#too busy being all high and mighty

[atwas-meme-ing]

Chronophobia, as I understand it, is a cruel and crippling condition that causes one to obsess over the passage of time. It can lead to severe depression, and if coupled with a low sense of self-worth, can lead one to feel like they will never accomplish enough. The fear can cause one to swing violently between rushing around and trying to do everything at once, and throwing one's hands up and saying to heck with all of it. This condition can make it difficult or impossible to ever enjoy the moment, pushing a person to constantly check the clock and the calendar, causing a person to try to rush through things, and often keeping them from being able to enter that blissful "flow" state that allows most people to enjoy their activities, until they eventually just give up.

But... I guess... maybe there is a cure...

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

--

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

-

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

-

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

-

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

-

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

-

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

-

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

-

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

--

masterpost

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Animal Farm

Male Yandere Farm Harem x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, brief mention of cockwarming, brief mention of scenting, cum milking, yandere farm hybrids, detained reader, breeding kink, harpies, bull men, centaurs, dog men, cat men) Word Count: 860 (Was chatting with a friend about how I had a farmer/gardener hat and how I just need overalls, a white bandana, and a pink shirt and I will look like a professional trans monsterfucking rancher, this short fic is the result of that discussion, I hope it will eventually serve as a source of asks in the future. I know it is brief, but I loved writing this.)

(Animal Farm: Mondays, the mini-fic involving the harpies, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Tuesdays, the mini-fic involving the dog-men, can be found HERE.) (Animal Farm: Wednesdays, the mini-fic involving the centaurs, can be found HERE.)

 When you had first taken the leap to add monster ranching to your farm you were unsure if it would be a profitable venture, there were not many such places where you lived, but you did not know if demand would be high for unorthodox products such as monster semen.  You started off with just one centaur, he produced huge quantities of cum from milking him twice a day, and it sold so well that you were soon able to add yet another centaur.  Two was plenty to keep fulfilling the centaur semen needs of your small community so once you had enough funds you invested in three harpy men that laid a ton of eggs, despite being males, and they also produced some extra ball batter for you to peddle as well.  Now you were making money from your usual crops, harpy cum and eggs, which were highly prized, and centaur cum. In almost no time at all you were ready to add yet more monster men to your growing ranch.  Three large bull men now called your little slice of paradise home, their jizz was similar to the centaurs, but the flavor was quite a bit different and used differently in recipes. It also had a slightly different use in folk medicine as well.  Milking and feeding all the monster men on your ranch was hard work but very profitable, but soon you noticed that eggs were being stolen and you eventually caught the culprits drinking from your centaurs early one morning.  Two cat men desperate for food. You adopted them and used them for pest control around the crops and provided them with food and shelter in their own stable. You also added their cum to your product list.  To make sure you did not have any more thieves though, and possibly more dangerous intruders, you got three dog men who patrolled your property in shifts, all they needed to keep them happy were some holes to breed and you, and the cat boys who were constantly in heat, were happy to provide them with a place to dump their seed.  Now you had cat, dog, bird, bull, and horse hybrids on your property as well as many exotic crops which you had learned responded really well to having monster cum mixed into the compost. Your business was BOOMING, it was perfect. The monster men all got along with one another for the most part, and they were all extra sweet to you, the brawny bull hybrids even helped you plant and harvest your fruits and vegetables.  It was a great life, for a while.

 But you grew so many things and sold so much monster cum that you were gone off at the market far too often for your monster’s taste. They convened and decided that the proper place for you was with them, at the farm where you had an entire harem of mighty beast men to look out for you.  After they decide this they confront you when you get back from the market. You try to reason with them but they are all very adamant, you will be their little mate that they kept close and safe and that was simply all there was to it. They could milk themselves and the centaurs and bull men could easily haul the cart to market and one of the cat men could deal with customers because they were so sweet and charismatic.  There was only one problem, who would get to spend time with you?  They made up a strict schedule to avoid any fighting. On Mondays you would spend your time with the harpy men, who greatly enjoyed tweeting and singing to you when they were not busy breeding with you.  On Tuesdays you were property of the dog men, who always left you smelly and covered in their musk and cum.  Wednesdays meant you belonged to the centaurs, they liked to run around with you riding them while wrapping your little human arms around their muscular torsos, and they also adored using you as a cock sleeve, bulging your tummy out as they bred you.  Thursdays you belonged to the felines. They were normally bottoms for the dog men, but they still greatly enjoyed using you as a cumdump. When they finished mating with their beloved human they became the cuddliest of all the hybrids, purring and nuzzling and sleeping all snuggled up with you.  Fridays you were with the three bull men, which meant that you spent damn near the entire day being used as a cock warmer that was swapped between three equally well hung dicks. When they weren't having you sit on them, and oftentimes while they were, they were grooming and licking you, feeding you, and in general babying their sweet owner.  Saturdays and Sundays you were allowed to rest, and you needed it. But you never had anywhere near enough energy to even attempt an escape, and even if you did the dogs would just sniff you out. So you had had to accept your imprisonment at the hands of the monster men you supposedly owned.  

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 15: collaring with kamisato ayato from genshin impact

warnings: collaring, leash, degrading, thigh riding, cumming untouched, fluff at the end

notes: first time ever writing abt this pretty man. he’s so cocky i just wanna—

being the head of the kamisato clan is tiring. it’s boring. it’s nauseating. it’s annoying — everything and anything negative, it was the definition of being the head of the kamisato clan. but he doesn’t do it for nothing.

if it meant his little sister could live her life freely without ever having to worry about anything, if it meant his clan members and workers could sleep peacefully in the night, if it meant his only close friend, thoma could continue to be safe and protected — he would continue to be the head of the kamisato clan.

but there was another reason by he would continue to be in his position of authority. what other reason? his doting lover who would keep a tight leash on him as he pathetically humps his clothed cock on their thigh, of course.

no one would ever suspect a man like ayato to be the type to love being controlled. or collared. or even leashed for that matter but here he was. on your thigh, the soft leather material hugging his neck being a reminder that even with titles and authority, you would always be in charge.

titles, work or duties would always be thrown out the window the moment you would appear in his peripheral vision. with you, ayato didn’t needed to act all high and mighty. you were his lover of many years, you know exactly everything that goes on behind his mask of calm and collected attitude and the ever so gentle smile on his face. he thinks too much, plans ahead, takes too deeply but none of that mattered with you by his side.

with you, ayato could let loose and relax. with you, ayato could be a doting husband and not just a man with wealth and power and authority. with you, ayato could be just himself, jusg be ayato and not the head of the kamisato clan who shoulder the weight of everything.

with you, ayato could place sloppy kisses on your lips, a whine coming out when you only smile into the kiss and not kiss him back. he could clutch the fabric of your shirt tightly in his hands, humping his clothed cock into your thigh. he could take every word you said with a nod. heart shaped pupils, hazy eyes and drool covered lips wide open, gasping and begging you to help him. he could leave the leash in your hand, knowing that you would take good care of him. you always did.

“darling, will you please help me out? you’ve been away on your business trip for so long, i felt so lonely waiting for you” the young lord whines, leaning in to pepper kisses on your lips again. even with his swollen lips, he was so eager to kiss you. it was endearing in a way.

“that so? is that why you handed me this when i walked inside first without even a welcome back kiss?” you hold up the leash in your hand, tugging on it gently to pull him back for a proper kiss this time. he happily obliges, sighing into your mouth. he can make up for the forgotten ‘welcome back’ kiss later.

“missed you. missed you so much” wrapping his hands around your neck, ayato wiggles around on your lap a bit to a more comfortable position. legs spread on the sides of your own, placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your lips, he could barely hold back his giggle when your hands rested over his hips.

“my my, you did miss me this much. look at you, young lord. all hard and needy just when i came back home” you say his title with a certain mocking tone, knowing full well that ayato loves to have a bit of degrading in your game of pleasure and love.

but it was true. the moment he saw you walk into your shared home, letting out groans and sighs of relief of finally coming back home, he was already throwing himself at you. clinging to your form as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the familiar comforting scent of wood, honey and bonfire. it didn’t take long for you to let out a coo of affection before ayato was handing you an all too familiar leash, grinding himself on your thigh.

“s-sorry… i just missed you a lot” he whimpers, hugging you close to himself. that was how it all went. a quick hug and a coo at the hallways of your doorstep with your husband grinding his hard-on on your thigh. deciding to help him out with his hard work, you flex your leg, raising it a bit and flexing your thigh so it would be easier for him to ride himself stupid on only your thigh.

so easy to please yet so incredibly spoiled. even that didn’t seemed to be enough for him as his hands guide yours to rest over his hips. a silent plea to help him out.

chuckling with a sigh of defeat, you oblige. who wouldn’t with how he was slobbering all over you anyways? dry humping, hugging you close, taking in the familiar comforting scent of you as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. soft whines and whispers about how much he missed you, delirious moans of how much he loves you as he places open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“m-missed you… missed you a lot daaanh! guckk♡︎” before he could even finish his another moan of how much he missed you, ayato lets out a squeal, choking on his own moans as his ships still on your lap. there was a wet patch forming on his pants.

how sweet. your husband missed you so much he came untouched by just grinding his hips on you as you tug on the leash. perking up, he leans in to give you another kiss on your lips. his swollen lips hurt but he was willing to endure it for you.

a quick soft peck before he pulls back with a sweet smile. a genuine smile filled with live and affection. one that you eagerly returned with your own.

“welcome back home, darling”

“i’m home”

[getosbigballsack]

𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑾𝒊𝒇𝒆

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑥 𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐹 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐴𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑢𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡, 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑢𝑠𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑝, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐸𝑡𝑐

𝐴/𝑁: ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 3𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦.

𝑊/𝐶: 3.4𝑘

𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢' 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑃𝑒𝑛✯

𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦❤︎

It was not a mistake, you knew exactly what you were doing when you made that phone call, asking him to come over, to hold you and sleep next to you because you were lonely. 

You knew exactly what you were doing when you opened that door to let him in, delivering the sultriest look you could muster up at him as your hands gently pulled open your robe revealing that you had nothing underneath. 

The way you stepped back, just so that he could follow up the steps leading up to your shared bedroom and close the door behind him, just before wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for a long, needy kiss. 

You needed this, you needed someone to touch in a way for which you have been longing. 

Yes!

You knew what you were doing, despite being married and all. 

Your husband was not home, away on a business trip as usual, leaving you and your one-year-old baby at home alone, expecting that everything is going to be splendid. Expecting you to be able to manage being home by yourself, taking care of your baby while suffering through postpartum depression (ppd). 

Well, he thought wrong. It is not like he cared enough to even stop and think for a second that, just maybe you were not doing too well or that you needed help raising a kid and all. He is selfish, only caring for himself and the number of pussies his dick could conquer. 

Creepy old man! In his late fifties and still acting as though he was a bachelor in his youth, with an all-mighty dick that could put any girl who dared to try fuck him in a while chair. The poor fellow did not know that his dick was no more than three inches long, four inches on a good day. You often wonder how he would manage to get you pregnant or have three kids (who were older than you by the way). 

His wife before you had to suffer the same fate that you did, pretending as though your legs are shaking, body high and drunk from his cock as you screamed his name from your lips, faking that orgasm in the best way possible. You deserved to be awarded for your performance in bed from time to time. Truly you were the best at faking your orgasm. 

Despite the sex being bad, he is not that bad of a man. A whore yes, but regardless he is a good man. Took you in when he realised that your father was struggling to pay your tuition. No need for backstories right now, the author still needs to get the part where you are fucking that hot mysterious guy. 

But anyway, long story short, after getting pregnant by this asshole, he left you (not really because you are still married to him) and told you that you were not anything special to him. He did not want to have another child, this man even tried to convince you to have an abortion. 

But anyway, you kept the baby, but keeping that baby was the worst mistake of your life. Because now you were suffering alone and in silence. Struggling to be a good mom, while trying to make yourself feel better and not discouraged. It was hard at first, but that’s until your husband's best friend’s son, Gojo Satoru, confessed that he is attracted to you. No, said that he liked you, he said that he had always liked you and he was first attracted to you the moment he saw you at his father’s party and was heavily pregnant with your baby boy Kaori. 

He showed you just how much he liked you, by caring for you in a way that your husband never once cared to do. Caring for your son, treating him as though Kaori was his child. He was giving you gifts, paying you compliments, cooking for you so much more. But nothing tops his sweet talks, dirty talks, his enthusiastic kisses, his hands groping your body, and that cock, thick and long, always penetrating you, pleasuring you in ways you thought impossible. 

And you cannot go back, no more faking orgasm because now, the moment he enters your fluttering pussy, you are already creaming. Hence the reason you had to call him over to your house tonight. To make love to you, not to fuck you, and once he has done, he will wrap you in his arms and kiss you good night while you both lay in bed until the dawn. But little did you know, tonight, your asshole of a husband would be returning home. 

… 

Pleasurable moans, those sweet erotic sounds dancing against his ear, his name falling from your lips as your fingers combed through his pillowy white hair. His lips against your neck, one hand resting on your hips while the other handheld the back of your thigh that was dangling over his shoulder. 

Your legs spread wide open for him, your pretty pussy on display for him to plunge his cock in and out of you at a slow and steady pace. His hips slowly rolled to the beat of the music that was softly playing in the background to dull whatever whimpers and moans that was coming from the both of you. Good thing your baby was staying with his sister tonight or else it would have been hell to keep your voice down with how good Gojo was making you feel. 

Speaking of the culprit, he managed to pull away from your neck after being attached to that one spot, sucking, and leaving his mark, now he was looking down at you. His lips slowly parted, releasing breathy moans as he stared down at you, gazing at you with his crystalline eyes burning with lust and need. His eyes, studying and memorising how beautiful you looked with your hair sprawled out over the pillows, drooling leaking from the corner of your mouth and your eyes, teary and filled with nothing but sweet lust for him. 

“Sa… Satoru…” you moaned, 

“Mhm?” he answered. 

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and you pulled his head down to you just so you could kiss his lips. “You’re so… deep.”

“Am I?” He asked, chuckling against your lips. 

“Yes…” you moaned. He bit your lips, tilted your hips, and plunged even deeper than he was before, eliciting a drawn-out moan from your kiss-swollen lips. “Ngh… ugh Satoru… not so… Deep!” 

“Why not?” he asked, teasing as he pulled away from your lips and began peppering kisses against your ears. “Doesn’t it feel good?” 

“Yes…” you cried, fingers still gripping his hair. “But… if you go any deeper then… then I’ll cum.” 

“Ha! Fuck. Guess I’ll go deeper then hm…” he said just before pulling away from your ear, sitting back on his knees, moved his hand from the back of grabbed your other leg and tossed other the shoulder that he has your other leg on then leaned forward to pressed your legs against your lactating breast. 

“Sat…”

“Shh… mama I got you,” he said just before pulling out to thrust back in, knocking the last breath you had within your body. You are screaming, your hand squirming to find purchase against his broad shoulders. Your nails crawled against his pearly white skin, toes curling just above his head; your breast bouncing in the motion of his hips, and you could feel fresh milk dripping from the fat swollen nipples and onto the skin of your breast. “Mhm… this deep enough to make you cum?” 

“Mhm… Sa… ru. Yes,” you screamed incoherently, but Gojo knew exactly what you were trying to say. He smiled and bent his head just a bit to suck on your milk-dripping nipples, humming at the taste of the milk against his tongue. His hand managed to slip between your body, nibble finger, finding your swollen clit quickly pinching and rubbing the swollen nub until your legs trembled, pussy fluttering around his cock. “Toru… cu- cu- cum. I am going to.” 

Your body tensed beneath him, and you sang his name at the top of your longs as though his name was your gospel, and it was because, at this very moment, your orgasm had you floating on your way to heaven. White dotted lights, his voice panting sweetly like an angel's melody, and your legs shaking, trembling as though you are dancing to your gospel still. 

Yes, you are truly in heaven currently, but that ecstasy did not last long because as soon as your orgasm was over, Gojo was already preparing you for another one. “So good…” you moaned as he pulled away from your chest, removed your legs from his shoulder, and spread them open again to watch as his cock, disappeared and reappeared between the walls of your creaming pussy. 

“Gonna, make you feel even better. Do you want that mama?” he asked you. 

You shook your head yes, your hands moving to pinch your nipples and grope your meaty breast as he continued to stroke you slowly, but deep as well. “Yes please… Give me your cock Toru-kun!” 

“I’m gonna give it to you until you can’t take it anymore,” and just as those words left his lips, his hips began to pick up a bit of speed. The fat mushroom tip of his cock kept poking against your sweet spot with every deep and fast stroke, and each time the tip touched that spot, your pussy creamed deliciously around his shaft.

God knows how long Gojo you had like that, but it was surely long enough for you to not recognize the bright lights pulling into the driveway, or the sound of the house keys jiggling as they pulled open the front door. You did not even hear footsteps tracking up the stairs or even the door to the shared bedroom was open. 

So lost and caught up in your pleasure, you were unable to see the shocked look on your husband’s face as he watched as the little boy he knew since he was in diapers, fucked the last breath or cry that you have in your body. 

The crotch of his pants stood to immediate attention, feeling his bump of a cock swell beneath them. Hand twitching around the doorknob, the pervert could not help but rub his rough hand against his… cock? If you could call it that. Three inches is barely even a cock. His cock was built like a baby shrimp. (No wonder his other wife cheated too.)

The man was in utter shock, almost had a or could have had a heart attack on the spot if he did not look that good getting fucked by a boy who was seven years younger than you. If he had known you would make such a pretty face, he would pay attention to you and even have sex with you like he once did before you became pregnant. If only he knew that you would look this good while getting railed, then he would have been all over you. 

Amid his perverted thoughts, he did not even realise that Gojo had spotted him at the door until their eyes made four and Gojo had a nasty smirk on his face while fondling your breast. “You gonna cum again for me mama?” He asked you in a slutty voice while still staring dead straight at your husband. 

“Mhm… yes… yes.” you screamed. 

“Do me a favour mama, grab the back of your knees and keep your legs open for me,” Gojo said, and you did exactly as you were told. 

“Like this?” you asked, panting desperately for your release. 

“Perfect.” This gave Satoru and your husband a perfect view of your plump creamy pussy on display. “Gonna fuck you deep again. Know how you love when I fuck this pussy with my big cock mamas,” Gojo said as he pulled out his cock from your pussy, smirking when he saw your husband's brow lifted and a shocked Pikachu look crossed his face. 

Yes… that right look as I tame and take your wife from you… Gojo thought before turning his head away from your husband just for a bit to focus on your pleasure. “Fuck! Satoru!” you screamed the moment he thrust back into you. 

“Yes… Baby,” he said, panting as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. His hand went back to pinch and flick at your throbbing clit, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. 

“I’m about to fucking cum… no I want to pee… Toru…ugh!” you stuttered helplessly at him. Your hand gripped the back of your thighs, your head lifting slightly to get a view of how Gojo’s cock was working your pussy out, stretching your ways to mould into the shape of his cock. 

“Fucking pee on me then,” he urged knowing damn well that you did not want to pee. He did not stop or slow down his pace, he just kept at it to the point where sweat was running down his forehead, his abdominal muscles began clenching and he started to see white lights. “Cum on Mama, give it to me give it to me…” and just like that your pussy pulsed and contracted, sucking his cock in before that clear liquid spurt from your pussy, forcing his cock to leave your hole. “Mhm… look at that fucking pussy squirt for me… yes.” 

“Oh… god put it back in please,” you begged as you released your thigh, grabbed his cock, and pushed it back into you. “Keep fucking me… gonna squirt again.” And he did as you asked, mercilessly pounding your pum-pum until once again, you are squirting all over him. 

Your husband looked beyond shock, in disbelief. You’ve never cum that hard for him before. He was angry, beyond pissed, Gojo however was smirking while staring at your husband. “Mr. Hiroshima can never compare, right mama!” 

“No… he’s fucking useless,” you moaned out after finally coming down from your orgasm. "Penis… too small."

“That is right. Get on your belly. I am not done with you yet.” You wasted no time, quickly laying on your stomach, arching your back, and spreading that ass just so that he could get a beautiful view of your dripping pussy. 

Gojo smiled before turning to your husband and whispered, “Watch me fuck your wife.”

…

“Good thing our baby is not home, right Mama,” Gojo whispered against your ears as he pressed into your pussy even more. “God, your pussy is so tight, so fucking warm and tight.”

“Please Toru-Kun, move…” you begged, and he chuckled. 

“What’s the rush, we have all night, right?” he whispered while pulling away from your ear, then resting both hands on your hips while he slowly began to roll his hips against your plush ass. “We have the night to ourselves. No baby, no friend, no husband, just me and you. Right here right now making love.” 

“Oh… harder please.” 

“Mhm… no, I am gonna take my time and breed this pussy. Don’t you want that?” he asked. “Don’t you want me to breed you, get you round and fat with my baby? Don’t you want Kaori to have a sibling?”

“Yes… yes, I do, but please fuck me harder.”

“Fine then as you wish baby,” with one last look at your husband who now had his hand in his pants, Gojo pulled out completely, grabbed both your arms, and held them together with one hand before pushing in making you gasp and moan.

His hips began rolling against your ass, heavy cum filled balls slapping against your cunt with each thrust of his hips, stroking you so deeply you could almost feel him poking out your belly. "Hm… fuck Toru! Right there, yes." 

His hand tightened around your arms, pulling you up until your back was flat against his chest. His free hand wrapped itself tightly around his throat, pushing your head back against his shoulder and away from the door to prevent you from finding out that your husband was watching. 

"Mhm…" he moaned into your ear, his hips still smacking against your ass. "So, fucking tight," he almost cried, feeling how much of a gorilla grip your pussy had around his cock, all while dripping and coating his cock with your love fluids. 

You began whimpering as you started to thrust your hips back to meet his thrust. Gojo cursed, hand tightening around your throat whispering, "fucking close mama," then gave you one hard thrust, which, made you scream. 

Now he was fucking you, rough and quickly. You could hear the smacking of his hips against your ass and the squelching sound of his cock thrusting in and out of your wet pussy grew louder. 

The bed began trembling behind you, the hardwood knocking against the wall now dulling out the sound of the music playing in the background and the sound of your pathetic husband whimpering. 

"You always make my pussy… you make my pussy feel so good Toru-Kun," you cried, while desperately panting for breath. And indeed, your pussy was beyond mad with pleasure, queefing and creaming around his cock. Each time the tip of his cock brushed against your sweet spot; your body grew even hotter. 

He let out a breathy chuckle before leaning over to kiss your plump lips. "Mhm… I know mama. I am going to cum so much in you. Do you want that?" 

"Yes… please." 

"Mhm, good mama," he whispered before releasing your hand and his fingers went to fiddle with your clit. Your thigh muscles tensed up, your upper half shaking against Gojo’s chest, and the boy smiled as he watched your milked-filled tits bounce in circular motions while milk dripped from your nipples yet again. 

"Good fucking girl, so fucking good for me mama," he praised, and those little praises had your body shivering. "Cum for me baby," and just like that you are experiencing yet another overwhelming orgasm. Strings of moans and his name fell from your lips, crying as he fucked you through your orgasm. His orgasm was not too far off from yours, just a couple more thrusts had him biting your jaw as he came deep inside your womb. He was shaking, the rhythm of his hips was now a mess as he continued to paint your walls with his thick cum. 

“Fuck that was amazing!” you moaned. 

“Mhm… I am gonna let you rest up a bit before round two mama,” Gojo whispered breathlessly. 

“That would be nice.” Gojo peppered your cheeks with kisses as he gently pulled out of you and then allowed you to fall face-first against the mattress. He did not waste much time hopping off the bed and quickly making his way towards the door. 

“Satoru baby, what's wrong?” You asked him. 

“It is nothing, just making sure that the door is locked. We do not want anyone spying on us now would we,” Gojo said while smiling at your husband as he slowly closed the door. 

“Do not be ridiculous, Satoru. We are the only ones here.” 

“Yeah, you are right. Now I wanna suck on your titties while you rest mama, are you gonna let me?” 

Poor Mr. Hiroshima huh!

Later that night. 

“You enjoyed the show, Mr. Hiroshima? It was wonderful, wasn’t it? I bet you didn't know that she could cum like that?” Gojo taunted Mr. Hiroshima as he slowly made his way into your kitchen to grab a bottom of water to rehydrate himself. He wore himself down after the second round of sex. 

“Have nothing to say, Mr. Hiroshima?” Gojo asked the man as he watched as he swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand. “Hm, I figured. After all there is nothing left to say now, I mean you did masturbate while watching as I fucked your wife. Such a dirty old pervert.” 

If looks could kill, then Gojo would have been dead ten times over. But that did not faze him, as a matter of fact, Gojo just laughed as he twisted open the bottle cap and quickly gulped down the water. 

“Well, I better get back to bed, Y/N needs me for the night. She will be up again begging me to fuck her back to sleep. I hope all those whores were worth it. Thanks to you, she will soon be mine. Anyways, later old man.” 

Your husband growls, swearing that what happened tonight will be the last time.

𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘? 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙ℎ 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝.

@getosbigballsack 2023

[youronlydarlin]

I know this is like short notice and you basically just posted the loser!simon Drabble but omg I need more. I’ve so far never seen a fic that lets Simon relax while you ride him or something. I’ve seen similar, but if you wouldn’t mind could you make a fic following Simon being super tired, and when he gets home you were a horny mess and then you make him a horny mess but he doesn’t have the energy to jerk it so you help him out. Fem reader please!! I really want him to use the rest of his energy to like play with your tits and then lay down.

Also you’re the only person I tolerate for the !! For smutty stuff. Usually it makes me cringe because it feels so childish. But you do it in a hot way. I think. Idk. I like the energy you put in ur writing if ykwim

warnings: fem! afab! reader, kinda subby Simon??, bro's down bad for you and thinks you're a goddess, relaxed Si :)

Wjahskshsjjs jus' somewhat lazy sex with the good ol' big british man. He's sure comes home tired and late. He has been for the past few days. It hadn't really affect you in a way that disrupted your everyday routine. But lately there's been a craving, an issue brought by your brain to your heart that lately it's been feeling... neglected. It starts as a distant feeling, an untouched part of your body that longs to be noticed. It's like chaising after a mysterious high while blinded, no sense of direction, and no chance of ever finding it. Leaving you feeling lonely and trapped, cold and empty. So, to put it simply. You're pent up. All hot and bothered and way too eager to slip your hands in your pants. Lucky for you though, your night won't end with just self satisfaction, because barging in through the door is your saviour, all tired eyes and gruff groans. Fuck. It's like you've pavlov'd yourself into getting incredibly horny at just the sight of your Si.

He on the other hand, feels like shit. Being away from you is more than enough torture, but having you pounce on him the moment he enters through the door is another new story on itself. He's neglected his baby :( his pretty girl. All quiet whimpers when you kiss him all over the neck "missed you s' much Si". Shit, he's already half chubbing in his pants at just hearing your tone. It's not long before he goes cum brained as well. Thinking with the wrong head and dry humping you in the hallway. You're squealin' n moanin' and oh shit he's going to cum. he's going to cum. he's going to cum. he's going to– You pull away. Now if it was any other day he would've shot you a glare. Maybe even disappointedly shaking his head. "Careful, love, you're playin' with fire.." he would've said, but right now he's red in the face, sweaty and desperate. Rolling his hips into nothing, hoping to get it to rub into you. Simon looks weak and he knows, slightly enjoys the power imbalance between you two because now you've grabbed him by the collar like a dog and dragged him towards the couch.

On his lap not a second later and you two are back to humping at each other through your clothes. He's tired. Limbs so heavy, bones weighed down with fatigue and he feels like he's already dreaming. You're like a wet dream that's come to life. There's just something about the way you look at him that makes it impossible to lay his eyes on anything else. Like a goddess on a thrown. That's how he sees you. Mighty and malevolent, feeling so small in your gaze but drinking it all in like a man parched, nothing can bring you down. Despite this– the tiredness of his bones– he wills his arms to move. To help you take off your top. It's intimate and it has his breath catching in his throat. He's seen you shirtless countless times before, but the thrill, the electrifying sparks it sends up his spine, it always feels new. Panting like a mutt he hasn't even noticed that he's already been let out of his pants, too busy admiring your chest. Reaching his hand out to toy with the soft peak, letting out an accidental whimper at the sudden contact of your hands with his hard cock. You shush him, remind him to relax, you can handle this, you promise with a kiss to the tip of his nose. And just like that he's sinking into the couch. Eyes closed in bliss and a handful of your mounds in his hands.

Heaven on earth. Blooming flowers in the harsh winter. Rain after months of drought. This is peace. This is pleasure. Simon's convinced that there's no earthly power greater than your hands, or your soft kisses. The gentle timbres of your voice. The way your pussy feels so hot and welcoming. So occupied and drunk off of your divinity that he hasn't had the time to prepare himself for your hot walls enveloping all of him inside. It makes his eyes shoot open and his back arch. You don't move, leaning down to put your mouth against his, swallowing every moan and whimper, and rewarding him with a teasing grind. He lays pliant soon enough, groaning at the way you bring yourself up till the tip kisses your entrance, before snapping your hips down to get him back inside. You ride him like you can't live without it. Sweet girl with an equally sweet pussy. He thought you well.

a/n: PHEW, I'm rusty as shits forgive me, I've got other stuff cooking in my drafts I swear I'm not lazy. This was kinda bad, written in two hours cause I sneaked this in between doing my papers. Hope y'all liked this, remember to always drink water n take your meds!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

[forsworned]

DREAM BLUNT ROTATION ft. HIGHAF!POLY141

Synopsis: Silly 141 getting high with reluctant but experienced reader, happy belated 420 yall

Warning(s): Drug Use, Poly!141, AFAB!Reader, Sexually Suggestive?? Barely Proofread (i'm dyslexic sorry)

"This is an awful idea..."

Kyle's tone is halting as he observes the way, Johnny begins to pick apart the large bud of weed and spreads it out on the rolling papers that Simon purchased not too long ago. Simon wouldn't say where he pawned off the necessary ingredients for a good blunt, and neither he nor Johnny were going to ask.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Kyle." Simon quips at the uneasy Sergeant.

Johnny snorts as he brushes off the stickiness of the bud and the aroma is rich, sweet, and pungent as it fills the Lieutenant's dorm. If they received any disciplinary action, Simon would take the fall (which was mighty presumptuous of him being that all the resin glands were on Johnny's fingertips, but they digress).

"Ease off on him, L.t.. He's the teacher's pet amongst us, like." Johnny winks at Kyle.

Kyle's face contorts in disgust and betrayal. "Piss off, MacTavish."

This sends the troublesome pair into a fit of giggles, but suddenly the door opens and they're all jostled by the new company. You freeze as you look at the three bozos lounging around in Simon's room. Crushed-up cans and empty bottles of ale were tossed around the room, half a eaten pizza left out on the coffee table where Johnny was busy rolling up a joint.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Your tone is exasperated and beyond wanting to comprehend why in the entire fuck they were deciding to roll up in the Lieutenant's room.

"Why." It wasn't even a question. You really just demanded an answer at this point.

"I didn't—" Kyle is the first to open his mouth, but you close your eyes and hold your hand up to stop him. You shake your head and then sharply exhale as you shut the door behind you.

"Good girl." Simon sarcastically praises as you wordlessly sit next to Kyle.

Johnny giggles at the way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment as you tuck in your legs and lean comfortably to the side.

"Fuck you." You spat at him. "I could have you reported."

"Under what jurisdiction?"

You sit there with a disgruntled expression on your face and you're aware of the smug look that hides behind his stupid balaclava-clad face. Johnny isn't even high yet, but he's giggling like a maniac at everything Simon says. It's the thrill of getting caught red-handed with contraband and bloodshot eyes that makes him lightheaded and giddy. Not that they were bound by any real-world laws or regulations because the 141 operated outside the chain of command, but Price finding out would certainly be a damper in their mood.

But your frown turns into an evil simper. "I'll tell, Price."

And the mood drops for a moment, but Simon loves to challenge you. It's practically etched into his DNA to rile you up in any way he can.

"Go ahead, ducky."

"Don't call me that."

And Simon's hit a nerve, but that all seems to dissipate as soon as Johnny places the rolled-up joint between his lips and sparks up. The first sweet inhale relaxes every rigid nerve in the Scotsman's body as he passes it off to his Lieutenant and leans against the wall. Simon lifts his mask and your jaw ticks at his exposed flesh. His lips are a pretty pink that wraps around the spliff, before toking the absolute fuck out of it and holding it in before exhaling it out through his nose.

The pair exchange a look before nodding and grinning at each other. "Tha's good shit, maaate."

"C'mon, Kyle." Simon coos, beckoning him over. Kyle moves ever so slightly in his direction, but your hand grasps his wrists halting him back.

"Oh, come now, [name]. Don' be uptight. 's all good vibes round 'ere." The masked idiot smirks at you before passing it off. Kyle glances over at your disapproving stare before hesitantly taking a hit. It doesn't even take a second before he's coughing his lungs out and Simon and Johnny are cackling, keeling over on the tiny bunk. You think it may break under their weight at any given moment, but that's just wishful thinking.

"That's not how you do it, Kyle." You chide, seizing the joint from him and you're drawing in the smoke yourself as you demonstrate the proper way of inhaling it. Simon and Johnny go silent as they observe you clearly very shocked by your sudden volunteer.

"Gotta hold it properly." You bring the joint to your lips, comfortably positioning it between your fingers. "Don't inhale too quickly, or you'll cough your lungs out like you did just now. Take your time and hold it before releasing it, slowly." You indicate to him once more and the THC unravels months of built-up tension embedded in your body now that you got a proper hit.

You peer down at the spliff as you exhale the smoke. "Damn, that's good shit. Where did you twats get this?" Chuckling a bit at your usage of their own slang on them.

"Though' we were pourin' poison in the well, but the water is already spiked, it seems." Simon is lying back against the wall, propped up on his elbow with one leg flat and the other is bolstered up. He's relaxed as hell, surveying you like a cat as his tail swishes around with piquing interest. And Johnny is like his orange cat counterpart, licking his paws and rubbing his head as they lounge together on cloud nine.

"Mmm, she's always been like that. Naughty lassie." Johnny teases as he moves closer to you. He's sitting on your right as he eyes the way Kyle successfully follows your directions.

"Aye, tha's a good lad." Johnny praises, rubbing his thigh and Kyle is blinking up at him with hazy, honeyed eyes.

And for some reason you're taking offense to that. "Hey what about me?" You pout at him.

And he's beaming when his baby blues flicker to you. Calloused palm flattening against the expanse of your exposed flesh, riddling your thigh with gooseberries. There is a slight snatch in your breath as he caresses you but you don't move away and it's quickly starting to feel a little heavy as you feel everyone's eyes on you.

But before your body can even react, the door is getting barged into and there stands a very irate Price who literally looks like steam is pouring out of his ears. And just when you think that you're all about to get your asses handed to you, Price plucks the spliff from Kyle's fingers, opens the window and everyone is clamoring to rise from their seats thinking that he's going to toss it out. But you're all dead wrong.

My mans is taking the biggest puff out of all four of you before he jovially steeps the smoke out of his nostrils and he's nodding in approval, "Aye, tha's good shit."

There's a collective sigh of relief that settles upon the 141 before Simon speaks.

"Christ, Boss, least warn us."

"Thought y' were gonna bite o'r heads off." Johnny leans against the window sill, left of his Captain.

Price chuckles as he takes another brief toke before passing it off to Simon who was on his right.

"I should've, you lot were gonna finish it before I even got a toke."

Simon gazes over at you from where he's posted, inhaling the last few hits of the blunt, but you and Kyle are fucking zooted. I'm talkin heads rolled back against the couch cushions and you're gone.

And he is choking on the smoke as he laughs at the both of you before Johnny and Price glance over and join him. Their giggles attract your hazy attention and you lazily toss a pillow at the back of Johnny's head. But then you're cowering away as he approaches you in a jokingly menacing manner, wrapping his arms around you like he's about to perform a tickle attack.

The sound of your stomach growling rips through the silliness and he pouts at you and rubs your belly.

"You hungry, ducky?" Price is towering over you from behind the couch you are situated at, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear and you feel your cheeks warming up at your Captain's sedative voice.

You nod at him with a giddy smile, and before Price even opens his mouth Kyle is pulling up his Uber Eats app to order everyone's go-to Chinese take-out meals.

And as Price is extolling his Sergeant by lightly massaging his shoulders, Simon is taking your chin between his fingers and tilting his head at you.

"Y'got everyone at y'r beck an' call, ducky." But the nickname no longer has its previous bitterness. It's replaced with endearment as he pinches your cheek and that draws out a smile from you.

"Didn' know ye were s'experienced." Johnny's warm breath fans over your neck and you're starting to feel a buzz that's reminiscent of your uni days.

You hum in response as you feel Price's fingers gently scratch at your scalp, and there's a gentle euphoria that warms you to your bones.

"Quit yappin' her ear off." Price scolds the two, but something about the way you're being simultaneously taunted and dotted over is starting to ignite a bit of desire within you.

You shut your eyes and all your senses feel elevated as you're being coddled on all sides. And as much as Simon loves getting under your skin, there is something about the way you're blissfully sitting there not having a care in the world as everyone trills around you.

"Like a kitten." He warbles, caressing your cheek and you lean into his touch.

"A very cute kitten." Johnny nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck as his fingers brush against your knee. A giggle leaves your lips and you're squirming away from his ticklish stubble.

But every way you're moving, you're in the hands of a different man who's relishing in your coquettish behavior. It's overstimulating really. So, the minute you hear wrapping at the front door you're jumping out of your seat to check out who's behind the peephole.

But it feels like a slo-mo scene as you're running away from the giggly, dazed men who follow closely behind you. By the time you're reaching the door, Johnny has already tripped over the end table, Simon is heaving for air and slipping over the barstools in the kitchen in a loud clatter, Price is attempting to help them both up but can't stop laughing his ass off and Kyle, well, mans is passed out on the couch with his mouth wide open.

You can hardly even contain yourself as you open the door, and the delivery man on the other side is flummoxed yet amused at the men in the background and then there was you. Giddy as hell, palms facing up with the most bloodshot eyes.

And before he can even get a word out, Johnny is wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you back to the couch while Price is sending him off with a wad of cash as he grabs the food.

"Chattin' up the delivery lads, aye?" Johnny teases, as he pulls you into his lap and begins to tickle you. The smell of food is waking Kyle up from his little half-baked nap and he's ruffling your hair as food is being passed out.

"She doesn't need to bother. She's too fit for that." Kyle opens up his kung pao chicken and the smell floods into your nostrils, but he's already on it. "Say 'ahh'." He lifts the chopsticks to feed you the delicious morsels and you happily accept it with a jubliant hum.

"Spoiled little thing." Price chirps as he shoves his lo mein into his mouth. The sauce coats the corners of his mouth and the ends of his stache.

"An' who's fault is that?" Simon gestures at his Captain with his chopsticks. It was true. As their Captain, naturally, they fell in line behind him, so when they saw how he would pamper you excessively they would do it too. And not because of the fact that they were good little soldiers, but because it opened the doorway for them to openly chat you up or (consensually) feel up on you.

Price lets out a hearty laugh. "Ah, bullshit! The minute you lot clocked the opportunity to grab her, you were all over it!"

Johnny licks his lips as you feed him a crab rangoon. "Can ye blame us?"

You quickly cover his mouth with your hand and scrunch your nose up at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Johnny!"

He playfully nibbles at your hand and you're then being scooped up by Kyle, who is more than happy to accept your weight in his lap. And Johnny is moaning about how you're being stolen away.

"She's not being swiped if she's scarpering off by herself!" Kyle laughs as he's swatting away any attempts at Johnny trying to confiscate you back.

So, of course, Price wants to dig his heels into Simon when he sees how lackadaisical he is.

"Simon couldn't pull her even if he gave it a good go."

Dark, piercing eyes dangerously flicker to the smug Captain who lays back against the arm chair, sipping on his ale and waits as he takes the bait. One thing that Simon doesn't like is when someone's threatening his hold on his position in any type of situation that especially being you.

"I don't need t'bother." He retorts, taking a sip of his own drink as he man spreads on the sofa.

"Oh, and why's that?" Price is intrigued now. Simon narrows his eyes at him but continues to stuff his face with food, sticky bits of rice garnish the sides of his mouth. This doesn't stop the Captain from pressing the matter and it's now starting to capture your attention as Johnny misses your mouth when he attempts to feed you some stir fry and it stains for your cheek instead.

But Simon is effortlessly patient and cool as a cucumber when he's being dogged on by everyone now, and you're observing the situation closely. He carefully wipes his mouth with a napkin, takes a last swig of his drink before he gets up to clean up after himself. And Price is almost convinced that Simon has given up as used, balled up napkins are being tossed at him by Johnny and Kyle, but in one swift movement you're being tossed over the behemoth's shoulder. A squeak barely manages to escape you as he pats your ass and the others are scrambling to get you as they playfully jest at Simon.

"Ah, no fair!" Johnny tugs at Simon's waistband, and lets go with a loud snap to his pelvis.

"Unhand her!" Kyle laughs as he tries to grab your foot, but he's only left with your ankle sock.

And while those two idiots finally gather themselves to give in to chasing after him, Simon is booking it to his room, and Price is left cackling on the armchair enjoying the rest of his meal.

"Simon!" You giggle, as he's enforcing the door and locking it with one arm as you barely dangle off his shoulder.

He balances you out just for a moment before he tosses you onto his bed and successfully turns the lock. Johnny and Kyle's shouting can be heard on the other side of the door, but Simon doesn't seem to give two fucks as he's approaching you. You're laid out on his bed, cheeks flustered when he towers over you, grasps your wrist, and raises them above your head.

And as his lips are hovering above yours the door is getting busted into as Simon is getting tackled to the floor as the Sergeants hold him down. Your eyes ream at the little giggly clusterfuck, and then in strolls Price who sits on the end of the bed and scoops you into his arms. You feel dizzy in his warmth as you snuggle against him and he kisses the top of your head.

You begin to realize something while you watch Simon turn into a cackling mess as he's being simultaneously tickled mercilessly by Johnny and Kyle. Price has a triumphant smile plastered on his face. It creeps up slowly on you, but he had succeeded in properly baiting all three men, so he could get his way with you.

His azure hues shift to you and he's kissing your cheek. It makes your heart flutter, but you're shaking your head at him when he's gazes down at you with that impish expression.

"Naughty little minx." You wave your finger at him with a bubbly smile. And he's hiding his face in the crook of your neck, tittering away because he knows he's been caught red-handed.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Kinktober Day 4 - Hate Sex

Sanemi X Fem!Giyuu

A/n: Ngl, this is one of my favorite stories i've written for kinktober. I need to write hate sex more often, it is so fun! Also sorry for the radio silence on here, I've moved to a new county so XD A touch busy with life. But anyway, enjoy!

Gluck glurck gluck.

Sanami laughed as the filthy sounds echoed throughout the air, tossing his head back as he took pleasure in the situation. He always loved it when he won the bet, his pride swelling as he got the bratty woman to submit to him.

Giyuu was between his legs, her pretty pink lips stretched around his cock, a blush on her face as she deep-throated him. His cock was drenched in her saliva, dripping down his balls and making a mess of the mattress he was reclined on, but Sanemi didn’t mind. Was it truly a good fuck session if the sheets didn’t need changing after? Leaving her dressed in only her panties and her top, he got quite the view from where he sat, her perky ass perched up in the air as she bent on her knees to suck him off. He was completely naked, enjoying the power as he got to order her around the whole night.

The black haired woman glared up at him as she heard him laugh, her blue eyes would have been intimidating were it not for her dilated pupils. She pulled off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting his cockhead to her lips for a second before it broke apart. “Don’t act so fucking smart.” She said, cursing at him even as she jerked his cock up and down. “Why not?” Sanemi retorted, always enjoying when Giyuu was a mouthy brat at him, “Actually, be a good girl and remind me what the price of winning the bet it?” She simply clicked her tongue, averting her gaze from his prideful smirk. But of course, Sanemi wasn’t going to just let her be. His hand shot out to grip her face, squishing her cheeks together and forcing her lips to pout, making her face him. “I asked you a question.” The man growled, pressing on her face tighter, “Where’s my fucking answer?” Giyuu whined, trying to break away from his grip but failing. She huffed, the action looking quite adorable with her pouty face, before she answered:

“Whoever kills the most demons submits to the other for a day.”

“Exactly.” Sanemi said, pushing her face a bit as he let go, “Now enough with the attitude and get back to sucking.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And I’m going to fuck yours with no lube if you keep running that mouth of yours.”

 With another click of the tongue, Giyuu once again placed her mouth on his cock, Sanemi tossing his head back as she started taking him in again. He got comfortable against the headboard, his hand coming up to grab the base of her ponytail, ignoring her whine of protest as he helped her deep throat his cock once more.

He disliked Giyuu the second he met her. Sure, she might have been a Hashira for a bit longer than him, but her high and mighty attitude mixed her with a sarcastic tongue quickly put her on his shit list. Sure, he might have thought she was beautiful, with her dark raven, spikey hair put up in a ponytail and her deep, blue eyes but her looks weren’t enough for Sanemi to like her. And it was no surprise that she wasn’t quite fond of him either.

Giyuu disliked Sanemi the second she met him. Not only did he snap at Ubuyashiki, but he was also violent, loud and had a short temper- all attributes that she did not have the patience to deal with. Sure, she thought he was handsome, his stark white hair and his piercing eyes which she found to be attractive rather than scary and not to mention the scars on his toned body that made him even more manly- but his looks weren’t enough for Giyuu to like him. And she didn’t care that he disliked her too.

But it was after a drunken night where everyone was tipsy from the alcohol, that their little bet first came to fruition. The rest of the Hashira were either passed out or flat out drunk, Sanemi and Giyuu being one of them. With one brash insult after another, the two of them were close to fist fighting were it not for Uzui stopping them:

“Shame on you, Sanemi!” the man said, loud and drunk, his words slurring, “No man should ever- ever fight a woman!”

“She’s not a woman.” Sanemi responded with a sneer, “She’s a rabid bitch!”

“And you’re a pissy little cow who throws a temper tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way.” Giyuu retorted, “even babies are more mature than you are.”

“The fuck did you say?!”

“Now, now.” Uzui said, trying to calm them down by ruffling both of their heads, “let’s not fight. Both of you are frustrated with each other and there’s a very simple way to resolve this tension.” He paused, making sure both of them were listening before he continued:

“You just have to fuck it all out.”

“What?” Giyuu asked, “HUH?!” Sanemi barked.

“You two always butt heads and it can be solved if you just fuck.” Uzui continued, taking another shot, “Trust me, a long night of rough sex is the perfect remedy.”

“Hah! Like I’d ever sleep with this pig.” Giyuu snapped, “I bet he’s not even good in bed.”

“Please- My dick works just fine as long as I’m sleeping with a beautiful woman and not some witch that was fished out of a well!”

And thus, the bet was born. Whoever got the most kills on a mission would be in charge in the bedroom and fuck the other however they please. Sanemi won the first round and he couldn’t be happier rubbing it in her face, the man going wild as he fucked her, insults and curses spewing from both their mouths. It was a fun and intense night but it proved Uzui wrong. It didn’t resolve anything- but rather- made them even more competitive.

 Giyuu demanded a rematch. Which she won. So Sanemi demanded a rematch but Giyuu won again. So he demanded another. And then she demanded another. And she wanted a rematch after that one and well- now they’re here.

“Fuck yeah,” Sanemi growled, fucking Giyuu’s face mercilessly, his hips leaving the mattress to fuck into her mouth, “That’s it- take it- take it you nasty bitch!”

Giyuu couldn’t even glare at him, her eyes watering as his cock slid down her throat over and over again, her gagging adding more pleasure. His grip on her hair was unrelenting, using her mouth like a toy as he mercilessly pounded into her, his balls slapping against her chin. Giyuu assumed she’d be used to the sensation considering the number of blowjobs she’d given the man but, apparently not. Sanemi had a deliciously big cock (not that she’d ever tell him that) with a long, thick shaft and an angry red head with heavy balls. The first time she saw him, hard and dripping with pre-cum, she had to try her very best to not look fazed, lest the man get an ego about it.

“G-Gonna cum!” Sanemi moaned, tossing his head back, eyebrows furrowed as he felt the tell-tale signs of an orgasm rush over him, “Swallow every drop like you fuuuucking love it!”

Giyuu groaned around him and that just increased the pleasure, his balls clenching as he got ready to unload. A couple more thrusts and a loud shout later, Sanemi climaxed. He moaned loudly, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, pulling at Giyuu’s ponytail and keeping her flush against his abdomen. Cock shoved deep, deep down her throat, her fingernails digging into his thighs, Giyuu gagged around Sanemi’s cock as he came. Rope after rope of cum shot down her mouth, her throat constricting around him with each gulp, the man so far down she could barely taste him.

His balls throbbed with each pump, Sanemi lightly rolling his hips against her as he milked his dick for every drop, letting out a satisfied sigh as he watched the woman take him so perfectly. “There we go…that’s it…yeah, you fucking love it~”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Sanemi eventually let go of her hair, strands of it having been pulled out of her ponytail. She gently detached herself for his cock, leaving behind a sloppy, slobbered on mess.  His dick was still hard, needing several rounds before it went limp thanks to his line of business and the stamina he built. Not that Giyuu was complaining of course.

“So full of yourself.” She teased, giving him another eye roll. “Oh yeah? Then maybe don’t enjoy it so much.” Sanemi retorted. “You think I’m enjoying this?”  “I do. But please, take those panties off and prove me wrong.”

Giyuu pouted, knowing full well that her panties were drenched, her pussy dripping. Sanemi laughed, giving her a light pat on the face, “That’s what I fucking thought. Now show me those tits.” Still pouting, Giyuu straightened up and sat on her heels, fingers getting to work on her uniform. Sanemi continued to recline against the headboard and enjoyed the view, peeks of her skin getting revealed as she unbuttoned her top. So many people in the corp were head over heels for Mitsuri, Sanemi having to scare of many a perverts to keep the pink haired woman safe as the Love Hashira was too nice to actually hurt humans. But he always thought people were blind for not realising just how sexy Giyuu was.

An ample chest, toned body with beautiful curves and a nice ass- she was stunning. Not that he’d tell her that, of course.

“You’re staring like an old pervert.” Giyuu said once she tossed her top and bra aside, her bare breasts out for Sanemi to enjoy as she crawled towards him, already knowing what he wanted. “Yeah, well.” The man said, eyes indeed glued to her breasts, plump with cute, pink nipples that were already hard as she sat on his lap, straddling him, “You’re good for something.”

“I can say the same thing about you.” Giyuu said, grinding her panty covered pussy against his cock, making him hiss at the sensitivity. He smacked her ass harshly, making her gasp from the contact, the pain getting dulled as he grabbed a handful of the cheek he just spanked, groping it like a toy. Two fingers slipped into the fabric of her panties, caressing her soft skin, inching closer and closer to her wetness. Deciding that he wanted boobs more than to retort, he simply ignored her comment in favour of opening his mouth and sealing his lips against the tit that was right in front of his face.

Giyuu bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from moaning, refusing the let Sanemi know just how sensitive her breasts were- or rather- just how good he made her breasts feel. The way he sucked at her nipple was addicting, his hot tongue running over the hard bud in circles before flicking it mercilessly, each flick making her body shudder. Her hands ran up his shoulders to clutch at his hair as he suckled on a nipple, his long eyelashes tickling her skin as she grabbed onto fistfuls of his silver locks.

“’Not enjoying this’ my ass.” Sanemi growled as he pulled away from her nipple with a pop before running his tongue over her breasts to make his way to the other bud, “I’m not even touching your pussy but I can feel how wet you are.”

“Sh-shut up- ah!” Giyuu gasped as he licked at her other nipple, giving it a gentle nibble before wrapping his lips around it and suckling harshly. All the while, without her knowing about it, her hips were grinding against him, her body aching for pleasure. She hated that he could see right through her, but she did get turned on by sucking his cock. No- she was turned on the second he got her in his room. Pushing her in, ordering her to strip while he took his clothes off- the passionate way he kissed her before pushing her onto the bed-

“Sa-aah-nemi.” She called out with a gentleness he rarely heard from her, the woman tugging at his hair, “I- fuck- I want a kiss.”

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Y-You heard me, asshole.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” He sucked on her nipple again, ignoring her request entirely which made her groan in frustration. “Fuck- fine- I- I want a kiss.” Giyuu relented. “You want to kiss me?” Sanemi asked, flicking her nipple with his tongue and loving the way she jumped. “Y-Yes. I do.”  “Then kiss me, bitch.”

He grabbed her by the back of her head and roughly pulled her down, making Giyuu yelp at the sudden movement. He crashed his lips against hers, immediately slipping his tongue in and swallowing her little moans. He loved it when he got her like this. Needy and desperate with just enough attitude to make things fun. She moaned against him as he continued to grope her butt, her pussy grinding against his cock shamelessly, her cute whines for more was music to his ears.

“Ah-ah!” she squealed, feeling dizzy as Sanemi’s hand slipped into her panties just as he started biting her tongue. She could feel him snicker as his rough, thick fingers touched her bare pussy, the sound of his digits rubbing against her wetness already loud. He rubbed at her clit, giving it quick strokes before rubbing rough yet slow circles on her sensitive bud. Oh he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on it, but that would come later. For now, he wanted to move on with the main course.

Giyuu pulled away from the kiss to moan, overwhelmed by the sensations as Sanemi suddenly slipped two fingers inside her, her pussy so wet he didn’t need to work up from one. He watched as she rested her head against his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around her waist as he fingered her open, her juices dripping down his hand.

But he wasn’t going to let her off that easily.

“What was it you did the last time you won?” Sanemi asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “Oh, that’s right. You tied me up, rode my cock and came over and over again- but you didn’t let me cum even once.”

“That’s-“

“And what was it you called me? Your personal dildo?”

“Uh-“

“Now, convince me.” Sanemi said, stopping his fingers as he looked up at her, nudging her so she’d move her head from his shoulder, “Why should I let you cum, hmm? Right now, you’re my personal pussy and do toys deserve to feel good?”

Giyuu bit her tongue before an insult could escape, Sanemi’s hand on her hip preventing her from grinding against his fingers. If she wanted release, she’d…have to submit.

“I-If you let me cum- I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“I was going to do that anyway.”

She mewled as Sanemi started to lightly thrust his fingers, not moving enough to truly give her pleasure, but enough to remind her of her fingers stretching her pussy and that his cock would feel even better.

“Y-You can fuck my ass?”

“I think you’d enjoy that more than I will.”

She bit her lower lip, gnawing at it before she threw away her pride and said:

“Th-Then…the next time we bet…we’ll consider you the winner.”

Sanemi raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face, “Three times.”

“Two. Take it or leave it.”

“Oh, you think you’re in a position to negotiate?” Sanemi asked, curling his fingers just right inside her, hitting her g-spot and making her gush like a fountain.

“F-Fine! Three times! The next three bets- you’re the winner.”

“You better not fucking forget it!”

Taking his fingers out of her, Sanemi pushed her, both of them tumbling into a new position. Giyuu grunted as her back met the mattress, her legs spread wide for the white-haired man to tower over her. His hands grabbed at her panties and pulled them apart, ripping them like paper. She had to remember to chastise him for ruining another pair of her undergarments but for now, she was too desperate to care.

Sanemi licked his lips as he grabbed her legs and spread her apart even more, his dick twitching with excitement as he gazed at her pussy. Perfect, juicy and oh so fuckable, he had spent many an hour eating her delicious cunt and even more time stuffing his cock inside it. He gripped at his member, giving it a few tugs before he placed it at her entrance. Giyuu watched, excited as both of them didn’t care for words anymore.

She gasped as he started to push in, his fat cock splitting her apart deliciously. She’d never get used to his girth inside her and Sanemi would never get used to her tightness. He grit his teeth to stop himself from moaning as he pushed inside her, her pussy so wet the glide was smooth and so, so deliciously hot. Eventually, he bottomed out, both of them gasping and panting like virgins doing it for the first time.

Seeing Sanemi on top of her, the mans face flushed red and eyebrows furrowed, clearly overtaken by pleasure was a sight for sore eyes. Sure, it was fun seeing his hungry expression as she ordered him to eat out her ass or the frustrated look in his eyes as she rode him without giving him release- but she might enjoy this a bit more. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper inside her and making both of them moan as his cock touched the entrance of her womb, her body aching for more.

And more he was going to give.

With a grunt, Sanemi started to thrust, muscles tightening as he worked his body the way he knew she liked. With her gummy walls milking him, he rolled his hips against her, smirking triumphantly as she let out a sweet moan, letting him know he found her g-spot. Aiming for that spot inside her, he picked up the pace, snuggling his face into her neck as he fucked her- no- as they made love. “S-Sanemi- Sanemi!” Giyyu screamed, balls slapping against her as he pounded into her, his cock leaving her breathless, “Yes- yes- oh yes!” “Yeah, scream for me baby~” Sanemi cooed, not missing the way her pussy tightened around him as he called her the adoring nickname, “Milk my cock like a goooood fucking girl~ You like my cock? Hmm? Oh, you love it, don’t you?”

Ever defiant, Giyuu shook her head, making him laugh out loud but this time, she laughed with him, even if her laugh was jumpy due to the force of his thrusting. “Th-there’s n-no way your c-cock will- oh fuck- hnng- make me feel g-good!” “No way huh?” Sanemi asked with a snicker, knowing the woman was full of shit, “Then should I stop?” “No!” Giyuu protested, eyes wide as she wrapped her arms around his tighter, “No- No please-“

“Then beg me for it.” Sanemi snarled, looking her right in the eye, sweat dripping down his brow as he continued with his pace, “And- fuck me- apologize.”

“I-I’m sorry for l-lying.” Giyyu said, tears in her eyes over the pleasure, feeling his cock throb inside her, “I want you- I want your cock to f-fuck me silly!”

“Good girl~” Sanemi pepper her cheek with a few kisses before he took her lips again, picking up the pace of his thrusting. Giyuu dug her nails into his back, leaving behind bright red marks- scars that he’d wear with pride. There was no more talking- just lust. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, of moans, of cries and of kisses, both of them going dizzy from their desires.

“G-Gonna cum!” Giyyu whined, panting heavily, feeling like she wasn’t taking enough air into her lungs from how much Sanemi had ruined her. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was him. “Me too!” Sanemi said, his hips almost a blur with how passionately he was pounding her pussy. He was determined to make her unable to walk tomorrow, “Fuck- fuck! Cum around my cock, baby~”

“Cum inside me!” Giyuu begged, tossing her head back as her tits bounced up and down, Sanemi occasionally taking a greedy grope, “Want you- inside me.”

“Fuck- cumming!”

“Cumming- cumming!!”

With a scream, the two of them climaxed simultaneously. Giyuu screamed, eyes rolling to the back of her head and her back arching in a perfect ‘C’. Her muscles tensed and her toes curled, her legs shooting out straight and her fingers digging even harder into Sanemi’s back. Her orgasm hit her like a truck, taking away her breath as all she could do was cry and moan, her body trembling like a leaf. She giggled happily as she felt him cum inside her, pumping her womb with his seed. He filled her up deliciously, Sanemi always cumming gallons. He came and came, filling her up so much she felt him spill out a bit. Sanemi wasn’t any better. The man bit into Giyuu’s neck, marking her as he moaned into her skin, the slightly pain turning into her pleasure. His balls clenched as he shot out ropes of thick, hot cum into her eager cunt, filling up her baby maker. Was it risky? Absolutely. Was it fun? Absolutely.

 Would Sanemi be upset if he got her pregnant? Absolutely not.

His body tightened, his muscles spasming as he came, hugging her tightly as he rolled his hips, pumping every last drop inside her of her, refusing to let any of it go to waste. Eventually, both of them came down from their highs, Sanemi completely collapsing on top of her once they were done cumming. Giyuu winced at the pain on her neck, grateful that the uniform would cover it up but that was a problem for future Giyuu. For now, she simply caressed Sanemi’s hair, his cock still stuffing her cunt as they returned back to Earth.

“That was…fuck…” Sanemi said, voice slightly muffled.

“That was great.” Giyuu agreed, pressing a kiss to his head.

“…finally got you to admit it.”

“I didn’t admit shit.”

“So you don’t want me to fuck your ass?”

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Of course not.”

[hyperactively-me]

OMG! please more of King Ghost🙏🏻🤤🥵

i gotchu babe.

Being the spare princess of the kingdom never really bothered you much. Really, it was your four older siblings that had much more responsibility than the rest of you. Seventh out of ten in line for the throne? No, you were never destined for the throne of your own kingdom. It’s why you were not all too surprised when your parents informed you that you would be wed to a man in a neighboring kingdom. Although, they never specified which one…

You have been prepared to wed nobility since you were a child. You were trained to act like the perfect, prim and proper princess. Countless hours of teaching you to be the “perfect wife” transformed you into the “perfect” wife, but that never meant you enjoyed a second of it. When you’re a child, you don’t really question everything your parents do. As you grew older, the more you held a certain disdain for the hours of the day dedicated to this training. Day after day, you would learn proper manners, how to sew, play the piano, paint and draw. You were taught the duties of a wife, to care for your husband, to bend to his every whim and wish, to depend on him, and only him. You hated it, loathed it, but it was what you had to do. You had no other choice.

Thankfully, your parents did not neglect your education, although they had some…select pieces of history taken out of your studies. The best tutors in the kingdom were called upon the palace to educate you and your siblings. When you were a child, you were too busy focusing on your teachings and playing to notice the tension in the air, or how you and your family remained unharmed while the kingdom’s village suffered from famine, war, and civil unrest. Your male tutors had deemed some portions of history to be “too violent, too descriptive” for a “young female noble” as yourself. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know about select parts of history when you were older. You didn’t even realize that you didn’t know all that you thought you did later on…

You knew that you were to be sold off for marriage when you were a teenager. To whom, well, that was a mystery. Until recently.

Ghost. King Ghost. Ruler of the Kingdom of Kastron, slayer of any who dares cross him. A skilled and ruthless killer. A machine on the battlefield, a stoic and cold leader.

. . .

“What do you mean?” you blurted out, incredulous.

“It’s been planned for some time now. You’re his betrothed, whether you like it or not, and that’s final.”

You ball your fists, resisting the urge to scream and cry. Instead, you turn your head up high, your brows furrowed in anger as you shoot a glare at your parents.

“I will never marry a killer.”

“You’ll be thankful, one day.” Your father adds, shuffling his papers that he was oh so focused on.

Anger grasped at your throat. You were breathing hard, couldn’t see straight. You felt you had no other choice than to run. So you did. You ran, down the endless hallways, down the stairs, and out into the gardens. Your heart was caught in your throat, a sob building up in your chest as you slowed to a stop. Crumpling into yourself, you grasp your arms, hugging yourself as you try not to sob loudly. It’s what you were born to do, after all. Be the blushing bride.

Oh, he can come, you thought. But you would do everything in your power to make him run and to never take you as his bride.

. . .

Today was the day King Ghost would arrive at your palace. You hoped he would be discouraged by your attitude, enough to see your blatant disgust and leave. You vowed to yourself to make his life more difficult, minute by minute, before he arrived.

Your maids had dressed you in one of your finest dresses, painted your face with makeup, and styled your hair in a flattering manner. You tug at the sleeve of your dress haphazardly, a frown etched on your face.

You didn’t want to see the bastard standing at your doorstep, high and mighty with the stupid helmet he always wore, according to the rumors you’ve heard.

But, alas, here he was. Standing in front of you. A hunk of pure iron armor. Surprisingly, his armor was simple. It wasn’t adorned with precious jewels or carvings. Just simple, smooth iron. A large silver sword was sheathed at his side, the handle a pure black obsidian adorned with a single diamond on the crest of the handle.

The air was thick with tension as you stared at the foreboding creature in front of you. For a moment, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you know his gaze was piercing right through you. Your heart beat fast in your chest as you moved into a bow at his feet, disgust rising in your throat.

When you stood, you forced yourself to lock eyes with where you think his eyes are. Your gaze is fierce, unwavering as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Your majesty,” you began. “What a delightful pleasure it is to meet you.”

Your words rang hollow, your interest in his presence glazed with venom.

He stands, stiff as ever, before bowing ever so slightly towards you.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says gruffly, taking in your appearance for a moment before turning his attention to your father. A shiver runs up your spine as the cold iron seems to fill the room with a certain degree of hostility.

“Come,” your father beckons towards Ghost, urging him to follow him down the palace hall. “We will begin dinner shortly.”

King Ghost does not bother to acknowledge you as he stands by your father. You turn around, rolling your eyes, beckoned by your mother to follow them. Lovely. Wonderful first impression.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[obislittleone]

Take It Off

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: y'all i know this is like... campy or whatever but humor me. I'm on a dbf joel kick and this was the only way I was gonna stop thinking about him 24/7. Still thinking about him rn but at least I can focus on my work tomorrow 😭 (shoutout to @theatrelove3000 for being on the joel kick with me)

Warnings: not many for this part really... the occasional swear word and like kissing but that's not really anything. Ig just the taboo relationship thing.

This is based off of a tiktok that can be found here.

Obviously, the song is Take It Off by Kesha.

MASTERLIST

- no outbreak au, age gap is about fifteen years, roughly. -

He chuckled again and nodded, watching as you almost turned away from him and his place at the bar, before catching you at the last second.

"You look mighty pretty, tonight," he let out sweetly, and your face lit up. You kept going in the direction of your friends but stepped backward in order to face him a bit longer.

The bar was always busy on Friday night, and most Saturdays were the same. Near every person of drinking age in Travis County could be found sitting at the long wood slab surrounding the bartender, or at one of the tables nearby. The busiest nights of the month, however, were the ones that cleared the floor for dancing. Line dancing, Swing dancing, and the sway of drunken people who could barely stand. Anything goes.

Music blazing through the windows brought on many patrons that sometimes never frequented the bar at all. You being one of them.

You'd never been one much for drinking your nights away, and in past experiences, you had turned out to be quite the designated driver. Your friends playfully joked time and again whenever you visited the establishment, how you never touched even so much as a beer bottle. In your own words, that doesn't mean I can't still have fun.

Dancing has always been something that could pull you out of your seat. College has been rocky, and finding fun things to do that didn't completely intoxicate you were limited... but when everyone gets up and starts kickin' round the concrete floors, you can't help but spring to your feet and join them.

Dance nights, you've been to more than you can count, but usually in places by where you go to school. College bars, campus built clubs, that sort of thing.

Tonight, you found yourself in a small bar your dad normally goes to. Of course, he hates dancing, so right now, he's nowhere to be seen. Someone you do notice on your way in, though....

Joel Miller.

Next door neighbor since you were sixteen and your father's closest friend since they started working together around that same time.

Joel was never someone you'd been able to call a personal friend, but he was someone you could depend on if you needed him. If your car wasn't working senior year and your dad couldn't pick you up? Call Joel. If you need help with the light fixture by the front porch and your dad doesn't have the right tools? Call Joel. Even just bringing home new furniture for your room while your dad was out of town... you called Joel. He was dependable, always one call away. In return of these good deeds, you'd babysat his daughter several times when she was younger. She was almost fifteen now, going into her sophomore year of high school. It felt crazy to think how long ago those memories were in hindsight.

You think your train of thought causes you to stare just a bit too long, and your friends begin to notice.

"Who's that?" Amy says with attitude... she isn't sure why the older guy in the corner seems to have caught your eye, but she doesn't hide her opposition to whatever it is.

You snapped back to the group and almost did a double take on where you were. It's Dance night, and you're here to have fun with your friends, not take a trip down memory lane. But if you did....

"That's my neighbor," you explained, smiling sweetly and trying to wipe the strange look from Amy's face.

"Oh," she dropped any hints of disgust that she wore only a moment ago and looked to the man herself. "For a minute there, I thought you might be into him."

"Amy, I know you don't go older... but that man's easy on the eyes," a voice came from your left, Kate. She had her hands mounted firmly on her hips as she took her time in scanning his appearance. Easy on the eyes, indeed. You'd always thought so.

He's a good man from everything you know. Everytime he's been at barbecues and house parties hosted in the neighborhood, he always made a point to ask you how you were doing, how you were liking college. He'd offer to grab you a drink or to help your dad with the grill. Honest to God, he's a real down to earth southern gentleman. Polite as they come, even when he doesn't speak much.

You suppose that with three younger girls staring holes through the side of him, he was bound to notice at some point. He caught your gaze and your friends' as well, offering up a nice smile and a nod in your direction. He stood away from the bar as if excusing him from any previous interaction, and you sighed, knowing that even with the music calling you to dance, you needed to make a small pit stop.

"Look at what y'all did, now I gotta go talk to 'im," you joke, starting over in his direction with a bashful smile.

You hear a bellowing 'you're welcome' from Kate, who likely could sense your faint attraction to the man. Given that you couldn't barely take your eyes away from him the second you entered, it dawned on her that there might possibly be something there. Obviously, she's just guessing, but your diminished swagger as you walk up to him tells her one thing: you're nervous.

Whether he makes you nervous, or you're just nervous to talk to him, it doesn't really matter to her. She's positive she's gained all the information she needs to know that you, at the very least, like him.

"Hey, I didn't think I'd see you here," you slipped beside him at the bar, facing his slumped over stature with a decent distance between you.

"I could say the same for you, I thought you were still in Dallas?" He asked, a confused look shown through a soft smile.

"I'm here to visit a while, might stay for the summer, actually."

He raised a brow, nodding and taking a swig of the beer he had. Maybe it's just the way him and your dad drink them all the time, but suddenly a beer of your own sounds somewhat appealing. You add on to your statement, trying to distract yourself from the new craving.

"Senior year is gonna kick my ass, so I might as well spend some time relaxin' for a bit."

Again, he nods, understanding how much stress it ought to be. He and your dad both never went to college. Thought about it, sure, maybe even looked at a couple schools... but they ended up doing just fine with the talents they had on their own.

"I imagine the last year s'not so fun... Remind me what you're going for, again?" He scratched the back of his neck, as if embarrassed to have forgotten. He reckons he asked you last time, too. Wasn't like you'd find it personally offensive that he'd not remembered. Your own grandmother couldn't even remember, so...

"Archeology, although I'm starting to think that maybe that wasn't the best Major for someone who lives in Texas," you joked, and he chuckled softly. He hadn't stopped wearing that faint smile ever since he'd noticed you were here.

"Ain't nothing wrong with it," he shook his head, trying his best to be encouraging. "Just gives you more places to go."

You gave him a look of sincerity. Even your dad had poked fun at you from time to time for your Major. 'Can't discover much out here, lovebug... just old pigskins and bottlecaps.'

"Thanks, I appreciate you sayin' that."

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Validating your career decisions? That's an easy one on his part.

"No problem. Can I get you a drink while you're here?" He motioned to the bottle in his hands that you'd kept staring at during the entire exchange.

You finally realized how much you'd been glancing at it and had to stumble out a response under a slightly nervous laugh.

"Is it okay if I take a raincheck? I should get back to my friends, they get lost without me."

He chuckled again and nodded, watching as you almost turned away from him and his place at the bar, before catching you at the last second.

"You look mighty pretty, tonight," he let out sweetly, and your face lit up. You kept going in the direction of your friends but stepped backward in order to face him a bit longer.

"Don't look so bad yourself." And that was the reply you'd settled on. You finally made it back to your group, but you swore you saw a hint of a blush creep over the man's face. It was funny, to think that the big and strong next door neighbor was red in the cheeks by a compliment you paid him.

"What the hell was that?" Amy asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was clearly confused and a bit peeved, but for why, you had no idea.

"What do you mean?" You didn't mean to play dumb, you genuinely didn't know what she was on about.

"You're into him," she said flatly, and you couldn't answer in words, but lucky for you, your face gave away everything you could have said, anyways.

"He's into her, too," Kate chimed in nonchalantly, and that revelation snapped your head around as quickly as it possibly could to meet her eyeline.

"No, he isn't... he's just bein' polite s' all," you denfended him, but in all honesty... if he was into you, it's not like you were appalled at the theory in the slightest. "He's my dad's buddy, I've known 'im a long time."

"Honey, let me offer you some good advice," Amy pulled you in so that only the group of you could hear. "Don't let your daddy know he looks at you like that."

You didn't even stop to think about how he was looking at you. It was the same he'd always looked at you, right? But then again, he'd never taken in your appearance and called you pretty like he'd just done. Mighty pretty...

"You guys are seein' things that aren't there..." you shook off their suggestions, and tried to get on with the night.

"If you say so," Kate replied, not without looking between you and that neighbor of yours again. He was certainly a looker. "But if you're not interested, maybe I'll ask him for a dance?"

You laughed a little, not wanting to discourage her idea, but knowing from experience that, "Joel doesn't dance, but you can ask him all you want."

"Mister neighbor guy has a name, huh? Joel..." Amy repeated it like it was some sort of spell. You laughed at her and Kate before speaking again.

"At this point, I don't care who you ask, but we came here to dance, s' I wanna dance."

The first few dances you participated in were just lines, several fun songs blasting over the speakers to bring out more patrons. Now, the lines broke apart and the song 'Step in the Name of Love' came on. It wasn't uncommon for this song to be played as it was a favorite in the bar, but you weren't interested in dancing to it at the moment, given that some swing partners started going out for it.

They seemed to agree with you and headed over towards the open floor. The lights of different colors rotated around the room to set the mood, and about fifteen other people had been drawn out to the cleared area for dancing by now, but the night was far young.

-

You watched as Amy and Kate wrangled themselves some lonely boys by the sidelines and pulled them to the clearing for some fun. Normally, you'd do the same, but something about Joel Miller being at the bar and watching the crowds made you feel like maybe you'd rather sit this one out. Didn't stop some poor soul from trying to get you out there, though.

You felt a sly hand pull you by the waist and away from the floor-to-ceiling wooden beam you'd been leaning on. He was cute, but not your type. Blondie, blue-eyed. You gave him a warm smile and shook your head.

"I'm takin' a little break," you nodded for him to go out and find someone else, but he continued to pull you, now by your forearms.

"C'mon, hot stuff," he started swaying a bit to try and get you to do the same, but again you pulled back into the beam, leaning there again and giving a slightly less friendly smile as you shook your head again. "S' just a little fun."

At this point, you knew he probably had a few drinks in him, if his glazed stare was anything to go by. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him more pointedly.

"There's a bunch of girls over there waitin' to dance, you should ask them."

"I didn't ask them, I'm askin' you," he started getting closer again, and you were about to just walk away and go to the bathroom. Your usual escape plan for avoiding weirdos.

"And I'm sayin' no, bud," you gave your last effort to shove him off, but he huffed, and came even closer. By now you'd missed your chance to cut around the beam and head to the bathroom. Boys down here ain't as courteous as the ones in Dallas, you guessed. That, or they didn't see unfamiliar faces around often, and tried to take advantage of it.

"Hey, baby... you ready for that drink?" A voice came from your left, and you turned to see Joel coming over, an innocent enough look on his face, though you knew he'd been watching and came to help you out.

"Yeah, definitely!" You smiled brightly at him and the guy took a step back to stare him up and down. Much bigger build, much older, and you knew him by the looks of it. The kid huffed out and knew he wasn't getting his way this time around. You sidestepped him now that you had room, and dismissed yourself, "Excuse me."

You hooked your arm around Joel's elbow as you walked back towards his spot at the bar. Standing here, now, you realize he had a perfect view of your situation.

"Thank you for saving me," you laughed, sticking close by him until you were sure that kid had gone off. "This doesn't usually happen in Dallas."

He shook his head, it was no problem. Didn't need thanks, just wanted for you to be where you were now.

"I've seen that kid here before, he's harmless... but I wanted to make sure you didn't feel uncomfortable by 'im," his explanation felt like he was trying to justify himself. As if he needed a reason for saving you.

"Even so, I appreciate it. I didn't feel like swingin' tonight," your own explanation followed, but one second later it felt like a lie... you wouldn't mind swinging with him, but he doesn't dance.

"Yeah, I'm not much one for any of it," he chuckled, confirming your last thought to be completely true. Joel does not dance. "You looked good out there, though."

You ducked your head in an attempt to hide the pink spread over your face, but he seemed to catch it. He smiled to himself. He'd never been like this around you before, but maybe the reason for that would be the lack of presence of your dad. He'd never dare to look at you like this in front of him, never did before.

"It's been a while since I came to a dance night here, figured I'd show my face again," you stumbled into your reply, a little nervous again from his words. He'd been watching you from here, you can tell just by turning your head that he had a good view of the floor, too.

"I'm glad to see you back," he tapped his beer on the counter slightly, his smile still evident. "How about that drink?"

The bartender had been close by, and you hailed him over to grab you a beer. Same one Joel was drinking. You didn't have a preferred taste to any drinks in specific, but both Joel and your dad drank Bud, so you were going to try one.

You took a sip when the bottle was in your hand, and even though you didn't expect yourself to like it... it wasn't bad at all. You went for another sip and Joel chuckled at your side.

"S' good, huh?"

"Better than I thought it would be."

By now you'd gotten used to the taste, and as you kept drinking, the words you said to him became easier to say. You weren't quite buzzed yet, but rather relaxed. Whether that had anything to do with the alcohol, or just that he was a familiar presence, you didn't really know.

"So how are things? I know Sarah's goin' into sophomore year, yeah?" you asked, the counter becoming your friend as you leaned more into it.

"Been fine," he thought about it some more, remembering what Sarah had been telling him. "She's glad to have a break from school, but she's real bright, gets all A's n' that sort of thing."

"She's probably gonna have schools lined up to give 'er scholarships in a few years," you told him, and he nodded, taking a moment to let it sink in.

"I can't be thinkin' that far ahead, already blows my mind that she's in high school."

"My dad used to say the same thing," you smiled faintly at the way he used to tell you, 'Stop gettin' so big, girl. Gonna have to start carryin' a shotgun around, keep the boys away.' "Guess I'm all grown up, now."

That, he knew for a fact.

"Yeah, grown up," he repeated, taking another swig of beer before turning back to face you.

You'd seemed to have something on your mind, but until now, weren't able to voice it. Maybe the alcohol was doing it's job after all.

"I know you don't dance," you started, and he chuckled lowly. He knew where it was going but didn't dare interrupt you. Not yet, at least. "Maybe just this once you'll make an exception."

He actually thought about it for a second. Maybe he could make an exception, just this once, for you. He'd been caught in a few conversations by some buddies who were here tonight, but besides that, he'd mostly entertained himself by keeping an eye on you. Watching you dance, talking with your friends, and then getting hit on by that blonde kid.

"How about next time?" He asked, knowing how slim the chances were that he'd be at another dance night over the summer. He'd only come tonight because a few buddies had been here.

You understood that was the nice way of saying no, and you understood he wasn't much for that kinda fun. You didn't blame him, it took a certain type of personality to enjoy the spectacle.

"I know s'not your scene," you sighed out and set the now empty bottle on the ledge of the bar. "But I'll be out there incase you change your mind."

He gave you a small nod and you turned to leave, but with the confidence flowing through your veins in the form of a beer, you stepped back up to him quickly, pressing the smallest kiss you could conjure against his cheek, "Thanks for the drink."

You didn't even wait to see how he reacted, you were already turned around and ready to go back to the dance floor. You found your friends by the edge of the room, and they'd just come off from swinging.

"Where'd you go? We didn't see you the last few dances."

"Some kid was givin' me a hard time... Joel scared 'im off easy," you told them, and though Amy seemed to not notice the implications, Kate seemed rather intrigued.

"He did, huh?" She gave you a pointed look with her eyebrow raised.

"Oh hush, I'm back aren't I?" You gave her a playful smack to the arm and she held her arms up in defense.

"So, you gonna dance now, or what? Thought that's what you came here to do?" She mocked, using your words from earlier.

Truth be told, you wanted to dance, but with the kind rejection of the person you'd wanted to dance with, the mood had been changed slightly.

The current song was ending, and in only seconds the next one to start playing drew droves of people onto the floor. It's been a pretty popular song as of lately in the line dance society.

Take it off, by Kesha.

You knew the steps, the walls, the restarts. Probably better than any other song you'd danced to tonight. It had been a favorite of yours in Dallas, and you wouldn't lie, you were glad to see it made it's way into Travis County.

Your friends squealed and pulled you along to the floor, and you didn't even try to fight them off. You went to the back corner, which coincidentally (not at all) could be seen the easiest from the part of the bar that Joel was hanging out by. At the start of the song he'd been engrossed in conversation by the person next to him, but once he caught wind of you stepping foot into the mix, he'd fixed his attention in your direction. His buddy still rambled on, but he'd only give an occasional nod, or a soft 'uhuh,' to tell the man he was listening.

You had waited for the chorus until you looked right at him. You did the steps, and given that the wall was facing the bar, you wanted to be a little punk and tease him.

He'd watched as you stepped and turned, how the jersey you were wearing loosely hung onto you when you did. You'd worn black fringe boots with a pair of black shorts and fishnets beneath them. The shorts could barely be seen for the length of the Ranger's jersey over everything.

You saw him tense up a little, and you couldn't be sure if it was your doing, but it didn't matter... you were determined to get a reaction out of him regardless.

You took the skip step and followed the instructions of the song:

Turn me on...

Now, turning towards the other side, you grabbed the bottom hem of your jersey:

Take it off....

And you did. The polyester knit fabric was pulled up and over your head to reveal the tight black tank underneath, cropped at the mid section and clinging to midly sweaty skin. You flung the jersey to a corner of the room, and some of the guys on the floor were whistling.

Joel's eyes never left yours, even as you turned and faced the next wall. Every time you turned around, you were looking right back at him, a smirk plastered over your lips as you mouthed the words. His jaw clicked, and he huffed deeply, finally out of conversation with the man beside him. He drank the rest of his beer and left the bottle on the countertop.

You didn't realize he'd left the bar until you had turned from the last wall. You kept dancing, but couldn't find him anywhere in the bar. Maybe he'd been fed up with you and gone home... but that was unlikely.

You waited for the song to end, then stepped off the floor, nodding for your friends to stay through the next song. You told them you were gonna try and find your jersey, and they were more than happy to keep dancing without you.

You scanned the room, now able to see behind the crowds of dancers, but couldn't see Joel even still. You went up to the bar to see if he'd just moved seats, but he wasn't around there either.

You figured he did actually go home, because when you looked and saw the clock on the wall, it read 12:05. Sure, it was a weekend. But Joel's a set schedule kinda guy. You knew he'd probably already been out too late.

You turned back around and went searching instead for your jersey, but it hadn't been where you threw it. You could swear tonight was just a night for you to loose things, until there was a tap on your shoulder.

You spun around and smiled widely.

"You lookin' for this?" Joel stood with your jersey clutched tightly in his hand. He held it out to you and you took it thankfully, sliding it back on.

"Yeah, thank you," you'd waited to say anything further until your head had peaked through the top. "I didn't see you at the bar, figured you'd gone on home."

"I was thinkin' bout heading out soon, wanted to make sure I saw you first."

You weren't exactly sure of his meaning, but damnit, the sparks in your skin when he said those words. Your stomach fluttered and you almost didn't know what to say.

"Well to be honest, I'm glad you caught me... I'm thinkin' about calling an uber and gettin' outta here, too."

He raised a brow and proposed an idea.

"I can take you home, if you want." The offer was kind and genuine, but to be completely honest, he just wanted the extra time with you. He liked being near you, because you were good company, and also... mighty pretty. "Not like it's out of my way."

You laughed lightly at his joke. Truly, why waste the time in calling someone else to drive you home when he could do it? He lived next door, it would be crazy not to.

"That would be great, actually," you agreed, smiling to him in thanks but then turning back to the dance floor. "I ought to go let them know."

He nodded and let you off, watching as you went to find your friends. They seemed like nice girls. Not quite like you, but nice all the same. You seemed to enjoy their company well enough.

You found them by the edge of the floor, heaving and sweaty from the last dance. They saw you and waved you over, sitting into some chairs by the wall.

"Are you gonna swing at all?" Amy asked, her hands on top of her head to control her breathing.

"No, I think I'm done for tonight," you handed Kate the watter bottle she'd gestured for you to grab her on the next table. "But you guys are good, I got a ride home."

Amy dropped the look of neutrality on her face when she realized.

"With the neighbor?" Her eyes went wide when you nodded, but you hadn't illuded to anything else, just that he was giving you a ride home.

"Girl, I knew it. I'm never wrong," Kate jumped in, looking around the bar to see where he was at. "That man's got it for you."

"Y'all just needa calm down, alright? He's just bein' nice... Besides, he lives right next door, it's not like he's going out of his way for me."

Kate rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, waving you off. She wasn't annoyed, but she knew you weren't telling them everything, and she knew that the man next door, Joel, was clearly attracted to you in some capacity.

"Alright, girl, you go on, now.... and enjoy your ride."

Amy winked at you before you started walking away, laughing at her antics and flipping her off as you left. It was always in good fun, but sometimes they were just too accurate on their assumptions.

You found Joel where you left him, scrolling through some texts from your dad. He probably was letting him know he'd be dropping you off. He looked up when you stopped in front of him, a sweet smile he was met with.

"Ready?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response, watching as he held out his elbow for you to take, just like earlier. "Ever the gentleman."

He chuckled, waiting until you hooked your arm around his to start walking to the door.

Being so close to him all throughout the night, you'd started feeling a sense of familiarity that hadn't been there before. His smell, his energy, the way he walked. It all became so much more apparent than it ever had been. You noticed how naturally big his arms were, and how broad his shoulders looked in the shirt he was wearing. Black and white baseball tee, which hugged tightly his arms and shoulders, but hung looser around his ribs and waist. He wasn't muscular by any means, and in some places, you could tell he was a little soft... but it was a good look on him. Attractive.

Getting to his truck, he opened the passenger door for you before going around to his side and jumping in. He watched you pull out your phone, and for a second, you weren't even sure why you had in the first place... force of habit.

You swiped out of instagram and opened snapchat, tapping him on the shoulder as you held the phone up. He looked over and saw you were trying to take a photo. He leaned over, an awkward smile on his face when you snapped it.

"What's that for?" He furrowed his brow, starting up the truck and pulling out.

"S' just for me," you told him. You saved it to your camera roll, discarding it afterwards and neglecting to post it. No filter, no caption, just you and Joel miller sitting in his truck.

"So, how you liking Dallas?" He attempted to keep the conversation going, and you smiled at him for it. He was normally someone who kept quiet in a setting like this. On the drive home after a rowdy night out. It was unlike him to want to speak so much, but nevertheless, you entertained him.

"It's alright, a lot bigger than here, but I kinda like the small town scene better."

"I never took you for a city girl, but I knew you could do well there," he replied honestly. He kept his eyes on the road, every once and a while into his mirrors. You figured that was for the best, because then he couldn't catch you staring so much.

"Still prefer this, though," you said softly. You'd looked back to the window, and missed when he finally looked over at you, a sweet look in his eyes. He's happy you're home. You know that much... but he can't tell you outright because, why is he so happy that you're home? You're not his buddy, you're only his buddy's daughter.

"Everyone's gonna be glad to have you 'round for the summer," he said it as inconspicuously as he could... but you still read between the lines. He's happy you're home.

"Maybe not Mrs. Stanton," you joked. The woman had been your elderly neighbor to the other side of you and wasn't necessarily a fan of any person younger than thirty. She liked peace and quiet and mundane life. Parties and Barbacues were not her setting, and she loathed your dad and Joel for throwing so many over the years. All for the sake of you and Sarah, of course, birthdays, graduation, etc.

"She's never glad about nothin', I don't count her."

Nearing the edge of your neighborhood, you yawned and turned back to him, seeing as he was carefully making his way onto your street.

You laughed a little, then fell into a comfortable silence the rest of the way. Travis County is a small place, not much around, everything is within twenty minutes distance or less, just about.

-

"Thanks for drivin' me home."

"No problem, darlin'," he parked in front of your house, even though he could have just pulled into his driveway and made you walk across the yards between.

You smiled at him sweetly and he couldn't help himself anymore, he just had to ask...

"And thanks again for that drink," you said, looking at him over the console. He'd leaned ever so slightly closer to you, and you could swear neither of you were gonna look away.

Those brown eyes were so damn captivating. Ain't no way you'd survive being a victim of their longing stare. Just as well, he seemed to be in a similar trance, with you being the one to cast the spell.

"Can I kiss you?" It was almost a whisper, and though soft in your ears, it rang out over and again.

You didn't even answer him. You just closed the space between you, pressing your lips against his in a gentle motion that was almost too much for him to handle. He'd not even thought twice before asking you, and now he was kissing his best buddy's daughter. You were always wordlessly off limits to him, but right now, it didn't feel that way.

He held you by the back of your neck, pulling you deeper, closer. He didn't stop it from getting hotter, heavier, and maybe he should have. It was far too late for that, now.

Your arms dangled over his shoulders, the broadness of them that you'd admired only twenty minutes ago. So broad, so strong.

He raised the center console up for you to slide across, and you didn't bother to say a word before you straddled his waist, still buckled in his seat belt.

The audacity of this scenario. Your dad was in the house the truck was parked in front of, and here you were sat on his best friend's lap and making out with him shamelessly. Joel was playing with fire, and buried in the back of his mind, he was well aware of that fact... but damnit, he wasn't stopping for nothing.

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, covered in the fishnets he'd kept such a close eye on earlier. Something about the secrecy of this, the fact that no one could ever know, made it that much more exciting.

You both jumped apart at the light over your driveway turning on, being caught by the suddenness of the flash. You saw a neighborhood stray cat walk across the yard soon after, and realized it had set off the censor for the light.

You breathed out a breath you didn't remember holding, and looked back to Joel with sleepy eyes and swollen lips. "I should go."

He nodded, helping you slip off of him and into your own seat, gathering your phone and keys before opening the door. He caught your hand just before you got out, and gave it a tight squeeze.

You smiled at him and continued to get out of the car, giving your last words before you shut the door.

"I'll see you," he promised, his eyes assuring you of his words. To hell with those brown eyes, they were gonna be the death of you, and you knew it.

"I'll see you."

A/n: if anyone wants a part 2 lemme know otherwise this is a oneshot lol

(Tags are always open!)

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hi! I hope you’re doing good 🩷

If you ever feel like it could write something / head canon about Tommy with a girly reader? Pink, bows, frills and all those princess stuff.

He would probably look so out of place in her old bedroom lol. Can you imagine Thomas Shelby sipping tea on a pink chair in a pink bedroom surrounded by plushie. Not so gangsta now is he? 😭

Hope you enjoy, thank you for the request!

Tommy admiring how your hair is always in pig tails, and the way your strands were held by baby pink hued bows

engaging in the tea parties, sitting awkwardly at the table but he does to ensure his princess is undeniably happy

Him getting “jealous” of your imaginary friends flirting with you and fucking you senseless on your pastel themed bed.

knee socks were a weakness.

He loves how in public you try to act all high and mighty, but clinging to his arms whenever a car passes too fast.

Tommy being over protective of you, not allowing any other person near you because of how innocent and how oblivious you are to the cruel cold world

He secretly admires how needy you are, and how you still reflect into your childhood nostalgia to remain calm and in a safe space.

Cuddles, endless amounts of cuddles, and lap sitting, a constant need for hand holding.

Spoiling you with all the plushies you desired, even if he found it silly.

always tucking you between his arms when you’d go to sleep, ensuring there was a plushie in your hands even if he found it odd.

people constantly pointing out that Tommy always looked sour and bitter compared to your cheery self.

when you had on that baby pink lingerie, acting innocent and needing his attention, he’d give all of himself to you.

protective and possessive were the traits you needed, traits you craved

Tommy would defend his princess always in public, if she said the sky was red, it was fucking red and be damned anyone who’d argue it.

always bringing him crafts you made, decorating his office with origamis, and colored pictures.

People often questioning Tommy’s power because of it but quickly learning that didn’t make Tommy any less dangerous.

Shielding you from his business affairs.

Bubble baths were a necessity.

[jubileemon]

Lucifer's Pride

Fittingly for someone who is the Deadly Sin of Pride, Lucifer's main issues in his relationship with Charlie stem from being too proud to admit how much he loves her directly until the events of the episode "Dad Beat Dad".

Another trait of pride he has also involves his relationship with Charlie, refusing to accept Charlie needs anyone's help but his. But Lucifer's help basically amounts to "I will give you anything you want because I'm the strongest being in hell" which misses the point Charlie is making while Alastor offers more indirect methods to accomplishing Charlie's goals that are more likely to succeed than just forcing everyone to do what you want. Funny enough, Alastor playing up being a fatherly substitute to Charlie hurts Lucifer's pride of being her father.

From the start, it's clear that Lucifer never went out of his way to physically visit Charlie. One reason is, as he stated, depression. But it's also characteristically very prideful of him to not show up until Charlie is the one to take action and explicitly invite him to the hotel.

The resolution of their strained relationship makes sense as well; by opening up to Charlie about his failures and insecurities, Lucifer displays humility, the opposite of Pride, and the only true antidote to shame. What is more, this opening up allows him to see Charlie for who she truly is, and fall into the more virtuous side of his Sin by taking due Pride in his daughter and how she is following in his footsteps.

Even his introduction also shows his pride in action. He makes a rubber duck that can backflip and breathe fire... which he then throws aside like trash in a few seconds. Anyone else will be impressed by such a feat of engineering and creativity, but Lucifer's pride set such a high standard that not even this can remotely impress him.

Lucifer is also shown to be rather depressed and the reasons are fairly numerous: he was kicked out of Heaven for defying the rules, in hell he's only able to see humanity at it's worst because of his own mistakes, he lost his wife and got stranded from her own daughter; he probably believes he hit rock bottom at that time. The audience can see how miserable he really is, yet as the phone call goes, Lucifer goes all on it's way to pretend he's totally fine, that he's been doing important thing that kept him busy and puts a jovial mask all the way through. Lucifer's pride is so high it forbids him to even openly admit to his daughter he has been rather miserable and needs a lot more help and confort that he lets on, acting high and mighty during his song with Alastor and putting smiles and exhuberance to cover up the fact he's trying so hard to not fall into despair.

It's only at the end when he decides to be humble when Charlie can finally see that beneath the apparent aloofness, her father was actually in emotional pain and yet he still loved her despite everything when Lucifer finally gets a chance to get the appreciation he desperately needed. Sometimes depressed people are often prone to believe they're supposed to be fine and use arrogance to not be perceived as whiny, often avoiding seeking help because they just can't accept their own feelings of sadness or anger.

[dollfaced-erin]

Ngl the sugar daddy jing yuan reader fic lowkey intrigues me, like why did Jing Yuan resort to something as finding a sugar baby? Was he stressed over something as well? A relationship problem? Was he that lonely?? I feel it would be nice to explore!

i love this request. it took me a while to find the right songs and good scenarios, but i got you covered, bby ! I MIGHT NAME THIS SERIES THO ! it's a WIP obv unless until i finish the main storyline and will take longer time to accommodate to unlike the main story (and that one already takes an eternity) do enjoy the treat !

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman , @samptlay , @boomie-123 , @airentia , @eden-absorbed

𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 ! : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴀᴜ , ᴊɪɴɢ ʏᴜᴀɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ'ꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴅʟᴇ

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 ! :

ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ , ᵃⁿˣⁱᵉᵗʸ , ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉˡᶠ ʰᵃʳᵐ , ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, EXTRA LONG.

Another day...another report.

Scratch that. There were hundreds of reports on his desk as is. And they were piling as time grew on. Not like it would ever stop. They just kept adding up, accumulating like the spam emails in his iMac monitor before him.

And his secretary was of no help either. Sure, she did her work mighty fine ! Being on time, punctual, taking all the calls and planning his meeting and fixing up his schedule. But that makes him feel more annoyed than ever.

She's just too punctual. And she expects him to be like that too.

She was always rushing him to do his work, always nagging him on and on to pay attention to the business proposals, to look over the reports, remind him again and again that he had lunch with the Lead Researcher from that growing Space Research Centre built under the name of one of the most well-known geniuses known to mankind.

Herta's Space Research Centre...and her Lead Researcher who was currently managing the Centre on her own... Asta...

What time was the meeting again...?

"Remember ! You have a meeting with Lady Asta from the research center at 2pm this afternoon ! Don't be late ! It's a crucial investment !" He heard Fu Xuan's voice ring in his mind.

Oh...2pm. He had time before that.

He sighed in his chair, leaning back into his leather chair as he ran a hand through his messy silver hair. Lazy golden eyes glanced at the time showed on the standby mode on his monitor...

"1 : 45..." he read aloud, his voice carrying his lazy tone through the silent room.

He thought about it.

1 : 45 ?!?!

He never bolted out of his seat faster than he ever had before.

"Hahaha !" The man laughed as Jing Yuan retold the tale of the earlier day. A hand landed on his back, slapping it playfully as his friend found humor in his troubles.

"Don't laugh, asshole." Jing Yuan said, a frown of frustration on his lips. But it slowly curled up into one of amusement seeing his friend like this.

"You're really finding my concerns entertaining, don't you ?"

"Sorry, sorry. My bad." The man said, raising his cup of alcoholic beverage to his lips, sipping it elegantly.

"But then, what happened ? You rushed out of your building to the meeting place. Did you see Lady Asta ?" Blade asked, looking at his friend with a smirk on his lips.

"Oh, you bet. I found her as soon as I got there. But fortunately for me, she had just arrived herself. So, I wasn't too late, nor did I make her wait." Jing Yuan said with a relieved sigh.

The two were meeting up in quite the high-class bar. Somewhere that had classical music playing, dim lighting, expensive drinks of the finest quality, quiet chatter and the clinking of glasses and extravagant attire. It wasn't your average bar. Heck, there were barely any ruthless drunkards in places like this, those who caused ruckus when they drank too much.

"But Fu Xuan, that girl..." he pondered, shaking his head at the mention of his secretary. "She really needs to learn how to loosen up and stop asking me day after day when will I hand my company over to her."

"Oh ? She's blatantly asking you to make her the heir to the corporation ? Very...brazen, of her." Blade said with a furrow of his brows and nodded his head.

"It doesn't get any easier, Blade. Believe me." Jing Yuan sighed.

It was just another day in his life. He was the CEO of one of the top companies in the country, or even the world ! The Xianzhou Alliance was branched into 6 franchises under one brand, though usually known individually. Fanghu, Luofu, Zhuming, Xuling, Yaoqing, and Yuque.

And Jing Yuan just happened to be the CEO of the Luofu branch, also being the youngest and one of longest reigning ones at that. Not only that, he was known for his good looks, his intellect and gentlemanly manners.

Blade just happened to be his friend from college and was the main mechanical engineers for the bigger productions of the company, building his name to be known far and wide for a man as young as him. He was known as Yingxing, formerly. A nerdy young man that loved art.

But after a certain incident, he dyed his hair black and changed his alias to Blade before joining a group of debt collectors that made quite the name for themselves.

The Stellaron Hunters.

Jing Yuan sighed, raising a hand at the bartender for another glass of bourbon. He needed a little more liquor to forget the tension that night.

"So, of course the meeting didn't end there, right ? I heard that Herta was planning on opening a university to give opportunities to more...brilliant minds. Perhaps they wanted to collaborate with the Intelligentsia Guild ? Heard they too opened up a new university recently." Blade asked, pouring another glass of Koshu sake for himself.

He wasn't too much of a fan of the harder liquors. He loved to savor his drinks and take his time relishing in the bitter taste. Like the little things around him. He loved to watch drama unfold, especially if he wasn't involved in it.

Even better if he was the cause behind it.

But he wouldn't do that to Jing Yuan. His dude needed a break. Especially since they have known each other for a couple of years now.

"Yeah." Jing Yuan said, nodding his head at his friend. "I suppose you could put it that way. Lady Asta wanted to meet up to ask about the funding for the research in the space station. Now that you mention it, I think she also said something about investing for the university ?"

"I don't know anymore, Blade..." Jing Yuan sighed, hand over his eyes. "After that meeting i came back to more papers and reports. Then tomorrow, the meetings and the negotiations...the business proposals, photoshoots and interviews and not to mention the stalkers recently. Fu Xuan is literally gonna snag my ass one day if she really thinks I'm as incompetent as I look, I swear to the Aeons..."

He let out a tired chuckle, leaning over and setting his elbow on the table. His friend looked at him worriedly, knowing that it might not sound like much, but for Jing Yuan to openly admit his problems like this...

"Why don't you ask her to loosen up your schedule ?" Blade asked him softly, a hand on Jing Yuan's back.

"And listen to her lecture me about time management ? I'd save at the very least 2 hours of my time reading reports." He chuckled dryly, shaking his head and pulled his hand away from his eyes.

"That's not gonna work, Blade. She'll say I have nothing better to do in my time anyway...I go home with those uncompleted documents but I still have to keep thinking how I'm going to arrange my thoughts for tomorrow."

Then they heard a small commotion. There was a man slamming his hand onto the table, and a young lady before him. She looked firm and resolute, not even flinching as the man before her expressed his distaste and anger to her.

"For the last time, I'm saying no. I told you, I don't have the money for it !" The young lady said calmly, her hands spread in front of her to exaggerate her point.

"You brought me here, and then expect me to sign up for Herta's Space Research school to study biotechnology under Madam Ruan Mei ? Do you have any idea how crazy the fees will be ?" The girl asked again, folding her arms over her chest as she merely glared at the man that stood in anger before her.

"Plus you know that I'm already struggling with fees in the Yaoqing Academy is already crazy enough. And that's with scholarship. I'd then have to pay Yaoqing for stopping halfway and my scholarship, then pay the registration fees of Herta's school."

"Imagine having to go to some prestigious, preppy place filled with studying, that I don't even have time to go work to buy myself dinner." The lady stressed with a shake of her head.

"But this is your opportunity !"

"I...I cant afford it..." she admitted softly.

Jing Yuan's gaze softened as he looked at this troubled lady. He wished he could help, watching her being pressured like this. But he wasn't a charity... if he helped her, many more would come to him for the same reason...

But it was a waste that a beautiful young lady like her didn't get the opportunity she deserved. She looked like she was well-versed in studying, and going to Herta's university would secure her a bright future working with the Intelligentsia Guild, or Herta's Space Station or the research facility, or even the IPC !

"I cant keep dating someone who doesn't have standards, (Y/n). My family will look down on me ! And I'm always paying for you when we go on dates, you never spend for me !" The man said with anger present in his tone. Then the young lady before him bit her bottom lip, her eyes trailing off somewhere else.

"Wh-what did you expect from dating me ? You know I'm poor. I work part time at a cafe, juggling assignments, bills and chores. I...I cant always have the luxury of spoiling you ! And you yourself wanted to go on dates, promising me that you'll handle the bill." The lady said, tears in her bright eyes.

"Or not you'll never go on dates with me !" The boyfriend exclaimed, making the girl, (Y/n), feel even guiltier.

Then he slammed his hand again on the table. "Enough ! We're over. I cant keep dating a leech who'd do nothing to improve her life even when there's a path !"

Then the man stormed off, leaving the lady alone and humiliated in the middle of the expensive bar with all eyes on her. She didn't care about that, she was mainly troubled on the fact that she'd have to cover the bills herself...

'How interesting...' Jing Yuan thought to himself as he looked at the pitiful lover.

She was a beautiful young lady, perhaps around 22 years old ? She seemed pretty young. Perhaps she's in the middle of pursuing a degree ? To change majors means she must be pretty early into the registration. Foundation, perhaps...

She looked very ordinary, unlike the others in this bar. She had beautiful (h/c) hair, the brightest (e/c) eyes that shone under the warm lights of the bar. But she looked tired. She was broke. Wallet, and heart.

Jing Yuan couldn't hold back anymore. He didn't like seeing a young woman as innocent as hardworking as her getting dumped just because she didn't have the money. What kind of asshole does that, anyway ?!

Jing Yuan got up from his place, ignoring Blade's voice of questions as he walked over to the young woman who sat alone.

"(Y/n), right ?" Jing Yuan asked, and she looked up, those bright (e/c) eyes, glistening with tears as she sadly looked into his warm honey eyes.

(Y/n) seemed startled and quickly wiped her eyes. "Yes, th-that's me." She said, nodding her head.

"See, I don't do this often, but..." Jing Yuan started as he sat before her. "I'm quite certain the entire establishment heard what happened between you and...well...your...ex lover...?"

He grimaced a little at the word 'ex', knowing it must still be a touchy subject for her. But she didn't seem to mind and just nodded her head.

"Yeah, I saw this coming, obviously." (Y/n) said with a light chuckle. "I knew we weren't going to work out. But he was persistent, constantly egging me on and on to date him, that one day I just said yes."

"Well, it seems like you're going through a rough patch, and I know you just want to head home and sleep it off. So, I want to help you out." Jing Yuan said, taking the bill on the table and reading out the receipt list.

"Let me pay for tonight."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as she looked at him, blinking owlishly as she heard his offer. This...this random man was willing to pay for the receipt ? The orders she didn't even indulge in ? She felt guilt eating away at her stomach, making her fidget in her seat.

But what choice did she have...?

That's right. She didn't.

So she nodded her head.

"Wow, didn't know you could be quite the gentleman, oh CEO Jing Yuan." Blade said as his friend came back after seeing off the woman named (Y/n).

Jing Yuan nodded his head, feeling a light blush dust his cheeks from the teasing manner of his friend. But he brushed it aside quickly, composing himself to wish away the blush as quickly as it came.

"I just couldn't leave her there. It would be quite...distasteful." Jing Yuan said, taking his seat back next to Blade.

"Mm...but she was quite the catch, wasn't she ? Too bad she ended up with a sorry excuse as a boyfriend as him." Blade said with a laugh, his Adam's apple bobbing as his voice rumbled.

"She was indeed beautiful, yes." Jing Yuan said softly, nodding his head as he reminded himself of the young woman. "It was funny how she didn't even recognize who I am. Most young women would."

He caught Blade smirking at him at which he quickly composed himself with a fake smug smile back on his lips.

"Anyway..." Jing Yuan said, looking at Blade with raised eyebrows. "How are things with you and...Dan Jia ?"

Blade immediately was caught off guard with the question, his pale face dusted with a red blush that went all the way up to his ears. Dan Jia was one of the heirs to a multi-billion organization that was partnered with the Xianzhou Alliance, more known towards their love of arts and entertainment.

And Dan Jia was the woman that had loved him before and after his change. The only person who understood and still stood by him no matter, and it wasn't like any one could oppose her, anyway.

"A-ahem...Dan Jia and I..." Blade stuttered, turning away for a moment as he slowly sipped at his drink.

"We...got engaged." The male said and Jing Yuan glared at him.

"And you didn't even tell me ?" "I was going to when you were in a more chill mood ! Don't blame me trying to be considerate of your feelings !"

Then Blade got an idea. He smiled widely, looking at his friend before uncharacteristically clapping his hands, something he did when he had a mind-blowing revolutionary thought. Usually it meant good news for the company, or friends, so Jing Yuan was very intrigued to hear.

"How about you find a lover ?" Blade asked with a pat on Jing Yuan's back.

Jing Yuan had never heard a solution so stupid from this former engineer before. He sighed, and slapped a hand onto his forehead.

"No no, hear me out for real here." Blade said, trying to pull back Jing Yuan's interest. "If Fu Xuan says that you have nothing to do in your free time, find someone that can act as something to fill in time you need. You cant put hobbies, because hobbies are meant to be something to be done in your free time."

"But what if you had a commitment ?"

Then Jing Yuan looked at Blade like he made the best idea ever. That actually made so much sense ! But...

"What if I get even more stressed from it ?" Jing Yuan asked, looking at Blade.

"Based on the trends right now, students are more frequently found on dating sites, and you could start from there. Give Fu Xuan some reasons to throw her off the scent and make sure she doesn't schedule every second you manage to breathe in the aircon of your private office." Blade explained again, his hands making and tracing gestures onto the surface of the bar top.

'Students, huh...? Perhaps...he might even...' Jing Yuan wondered.

"You mean, be a sugar daddy ?" Jing Yuan asked with a raise of his eyebrow, and his friend laughed.

"Not necessarily." Blade said. "Give it a feel, take on a few blind dates. You have nothing to lose. If it doesn't work out, tell it straight, then proceed to leave."

"You know how happy I am with Dan Jia. Perhaps it's also time for you to find someone too, Jing Yuan."

So he followed the advice of his friend. Blade was right, he didn't have much to lose if he played his cards right and used his professionalism right.

He downloaded the dating app. And to make things look a little easier to filter the horny, money-hungry women who never left a shred of decency on their profiles, he put on the status of 'CEO. In need of a sugar baby, willing to spend time with me.'

He kept swiping left, left and left. The ones he swiped right on were also just as unsavory, so he kept searching. Until he saw this one account he felt drawn to.

And swiped right.

After a bit of talking, they decided to meet up at a student friendly cafe as to not pressure her. He was feeling quite peppy about it, a light blush of happiness on his cheeks as his feet tapped impatiently on the wooden floors of the cozy cafe.

He made sure to dress casually, a mere dark grey sweater and a pair of white slacks. His hair was still in it's usual messy style, but he tried to make himself look a little presentable, tying it up into a ponytail. It was still messy, but he tried.

He was meeting up with a young lady who was a student in need of help for her tuition loans and apartment bills she couldn't handle on her own. But though she reached out to him, she was often times hesitant to find a 'sugar daddy'.

His heart was pounding in his chest. He never felt this excited before. It had been long since they started talking and she was finally comfortable with meeting him after so many times of denying.

Then he saw her. The girl he was waiting for, shyly enter the cafe with reddened cheeks as she tucked back her (h/c) hair that fell over her face from lowering her gaze so much.

"M-Mr. Jing Yuan..." She greeted as she pulled the seat before him.

"Miss (Y/n). What a pleasure."

He had been searching for her all this while, and he finally found her.

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

TW - PTSD, mentions of abuse.

Summary - You realize that maybe working with a man as intimidating as Miguel O’Hara just isn’t for you… 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

six

You feel out of place. Stuffy, anxious, like a walking corpse with heavy eyes and an empty stomach. You’ve convinced yourself that once you waltz up those stairs, everyone is going to turn to you. Point and laugh as Mr. O’Hara rips you to tiny, pretty pieces with those awfully sharp teeth of his.

You took the stairs today because the glass elevator seems too dreadful. Each floor rising just getting you closer and closer to your demise, out in the open for the world to see.

You only have one flight left before you know it, though. The bittersweet stamina your body remembers from the times you used to twirl upon a silvered stage. You frown, maybe definitely purposely going slower up the final steps.

Your morning has been hectic. Your curls were in a battle with your hands and the straightener, reflecting the heat away like they were made of ice. Your hair is frizzy, and your ribbon has a tear in it. The sole of your boot is mere threads away from ripping apart and you’re terribly hungry. You had no time to eat, though.

The air constricts you as you reach the tip of the castle where the fanged creature with dark, unforgiving eyes dwells. Your body is overtaken with soft trembles yet you do your best to keep composed. Through the glass door and onto the shiny tiles.

The ambush doesn’t come… you ease.

Your eyes scan through the cold air that greets you. To your complete surprise, your Christmas tree still stands, covered in its pink bows and golden lights. You doubt you’ll ever be as confused as you are right now again at any other moment in your life.

Your eyes wander to the front desk where Cindy is seated, she smiles and nods and you swiftly make your way to her. Mary Jane wears glasses far too big for her petite face, clicking and clacking on her ivory keyboard.

“Hey!” She greets, handing you your bag of ribbons immediately.

It hasn’t been lit up to ash, it shocks you.

“Hey… is um…” thankfully she understands and you don’t have to say much more.

Christ, you’re treating him like he’s a monster tucked underneath your bed.

“Nope, he’s been out all morning… super weird between you and I, he’s never late!”

You believe her, but that doesn’t matter… all the tension in your body floats away like a cloud returning itself to the sky. The breath you’ve been holding since you conquered each step leaves you, and you finally feel as though you can breathe again.

“Uh oh, what’d you do?” Mary Jane inquires as she takes a sip of her peppermint tea.

You can only manage to shake your head, mumbling your gratitude softly and dragging the bag to the tree. The ladder still stands tall, taunting you with rusty screws.

“Hi pretty.” You whisper to the giant thing, hand burying itself in the tote to pluck out yet another pink ribbon. Knowing he’s gone, you work with ease. Gentle on the ladder, the ballerina in your heart still dances even though you cannot. Your balance is impeccable as you blanket the back of the tree now. It doesn’t take long.

Without him here, the office is alive. It’s happy. The women chat as they would while getting manicures at a salon. They giggle and swoon over Mr. O’Hara which is to be nothing more than expected. It makes you giggle. He must feel so high and mighty being surrounded by people bowing at the beck of his hand. Yet when his thumb doesn’t suffocate them, they blossom like roses.

They’re lovely, fun to listen to while you tinker with the tree. This is nice.

This is nice and the laughter and joy and “Santa, Baby” purring on the radio lasts all but an hour before dead silence and gasps soon flood your ears.

You chill, freezing up with your hand in the bag of bows. Your body is kneeling before the tree, the gold shining like starlight on your pretty features. Someone lowers the music quickly, and the man who simultaneously suffocates all the fun with just his presence alone walks through his elevator door.

You hear it ring, you hear the heavy clicks of his shoes and the adjust of his tie. Everyone is dead silent, now. Tense. Back to the normal that is known here.

You? You’re frozen, your head still bowed. You’re afraid of him, maybe. It is rare for you, you’re afraid of no one. Not anymore. Not after… well, it’s a promise you made to yourself.

Closer…

Closer..

Closer his boots near, until?

They stop.

They stop right beside you and god, it is right then in that moment that you’d rather run out and lay in the snow as you’re certain it would keep you warmer than you are in this moment, beneath him.

“You, come with me.” Is all he offers before marching forward on his path.

You gulp, maybe you misheard? A cautious glance at Cindy’s wide, sympathetic eyes and you know all you need to. This cruel, cruel man. He let you blanket his stupid, limp tree in ribbons, he let you get comfortable like a mouse under a warm lamp— not knowing there’s a serpent hiding away… ready to strike. Ready to tell you he’s letting you go.

Cindy raises her brows, as if rushing you to do something. To unfreeze. You dig your nails into your palm, hard enough to snap you back and you’re soon up on your feet. Each step you take, you look at nothing but your worn shoes.

The oak door is held open by him. They’re all staring, eyes like daggers stuck in your back.

“Time to actually do your work, ladies.” He commands, they comply immediately. Does he have a spy? Perhaps a meter that starts ringing when there’s too much fun…

The oak door slams, trapping you— the little mouse into his warm den. The sound startles you, making your eyes fall shut.

Keep it together…

He walks past you swiftly, scent of rich firewood and coffee intoxicating your body so much so that if you weren’t so horrified right now, your mouth would water.

“Sit.” He commands as he takes his place upon his leather throne.

You let out a shaky breath, making your way forward with all the force you have left within you. Maybe you should just blurt out an apology and book it straight for the highest hills you can find…

The zombie you are, dressed in clothes you used to wear for rehearsal as it’s all you have. Ivory tights and pom pom boots, a pink skirt and wrapped shirt. You rehearse the moves of walking and sitting like a dance you’ve danced before. The leather is cold when it engulfs you, unpleasant.

You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at the remnants of the French manicure Rio gave you last week. Waiting for it, expecting, remembering. Your head is hung in shame, in submission.

“You look nervous.” He observes.

You stay silent, reluctant to admit how true that really is.

You feel him, you feel him like fire on your skin. His eyes demanding your attention, but you can’t. You won’t. It isn’t good enough for him. He leans forward,

“You’re new here, but if you cared to ask my girls what my first rule is? You’d know that you look at me when I talk to you, do you understand?” He commands, and like a ballerina does, you mend and comply. Heated as your face as becomes, rapid as your heart flutters, and nervous as your being is… your eyes follow the order and shoot up to face his own.

They are dark, scorching into you like hellfire, an incomparable inferno. You want to shrink, but you won’t. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Rule two. Answer me.” He commands.

“Yes…” you whisper.

He’s satisfied, at least you hope. It certainly seems that way. He leans back in his leather chair and keeps his eyes locked on you. It is then you’re certain he’s a sadist. It’s obvious, obvious by the way you press your knees together and pick at your polish that you’re uncomfortable. He doesn’t care.

The silence is dreadful, heavy and suffocating. You try your best to hold it, stare into his eyes and ignore the fire burning your skin from the bone but god— it’s too much.

“I didn’t know!” You blurt out, half hoping he is deaf yet also half hoping he understands what you mean.

His eyes narrow and you’re certain you’ve made a fool of yourself again. You let your gaze fall and the subtle sound you hear under his breath makes you snap them right back up.

“I know. Keep it that way.” He forces through clenched, sharp teeth.

If he wasn’t so horrifying, so cruel, you’d feel sorry for him. His words, the subject, it’s painful for him to utter— to think of. You can tell.

The silence blankets the room again, and your eyes beg him to let you glance anywhere but at him. You’re desperate though, the bigger part of you. Desperate to suffer here, instead of home. Maybe he knows just how desperate you are, maybe he’s using it. Maybe he’s delaying the inevitable, maybe there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.

It seems like forever, but he eventually speaks.

“I want you to do something for me.”

Pack your shit and leave…

You finish his words within the confines of your mind, prepared for them. They never come, no… what follows only shocks you.

“I want a tree. A small one for my office. Red and blue ribbons, and soccer ornaments.”

What?

This man, this enigma of a man seems to be the most capable creature alive and able to make your head spin like a record. You shake your head, confused…

“What?” It’s a soft whisper, weak.

“Rule three, I don’t repeat myself. You heard me.”

You did. You did and you still don’t slightly believe it. You’re dreaming, that must be it. You fell on the stairs on the way up and you’ve been tucked away in a coma.

No. It can’t be true. Sure, if anyone on this earth would be intimidating enough to make you truly feel their gaze in a coma, it would be him… but it’s far too real, too intense to simply exist within your imagination.

“I— can do that, sir.”

He only nods, once. Voice louder now, commanding the room, commanding you.

“I want it done by tonight, on my desk before you leave.”

You nod, mind still jogging to keep up with this conversation, to understand it. Your brows are furrowed, eyes searching for an invisible answer around the room. They land back on him and it’s as if he was waiting for them to do just that. A raise of his brow and he gives you an expression you can’t quite understand.

“You’re dismissed.”

Oh.

He talks to you like you’re just a dull-brained creature, incapable of understanding a word he says, an idiot. You stand on your feet and then swiftly turn your back on him, which is somehow more frightening than looking him in the eyes.

That must be it, you suppose. You’re grateful. Baffled but, grateful. You won’t test your luck, you won’t question it. Perhaps Cindy was onto something with her analysis of him. He’s just not— soft.

No, he’s in control and commanding and intimidating and far far easier to deal with than the cavalry at home. Okay… okay, you can manage this.

Even so? You can’t walk quicker to the door, it seems— hurrying out like the inferno from his eyes is just behind you. It is. The oak creaks softly behind you, and you huff as you make it out to the other side, surviving to tell the story of how you evaded the beast. Mary Jane and Cindy’s eyes are wide and waiting.

You only offer a thumbs up and nod, then get straight to work.

You’re happy for the excuse to waltz the city during this lovely time of year. Especially when you’re not paying for the things you buy. The streets are lined with snowfall surrounding cobble pavement, brick roads and sparkling trees that reach the sky. There are smiling St. Nick’s on every street corner and employees dressed as elves in every small shop. It smells of coffee and chocolate chips.

You’re not at all dressed for December. Your check hasn’t come in just yet, you’ll buy warm clothes when it does. Jack Frost is a bite on your shoulder, cheeks and nose pink and chilled from the snow. You’re trembling.

That doesn’t matter though because you’re also dancing, right now. Dancing like you did as a ballerina; that equates to simply following orders. It isn’t until the warmth of the small gift shop nearby embraces you that you ease. Warmth crawls up your spine and burns Jack off of it. You can think, now. You can stop following orders, stop dancing.

Your trembling fingertips are numb, grazing over the snow globes, ribbons and ornaments. Hmm…

Soccer…

Perhaps he’s a fan…

Blue and red ribbon…

Your teeth chatter as you grab a wicker basket and collect each color. You find lights to compliment them and a dark, lonely little tree by the windowsill. Fitting. Ornaments, then. Soccer balls and goals, flags and tennis shoes. It becomes more apparent as you fill your basket that this is not for him.

Cautiously, you grab your cracked phone and find your watch history. The thumbnail, the picture from last night. Where the grinning ghost sits on his shoulders, she’s adorned in a socccer jersey. No, the tree is not for him at all…

It’s for her.

Sadness swells at the base of your throat but you force it down with a gulp. Gentle thing you are, always so empathetic with the world around you. Even the cruelest parts.

Yet, his words from earlier only echo in your mind.

Keep it that way.

Maybe you’re stupid or maybe you’ve just never been good at following orders when there’s not a wire hanger involved… but you just can’t.

Your eyes glaze over the wooden ornaments stand and land upon a dark oak frame with a vacant place for a picture. You know just what you’ll do…

Time passes quickly and you are back at the office soon. The tree is small, but you handle it with care and adoration. You tie the ribbons by hand and place them snugly upon the blossomed branches. The lights are a mixture of red, gold and blue. The star is gold too and it compliments the rest nicely. The ornaments are small, hanging like icicles from the tips of each branch. Overall? It’s perfect. Missing one, final touch though.

Everyone has left, the office lights dim. It’s just you and the grinch who’s steadily growing a heart. Maybe not three sizes bigger just yet, but you’ll take even a quarter. It’s big enough for him to keep you at least… for now.

You hurry over to the front desk where you print the picture, ink staining the colors vivid and bright.

Her smile was so pretty…

You cut the excess paper and grab the photo frame ornament, adorning it with the heart warming picture of him and his little girl. After you clean your mess, you place the final touch upon his tiny tree and revel in your masterpiece. Perfection, all you ever strive for.

But now? Back into the devil’s den.

You would be lying if you said your heart isn’t pounding as you approach the oak door, but as soon as you make it there— you steady yourself.

You remember who you are, what you have survived.

One cold man who you won’t know in a few months can’t take that. Your fire.

The tree is stable in your hands, but it needs both of them to balance upright. With your foot, you knock.

No answer.

You knock again…

And, no answer.

With a huff, you risk the possibility of angering the beast more than he usually is and use your bum to push the large thing open. You’re very much annoyed to find him alert and well, glasses resting on his face as he types away at a document on his laptop. The square thing looks like a toy compared to his hands.

Christ.

He doesn’t regard you, he doesn’t need to. He already gave his orders. You’re careful to maintain balance as you gently bring the tree to his desk and place it to the corner of him. A switch of a button and it glows. You catch him then, glancing just once at it before continuing his work. The lights reflect in his glasses.

You tidy up a few spots and ribbons that shifted from transfer and then step back to admire. You’re satisfied. You don’t bother saying goodbye, he’s immersed enough as is and you’d rather refrain from unnecessary interaction with the heatmiser.

You smooth your skirt as you make your way out, ribbons bouncing on your locks. The door shuts behind you, you’re safe again.

The tiles squeak as your boots kiss them, gathering your bag and phone— you get ready to leave. Near the stairs and then— oh, right. You forgot to unplug the tree.

You know well how much of a disaster it would be if you set the floor on fire. With a huff, you make your way back and check the moisture with two fingers. All is well. You bend over and unplug the golden shimmer to make the top floor even darker, hearing the oak door shut swiftly as you do. It makes you jump.

Just when you almost missed him.

His steps are heavy… heavier than usual. Quicker too.

He must be tired, anxious for his bed. He’s filthy rich. He probably has the biggest bed with dozens of pillows and the softest of sheets. You wish your bed was like that…

You turn.

Maybe one day you’ll have a bed just as— oh!

Two hands case you up against the wall beside your ribbon tree, and all you see in front of you is that look.

That. Look.

It’s back.

Monstrous, horrifying, furious with you.

The darkness, the redness in his eyes is clearer now. The veins in his neck and the tension in his shoulders and jaw.

He raises his hand, you flinch by habit. Grasped tightly in it is the picture, except now— the glass has been shattered and it’s cutting into his palms. Your eyes widen, hands reaching out to help him. He pulls his palm back before you can, moving his head so that his eyes are staring directly into yours.

That look.

You chill.

“¿Qué carajo es esto!? Huh!? Tell me!” He growls, voice guttural, loud, horrifying— and it is then that you realize now more than ever that you truly are the mouse. And he? He’s the serpent.

With a grunt, he throws the glass ornament with his smiling, pretty girl across the room. It shatters even more once the wall finds it. He cases you in again, and you know now just how trapped you truly are. Just you and him on this lonely floor. He’s angry. You’re shaking.

You’ve seen this anger before. In her… in Katerina.

A gulp, maybe you’re a fish because your mouth bobs open far too many times to explain and yet you can’t. speak. The words catch themselves on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes can’t take it, they fall shut as you slow your breathing. There’s panic on the horizon. Memories so familiar to this flood back like an ocean of poison in your mind.

His index and thumb move to grip your chin, so angry and yet his grip is only firm, not painful. He tugs your face enough so that your eyes shoot open again.

“Did I tell you to do this?” His voice, perhaps it’s scarier now. It’s dark, low, composed like a cap on shaken pop.

“You knew better, girl! You knew better!” Her voice now… Katerina’s. Echoing in your head.

You’re suffocating, the air around you is too thin. You can’t breathe, you can’t look at those eyes.

No, no no. You’re panicking. His features blur as tears pool in your sight. He tugs your chin again, they fall onto his fingertips.

“You already forgot my rules, huh? You stupid, stupid girl…” he spits.

“You ungrateful, stupid girl.” She screams against your skull.

“I told you to keep it that way, didn’t I? Díos mio! What’s the matter with you?” He’s exasperated. He’s asking, eyes commanding an answer from you. You don’t know.

What is the matter with you?

Like the mythology of Rogue, it’s like everything you touch withers by your hand.

After everything Katerina gave you… after he took a chance letting you work here.

Your throat constricts as you gaze into the serpent’s eyes. Your heart is a hummingbird’s then, fighting so hard to fill that clouded brain with oxygen. You’re dizzy. You’re remembering.

You can’t. You need to move you need—

You can’t stop yourself, hand shooting up to dig your nails into the skin of his wrist. His eyes shoot toward the spot and he hisses, pulling it back. You take the chance to escape.

Under his arm and you stumble forward, hugging your midsection with a gasp, desperate for a lick of oxygen to bless your burning lungs.

A sob takes over you, but a close of your eyes and a quick inhale of the firewood and coffee that intoxicates you and you remember just where you are. You’re in his office. You’re not with her. You’re here. You’re here and you don’t want to be, anymore.

No, no not with him. Not after this. All of it, all of him. It’s too much, it’s too far. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve home either but at least there you can save up and flee…

You’re so panicked, all your mind can do is run over the many ways you’re going to call home through the flashing images of her. Images of Katerina bloom like ivy in your mind as you plan out your next steps. You feel glued in place yet so desperate to leave.

You glance at the broken glass and jagged smile of the ghost girl, jumping when the warmth of his palm greets your shoulder.

“Mirame, look at me.” He commands, but softly. Rather, softer than usual.

You feel pathetic yet still, your hand shoots up to push his own away from behind you.

You’ve had enough.

You buried the devil in your past. Your life is far too valuable to dance with another one.

You’d rather be cased up at home forever, working a job around family that think of you as nothing more than scum than be around him for a day longer.

You know, now…

“I quit.” You force out through another sob, not daring to turn and face him. You’re hunched over, shaky and weak. On the verge of suffocating completely. You wipe at your eyes and don’t hear another sound from him before you snatch your bag and phone and practically run to the stairwell.

Two steps at a time, maybe three before December’s chill kisses you in icy greeting. You don’t need to whistle for a cab to brake. In you go, familiar as you’ve done this twice now because of him.

Only this time? You’ll never come back again…

🏷️ ‘s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield | chap 6 song 🎧:

[judesmoonbeauty]

2024 Villain’s Festival: Jude Jazza Bonus Story Part 2 ♛

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. *I don't know what happened today, but I was exhausted and for some reason, part 2 was extremely difficult to translate. I had to edit the entire thing three times, so I apologize if the translation isn't as smooth as it could be. But I hope you still enjoy our sadistic fairy in part 2 ♥︎

In the meantime, Jude and I decided to have breakfast, so we visited a nearby park.

I sit down on the grass with a good view and take a bite of the bread that was just handed to me.

Kate: Mm….delicious!

Kate: The bread served at Crown Castle is good, but I like the buttery flavor of the bread here!

Jude: Well, good for ya.

Kate: By the way, Jude, you know a lot about the bread I like, don’t you?

Jude: It's a basic part of business to learn people's tastes and preferences. Ya were just in my head because ya were being so loud.

Jude: Instead, there's no hope for ya, I'll take ya around on my own today.

(Jude is willing to spend time with me, even if it's for money.)

Jude would be able to forcefully take the necklace from me.

But instead of doing that, he is following the rules and trying to steal my heart.

(Jude is a man who keeps his promises, no matter what they are.)

Kate: Jude, I'm going to make some  conditions for you to take my heart.

Jude: Conditions? You're so high and mighty, tellin’ people what to do. Since when did ya become such a big woman?

Kate: Because the heart is invisible, so I think it's better to have some kind of clear goal.

Jude: Tell me.

Kate: Food that I will never forget, food that I’ll truly enjoy, and will want to continue to eat. 

Jude: Find this…….

Jude: That’s too many conditions.

Kate: Because with fewer requirements, you would find them too quickly Jude.

Jude: Tch…..Let’s go.

From then until sunset, Jude took me around to various shops.

Jude: Oi…. You've got to stop this. Why can’t I pass the review?

Kate: Jude, It's true that the food at the restaurant you introduced me to is delicious, right?

Kate: However, if you ask me if I would go there myself, I would say...

The shop Jude introduced me to has slightly higher prices than the shops I usually go to.

Of course, the taste is guaranteed to be worth the price, but it's difficult to buy it myself so often.

(However, since he spent so much time introducing various things, I guess it would be better to let him pass the review...)

(It's already late and I'm getting full from eating so much...)

Kate: Jude, thank you for your time today.

Kate: Well, as a thank you for keeping me company all day, I'd like to give you the necklace... ....

Jude: That’s different from the first condition. There's no point in acceptin’ it like that.

Surprisingly, Jude did not accept my necklace.

Jude is very rule-abiding and disciplined.

(But I'd like to give something back…..)

(….that’s it.)

Kate: Jude, we've been walking a lot, so why not have something cold to eat at the end? My treat. 

I told Jude to wait for me and bought some ice cream from the street corner.

Kate: It's much cheaper than the food that you introduced me to today Jude, but...

I handed one to Jude, who accepted it without a word.

Kate: Hm…delicious! After a long day of walking, something cold and sweet hits the spot. 

Jude: Well, that's about right.

When I was looked at Jude from the side, our gazes collided with each other.

Jude: Isn't it bad manners to stare at other people eatin’?

Kate: Because I was so happy to see your ‘it’s delicious face’ that I just couldn't resist, Jude.

Kate: It's cheap and easy to buy, so you can eat it like this over and over again.

Kate: Next time I eat it, I will surely remember today!

Jude: You're such a long-winded princess, aren'tcha?

Kate: What?

Jude: The conditions have been met.

I didn't mean to say much, but Jude chuckled.

Jude: Food that you’ll never forget, food that you’ll truly enjoy, and will want to continue to eat.

Jude: I've met all three. I wasn't told it was my job to find them.

Kate: Haha…

Jude: There's nothin’ to laugh at.

Kate: When we first met today, Jude had changed the way he spoke, and I felt very uncomfortable.

Kate: Just….I'm so relieved to see that you're your usual self Jude.

Victor declared, "The supreme evil that steals her heart will be the winner.”

The title of the greatest evil is worthy of the current Jude, who never gave up on winning until the very end.

Kate: Please. It's the necklace I promised you.

Jude: Hah....... I can't believe it took me this long to get here, I didn't attack this right the first time.

Jude: Ya weren't satisfied with the kind young man you see in romance novels.

Jude: You'll be happy if I torture ya like I always do, won’tcha?

Kate: That’s an improper expression!

Jude: There's no such thing as an improper expression, is there Princess?

Kate: It’s differ….

I hastily swallow the denial that almost leaves my mouth.

(Because if I deny Jude's words now.….)

(……I was satisfied, not because I like to be tortured)

(I liked Jude as he was, not as a nice young man.)

Jude: I knew it.

Mr. Jude throws a ridiculing look at me as I remain silent.

I gave my heart to an arrogant fairy who shot me with his gaze.

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