around his room, throwing on whatever clean band shirt and ripped jeans that were in his dresser. You’ve never noticed just how pretty he was. ‘Jesus Christ, what is in this shit?’ You asked yourself as you brought the joint back up to your lips and took another puff while your eyes continued to ogle the man in front of you.

“You gonna pass it, or you just g’na keep checking me out?” The daze you were under slowly faltering, as you notice Eddie with his hand stretched out towards you, waiting for the joint to be placed between his thumb and index finger, his eyebrow is cocked with an apparent smirk on his face.

His words immediately make your cheeks heat in a light pink hue, as a cough sets off deep in your chest at the prospect of being caught. “Yeah you wish, Ed.” You chuckle awkwardly, as you place the joint between his fingers, you quickly pull your hand back as if you’d been burnt when his index finger brushes against your own. You weren’t sure if you wanted to continue to sesh with Eddie if the weed was gonna make you feel like you had feelings for your best friend. ‘Yeah right, Eddie was like a brother to you.’ You thought to yourself, ignoring the icky feeling in the pit of your stomach at the brief notion.

You both made it to work with a couple minutes to spare, which was very rare as Eddie had a tendency to make you late for everything. Once clocked in, you began your work behind the checkout counter while also on rewind duty.

Eddie worked the floor, helping customers and putting away recent returns. In between Eddie would come up to you with new ideas on how to get some extra cash, every idea even more brazen than the next. Everything from begging for his old job back to panhandling on the corner of a highway, you were afraid his ideas were gonna continue to snowball into something even more unhinged as he paced in front of the counter you were sat behind.

“I think we need to come up with some rational ideas, okay?” You say, breaking Eddie from his internal crisis. “Rational? I’m being very rational, you’re just not thinking out of the box, Min.” Eddie chuckles before grabbing his cart of returns. He reaches to pick one up out of the pile, a sly smirk lighting up his once glum face. He holds up a tape of a bald man and a blonde woman in a rather provocative position, green stickers hiding their most private areas. He begins slightly waving it around “Duty calls. You know where to find me if you need me, just uh knock first.” He says with a wolfish grin. The whole one sided interaction has your stomach in loops, at the idea of Eddie touching himself in the ‘restricted area’.

It was a typical Wednesday night at family video, the lack of customers giving you ample opportunity to think. You thought about the possibility of having to move back in with your parents, you would do everything in your power to make sure that didn’t happen though. You couldn't go back to living with two people that barely even acknowledged your existence. You were beginning to come to terms with Eddie’s crazy ideas actually being plausible, it made you nervous but at this point you would do whatever he suggested.

“Holy fuck!” You were so in your head that the booming voice coming from the back of the store made you jump a foot in the air, you placed your right hand over your racing heart as an aid to facilitate the heavy thuds in your chest, but it didn’t matter with everything going on you were already on edge.

“Mini, come here!” Eddie shouted after drawing back the red curtain to the adult section. You keep your eyes on the door for a few seconds, making sure no customers would be walking in while you weren’t behind the counter. You make your way back towards the cackling voice of your best friend, you draw the curtain back, your eyes scan the little area before they land on him. A devious grin graces his face, it instantly makes you swallow the last of the saliva on your tongue, leaving it dry.

“What are you over here shouting at? Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack back there!” You cry out before swatting him on the shoulder. “Yeah, well once you see this you might have the same reaction.” He snorts while simultaneously trying to dodge your swat.

Eddie holds up the tape you’re assuming was cause for his startling reaction. “Not this again.” You groan, “no, no trust me you’re gonna wanna see this.” He lets out another cackle as he places the tape into your hands. “Do you recognize anyone on that tape?” He boldly asks, studying your face as you study the erotic picture in front of you, your eyes widen as you realize who you’re looking at.

“Steve?” The tape is new and the green stickers hadn’t been placed over their exposed body parts, your eyes catch a glimpse of Steve’s dick and your face flushes as you look back up to Eddie, your voice practically caught in your throat, while you stand there in shock. “Fucking Harrington, can you believe it? He’s doing porn now!” Eddie shouts, while he shakes his head. “Should give him a call and see if they’re hiring.” You giggle at your dumb joke.

Eddie’s eyes widened at your suggestion, like a lightbulb had just went off in his head.

“Mini, you’re a fucking genius!”

Thank you for reading!

Part two

•Taglist•

@livsters @prettypeachsworld @akiratoro420 @samanthasgone @dylpickleblog @lightcommastix @little-wormwood @gaysludge @emxxblog @eddieslittlewh0re @sillypurplemurple @lovely-lynn-writes @tlclick73 @ajkamins @dilfs-lover @lolalanaie @aocxdx @ambthegamer @alanamarie @josephquinncore @bebe07011 @bambipowerblueaddition @marriedtoeddie @chopper-witch @dissociatinginfp @stairwaytozai @edsforehead @itsametaphorbriansblog @haylaansmi @thoughtsoftheantagonist @paranoidmunson @totalmesstm @parkerloveer @elesoteri @chloes-files @melhoran @lezzy-bennet @killer-joy3 @aysheashea @wolfiepirate @mmvnsons @sluggzillaa @thehuntresswolf

[totheblood]

superposition. (two)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: ellie gives you lesson number two and you get an A on your test! yay.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint... the ai audios for this one is?????? just don't listen to it around people pls

a/n: smut is so not my strong suit but like... i tried!! please know i'd love feed back and all reblogs and replies and asks are welcomed and encouraged... i love u all so bad i hope u like this.. ai audios at the end are again... steamy?

read part one to this fic here!

"why dont we collide the spaces that divide us?"

You think your first date was a success.

Malia, your date, did everything right. She held open the door for you, made you laugh, and walked you home with your hand in hers. Her hands were soft, contrasting Ellie’s calloused fingers and dry hands, and by the end of the walk they had grown clammy. She smelled like coconut milk and pink pepper, and her ginger hair stretched passed her shoulders. When she spoke her tone was gentle, her words almost sickly sweet as they fell from her lips. On paper she was perfect.

But as the two of you approached your apartment building and her cherry-flavored lips met yours, it wasn’t like you had imagined. You were unsure if you sitting in Ellie’s lap earlier that night had anything to do with the sour taste left in your mouth as you gave her another kiss goodnight, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

“We should do this again.” Malia practically shouted as you walked up the stairs to your building's entrance. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“We should,” An odd feeling settled in your chest. “Text me, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Her smile held warmth in it, her cheeks growing red. It was obvious she was really into the date and while your chest swelled with pride, it also didn’t swell with the same affection she was harboring. A part of you assumed that love didn’t happen gradually and that your feelings would only grow as time went on, but you couldn’t be sure of that at this moment. All you knew was that she was practically perfect, but she wasn’t Ellie.

The whole night all you could think about was the fact that everything she did was the complete opposite of what Ellie would do. Your whole brain felt muddy as you searched around in your bag for keys wondering why you suddenly felt the need to compare your date to your best friend. It would never work out between you and Ellie anyways… right?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t found Ellie attractive when you first met her, but you were inexperienced and way too shy to flirt with her. As a result, the friend zone became a permanent place for you and Ellie. There was a comfortable haze that settled in the air when you were with her and it was a growing fear of yours that something could jeopardize it, and knowing Ellie that was entirely plausible. 

You wouldn’t go to the lengths of saying that Ellie was a ‘fuck boy’ but it was clear she got around. On many different occasions, you had let yourself into her apartment and been met with varying girls, all of whom Ellie claimed she would never call back. You had to actively ignore the disappointment you felt each time you interrupted her with someone, and the anxiety at your throat when she claimed she was already over them. You knew Ellie would never abandon you like that, but it was still a possibility.

Whatever feelings you had when you first met her, however, were now shoved down into a deep place in your brain that was threatening to come to the surface again. You didn’t want her to be anything but ‘your Ellie’ and you desperately wanted to remain ‘her petal’. At this moment there was nothing more important to you than keeping the small semblance of domestic bliss that you had with her.

As you hung up your bag and began to take off your coat you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket. It was almost perfect timing from Ellie seeing as you would have spent the entire night searching for your phone and thinking Malia had robbed you. 

E: How’s the date going? Or how did it go? 

E: Unsure of my timing rn.

Y: it WENT well… she was cute

E: Did you use any of my techniques?

Y: no nothing happened, we just kissed goodnight and then she left

Y: plus you didn’t teach me any techniques you just made out with me

Y: hoping that was free lesson cause idk if i can afford the ellie williams tuition

E: That’s boring.

E: No action? I mean it’s Friday night.

E: It’s always gonna be free for you, Petal.

Y:  no action :( 

E: Poor baby. 

E: We should fix that.

E: Want me to come over? We can smoke and you can tell me all about this very boring date.

Y: IT WASN’T BORING STOP THAT

Y: and yes, my answer is always going to be yes to smoking with u

E: When you got so high that one time and bit me…

E: Don’t bite me again.

E: Wait actually…

Y: perv

E: Shut up.

You got undressed and changed into the same outfit that you slept in every night, an old t-shirt and grey sweatshirts. For a moment you contemplated not taking off your makeup, wanting to look nice for Ellie, but your need for comfort won you over this time. It wasn’t too long later that Ellie was making her way into your apartment and placing her backpack down on the floor. You moved to stand in the doorframe of your bedroom shooting a pointed look at Ellie.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” She removed her coat and threw it over the couch revealing her own casual outfit underneath: A loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Fuck, she looked good in those swea-

 “You should really knock, Ellie,” This same lecture had poured from your mouth every time she did this, but she never stopped. Truth be told, Ellie liked the idea of coming home to you, just letting herself in and setting her shit down as she had just done. It was a small act in the large umbrella of romantically ambiguous things the two of you had gotten used to doing.

If Ellie was being honest with herself she would finally admit that whatever relationship the two of you had always bordered on the verge of no longer being platonic. She would just find herself doing things for you that she would never do for anyone else. She always let you smoke for free, voted on whatever movie you wanted to watch during movie night just to see you smile, and she was doing shit like she had done tonight. 

The minute you left for your date Ellie was glued to her phone, patiently waiting for you to tell her the date went to shit and that you needed her to come over and light up with you. As the night went on Ellie found herself anxiously bouncing her leg and obsessively checking your location. She was supposed to be working tonight, but instead, she was cyberstalking her best friend who was on a date. This time it was her turn to feel like a loser.

“Then why did you give me a key?” She walked over to you, hands in her pockets as she leaned up against your door frame. Your oversized t-shirt swallowed you whole hiding the shorts you had on underneath. You looked so at home, so comfortable, and everything in Ellie’s head turned to mush as she imagined pulling you into her by your hips and kissing the lecture right off your lips.

“For emergencies.” Your eyes instinctively rolled at her but you knew you could never be mad at her. You secretly liked it as much as she did. 

“I thought it was an emergency. You know, that your date was sooo boring that you needed me to come and take care of you.” From her pocket she pulled out a skinny plastic container, popping open the top with her pointer and thumb and shaking the joint into her hand. “Plus, I bought you free weed so you can’t be too mad at me, Petal.”

“It wasn’t boring, stop saying that.” You took the joint from her hand and led her over to your side table where you kept your lighter. Placing the tip of the joint between your lips you attempted to light your lighter as you sat on your bed, but failed. 

“The fact that you still don’t know how to use your lighter is beyond me.” Ellie walked over to you, taking the lighter from your hands. “What would you do without me?” 

You were about to roll your eyes when Ellie’s free hand found the bottom of your chin, lifting it up slowly so you were looking up at her from your place on the bed. She towered over you in this position, her eyes trained on your lips where her joint was hanging from your mouth. She quickly lit the lighter and loosely grabbed your chin, bringing it close to her other hand where she lit the joint for you. She was unsure of where this bout of confidence came from, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t have several fantasies about you that began this way. 

Dazed, you stared up at her watching her hooded green eyes take you in. For a moment, you forgot what you were doing when she knocked her knees gently against yours. 

“Suck.” She commanded, voice low and sultry. In response your eyebrows knit together in confusion, not fully understanding what she was trying to say. “The joint, Petal. Take a hit.” 

Her voice came out in a whisper that would have made your knees weak if you were standing up, but you happily obeyed her, taking a drag. You took a deep inhale allowing the familiar burn to sit comfortably in your chest. Ellie removed her hand from your chin and sat down next to you. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

As you usually did, you passed the joint over to Ellie, watching as she took a hit and blew smoke into the room. She was in her element, here with you and taking care of you in the only way she knew how. All of the things she refused to share with you were shoved deep down into a place she was forgetting the name of right now. All that mattered was you.

 When she passed it back to you she smiled, watching as your eyes became half-lidded and calm. You were in your soft place, a perfect place to stop. Ellie took another hit and clipped it, shoving it back into its original container and back into her pocket. 

“So,” She began, leaning back on both her hands and turning towards you. “How did it actually go?”

“I think it went well,” You smiled causing Ellie to instinctively smile back at you. “She was cute, really nice, laughed at all my jokes.”

“She must really like you then,” Ellie laughed to herself. “Cause your jokes are shit.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggled, leaning into her. When you sat back upright Ellie had a wide grin planted on her face. 

“What?” You questioned her.

“Did you kiss her?” Ellie’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes telling her true intentions. She wanted to know if the girl you went on a date with was a better kisser than her. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“Was it good?” Ellie’s smile was completely gone by this point.

“Not as good as with you.” You confessed, and just like that Ellie’s smile was back. “I mean it just wasn’t as good, but it was a first date what do I expect? Maybe it’ll be better next time.” Gone, again.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where it goes.” You shrugged, matching Ellie's posture with your hands behind you.

“Maybe you just need more lessons.” Her eyes were fixed on yours, red and glossed over. 

“Maybe.” You blinked over at her, mouth going dry. “What are you getting out of it?”

“I’m just a really good friend, I guess.” She joked, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Yea.” You whispered, eyes glancing at her lips.

“Ready for another lesson, Petal?” Her voice was steady, her high giving her the confidence sobriety couldn’t. All you could do in response was nod. She pushed herself off the bed and gently tapped the side of your exposed thigh. “Okay, lay back on the bed for me.” 

Quickly, you obliged, lifting your legs onto your floral bedsheet. Everything around you felt like silk from your high, the sheets, Ellie’s hands, the pillow that you rested your head on. 

“Good girl.” Ellie smiled, getting back on the bed, and sitting on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her. Gently, she leaned forward and pressed a soft peck on your lips, wiping off any trace of Malia. It wasn’t like the kiss the two of you shared earlier, your tongues weren’t down each other's throats and her hands remained at her side. It was slow, tantalizing almost, and when she pulled away a girlish smile spread across her face. When she sat back on her knees her hand hovered over your stomach. “It’s okay if I touch you here?”

You were rendered speechless, she was being so soft and gentle with you that it made you like putty in her hands. You eagerly nodded, causing Ellie to laugh. “I’ll tell you everything I’m doing, Petal. Maybe you’ll be able to teach your boring date what to do next time.” Her hands slipped under your shirt and skimmed the base of your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat, hindering any ability to tell her your date wasn’t boring. At this point, she could say whatever she wanted to you and you would take it. 

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” Your eyes peered down at her, nodding once again. She pulled your shorts and underwear down together, painfully slow. She let them rest at your knees and lifted up your shirt that was covering your center. Suddenly, you felt extremely shy but didn’t make an effort to stop her. 

“You look so pretty, Petal.” She cooed as if she could read your mind. “Almost want to kiss it.”

“You can.” You weakly replied, knowing you were dripping from her words alone.

“Not so fast. We haven’t gotten there, yet. Basics, Petal. I thought you knew this.” Ellie leaned forward and pressed a kiss below your belly button, earning a whimper from you. 

“Be as loud as you need, okay?” Another kiss, another whimper. “I wanna hear you.” She moved to kiss you on the inside of your thigh. A gasp fell from your lips causing Ellie to smile against your skin. “Need you to tell me how good I’m doing.” 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” Her pointer and middle finger tapped your clit. Ellie was so focused on your cunt that she didn’t see your mouth fall open. “Right here.” 

Slowly she began rubbing tiny circles into your clit, applying light pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a small moan escaped from your lips. Almost as if on cue, Ellie began applying more pressure, her eyes now focused on your contorting face.  

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She coaxed making your eyes glance at her. She looked so pretty, so focused on you that it made your pussy clench around nothing. “Feel good?”

Another nod.

“Use your words.” She picked up her pace making you scream out. Ellie almost moaned herself, just at the sight of you. “Mhm…Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck, Ellie,” Your breathing was jagged as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “It feels so,” She applied a little more pressure, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. “Fuck.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” Her movements were calculated, and her words were only egging you on.

“Ellie, I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it. Cum. I know you can do it, baby.” She was pressing hard and fast circles into you and leaned forward to press another kiss into the inside of your thigh. All it took was the words of encouragement from her and you were coming undone, screaming out her name in between rapid breaths. When Ellie was sure you were done she pulled her hand away and licked her fingers.

You collapsed into the bed, eyes closed and trying to steady your breathing. When you opened them Ellie was gone, causing you to sit up sharply, wondering if you had just fantasized what just happened. 

“Ellie?” You called out, looking towards your door where she was returning with a washcloth in her hands. 

“Just needed to get this.” She lifted up the washcloth and shook it as she sat back down next to you on the bed. “You kind of made a mess.” She chuckled. 

“Oh,” was all you said as you glanced down to where you were dripping onto your bed. 

“Can I?” You nodded, ignoring her red cheeks as she cleaned you up. 

“Thanks for that.” You started as you watched Ellie pull your pants back up. “I’ll see if I can teach Malia anything. I think your lessons will really help, you know.” And just like that the gentle smile that Ellie had plastered on her face since she began cleaning you up was gone. 

It was almost as if a part of her believed she could fuck you into loving her but it was becoming increasingly obvious these really were just lessons to you. 

“Yeah.” She sighed, standing up and throwing the washcloth in your hamper. “I should get going. It’s getting late.” 

“Oh, okay.” You smiled up at her, hoping to see her smile back. She didn’t. “Text me when you get home?”

“Will do.” 

And just like that she was gone.

ai audios:

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Adria,” your friend’s name, glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on. 

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?” 

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?” 

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face. 

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

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

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[muzansfangs]

Coitus interrupted.

Starring: Douma x f!reader.

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, oral sex (Douma receiving), language, slight degradation.

Format: short imagine.

Plot: you and your boyfriend were having a steamy make out session, but one thing leads to another and you found yourselves moaning each others name. Everything was great, until someone interrupted you. Will it kill the mood, or ignite a devious spark within them?

Author note: this is for the same anon who had requested “Coitus interrupted” with Muzan and Kokushibo. This part was supposed to be included in the previous post, but I have forgotten to write it! I hope you are going to enjoy this and thank you again for having requested something about my favorite Upper Moon.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Douma.

You were comfortably reading a novel on your bed. Your boyfriend, Douma, had come over fifteen minutes ago and was currently taking a shower. The house was silent, finally. Well, it was one of the perks of living alone after years of sharing a roof with your family. You had longed for some peace and, obviously, for some privacy too. You did not have to ask your poor boyfriend to sneak into your house in the middle of the night for some quality time in your bedroom. Not to mention you were not always on a rush too.

You had just flipped the page, when Douma walked into your bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. The sweet scent of coconut and vanilla filled the air, as he grinned down at you and crawled over the bed. You knew what time it was. The predatory look in his glimmering rainbow-colored eyes left nothing to imagination. He demanded your attention, there was no doubt about it.

“Baby, aren’t you done reading yet?” he chimed, hovering over you and swatting the book away from your hands.

You rolled your eyes at him, flinching at the loud thud of your book landing on the floor “I think I am now. – you sarcastically stated, cupping his smooth cheek in your hand – You know I don’t like to be interrupted. But, maybe, you can make it up to me, can’t you?” you whispered, opening your legs wider to let him settle in between.

Douma smirked, his pearly teeth on display as he grasped your wrists and pinned them up above your head “Really? No, baby, I think it’s your turn to make it up to me, though. – he purred, chewing on his lower lips thoughtfully before finishing his sentence – After all, you refused to shower with me. I’m quite offended” he feigned offence, making your cheeks flush up instantly.

Not much was said after that. The languid glance he shot in your direction, as he unknotted the towel hanging around his waist and discarded it on the ground, was the only hint he dropped for you to take action. Your mouth watered at the sight you were beholding and you wasted no time in tying your hair up in a ponytail and pushing your boyfriend down on the mattress.

Douma chuckled as you wrapped your hand around his cock, your tongue twirling around the leaking tip and eliciting a soft grunt from him “My, my… What a diligent slut you are. You’re taking your time, aren’t you? – he breathed out, half-lidded eyes boring into yours – Yet, that’s not what I want” he said, his tone of voice dropping a few octaves as he yanked your hair back before thrusting up into your mouth.

Your breath hitched and you gagged for the sudden intrusion in your throat, your tongue trying to stimulate his turgid shaft as he relentlessly hit the back of your throat. His pace was feral, tears peaked at the angles of your eyes and Douma softly moaned your name, as he chased his orgasm.

“Fuck—Just like that! That’s your dinner, baby. Y-yes! Swallow my cum like the needy bitch you are” the silver-haired man said just when his thrusts became sloppier and his climax was about to reach its peak.

You were so lost into giving him pleasure, gaze flicking up to stare at his angelic face that you had not heard someone unlocking the front door. Obviously, you did not even hear the footsteps echoing in the corridor outside your bedroom and, when the door opened, your brother almost got an heart attack.

Your nose pressed against Douma’s navel, his hand holding onto your ponytail as he fucked your mouth, Akaza watched how his irritating friend and, unfortunately, brother-in-law came down your throat with a final thrust. He grimaced in disgust, the box with the pizza he had bought on his way to your house slipping from his hand and splattering on the carpet and he let out a groan of frustration.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” he blurted out, causing you to pull away from Douma and forcefully swallowing down to collect yourself.

Your cheeks were beet red, as you quickly threw a pillow at Douma for him to cover himself “Akaza! Have you ever heard about giving a call before coming over!” you piped out, eyes daggers on him.

Douma, on the other hand, was having the best time of his life. A proud smirk crossing his lips, he held the pillow to cover his waist “Akaza-dono! Of course she is still fucking me! Once you try a good cock, there’s no way you’re going to stop! – he crooned – Also, your sister’s got such a skillful tongue! Her throat is so—”.

He never got to finish the sentence because your brother had jumped at his throat and you spent the next two hours trying not let him slaughter your boyfriend on the dinner table.

Tags: the lovely people who love Douma @doumadono @doumaslotus ❤️

[metallicaislife]

metallicaislife masterlist

I mainly write for Metallica, but there will be dustings of Guns 'N Roses(mainly Slash and Duff as that is who I know best in the band) scenarios too.

✨ = fluff

🌹= smut

😿 = sad/angst

METALLICA

Christmas Decorating - Metallica ✨

Cliff Burton

Thin Lizzy and Mary Jane ✨

First Time 🌹

Afternoon Delight 🌹

My Girl ✨

Save a Horse, Ride a Bassist 🌹

Early Morning Surprise 🌹

Tag Team 🌹

Day Trip ✨

Tight Fit 🌹

Birthday Boy ✨🌹

What Flusters Cliff ✨

Making You Feel Good 🌹

What's Your Fantasy? 🌹

Dreams 🌹

Childhood Friends ✨

Cliff Burton Headcanons ✨

Talk is Just Talk, Right? 🌹

James Hetfield

Daydream 😿🌹

Daydream Pt 2 😿✨

Daydream Pt 3 ✨

Been Hiding in Plain Sight ✨

Impatient 🌹

Let Me Take Care of You 🌹✨

What's Your Fantasy? 🌹

Brothers Best Friend ✨

Brothers Best Friend pt 2 ✨

My Nemesis, James Hetfield ✨

My Nemesis, James Hetfield pt 2 ✨

My Nemesis, James Hetfield pt 2 Bloopers ✨

Hey Jealousy 😿✨

Kirk Hammett

The Exorcist ✨

Long Day ✨

Phone Call Confession ✨

Tag Team 🌹

A Steamy Halloween 🌹

Bad Mood 😿✨

Pushed to Confess 🌹

After the Show 🌹

The Photographer and the Guitarist ✨🌹

The Photographer and the Guitarist pt 2 ✨🌹

Introverted 😿✨

Slow Mornings ✨

The Interview 🌹

Arguments 🌹

Birthday Wishes ✨🌹

I Want to Learn 🌹

I Want to Learn pt 2 🌹

Overworked 😿✨

Meet and Greet 🌹

Kirk w/ a Clingy gf Headcanon ✨

Embarrassment Leads to… 🌹

Kirk Hammett Headcanons ✨

Lars Ulrich

The Spank Bank Incident ✨

Being Lars Girl Best Friend Headcanon ✨

Dating Lars Headcanons ✨

Jason Newsted

nothing yet

Rob Trujillo

Dating Current!Rob Trujillo Headcanons ✨

News ✨

Lazy Day In ✨

New Sensations 🌹

Dave Mustaine

Talk is Just Talk, Right? 🌹

GUNS 'N ROSES

Christmas Decorating - Guns N Roses ✨

Duff McKagan

Coconut Tequila ✨

Award Show ✨

Slash

The Unintentional Heartbreaker ✨(mentions spicy but not explicit)

Unwell ✨

[deathbecomesthem]

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Eddie Munson x Reader | ~650 Words

What is this? I don't know. Just thinking about how Eddie feels when he's cleaning himself up before some fun play time with his partner. The reader wears a strap.

The ritual gets him ready. He’s thought about what will happen if/when you decide to move on from him, if he’ll ever be able to feel the warm water between his cheeks without getting hard. He pours the soap onto the center of the soft and soaked cloth and watches the bubbles foam. The steam that fills his small bathroom smells of coconut and vanilla.

The ritual dictates his movements, starting with rubbing that soft and textured cloth along his forehead. Wiping away the dust in the corner of his eyes. Behind his ears, he doesn’t want to grow potatoes back there, and under his curls at the back of his neck. His shoulders and chest. He ignores the way the blood rushes south as the soapy cloth runs against his bellybutton. The soap lathers in the fine hair that turns coarser and coarser as he goes down, down, down and washes himself where he’s aching to be touched.

He can’t help but rest his head against the tile focusing on the way it cools his skin. He resists the urge to stroke himself and wills himself to remember the ritual. He cleans his erection, and the soft sac underneath. He does not stroke. He does not give in to it. He moves down to his legs, ignoring the way he’s speeding up now. He knows what comes next. He knows what’s waiting for him in his bedroom, behind the thin and evil wall where he rests his head.

He takes the bottle of body wash and squeezes it into the washcloth. He turns his back to the stream of hot water, letting it stream down his back. He’s shaking, no vibrating. He spreads himself to let the almost scalding water run down his open slit, that aching hole clenching at the feeling. The soapy cloth does its work, and his eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of it. Oh god, does it feel so right to be touched there. He’s forgotten about his cock while he cleans himself, but it moves in the open air of the shower. It thrusts into nothing with each swipe of the slightly rough cloth.

He wonders if you know how much self control it takes to not bend himself in half, letting himself get carried away with the sensation. Letting himself pulse and cum in the steaming hot bathroom. Oh, yes. It would feel nice, and he tucks the thought away - maybe someday he won’t have you waiting for him in the other room. He takes the shower head from its hook, and sprays the head against his open ass. He’s scrubbed clean, and he’s rinsing it all away before he enters that sacred space with you.

He’s hard, so hard, when he steps onto the bath mat outside of the shower. He takes his time, breathing the steamy air through his nose while he uses the soft terry cloth towel to dry himself. He didn’t know a towel could feel so soft, but you’ve taught him the magic of vinegar in the washing machine. It’s not the only thing you’ve taught him. He takes a moment to breathe in the smell of the fresh towel before wrapping it around his waist and releasing the steam of the shower into the bedroom. 

You’re laying in the bed, your cock already strapped on and standing tall. You’ve been watching the door, waiting for him. God, you can’t believe how he looks right now. His pale skin with the black ink that dances on the surface of it. The curls with drops of water that drip along his pretty collarbone. You can see his erection pressing against the gray towel he has slung around his hips.

“Come here, pretty boy. I want you to sit on my face.”

[ayylovley]

2 - taking shower and 4 - aftercare with my big boy Sam <333333333

2. Taking a shower/bathing with them, 4. Aftercare ❤️

After a long day of work, Samuel had to blow some stress away, he didn’t expect you to be in the shower once he got home to you. With a mean grin painted on his face with the idea of scaring, surprising you while you’re vulnerable and naked. Finding himself undressing in the bathroom as you were completely unaware, too busy with your back turned humming softly to yourself. Squeezing a bottle of coconut scented body wash on the palm of your hand. When suddenly the glass shower door behind you was slammed shut making a big ‘BANG’

You jumped out of your skin, dropping the bottle to the ground as the water runs down the drain. As soon as your eyes meet Samuel’s your heart decreases a little from the brief fear that someone broke in while you were showering.

“Samuel! You fucking bastard you scared me!!”

“That was the plan.” He didn’t hide his enjoyment of the success. He steps forward to your frame, once he was close enough he placed his hand on your thigh and gripped it gently. “I had a shitty day again, I’ll need to relive this stress.” You know how Samuel gets when he comes home from a long day at work, he’s always primal in bed but he gets twice as much when everyone was on his case. With your back pressed right against the glass, your backside squished against it from the help of Samuel pushing you up, his strength and speed wasn’t just useful for fighting.

Because within seconds you can feel his thick cock stretching your tight hole, his fast pounding fills the steamy air with both of your bodies slap together. “Mm fuck this is the best pussy I’ve ever had!”

His crude praise along with his tip harshly punching the softest and squishiest spot inside leaves your eyes rolling back full of nothing but bliss and heaven. You could hear a laugh in your ear, “that’s right, (y/n). Only my dick can make you feel like this. You like that?”

You were too busy screaming his name to respond to anything, your nails dragging deep in his back. Encouraging him to repeatedly bang your ass on the glass more intensely. “Don’t you dare cum.” You already know his way of this, he fucks you like an animal and never lets you cum the first time you feel the thick need to release. You still most of the time obey his orders especially on the days he came home from a bad day at work not wanting to know how much worse the punishment is compared to the times he’s just being playful and needs to be in control.

It feels like an hour has gone by when you try your best to edge yourself, in between fast paced thrusts, Samuel would painfully slow down while still inside of you. He loves how you’re begging and crying for your orgasm, it makes him continue with fierce movements again. His balls following with brutal smacks on your ass, “You’re being such a good girl. You know what, maybe I’ll make you edge a little more and then I’ll let you cum around my dick.” A couple more primal thrusts leaves you overstimulated, your core aching and throbbing from the endless momentum.

“You’ve earned your reward now, you slut. Go ahead and cum for me.”

With a moan filling your ear, his thick cock pulls out slowly with a slight fill of his own seed purposefully wasn’t being fast enough. With the intense climax it’s made your body clench and tense up caught up in the heavenly bliss, your throbbing entrance oozing with the salty liquid as it dripped down Sam’s balls. His own seed rubbed and coated against the surface of your pussy, letting you feel the hot load on your skin.

You need to take a deep breath before moving again, feeling your legs like jello once Samuel unwraps your shaking legs and let your feet back on the wet floor.

Once you’re both on his bed, the lights dim in the room and he flips you on your stomach to straddle your ass just to give your shaking legs a nice massage. He has no problem taking care of you when it comes down to how he pounded you into oblivion. You can already feel the wobbling feeling and sore pain in your inner thighs fading away as he has one hand groping your ass.

“You want some water?”

“…no I’m ok. I do want to be in your arms though.”

You look behind him over your shoulder to catch any approval, he sighs “You’re so needy, (y/n). Fine.” He meets you laying down beside you, immediately intertwining his muscular arms around your frame “wait a minute, this isn’t an excuse to touch my chest again is it?”

There’s a laugh heard from you “what do you think?” Your teeth nibbles on his pecks “Careful, (y/n). You seem to forget who can be in charge here.”

[sailorsallyart]

Starved (tap for HQ)

full piece available on my patreon 💦

wanna be on my tag list? Lmk in the replies!

[allsadnshit]

Taiwanese basil fried eggplant in salted butter with ginger and scallions with a wood fired soy paste, coconut aminos, and sweet chili sauce and topped with black sesame seeds over steamy rice

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Miguel sees another side of you that he didn’t expect. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

nine ,, miguel’s POV

“Didn’t think you were gonna show up, hot shot.”

I didn’t either, Jessica.

The thought only exists in my mind.

The lights are a melting pot of colors and flashes, scent of hard liquor and fancy perfume tangling with my senses. Peter is DJ’ing tonight, as he does every other night of the week. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t, I pay him well.

I’m not happy about my presence in this place in the slightest. No, I don’t like this. I think it’s stupid, a waste of my time. But my girls— they think of me like I’m a god. Their god. I’m rewarding them today.

It’s a Friday. The music is the worst on Fridays. It’s cheap, predictable, unpleasant. It’s pounding in my ears. Jessica, the infuriating woman. She’s enjoying this, I know she is. Enjoying seeing me like this. Out of an element that I own, somehow.

This club, another one of my mindless money-making investments. Just the notion, the idea of my name being attached and slutty women show up to dance—wearing dresses that barely cover their thongs. It amuses me. Unclassy as it is.

Maybe they hold on to hoping I will stop by eventually. They’re lucky today. I never have before.

Pretty girls have flashed me hungry eyes just at the door. Lacy only offered them bittersweet ones back. Vicious girl.

My gaze drifts to the sunshine bathed drink in Jessica’s hand, then to her swollen stomach. I snatch it from her, allowing the cold lemon juice to tangle itself around my tongue. The same tongue that was just buried between Lacy’s legs.

It’s virgin…

The drink, not Lacy.

Jessica sucks her teeth as she grabs it back from me— coconut scented coils bouncing with each movement she makes. She orders me to get my own, and my strawberry blonde toy with a dress that is even more nauseating than the lilac number she wore last I saw her— she’s annoyed.

She’s annoyed often lately. Y me está sacando de quicio.

The girls that I fuck— or have fucked. Their job is to keep quiet. My job is to fuck them. How complicated could that possibly become? Very, with women.

Always an “I love you” or “I want more,” and if none of it? Then they’re brats. Annoying, whiny little brats. My Lacy is lucky, the last girl who sucked her teeth and complained this much got my teeth marks indented into her breasts. Purple and blue for weeks. She enjoyed it. The auburn-haired girl— forgot her name already.

I told her to behave tonight, yet she inserts herself— clearing her throat loudly so a certain COO of mine will hear.

Qué ingenuo…

Jessica only looks her up and down once, her distaste painted on her features as if they’ve been permanently needled in. She won’t say hello to Lacy, she doesn’t need to. None of them do. Yet no matter how many times I tell her that, she still expects it.

Maybe that’s it. That feeling pushing me backwards. Lately it’s as if she expects to be treated like she’s more. She’s not. She’s two heavy breasts and a swollen mouth. That’s all. That’s all they all were. I told them from the beginning, I gave them an out. A choice. They stayed, they fell, they were cut off immediately.

The frustrating thing— her eyes snap up to mine. Waiting. Expecting me to correct Jessica. Qué chistoso. I’d like to keep my balls right where they are.

I narrow my gaze at her. Testing her, speaking without my mouth.

Behave.

The brat, she just sucks her teeth and tugs on my hand. I hate it. That reaction. My dick would shrivel if it could.

No, I want her to submit to my demands or defy in the sweet mischievous way she once charmed me with— not that sour attitude. But god, my Lacy. I don’t want to find another fuck. I don’t have the time and I doubt they’d be just as pretty.

“Let’s go dance.”

She is a smart girl, or rather— she likes to think she is. She brushes off her sour notes as southern sass and nothing more. Her attitude, her demands. I see her, as I see all my women. She’s daddy’s little princess who gets the world and more just by the snap of her fingers. She acts sweeter than she tastes and bats those pretty lashes at me but— it never works the same way it does on her father. I know her core, I’ve tasted it with my tongue. She’s a bitter thing behind all that beauty.

A creature who’s smarter than she acts, at least with me.

But I? I could give less of a shit so long as I have a cock attached to me, one I can shove down her throat to keep her quiet. She looks so pretty like that.

“Ve a bailar, hermosa.”

I don’t offer her an explanation as to why I won’t be going with her. Truthfully, I don’t need to. I’ve seen her dance before, she’s hopeless. Besides, being here is enough effort for me. I’d rather keep morale on a tight leash, right at the bar where I can stare angrily at Jess all night.

Lacy looks ridiculous. Her eyes searching the air for an invisible answer. I tilt my head at her.

Is she having a fucking stroke?

It’s then that I remember— she doesn’t understand me. I hear Jessica stifle her amusement beside me— and I glare at her as I take a seat at the bar. My bar. I need a drink, or seven. I’ve had just the right amount of tonight already.

“Dance.” I demand. It takes her a quick moment to realize that I mean without me. She’s got lemon on her tongue as she storms away from me. Into the sea of people grinding against each other. Nauseating. I never promised her a romantic night.

Jessica fucking Drew, she’s smirking at me as she sips her virgin lemonade.

“Cállate.” I demand. She raises a brow at that, silken skin glistening under my spotlights as she swirls the melting ice round and round in her cup. The bartender, Ben, he’s quick. That’s why he works for me. My bourbon is served swiftly and exactly how I want it to be. He’s trained to do it the way I demand. He’d be fired otherwise. Like that girl.

I take my time, sipping the bitterness from the glass with almost as much attention and care as I put into sipping the cum out of Lacy’s core before we arrived. When I’m ready, I flick my eyes toward the nuisance beside me.

“Has he embarrassed himself yet?”

Peter.

If Jessica is the annoying, whiny, insufferable little bug on my left shoulder? That makes enough room for Peter on my right. He likes to have fun, to party and drink and eat— obviously. I don’t know why we’re friends. But we’ve been, for a long while. He did a trial run at my office— he lasted a week before I had enough. Now he’s here.

I wouldn’t leave him jobless.

Not after all of it.

“Not mister B. Parker. Never him. Actually, it’s been a pretty tame night I’ll say. Oh, just besides the bit where I met little miss Wolverine… y’know, the one with the curls.”

I draw another sip in, just staring at the riddler apparently as I try to decipher what she’s buzzing about now. Her annoying little eyes fall down to my wrist where four nasty marks indent.

Oh…

What?

Infuriating woman. I know she sees the curiosity glaze over my narrowed eyes because she laughs at me, like clockwork.

“Isn’t it just crazy how karma works? Always chomping someone in the ass one way or another. Ahhh yeah, I met her. I like that little vibe she has going, very “the woman freed” couture. She’s cute— looks like she needed a night out. You have that effect on people.”

The woman freed.

I repeat it in my head. It’s funny. Real funny.

Funny if she thinks the woman freed would be dolled up with ribbons and fucking pom poms then yeah— chistoso.

Qué ridículo.

Karma.

I roll my eyes, downing the last bit of my drink before signaling for another.

I think I’ve had my fair share of fucking karma in my life. Maybe even just bad luck. This isn’t karma. Her being here is just…

Hmm…

She’s here.

Realization melts like candle wax against my mind, encasing it with ideas on how to ensure she’ll keep her mouth shut. Keep Jameson quiet so I don’t have to show up to these ridiculous functions for stupid morale.

Maybe a look at her and a tie at the end of the endless pink ribbons she’s wrapped around my brain, and I’ll finally be done with her. Finally forget about that pretty face crying because of me. And not for fun reasons.

“Nu uh tiger, I see that look in your eyes. We don’t need any drama tonight; I’m banning you officially from going anywhere near Ribbons. Sheverine. The woman freed. Her. Anyway— besides, little Lacy might have a cow if you do… maybe the whole farm.”

She sets my idea ablaze before it’s even ripe. My jaw ticks with annoyance as my next drink is slid into my hand.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I’m lying. She knows I am.

“Oh, is that why you sat up straighter? Or did you just want to look nice and intimidating in case she walks by?”

I huff, taking a swig of the glass that might break if I squeeze it any harder. I keep control of my annoyance.

“You were the one so concerned about her running to that hijo de puta, mi amor. Not me. Just doing you a favor so you can keep your mouth shut.”

Try to keep control of it, at least.

Jessica nods through my words, mocking that she’s paying them any real attention as her fingers swirl the straw round the rim of her cup.

“Hmm, right. Whatever you say el Rico Suave.”

Dios mío. I have to deal with this at a constant.

That doesn’t even-

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Does too.”

“No.”

“You’re just mad cause she’s pretty and you made her sad.”

“No.”

“Or maybe your ego is hurt cause she took a chunk out of your wrist.”

“No.”

“Pretty sure you’re mad cause she totally matrixed you.”

“No!”

“Do you say anything but no?”

“No…. Yes.”

“Why can’t you just swallow your pride and admit that you were wrong.”

“You know why.”

She does. She must remember, finally— because she shrinks, shutting herself up with a sip. Gracias a díos.

I’m not wrong, not ever. I don’t allow wrong to exist in my world. I’m firm. I’m an asshole. I make pretty girls cry when they piss me off but I’m not wrong. I can’t be. Not after Gabby.

Tension wraps around our throats like a wire after my words, squeezing the air to a thin line until man of the fucking hour finally uses the mic he practically begged me to allow him to have.

I was reluctant at first. His shitty pick up lines might scare the girls away. It would be bad for business.

“Alriiiiight, that’s what I like to hear. Now listen, rumor has it that right here, right now in this very moment— there’s a dancing queen among us. Oh yeah, I’m talkin’ full blown ABBA. I’ve seen her, I know you’ve seen her— light man...”

The luminescent spotlight tracks through the shadowed crowd. I know Peter, his methods. Shining the spotlight on a pretty girl brings more business. There’s plenty, tonight. The show is boring.

The crowd cheers in waves, anticipation eating at them like ants until the waves crash against the shore. Loudly. My attention is glued onto my phone, now. Countless emails. So much to do, yet here I am with estúpida one and estúpido two. Though he’s busy on stage, out of my sight.

I scroll through the stuffed inbox with disinterest, ignoring the intense gaze proving to be a method of disrupting my peace beside me. Businessmen, men who believe they’re businessmen. Pricks proposing shitty deals they think I’m too young and stupid to not see through… oh. Something different.

My finger halts above the raven letters. I open it.

Subject: Doing Well.

Good evening Mr. O’Hara, I hope this message finds you well. Sara is well. You were right, she’s responding as we suspected she would. As always, thank you for your contributions. With gratitude,

Blove, Yekaterina

My thumbs shift to type a quick reply, but the sound of lively trumpets distracts me. Dios mío, he’s gone this far with his tactics. Most of the women in here dance like live sardines cased in a can. I doubt they can dance meren—

“No shit. Looks like Ribbons can do more than just claw assholes.”

My eyes snap up immediately, and there she is.

Jessica’s joke from earlier— it comes back to me quick. And it makes sense now.

The woman freed.

No longer are there restrictive ribbons in that wild hair. No, it's loose. Free. It’s free and it’s curly. Not straight, like I believed it was. It’s not neat either, not at all— no. There are still lightning bolts laced around each lock but it’s… belleza.

This girl, she keeps surprising me.

It flows down to her elbows, soft and golden. Why on earth was she wearing it any other way?

And her dress. It fits her snugly, sparkling under my spotlights. It shows me now. She has curves that exist under those suffocating tights— yet although I see them, it leaves room for my imagination to wander. Just how I like it. No more are those awful cardigans covering worn skirts and teddy bear socks. No. She looks— ethereal.

Ahora ha captado mi atención.

Even so far away from me, I see the pink in her cheeks. Is she drunk? She’s giggling, she’s imbalanced. But oh no, not when she begins to dance. Effortlessly, swaying her hips all over my stage— all over Peter.

Unexpected.

“Careful, might bust a vein if you stare too hard.”

I don’t pay the mosquito next to me any attention. No, no my eyes are on her. La bailarina. The dancer.

The way she dances, it proves to me now more than ever that she is a witch. Casting a spell on my eyes because I can’t break away. I’m entranced, intrigued, encapsulated by this moment. By her curves, her dress, that hair. So long. So tug-able.

Maybe my drink has made me feel out of control. Maybe it’s each sway of her hips. But I could give less of a fuck right now about snapping my thoughts back. Because no, right now she’s not the little fawn that fell into my office. Right now she’s la mujer fue liberada and dios mío— can she dance.

It makes sense now, how she understood me when I cursed her in my own tongue. She’s flavorful, a beauty…

I am locked onto her, tracing each and every move with my gaze. Nothing else exists. Not until I feel it. This burning, not warmth— no. Heat. Burning on my skin like a wildfire that can’t be stopped. Those wide, innocent eyes. Gazing right in to mine.

She sees me.

She sees me in this abundant crowd and she looks, afraid. She stumbles, I watch every part. From her whisper to Peter to her descend down my steps.

Closer…

Closer.…

Fuck it.

I’m up on my feet before I give myself a chance to think, before Jessica can stop me. I hear her call after me, it’s faint— it’s not important.

I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know I need her. In some way. Some fucking way. I need to feel in control again, I need to break this spell.

People part when I walk through, they respect my presence here like anywhere else— but there’s so many of them.

“Are you joking? That wasn’t even that good I mean- I could probably do much better!”

Lacy.

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest like a child as her gaze unfortunately lands upon me. In the crowd, looking for another woman.

Her jaw drops, offended. Appalled.

She spots the witch before I do, and she knocks on her shoulder hard as she storms off. The pathetic, drunk thing. Always seeming to fall right into my arms when I’m nearby. She would’ve kissed the tile, otherwise.

Thank god she didn’t. What a pretty face when it’s not outshined by her lively socks.

I don’t think about Lacy. I don’t think about Jessica or even myself, right now. No. I think about her hair, it’s brushing against the wrist she made bleed.

It’s as soft as I imagined it would be.

My eyes are burning into her, devouring the sight before me. Waiting. Anxiously, excitedly as she straightens— and then?

There it is.

The realization.

Her mouth goes slack, my cock twitches.

Right now, I wanna shove it in there.

She just stares at me— baffled. Behind it? She seems expectant. Awaiting something from me. Anger, I think. It doesn’t come. It’s far from what I feel right now.

The song shifts. I don’t think twice.

I spin her around with one arm. Her back falls against my chest— lifting and falling with each heavy breath I take.

I feel like an animal, biting my tongue. Fighting all the urges I have to rip that pretty little dress off and see her truly free before me. I don’t. I’m gonna take what I can get.

She’s gonna dance with me, now.

Not Peter.

My palms, they make her look like nothing more than a muñequita when she’s in my hands. They trace her sides slow, settling on her hips. I tap them twice.

Dance, baby.

She doesn’t get it.

Oh— oh thats just fine. I’ll be more direct.

“Move.” My voice is deep, guttural. Different.

Wanting.

Stupid thing, maybe she’s too drunk or maybe she’s too nervous. She walks away from me. I tug her right back.

“Not like that, cariño.” I murmur into her golden hair. It smells of sweet things. Strawberries, palo santo. Qué rica…

It takes her a moment, I wait patiently. She gets it soon enough.

Good, good girl.

Those hips. Those enchanting hips follow the rhythm in a mesmerizing set of figure eights and steps forward and back. Who taught her how to do this? I want to teach her more. So, so much more.

I feel her movements with my hands upon her hips, each dip and bend— each one, I follow them. Chasing this sudden, unexpected high that she’s given me. I can’t explain it right now, nor can I understand it. I don’t need to. Not now. Not yet.

Oh, fuck.

She’s relaxed when she dances, the tension melting into nothingness as I brush my warm palms up— past those perky breasts I gaze down at from above her. Past her postured shoulders, down her arms until her hands are clasped in my own. I lead her, now. Moving in unison with her.

I’m in control.

Even so? I feel like I’ve gone fucking crazy.

Quizás me he vuelto loco— pero dios mío…

The way she’s grinding that sweet little ass back and forth against my cock? It is the perfect amount of morale that I’ve been needing.

Isn’t that her job, anyways?

The song punches bass into our ears. Not my first choice at all but right now I don’t care, it’s not in my mind. Right now I just want to dance. With her. Take out all my frustration, all my anger and annoyance with her. Her defiance, her inability to leave my mind, all the headaches she’s caused me this week— it’s melting away with each brush of her ass again my cock.

She moves effortlessly, so naturally. So good.

Qué bonita.

I need to see that pretty face. I can’t stop myself. I twirl her again, her eyes stay cast down. Avoiding.

She’s intimidated by me.

My cock twitches again.

Maybe her mind fears me, but her body just doesn’t. It responds to my hands like it’s mine.

My grasp falls to her hips, moving with them. Lost in her, lost in this. In the strawberry, the palo santo and the sways. The wild hair, the innocent eyes, the fuck—

She looks at me again.

Suddenly, the air is thick again. Filling my mind with sense as oxygen returns to me.

She comes to.

So do I.

Qué diablos estoy haciendo?

It’s the first thought I have, but it’s not enough to make me stop. It’s enough for her, though.

I’m not the first to step back, no— I’m sure I still look like I want to devour her in front of all these people. She stumbles back.

She looks sick with herself.

Mierda.

Another story for Jameson to run.

Her eyes scan me once over, checking to be sure I’m real I assume before she runs off. The room fades back into my sight as the song ends. As do my actions.

Dios mío— what have I done?

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @dprmoon @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 | chap 9 song 🎧:

[konigsblog]

can you please feed us gaz simps 🙏🙏

gaz always smells like citrus, oranges and coconut. and you, just love to huff at him while riding him :( his white button up shirt unbutton at the top few buttons, sleeves rolled up to his forearms slightly, just enough room to get his lengthy, veiny cock out to ride!!! you bounce up and down on his size, stuttered moans leaving through your puffy lips while you grip his shoulders tightly, his head buried in the crook of your neck, sucking hickeys onto your skin till you're whining and mewling his name and his cum is oozing out from the tip, smeared along your sticky folds. :(

or shower sex with him !!! so steamy and sweaty, boiling hot water poured onto your skin as he pushes you against the wall, fucking you cruelly and moaning praise into your ear. his hair wet and his eyes fucked-out and lustful :(

[ohmenai]

Cuban Heat: A Feast of Flesh

The serendipitous encounter came at a crossroads of heat-stifled streets and contagious rhythms, where Havana's pulse beats strongest. There, under the sultry gaze of the Caribbean sun, I met Alejandro-cultivator of muscles, harbinger of masculine delirium. I laid out my offer, simple yet tempting: let me immortalize you with my camera, and the images will be a testament to your power. Our deal sealed with a nod and the promise of rum-fueled tales, we commenced our dance of the shutter.

The steamy studio was saturated with the scent of his manhood, mixed with a hint of coconut oil that clung to the air. Alejandro, a mountain of muscles, whose rugged exterior clashed beautifully with the vulnerable hunger in his eyes. As I wielded my 'OhMenFlex', a camera created to envelop and express the raw intensity of male erotica, it felt like capturing thunder within a storm. Alejandro, with his hair cropped short, the sides buzz-cut to perfection, and his untamed facial hair, was the embodiment of controlled power and untamed desire.

Lured by the urge to immortalize his formidable ass, each cheek was a sculpture of strength, peppered with beguiling freckles that drew my lenses and fingers in equal measure. The musculature was like rolling hills of solid flesh, each contour was a promise of untold stories of passion.

But it wasn't just the sight of that solid, pecan-strung rear that had me biting my lip-it was the fleshy column at his front. His pinga stood proud, a monument to primal lust, thick veins webbing the length like routes on a sailor's chart leading to ecstasy. Preseminal nectar, mixed with cum and other corporeal liquids, leaked from its swollen head, glossy and languid, a visual sigh of Alejandro's barely-contained arousal. The rosy hue of his glans, a shy apparition, barely peeking from the foreskin-a tease before the grand reveal.

The ruggedness of his form, the musky bouquet emanating from his pores, and the tactile sensation of his skin were as intoxicating as the most potent of liquors, making me drunk with the need to see more, to explore every inch of his physical tales.

As the camera clicked, capturing every illicit detail of the raw, feral scent of man. His body told stories my lens could barely contain, each frame a confession, every angle, a new sin. This was the art of man, unapologetic and unadorned, and I, the faithful scribe of this carnal worship.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

can you like.. make a wlw hero x villain pls🙏🙏 steamy, fluff, angst, your choice xoxo

“Mary loves the lamb, you know,” the villainess said and for a second, the heroine dropped her guard, revealing her surprise and confusion. But her enemy continued to circle her and it didn’t matter if she was gonna get distracted now or later. She was already in danger. “Lamb, you know, lamb, you know. Mary loves the lamb, you know.”

The heroine’s mouth dried out, desert dryness. She could barely move, hands tied behind her back. Maybe, she could run…but where? This lair certainly did not belong to her.

And the villainess’ mouth curled into a smile as her finger pressed into the heroine’s neck, gently, sweetly.

“And you each gentle animal, in confidence may bind, and make them follow at your call, if you are always kind.”

“Are you done?” the heroine snapped. She wasn’t in the mood for games nor for riddles. In fact, she was rather interested in getting away from the villainess as soon as possible.

“I’ve always been kind to you,” the villainess said. “Right?”

Her hand crept up and found a comfortable place in the heroine’s hair, resting, scratching, teasing.

It was challenging to ignore her close proximity. She smelled like coconut.

The heroine closed her eyes and prayed that her heart would calm down soon.

“I guess,” she said which wasn’t a lie. The villainess had been nice to her. “But nice is different than good.”

“Hm.” The villainess let go of her — thankfully — and came to a stop right in front of her. “You’re beautiful, have I ever told you?”

Well, not directly. Things like “being pretty must be difficult, hm?” had fallen out of her mouth but never things so…direct.

“Isn’t it a shame?” She took a step closer and the heroine did not take one back. “Your talent is being wasted. I hate to see you wither.”

“I’m a superhero.”

“Who gets to scratch the bodies off the pavement? Is that it?” she asked, laughing when she saw the heroine’s reaction. “You’re just there to tidy up after the massacre.”

“I take care of the public, too,” the heroine said, wanting to defend herself. She was scared. Because, yes, she wasn’t worth much to the agency and probably not even to the public. Fuck, she had done this for two years now, working for hours and falling asleep after hours full of trauma-worthy scenes.

If the villainess killed her right here, barely anyone would notice.

“Playing therapist for the masses?”

“It’s important—” The villainess leaned in, lips brushing the heroine’s ear.

“And why,” she said sweetly, one arm on the heroine’s shoulder, “do you think the agency has jobs like these? Maybe because they expect casualties? Maybe because they need them to pay you?”

“What are you tal—”

“Oh, little lamb.” The villainess smiled again and her finger snaked over the heroine’s arm, sending a shiver down her spine. “I’ve got so much to teach you.”