#his fucking hair in the third pic and the GLASSES

[tonystarchive]

No, because you guys don't understand, there's no one I love as much as him:

Except for him:

And I mean that with my chest.

#robert downey jr #rdj #young rdj #his fucking hair in the third pic and the GLASSES #he's ruined any potential of finding love for me #no one compares #I can't believe they're the same person #I have too much love for both #iron man

[jarofstyles]

hey lovely, don't wanna bother u bc you specifically put ceo but those harry pics are making me think dad's friend! harry. like maybe he is married or not. just... dirty thoughts. he is looking very very dilfy.

ACTUALLY UR CORRECT because it does also give that vibe…. So I got a bit out of hand and made it filthy.

Patreon

Warnings- age gap, daddy kink, teasing, bratty y/n, name calling/ degrading… it’s dirty but if u want more I’ll definitely continue lol

——

It was always the things she shouldn’t want. Chocolate after midnight, peeking in on Christmas gifts, looking over someone’s shoulder as they texted. Y/N knew she had a taste for things that should not be- but she had definitely taken the cake when it came to the man sitting next to her at the dinner table.

In all fairness, she hadn’t been the only one looking. It was his gaze on her legs that she noticed the first night they were introduced that she had her interest peaked, but it had been nearly impossible for her to leave it alone. Not when he was such a staple in the family dinners they had, the parties her parents threw, hell- he had even joined them at the very lake house they were at now. It was indeed Harry’s lake house that he had offered up for them to use for their annual summer vacation, her father gratefully taking the opportunity. He was just blind to the reason why.

Fucking your father’s best friend was probably one of the worst things you could do, but when they looked like Harry? She doubted many people could blame her. She’d always been into older men and seeing one as successful and charming as the man to her left, it wasn’t hard to give into the temptation. There was guilt there, of course. There was always the knowledge that this wasn’t exactly right and it would hurt feelings. But she wanted to be selfish for once.

The first time they’d said it was one and done. Get it out of their system. The second time they’d called it a mistake. The third they’d blamed alcohol and a wedding. By the forth they’d stopped making excuses. Now she knew the man’s tattoos, knew the spot on his neck he liked to be kissed, she knew his favorite position to fuck her in and that he had the most talented tongue she had ever experienced. She was becoming an expert in all things Harry right under the nose of her parents, who saw him as their great friend.

Her fingers ran over his thigh as he spoke, calm as ever while he sipped his bourbon. He didn’t spare her a glance as they trailed to the inner thigh, her other hand bringing the wine glass to her mouth and her tongue being greeted by the tart bite of the notes in the blend. Harry had gotten this with her in mind, she was positive. Not too sweet.

They were talking about something she, quite frankly, didn’t give a fuck about. They were in two different businesses but somehow found some way to talk about stocks or something like that. Y/N didn’t particularly care as long as Harry kept giving her cute little gifts like the diamond tennis bracelet he’d brought her when they first arrived and he snuck her into his bedroom.

They weren’t alone on this vacation- their little friend group of a few men and their wives and grown kids were at the table too, but her focus was on Harry. His rolled up sleeves and hair freshly cut, cropped close tot he sides and growing a bit longer at the top. A perfect amount to run her fingers through.

She knew she was getting into trouble when her fingers brushed his semi hard prick laying under his trousers, a smirk kicking up the side of her mouth. He gripped his glass a bit tighter, eyes cutting to the side discreetly to give her a look. Y/N didn’t move her hand, instead running her fingertips over the bulge and pretending to be engaged in the conversation.

Of course she was going to pay for this. But the rush made her even more wet. Doing this in front of people, being bratty because she wanted his dick inside of her two fucking hours ago and this dinner was dragging on, she was aiming for him to give in. Her ass would be sore tomorrow but she would love each stinging slap and yank of her hair.

“Cut it out.” He mumbled, hiding his lips with the glass. The words were quiet enough, just for them. The conversation continued around them and no one was the wiser, oblivious to the hand palming over the older man’s cock under the tablecloth.

“Make me, Daddy.” Her soft whisper purred, eyes glittering with mischief. She’d signed her own punishment papers there, watching his own gaze darken before shooting back the rest of the drink that was meant to be sipped and savored. Giddiness shot ip her spine as he ripped her hand off, stretching slightly in his chair before saying he needed to call it a night. There was the unspoken promise that laid under his words, the secret message in his tone that meant for her to follow.

It didn’t take her long to scurry up the stairs and find the master bedroom, slipping inside the dimly lit room- only to be grabbed roughly from behind, a gasp leaving her lips as she was pressed against the door. The click of the lock was quiet, his labored breathing against her ear making her grin widely as his cock pressed into her ass. “You just had to be a fucking brat, didn’t you?” He growled, wrapping her hair around his fist and tugging back so she arched into him. “Gagging for it that much, touching me right in front of your family?” Lips ghosted her neck, making her shudder as the sting in her scalp made her whimper. This was exactly what she wanted, what she deserved. “Dirty whore. Fucking cockslut.”

The degrading words were spit in a way that would make the normal girl want to tear up, but Y/N knew she was exactly what he described. She was a cockslut just for him. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?” The slightly delirious giggle left her as if she wasn’t about to be fucked brainless, but she loved every fucking second of this. Harry didn’t treat her like a little girl. He treated her like a woman, gave her the things she needed. He fucked like a real man should, something she knew no one else could replicate for her. “Are you going to fuck me with them just a few doors down? Don’t think you’re going to make me scream loud enough to get caught…” her mouth dropped as she felt his teeth graze her throat, wishing he could bite down. Not here, not when she had to wear her summer dresses and tank tops.

“No. I’m going to shut you up.” Y/N didn’t have a chance to react before fingers were shoved into her mouth. The two long digits hooking over her teeth, prying her mouth open as she whined, feeling him grind his thickening cock over her ass. She had wanted this so badly, the neediness of her weepy pussy only reacting to him. Her own fingers never did it justice. He’d ruined her in ways she hadn’t expected to ever be ruined, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. “You aren’t going to make a fucking sound unless you want your father to know how disgusting you are. Like to call me Daddy with my cock pounding your perfect little holes.” He hissed, breath washing over her ear as he pressed her further into the door. “So you’re going to shut the fuck up and lift that pathetic excuse of a dress up so I can slip into the sloppy cunt and make sure you keep your hands to yourself tomorrow.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #dilfrry #dads best friend #dads best friend harry styles #dads best friend Harry #dbf!harry #harry styles au #harry styles smut writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry angst #harry smut #harry fluff #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry blurbs

[tigertales9]

Good Clean Fun

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: You accompany Joe to the Hamptons for the white party

Time/Place: July 3, 2023 - the Hamptons, NY

A/N: I wrote this just after the white party pics dropped, but I'm still not sure about it. 😬 I've tweaked it to pieces and finally decided to just offer it up. Hope y'all like it.

Inspo pic: (one of many)

Pic source = white party hotness

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You jolt awake at the sound of your phone ringing, fumbling to grab it off the bedside table. "Hey," you whisper.

"Hey," Joe says. "What are you doing?"

"Just laying in bed … thinking about you," you answer nonchalantly, not wanting to admit you were asleep. "How's the party going?"

"It's … fine," he mutters. "I wish I was there with you."

"Me too, babe."

"I'm thinking about leaving early."

You check the clock on the bedside table. "Better stick it out for at least another hour," you advise, smiling when he heaves a sigh. "I know it's not your scene, but you need to do this, okay?"

"Are you gonna be awake when I get back?" he asks, the pouty tone in his voice causing you to smile even bigger.

"Of course. Shoot me a text when you leave and I'll be waiting for you at the front door."

"Promise?"

"I promise," you chuckle. "Now get back out there and mingle," you order, laughing at his dramatic groan.

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbles. "Love you."

"Love you, too," you echo.

You set your phone down and look around the elegant but unfamiliar bedroom. Joe had begged you to come with him to the Hamptons even though you weren't invited to the white party. Y'all had flown up the day before on a private jet, quickly settling into your Airbnb before ordering a dinner delivery of salmon piccata pasta, caesar salad and garlic bread. Joe had uncorked a bottle of crisp sauvignon blanc, and y'all had enjoyed your meal while watching an amazing sunset from your upstairs balcony.

You smile to yourself thinking about what happened after dinner; you and Joe tangled together on the plush bed, him getting you off twice with his fingers and tongue before putting your legs over his shoulders and fucking you slow and deep, his big hands teasing your breasts and clit in a way that had you writhing beneath him, your third climax of the night hitting so hard you actually saw stars.

You bite your lip at the intense memory as you flop back against a pile of fluffy pillows, heaving a sigh as you look around the tastefully decorated bedroom. The Airbnb is a few miles away from Billionaire Lane where the white party is taking place, but even though it's more modest than those monuments to conspicuous consumption, it still has amazing views, a super comfy king-sized bed, and a huge shower with a built-in bench and several different water features.

You giggle when you think about the shower; you had a little solo fun in there earlier after a couple glasses of wine and a couple pics of your man at the white party looking like a walking orgasm got you worked up. "Sexy motherfucker," you mutter to yourself, still smiling at the naughty memory when your phone chimes; you read the text from Joe before sending a quick reply.

"Thirty minutes is not exactly an hour, Joseph Lee," you giggle to yourself, "but okay." You place your phone on the bedside table before easing off the bed and walking into the en suite bathroom to check your reflection in the mirror. You're wearing a short silk robe the color of pale seafoam green and a lace thong to match. Your face is devoid of makeup and your long wavy hair is in a messy bun on top of your head; you briefly consider fixing it before giving a shrug. "Fuck it," you mutter, walking downstairs just in time to see a car pull into the driveway. You watch through a front window as Joe climbs out of the backseat of the car and ambles up the sidewalk, his slightly unsteady, long-legged stride making you smile as you swing the front door open.

"Hey," you purr, staying mostly hidden behind the door as the car reverses out of the driveway and drives off into the warm, humid night.

"Hey," he mutters, giving you a lopsided smile as you close the door behind him. "You look gorgeous," he says, reaching a hand out to finger your slinky robe as you raise an eyebrow in response. "And you look drunk as fuck," you chuckle, pulling him into a tight hug. "Did you have a good time?" you ask, inhaling his pungent aroma of sweat, vodka and a hint of weed.

"Not really," he pouts, "and I'm not drunk. I'm just a little buzzed," he argues. "Just a little crossfaded," you retort. "Maybe a little," he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when you pull back and look up at him. "But I'm mostly just tired as hell," he continues. "I couldn't relax the entire time I was there because I felt like an animal on display at the zoo. I mean, it was fun to catch up with the guys, but then there were these random peeps who kept staring at me, taking pics and vids." He makes a stank face before continuing. "Some of them even tried to talk to me," he shudders. "Weird as fuck."

"Awww, you must be so exhausted," you murmur sympathetically, pulling him into another tight hug. "I am," he sighs, burying his face in your neck as you reach under his shirt and scratch his back through his thin tank top. "Poor baby," you coo. "It's a lot of work dodging all that pussy being thrown at you. No wonder you're tired."

He leans back and looks down at you, narrowing his eyes at the bratty look on your face. "For a second I actually thought you felt sorry for me," he grumbles, trying hard not to smile when you roll your eyes. You stick your tongue out at him just as his stomach gives a loud growl. "Did you eat anything at the party?" you ask, shaking your head when he lists a few appetizers. "That's not nearly enough," you state, grabbing his hand and leading him into the kitchen. "Good thing I got you a lobster roll when I ordered mine earlier."

"Oh yum!" he chirps, placing his phone and sunglasses on the kitchen island before shrugging his "crochet" shirt off and tossing it over a barstool; he hurries to the kitchen sink and washes his hands, giving you an almost giddy smile as he plops down in another barstool, his entire demeanor perking up at the thought of delicious food.

You preheat the toaster oven before pulling a fluffy split-top roll out of a paper bag; you quickly slather butter on the roll before popping it into the oven to crisp up, throwing him a smile over your shoulder while opening the fridge. "I got it deconstructed so it wouldn't get soggy," you say, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and sliding it across the counter to him. "It'll be ready in just a few minutes."

"Thanks, babe," he sighs, twisting the cap off and guzzling most of the bottle in about five seconds, a tiny drop of water escaping one corner of his mouth to casually slide down the long, sexy column of his throat. You watch the downward progress of the runaway water droplet like your life depends on it, biting your lip when he finally wipes it away just before it reaches his collarbone. Your gaze lingers on his broad shoulders, muscular chest and sculpted arms, the skimpy tank top and smiley face necklace he's wearing showcasing those impressive attributes in a way that makes your mouth water.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, giving you a loaded look when you meet his gaze.

~ DING ~

You jump as the timer on the oven goes off, shaking your head as you place the warm roll on a plate before grabbing the container of lobster salad out of the fridge. "I'm thinking I need to get this food in your belly," you mutter, smiling when Joe groans as he watches you pile an obscene amount of lobster onto the crispy roll before setting the plate in front of him.

"You're so good to me," he mutters, taking a huge bite of the roll as you hand him a bag of kettle chips and another bottle of water. "SO good," he repeats, his eyes rolling back in his head as he devours another bite. "I didn't realize I was so hungry," he mumbles, holding a big hand in front of his mouth as he speaks so as not to show you his half-chewed food.

You walk behind him and scratch his back as he continues to scarf his food, grinning when he pulls his tank top off to give you better access. You continue to scratch his bare back just the way he likes, your pulse reacting to the sex-type noises spilling from his pretty lips. "Feel good?" you ask, sliding one hand up the nape of his neck into his sweaty curls, his low-throated moan making you want to pull his hair and have your way with him. You ponder that naughty thought for a second until your pragmatic inner voice reminds you he needs food and sleep more than sex since y'all have a fairly early flight out tomorrow morning.

"Feels amazing," he groans after swallowing his last bite of lobster roll.

You give his back a final scratch before grabbing his empty plate and walking to the sink. "I got you some dessert, too," you say, quickly rinsing the plate and washing your hands before reaching into the delivery bag to pull out a small package. "I hope that's a euphemism for sex," he purrs, giving you a dirty wink when you cut your eyes at him. "These are better than sex" you state, placing a napkin in front of him before setting two peanut butter chocolate chip cookies on it.

He raises one eyebrow before taking a huge bite of cookie. After chewing and swallowing he narrows his eyes at you. "These are delicious, but they're not better than sex. Not even close."

"I was just teasing," you chuckle, watching in amusement as he crams the rest of the first cookie in his mouth before reaching for the second. "If you think these are better than sex then I really need to up my game," he grumbles, polishing off the final cookie while giving you a pouty grimace.

"I said I was teasing, grumpy cat," you giggle, reaching forward to wipe cookie crumbs off of his lips while he continues to faux-glower at you. "If you upped your game you'd give me a stroke." You flick his pouty bottom lip a couple times until he smiles. "Anyway," you continue, "quit thinking about sex. You need a shower and sleep since we have an early-ish flight tomorrow."

He makes a face before speaking. "I'm almost too tired to take a shower, but I know I need one since I feel grimy." He lifts an arm and gives his armpit a hearty sniff. "I smell like b.o. and vodka."

"And weed," you interject, chuckling when he wrinkles his pert nose at you. "C'mon," you urge. "I'll help you shower since you're so wrung out."

He follows you upstairs into the en suite bathroom, leaning against the wall as you turn the shower on to heat up. You squeeze toothpaste onto both of your toothbrushes before handing him his, keeping a close eye on him while you brush to make sure he doesn't fall asleep on his feet.

When you finish brushing you strip naked before helping him do the same, ushering him into the steamy shower and immediately ordering him to sit on the built-in bench while you angle all of the water jets to your liking. You grab the handheld shower head, quickly switching the setting from pulsate to rainfall before wetting him down head to toe, stepping in between his spread thighs as he slumps back against the tile wall and groans at the feel of the warm water cascading over him.

"Let's wash your hair first," you murmur, placing the shower head back in its holder before squeezing some shampoo in your palm. You rub your hands together before sliding them into his wet hair, thoroughly lathering the drenched strands while he ogles your bare chest.

"Close your eyes and keep 'em closed, please," you state.

"How am I supposed to keep my eyes closed when your tits are jiggling in my face?"

"You wanna get shampoo in your eyes?"

"No."

"Then keep 'em closed."

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbles, squeezing his eyes closed as you step a little closer, dropping a quick kiss on his wet forehead before massaging his scalp. "Feels good," he groans, sucking his plump bottom lip into his mouth as you grind the pads of your fingers against his temples, slowly working your way down the nape of his neck before reversing course. You smile at the look on his face as you grab the shower head. "I'm about to rinse so keep your eyes closed tight."

"Okay."

You thoroughly rinse his hair then grab his tube of face cleanser. "Hold a hand out for some face cleanser," you order, squeezing some gel onto his palm and waiting for him to lather up his face before rinsing again. He wipes the water off of his face and slicks his hair back as you reach for his shower pouf and wet it down, squeezing a generous dollop of his fav body wash on it before getting down to business.

You get him to lean forward so you can reach his back then move to his shoulders, working the foamy lather down each muscular arm all the way to his fingertips, pushing his wristbands up to clean underneath before moving to his chest; you grin when he squirms a bit as you tease his nipples with the frilly sponge, urging him to lift both arms so you can scrub his pits before continuing down his torso.

You bypass his crotch, ignoring the fact that he's semi-erect as you lather up his long legs, upper thigh to ankle. "You better do your feet," you giggle, knowing you could easily catch a foot upside the head if you accidentally tickle him. "Got it," he mumbles, quickly scrubbing his feet before handing the sponge back to you.

You rinse the pouf and apply more body wash, dropping to your knees between his spread legs before matter-of-factly soaping up his dick, still ignoring the fact that it's getting stiffer by the second as you slide the mesh sponge down over his balls and between his cheeks. He scoots a bit lower on the bench to give you better access and you slide two soapy fingers just behind his balls, biting your lip when he moans low in his throat as you massage the sensitive skin, reaching farther back to ghost your slick fingers over his hole a few times before grabbing the shower head to rinse him off. You give him a thorough rinse starting at his shoulders and working your way down, your mouth watering at the sight of his fully-erect cock laying against his glistening abs.

You eventually place the shower head back in its holder and position yourself on your knees between Joe's legs, dropping open-mouthed kisses from knee to groin, leaving love bites where his ample ass meets the top of his muscular thighs. He gives a grunt of approval and cups one big hand behind the nape of your neck as you lightly suck his balls while ghosting your fingertips over his impressive erection, teasing him for a few minutes before sliding your tongue farther back, tickling his hole with your tongue while slowly pumping his cock.

"Woman, if you keep that up I'm gonna cum in ten seconds," he grits out.

"Is that good or bad?"

"I wanna cum," he gives you a naughty smile, "but not in ten seconds."

"Okay, I'll ease up," you chuckle, his well-defined abs tensing under your fingers as you slide your hands up his torso, teasing his nipples while sucking your plump bottom lip into your mouth, giving him a filthy grin before lowering your head.

You hold eye contact with him as you flatten your tongue against the base of his cock and slowly drag it up, tracing a prominent vein all the way up before lapping at the precum on his tip; you feel his hand tighten on the back of your neck as you take him deep s-l-o-w-l-y, feeling every vein on his cock as you start to bob your head; you go deep enough to choke on him a few times, knowing he loves it even if he's too much of a gentleman to push your head down himself.

"Yeah, baby, just like that," he groans, squirming underneath you as you continue your sensual onslaught, dropping a hand down to play with his balls before sliding it farther back to tease his hole. "Don't stop!" he grits out, his throaty groans magnified by the acoustics of the shower enclosure as you follow orders, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continue to deep throat him.

When you feel the first spurt of his climax hit the back of your throat you quickly pull off and take the rest of his load on your face, using your free hand to milk every last drop out of him. "Fuck!" he grunts, his head dropping back against the tile with a thud as he watches you slide your tongue out to lick his creamy essence off of your lips. "So fuckin' hot," he mutters, panting hard as he continues to watch you through half-mast eyelids.

You wait a few minutes before speaking. "Did you like that?" you ask, playing with his slowy-softening erection as he catches his breath.

"I loved it." He gives you a blissed-out grin as you reach for the shower head, quickly rinsing your face and hands before turning it on him to give him a final rinse.

"Good. Let's get you dried off and tucked into bed."

"Lemme get you off first."

"You can return the favor tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." You step out of the shower and grab a fluffy towel, handing it to him as he steps out behind you. "You want some undies?" you ask while drying yourself off, stepping into a pair of panties as he half-ass dries himself. "Gimme that," you chuckle, taking the towel from him and vigorously finishing the job. "No undies," he mumbles, walking into the bedroom and faceplanting onto the bed. You laugh to yourself as you crawl into bed beside him. "Goodnight," you whisper. "Night," he croaks, his voice muffled by the pillow.

After several minutes of silence, he speaks up again. "You still awake?"

"Yeah."

He turns to face you. "I feel like I left you hanging," he says, punctuating this statement with a huge yawn. "Lemme get you off."

"I'm good, babe, seriously. I'm kinda tired, plus I had a little solo fun earlier with that handheld shower head."

He perks up at the mention of you pleasuring yourself. "Tell me more," he orders while scooting closer, his expression a little hard to read in the dim lighting.

"You know how our handheld shower head at home only has two settings?"

"Yeah."

"Well this one has a few extra settings." You give him a naughty smile before continuing. "One of them is pulsate."

"Ohhh, sounds interesting. So you got yourself off with it?"

"Mmm-hmm. I got worked up looking at pics of you so I decided to relieve the pressure."

"That's hot," he purrs. "Why didn't you do a repeat performance just now when we were in the shower together?"

"Because you were half asleep," you state, smiling when he tries to stifle another huge yawn.

"I would've instantly been wide awake if you started going at it with the pulsating shower head," he grumbles.

"Exactly. That's why I didn't do it." You give him a quick kiss before rolling onto your side, facing away from him. "Go to sleep, horndog. Our car will be here to pick us up at 10:00 am."

"Did you set an alarm?"

"Yeah. We'll have just enough time to get dressed and pack our shit before the car gets here."

"Can you set it for forty minutes earlier? Pretty sure we're gonna need a looong shower before we leave for the airport."

"Are you serious?" you ask, rolling back over to try and read his expression.

"I'm dead serious," he mutters, giving you a sleepy smile when you grab your phone off the bedside table to reset your alarm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You do a final walk-thru of the bedroom and bathroom, making sure y'all haven't left anything before heading downstairs. You check your watch as you walk into the kitchen -- 9:49 am -- giving Joe a smile as he places your bags by the front door.

"Good thing we're in an Airbnb and not a hotel," he states, winking at you when you raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because that loud ass scream you let out in the shower would have folks calling 911 if they heard it," he teases, pulling you into a hug when you roll your eyes at him. "Did you scream that loud when you went solo with the pulsating shower head?" he whispers against your ear.

"I didn't scream at all when I went solo."

"So it was better with me?"

"Of course it was better with you," you scoff, leaning back to give him a 'boy please' look. "Your fingers, tongue and this," you give his cock a gentle squeeze through his slinky shorts, "were the stars of the show. The shower head was fun, but you're always the main event."

"Glad to hear it," he gloats, giving you a smug smile while reaching into a pocket to grab his phone. He quickly pulls something up before showing you his screen. "I ordered a pulsating shower head for you," he grins, giving a dirty chuckle when your eyes go wide. "You didn't have to do that," you demur, secretly thrilled that he did. "You know I'm always looking for new ways to make you scream," he purrs, sliding his tongue into your mouth when you pull him down for a kiss.

Several heartbeats later a car horn honks in the driveway, signaling the arrival of your ride to the airport. "I'll thank you later, daddy," you whisper against his slick lips, giggling when he playfully swats your ass.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 1

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: someone said August.

Part of The Club AU

It's retro night. You're looking bomb, feeling fly, ready to get groovy. In a manner of speaking. Platforms, short skirt, a crop top with a faux fur bolero. You are channeling your inner Cher Horowitz.

It's your nineteenth birthday and you can drink your ass off. At last. It's your time. The best days of your life are ahead of you.

Not only are you vibing, you have your posse, your trio of thots. You're not the queen bee but you're a great sidekick. The Regina George of the group is definitely Amanda and her svelte blond hair, but you'd say Kamlai is more the Gretchen Wieners than you.

You smile at the bouncer, a man with a derisive look on his eye that makes you want to dissolve into sand or dust. Whatever. Maybe a nice eerie fog so you can float away. You only catch half his face as he keeps in the shadows, waving in coeds and a few middle-aged creepers.

You wish you got the nice one with the belly. You wait for the silent man to scowl at your ID. He holds it up beside you before he flicks it back to you.

"Thank you, sir," you catch the plastic card against your chest, his eye glinting towards your cleavage.

"Go," he growls and waves forward the next eager club goer.

"Oop, okay, sorry," you make a gesture like Betty Boop, raising your shoulders as you kick a foot up, "have a great night!"

He grumbles and you quickly run to catch up with Kam and Amanda. The pulsing music embraces you and you feel the energy flow into you. This night is gonna be awesome!

"You guys have to make sure to get pics of me!" Amanda hollers above the beat, "with the cutest guy I can find. Seth can eat his heart out."

You shake your head, shrugging off your disappointment. It's supposed to be your day but somehow Amanda always finds her way into the spotlight. You're not going to worry, you're all about fun!

You get your first round of drinks and find a seat. Amanda drinks her pink martini as she scopes out the room. She blows a nonplussed raspberry.

"Ugh, not finding any hunky fuckboys," she rolls her eyes, "I mean, I need someone super fucking hot."

"Don't we all," Kam giggles as her eyes rove, "how about an older guy?"

"Hm?" Amanda gives a pout and twists around to follow Kamlai's gaze. She tilts her head back and forth.

"Not too bad, I'll take the middle one," she winks, "you two can fight over who doesn't get specs."

You look at Kam then back to the three men along the wall. Amanda must be referring to the one with the spiky hair and glasses. He's cute but you're not really into the leering type.

"It's my birthday," you say as Amanda's already on her feet.

You peek at the third guy, sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He's not bad. Besides, you just have to dance, Amanda can do all the wants but you're not that kinda gal. You're too damn weird to be the hookup type.

"Fine," Kam rolls her eyes, "I'll take the nerd."

🥂

You grab the stranger's hands and once more drag them off your ass. You put them on your waist and give him a look. Dude, really, take a hint.

Well, he's not a stranger stranger. His name is Cole and he likes flowers. Adorable but still, a bit too old for you.

You turn, an excuse too look around at your friends as you shimmy your hips. Kam isn't as detered as she originally let on and Amanda is gone. Alright…

"How about a drink?" Cole startles you as he leans forward to yell in your ear, "I think I owe the birthday girl at least one."

"Oh, uh, alright," you turn back to him, "sure, I needa sit down anyway."

You follow him to the bar and wait by his arm as he orders. Fuck Amanda, really? Where is she?

"Here," Cole turns back to you, handing over the bright blue cocktail, "birthday special."

You nod and smile. You look at the slice of orange hooked over the edge and sniff the sweet drink. You put your lips to the straw but before you can take a sip, it's torn out of your grasp.

"Hey fucker," the snarl bites through the breakdown of the Cyndi Lauper classic.

A large figure pushes between you and Cole, throwing the drink in his face as he sputters. You gape in surprise and look up as the bouncer stands between you and your erstwhile dance partner. He grabs the smaller man by the collar, knocking his drink to the floor.

"Get the fuck outta here."

The bouncer shoves Cole into a stool and rolls his shoulders. You have no idea what's going on. Cole gulps and looks between you and the large man, himself not by any means small but taking a quick hint. He scrabbles away as you check your feet, a few drops of alcohol on your shoes.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take drinks from strangers," the bouncer turns with a bark, "fucking bimbo."

You frown at the insult but can't muster a response before he storms away. You peer down at the puddle of the cocktail then spin to see the bouncer disappear through the door. Huh, he must've seen something you didn't. You should've known Cole was a creep. You just hope his friends aren't the same.

#august walker x reader #august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #drabble #series #black light #au #mission impossible: fallout

[ughgoaway]

matty being sick last night has me thinking so many thoughts ab teacher reader x sick dad matty.

my first thought was a scenario after you've both admitted your feelings but aren't official. perhaps you've been on like 2 dates and clearly want a relationship, but no one has admitted it lol

it's the day of your third official date, and you're all ready. But you get a text from matty saying something like, "I'm so sorry, darling, but I have to cancel our date tonight. I've been trying to push through, but I'm pretty sick - reschedule as soon as I'm better?"

of course, you're immediately like :(((( but you send a sweet message saying, "Of course, feel better soon xx"

then I imagine it's a little later andmatty sends a pic of him cuddled up in bed surrounding by tissues and medicine, "wishing I could be with you right now, sweetheart. I'm sick of lemsip and bad reality tv :("

you decide then and there to go over with supplies, you make homemade soup and go to tesco to stock up on every medicine possible. paracetamol, ibuprofen, cough medicine, cough sweets, headache relief - anything that might help.

when matty answers the door, you can feel your heart shatter just a tiny bit. He's in his robe with a tissue in his hand and heavy eyes. they're red rimmed and puffy, his nose is pink, and his hair is a mess. he's even got his glasses on, something that you make a mental note to ask him about when he's better.

("Since when do you wear glasses???" "I've had them for years but I never wear them, it's not very rock and roll of me" "mmm I think you look good, hot professor vibes" matty is just 👀 "role play???")

he's fucking MORTIFIED bc why does he look like this in front of you?? oh god??? he says "y/n! ohmygod! hi! I'm so sorry I look like this i-" and he's furiously trying to flatten his curls and look vaguely human.

you calm him and come in. He's all bashful and embarrassed that you've made him soup and got medication, trying to insit he's fine.

you stare at him and put your hand on his forhead as he tries to argue he's okay, "Matthew. you've got a fever, and you don't look like you've had proper food in days. go sit down on the sofa and let me look after you! don't make me pull the teacher voice out"

he is like "yes ma'am" and sits down.

After a bowl of soup and copious amount of medicine, matty lies down with his head in your lap, "Just for a second. I'm feeling a bit dizzy, " he insists.

but your hands massaging his curls mixed with the warm soup and the cough medicine have him asleep within 5 minutes.

you don't leave him or move him to bed, just sit and stroke his head, watching him rest peacefully as some shitty teen movie plays in the background.

#oh to baby a grown man when hes ill #ik matty is dramatic about being sick too so just LET ME LOOK AFTER YOU #this isnt good or proofread but i cant shut up soooooo #teacher au!

[kaicubus]

Dating Robbie Shapiro

warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, cursing, rex.

pairing ✩° : robbie shapiro x gn!reader

authors note ✩° : he was also a crush back then for me. idk curly hair...it gets me.

- When you date Robbie, you unfortunately have to deal with Rex. Even though you know it’s a wooden puppet attached to Robbie’s hand, you still can’t shake the fact it’s there...and the eyes...and no, Robbie doesn't take him off when you guys kiss. He’s sort of a third wheel. Always...commenting...on things at the wrong times...can you tell I don’t really like Rex?

- If Robbie ever upsets you or you two fight, which for this reason is almost never, he turns into a little kid. Basically, he whines and begs you for his forgiveness because he just can’t stomach the fact you're mad at him. He even goes as far as plastering posters of his face reading, ‘forgive me’ in giant red letters on your locker if you ignore him for too long. It’s EMBARRASSING but also cute in a weird way.

- Because of his long hair, you often find yourself braiding it, twirling it around, tying it up, and Robbie just loves every bit of it. He’s actually very open on him liking the affection and brags about it to his friends, telling them about it with like, four braids in his hair. They give him weird looks but he’s just so happy. Often times he goes to class after lunch looking like a 7 year old girl, not even minding the strange glances but only caring when you ask why he didn’t take them out.

- He’s constantly paranoid about you cheating though, or just talking to anyone cooler than him in general so he’s constantly butting into your conversations with friends by wrapping his arm around your waist or rudely cutting in with Rex saying some random catchphrase.

“Hey there, ladies. REX! Don’t you know who that is?! Clearly that’s Micheal Sampino from guitar class! I don’t know, never heard of him before. I am SO sorry, where are my manners?”

“Robbie. What the fuck.”

- Besides his insecurities, Robbie is actually pretty sweet. He writes songs with and for you and even performs them in front of his friends or class just for you. In those moments, he even makes it known those lyrics are for you and for you only (though most everyone knows you're together) and points at you, or slips in your name in a really fast run on sentence before picking up the musical tone again.

- You like to try on his glasses to see how blind he is, and bro absolutely CANNOT see. When you slide the thick black frames over your face, it’s like you get transported to a different world from what you can see. It never fails making Robbie laugh though when you end up screaming and spinning around because of it. 

- Honestly, Robbie can be quite the romantic lover. When he’s being serious, he gets really focused on the little things you say or do so he remembers them for the future. The next time it’s brought up though, he catches you off guard and just hands the item to you without hesitation, only saying, “Oh Y/n, by the way I got you this. I know how you like this band and all, so I got you, a limited edition guitar pic from the lead singer and guitarist!”

- Taylor Swift fan. The two of you. Just screaming Style, that’s it really.

- His execution of his actions really sucks, so when he has the intention of doing something sweet for you or for someone else, it just ends up really...really bad.

- Cheek kisses!! Hand holding!! Going into black and white photobooths and taking silly pictures!!

- Robbie will NOT let you talk down on yourself. He actually gets really mad when you do, even when it’s just a joke, he can’t stand it and actually ends up giving you a really long lecture on why it’s bad to be mean to yourself.

#kaicubus #victorious #victorious headcanons #victorious imagine #robbie shapiro #robbie victorious #robbie shapiro victorious #robbie shapiro x reader #robbie shapiro x y/n #robbie shapiro x you #robbie x you #robbie x reader #robbie x y/n #headcanons #matt bennett #victorious preferences #preferences

[legendary-pink-dot]

Pedro's curls are OUT OF CONTROL this week in the best way. As a fellow hair aficionado, I have to ask...sifting through all of the photos you have saved, what are your top 3 hair photos/looks of all time?

Pedro tax (and a spoiler for mine, but you already knew that 😜)

Ahhh mahhh god Jess, what a question! It's an arrow straight to my heart. 💜 I am still not well after all of Pedro's glorious CURLS this week. 😭

🫠

I love you, but you are so damn cruel for restricting me to only 3 choices. 😭

But I shall try.

So here are my top 3 hair looks/pics (in no particular order because I love them all equally):

First up: The next-day Golden Globes curls. I'm not a superfan of the slicked-back curls with a ton of product (like on GG night); I prefer them looser and softer. This next-day look is like he didn't wash his hair or even comb it after the GGs -- just rolled out of bed and went straight to Willem Dafoe's star unveiling ceremony. I love the longer length, and the curls are still holding their shape but are softer and cascade so wonderfully. And the ones falling over his forehead? SWOON. Doesn't help that those particular glasses are gorgeous on him too.

Second: The Javi G hair. Coco should have won all the awards for this. Soft and wavy and curly and highlighted... this beautiful longer style has it all. MELT.

Third: Since you already posted the Hollywood Reporter Roundtable hair *swoon* I will go with the Esquire-era short spiky curls. This is such a hot look on him. Again, a little too much product for my liking, but if that's what it takes to keep those little curls spiked up? Fuck yeah.

gif by @arcanefox207

#dot answers her asks #pedro pascal hair appreciation #sorry for being obsessed with his hair #it will happen again

[faghubby]

Found you part 2

Keri insisted I practice crossdressing everyday. Once I got home from work I shed my body clothes and put on my "girlie things." I was able to do my own makeup perfectly. People did start to notice things, even when dressed in my boy clothes. She had plugged my eyebrows to a high arch. And my nails where longer and shaped. Even with a clear polish they looked femine. It had only been a few weeks. But even my walk I noticed I swung my hips.

Keri had took great pleasure innwatching my discomfort. She had not unlocked me from the cage. And used her toys on my boi pussy several times a week.

She controlled everything. When I went to sleep. Woke up. I spent hours cleaning and cooking everyday. She did not forbid me from going out or seeing my friends I would just have to do it in a dress. Then one day her best friend Sara just opens the front door and walks in. She looks right at me with a big smile and hands me her coat. Then calls out to Keri and goes to find her. I am in total shock as I am frozen in a floral print dress stopping just above my knees.

"She looks amazing." Sara said as Keri and her came back into the kitchen.

"Does she know?" Sara asked.

"I guess I should tell her" Keri giggled. "Sissy bitch. I started fucking a real man. One who doesn't wear panties and take it up the ass."Keri told me and showed me a pick of a very fit younger man. Then one of his cock. It looked quite large.

"Keri, you didnt" I begged

"Hush sissy, what did you expect?" She said patting my ass.

"You could go out and find yourself a man too" she added.

"I'm not gay" I whined.

"No, your a sissy bitch. You will take it from anyone" Sara laughed.

"I invited all our friends over this afternoon, so you better get busy preparing some food for everyone" Keri informed me.

The first to arrive was her new man. He was taller then he looked in the pics. He made no notion to hide that he and Keri where a couple. As more people arrived I was introduced even to my friends as sissy bitch. And John as her boyfriend. No one was surprised. I found out Keri had kept everyone up to speed with my transformation. A friend of hers got drunk and sick in the bathroom. Keri had me rush to go clean it up. As I was on my knees cleaning the toilet. Pete my oldest friend came into the bathroom. He pulied out his cock.

"Keri says you can deep throat" he said.

"I am mnot suckinf your cock" I told him. He pulled me by the hair till my face was iup against his hard cock.

"You know you are going to" he told me. I swallowed and took it in my mouth. I sucked his cock like Keri had taught me with her strap on. Bit this was different it was warm and sensual. I started to get very excited sucking his cock. Tasting his pre cum. He stiffened and rammed his cock balls deep. As he unloaded his balls down my throat. I didn't spill a drop. As soon as I finished he zipped up and left. Another guy I didn't know stepped in and took his place. I didn't hesitate this time his cock was much bigger but still smaller then Keri's strapon. I sucked him off as well. Then Keri came in.

"Having fun?" She asked. I blushed. She sat on the sink and spread her legs. She wore no panties and cum was leaking from her pussy.

"Clean me up with your tounge" she told me. And I did swallowing my third load of cum in half an hour. When she was satisfied Sara did the same then our neighbor Mark. Offered me his cock. I swallowed 8 loads of cum that afternoon. Everyone was leaving as I cleaned up. Only keri's brother Leon was left. Keri and John where off somewhere. Leo came up behind me as I was washing some glasses. And lifted my dress.

"I am going to fuck you" he stated. He pulled my thong to the side. And spread my legs. He smeared lube over my hole but then I felt him try and push his cock in. I moaned as the head slipped in. And came in ,y panties thru the cage. Leo wasn't gentile or slow he piunded away on my ass. Smacking it as he did. He didn't stop until he came inside me. When he pulled out I was able turn and see Keri standing in the doorway.

"So happy for you sissy bitch now your a try faggot" she told me.

[readyforthegarden]

Can you pleaseeee do “can you teach me?” and “you're gonna have to guide me through this'' with Jake for the first kiss prompts. If you’re still doing them😚

Sorry this took a hot minute!! Get ready for some fluffy Jake!!

(I couldn’t resist this pic for this!!!)

You stormed your way out of the living room where the party has been congregating. You couldn’t believe your best friend, or as of now, former best friend, would reveal something so embarrassing and personal in front of everyone.

“She’s never even kissed anyone!!” your friend Amber shrieked, more than tipsy as you’d been in conversation with a few other party-goers, laughing at a dirty joke. Your friend had thrown her arm around your shoulders, her entire weight on you, making you stagger under her as she asked why you were laughing, before blurting out your business.

You closed the door of what you thought was the bathroom and leaned against it, fighting the urge to cry.

“Uh, can I help you?” Your eyes snapped open, and they darted around the room, taking in posters, records and a full sized bed where a young man was laying, propped up by pillows, flipping through a magazine. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, but amused smile on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” you scrambled for the door handle. “I thought this was the bathroom, I just needed to get away from the party.”

“It’s cool.” the young man said with a nod. “You can chill here if you want. It sounds like it’s getting crazy out there.” He reached next to him, picking up a small glass of amber liquid and taking a sip.

“O-oh, thank you.” You wrung your hands together as you looked around again, this time not in a panic. “Yeah, it’s a little too loud for me.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to enjoy a party when someone has loudly revealed you’ve never been kissed and you’re in your mid-twenties.” your head snapped to him, seeing a smirk grace his features.

“You know what, fuck off.” you huffed. “It’s not that uncommon.”

“What did you do in high school?” you narrows your eyes. You were starting to recognize him now. Jake Kiszka. You’d met him through a your best friend’s social circle a few times, merely passing hellos at parties or gatherings. From what you knew, he liked to play the field, keeping his options open for the next pretty thing to walk through the door.

“I was busy. I was advanced placement and I played two sports on top of being in choir and the co-captain of the dance team. I had other things going on.”

“Sounds like it.” Jake hummed. He went back to thumbing through the pages of his magazine, and you fixed your eyes on a poster with a bands name in it, letting your eyes read through the tour dates for something to do. “You like them?”

“Never heard of ‘em.” You answered, glancing over at Jake. He nodded, accepting your answer as it was. “You play guitar, right?” you asked him, looking around.

“I dabble.” Jake answered your question with the same nonchalance you had given him. Looking him over, an idea popped into your head.

“Can you teach me?” you asked. Jake looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Guitar?” he asked, continuing before you could respond. “I usually only do that on a third date but-“

“No, not guitar.” You cut him off, sitting on the corner of his bed. “Can you…teach me to kiss?” Jake stared at you in silence for a few moments.

“I-I guess I could…” he shut the magazine and set it on his nightstand. “Are you uh, are you sure you want to, though?”

“No time like the present.” you replied, rolling your shoulders back.

“No, I mean,” he scooted closer to you in the bed, taking your hand and making you look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, that you want this to be your first kiss?”

“I know we’re practically strangers, but the fact you asked that makes me have some trust in you.” You nodded. “You’re gonna have to guide me through this.” Jake licked his bottom lip and chewed it briefly, making up his mind.

“Okay.” he shook his hair out of his face bringing his free hand up, and tucking a strand behind your ear. His eyes never left your face, studying every freckle, every pore as if he was committing it to memory. The mood between the two of you shifted, your stomach fluttered as he gently dragged his fingertips down your cheek, to your chin. “I can’t believe nobody has kissed you before. Your lips look so soft.”

“T-they do?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper. The corner of Jake’s mouth tugged into a soft smirk as he ran his thumb over you bottom lip.

“They do.” he nodded. “I bet you didn’t even realize how many guys would’ve fallen over themselves to kiss you all these years.” His face was inching closer to yours, and your breath was caught in your throat, making it impossible to respond to his improbable thought. “How many guys were too nervous to talk to you whenever they saw you, so pretty and perfect, like you’d ever give them a chance.”

“Jake-“

“Shh,” his lips grazed yours, effectively quieting your protest. Seconds passed that felt like hours before he pressed his lips against yours, simply keeping them there for a few moments, letting you take the lead when you pulled away slightly, but brought your lips back to his almost instantly. His hand moved back towards your ear, fingers massaging your scalp as he continued kissing you, guiding your lips with his until his tongue swept over your bottom lip. You opened your mouth timidly, feeling him smile against your lips and swiping again, this time the tip of his tongue meeting yours. He tasted like amber liquor and the ghost of a sweet mint toothpaste. You hoped that the taste of your strawberry wine cooler was equally as intoxicating to him as he was to you.

Jake pulled back, slowly keeping his face close, still cradling your head in his hand as he waited for some sort of response. All you could do was catch your breath, and he chuckled and smiled.

“I’ve thought about doing that since I first saw you at one of Amber’s parties.” he admitted, a soft look in his eyes.

“You have?” your cheeks tinged with a fiery blush. Jake smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, of course.” he nudged your nose with his. “You seemed so sweet and shy. I didn’t think you’d go for a guy like me.”

“There was only one way to find out.” you whispered, giving him a small smile. He grinned back, nodding. He let go of you, leaning back in his bed and looking up at you.

“So, how was your first kiss?” you bit your lip, thinking about how to explain it.

“It was…Jake, it was better than I’d ever imagined it.” you confessed with a slight, embarrassed laugh.

“You’re a natural.” Jake told you, giving you a wink. “Now you can proudly rejoin the party and tell everyone Amber was wrong.” Your smile fell a bit, and Jake noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was wondering…” you started, looking at him. “I mean, that was only one kiss. I know you said I was a natural, but I could use some practice. Some conditioning.”

“Is that so?” Jake smirked, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“It is.” you gave him a matching smirk. “Besides, you still have to ask me out, you know, now that you’ve admitted your yearning for me.”

“I never said I yearned!” Jake protested with a laugh, tossing a pillow at you. You caught it and tossed it back.

“You didn’t have to, it was in your eyes!” you giggled. Jake tossed the pillow to the side and lunged at you, grabbing your sides and tickling you, making you laugh. “Okay okay! I give in!” Jake immediately stopped tickling, grinning down at you from above. He brushed the hair out of your face, and looked over your face again, a twinge of something, apparently not yearning, in his eyes.

“Enough talking, let’s get to practicing.”

#writing prompt blurb #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #greta van fluff

[archersartcorner]

I WANNA REINTRODUCE VAL AGAIN AND I LOCKED MY KEYS IN MY GOTDAMN CAR SO WHILE IM WAITING HERE WE GO

SO. Val. Valerio. Originally, Valos. Who the fuck is this boys. None of you asked? Well fuck off I’m tellin’ ya anyway JABDNSBS

Valos was originally made in 2018 as a Skyrim OC! Bosmer, small and quick-witted, and from the beginning was very much an OC I liked to put through ANGST AND WHUMP. Here’s some original pics of Val! And some IDs, since I’ve been wanting to practice for a while now!

[ID: Two images, side by side.

The image on the left is from 2018, traditional and done in orange ink, of two characters from the neck up. On the left is Valerio, named “Valos” at the time, a Wood Elf with a round yet pointed face; dark, jaw-length, swept-back hair with a widow’s peak; a hooked nose; and just the longest WoW-ass lookin’ ears the artist has ever drawn. He is smiling at a man on the right, a Dark Elf named Sven, who has similar features to Valerio. Notably different is that Sven’s hair is much shorter; he looks older; he’s slightly taller; and his lips are thinner, but he’s smiling wider. Below Sven is a note from the artist that says “Father-Son?”

The image on the right is from 2020, an updated reference image of Valerio from the waist up. This one is done in color - notable differences are that Valerio’s face is given more shape, but still retains his round-pointiness; the hair at the sides of his face are done in small braids; his ears have been significantly shortened; and the fuller image shows that Valerio has a very thin body type, with a hairy chest and forearms, as well as scars in multiple places along his body, including one across the right side of his mouth. He is brown-skinned, brown-haired, and has glowing green eyes surrounded by yellow sclera. He’s wearing a light brown fur cloak, but it’s only covering his back, leaving most of his front exposed. END ID.]

In 2021, I got into FNV. I had already applied my self-insert motherfucker unlimited to the plot of FO4, so I decided to go ahead and insert Val as my main character for FNV… and boy howdy did I run with it. Most of y’all who followed me during my FNV love are probably familiar with Val (most of y’all probably recognize him as Six!) and his antics with Vulps and Arcade! He’s meant to be a very soft and kind-hearted boy, but he doesn’t take shit (or at least he tries not to…) Here’s some art I’ve done of him!

[ID: Four images, two vertically longer images on top, two square-sized images on the bottom. These were all made from mid-2021 to early 2022.

The first image is a digital, colored, cut-off reference sheet of Valerio’s Fallout: New Vegas iteration. Different from his Skyrim iteration described above is: his hair being slightly wavier; eyes are now simply brown; has two gunshot scars along his forehead, with a lobotomy scar in between; has a little bit of chin hair; face has a bit more roundness to it; and he has slightly more musculature in his arms. He’s wearing a dark gray jumpsuit with two brown belts at his midsection, and has a green backpack strapped across his back. On his left arm is the Fallout series’ inventory mechanic, the Pip-Boy, and on his right hand are gray fingerless gloves and spiked knuckles. He’s smiling at the viewer, and his right hand is raised in a wave.

The second image is a digital but non-colored sketch of Valerio and Arcade Gannon. Arcade is mostly made of boxes; he has a squared face with a hooked nose, glasses, and beard stubble; his body is mostly boxy with some fat to it, and he has hair along his forearms. He appears middle-aged. He’s wearing a simple button-up and pants combination. Arcade is sitting down and holding Valerio in his lap, who is dozing off in relative peace, and has his right arm along Valerio’s back, while his left hand is holding a book. Valerio’s right arm is reaching up to subconsciously grab at Arcade’s shirt.

The third image is a digital and colored piece of Valerio, on the left, and Vulpes Inculta, on the right, from the thighs up. Valerio’s appearance is mostly as described, but his hair is slightly shorter. Vulpes is slightly taller than Valerio, with brown buzzed hair, light blue eyes, and pale skin. He is similarly thin as Valerio, and he has applied red nail polish, lipstick, and eyeshadow. Valerio is wearing his jumpsuit, drawn more dark-brown in this photo, and exposed from his chest to his naval, with two silver pauldrons on his shoulders. Vulpes is wearing a gray button-up and vest combo, with dark gray slacks. Valerio is hunched in front of a bar counter, looking slyly over at Vulpes, while Vulpes, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, looks away from Valerio, a cocky smile on his face. They’re both blushing. There’s a blue overlay across the image.

The fourth image is a digital and non-colored sketch of Valerio, sobbing uncontrollably. Like he looks so sad. The text he is saying is fashioned in FNV format, written: “[Crybaby] I’M,,, SORR-RY,,,” He’s so sad. END ID.]

SO VAL MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!!! When I played PL:A I just. Without thinking I was like “oh I wanna play as VAL my BABY VAL” and then I had and continue to have so many feelings about that situation I just keep drawing em. And most of y’all have probably seen my stuff with Val in PL:A at this point! In summary, he’s my baby, my super specialest boy, and I love him thank u

If you’re interested in knowing more about him, you can check out my “courier valerio” tag for FNV info, and “pokeverse valerio” for pokeverse info!! He’s so important thank u for ur time 🫡🙏

#courier valerio #pokeverse valerio #tesverse valerio #oh ya that tag too!! but there’s less stuff there I THINK #most of my TES stuff is on my IG I think ahebdjdbsj #described #I wanna try adding ids to my stuff from now on!! #might go back into my earlier posts and do the same! #not art #kinda??? it’s got my art it’s just old art lol #oc info #yea that works I suppose HDBDJSBS #OH EDIT I DID GET MY KEYS BACK BTW SHDVHEEVJSSN #CRISIS AVERTED!!!!! IM GOOD FBBDJD

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary4

hi, i did go to melt banana today, and i just got done putting hydrogen peroxide (somehow, just forgot what that was for a few seconds, i guess because i'm so sore all over) on my knees cuz they got bashed on the stage, i was right up front the whole night in the middle.

there's a pic of me my gf took, where i basically was the whole time they were on except i sort of slid farther and farther and right over the duration of the show because of crowd currents but there were 3 other bands, one was a really good local crust duo called swamp brain, bass and drums only, they'd also get really sludgy which was sick, and the third band right before melt banana was another really good grindy hardcore band called life's torment, both of these were local, agata was in the crowd during life's torment's set (awkward thing to say/write). there's not a lot to say about them, i think as far as local bands i've seen around here beyond my friend's band, this is the most absorbed by the music i've been honestly, i didn't mosh or anything during their sets, there wasn't a pit anyways, i don't know how much that disappointed them or disappointed the people in the crowd. i stood there and just absorbed the music, cuz idk how long lived these acts have been/will be, and it's not unlikely that it'll be the case that they can't get much recorded.

during swamp brain i did have a funny thought, about how hipsters, because the drummer kind of was perfectly hipster looking, glasses beard hat, a specific sort of shorts + band shirt thing, love sludge metal. this is the case for myself, it's the kind of metal i tend to like the most, at least, so i wasn't judging the band really but it also felt mean, like i don't know, like i was imagining he didn't have cred. but who has cred. it's all spectacle anymore. cred is dumb mostly.

the 2nd band, as i am, were really baffling, it was like 4 father-aged men kind of just doing their own things each. the singer really wanted to do rap rock so he'd go for it, while the drummer, who had an absolutely huge kit that included windchimes and a triangle on their own weird sort of lovingly crafted stand, tried to drum as prog as possible. the guitarist played, i dunno, he just played i guess, and the bassist was wearing this mortally faded mayhem sleeveless shirt, an unbelievable thing to think about was how he and the guitarist probably played much weirder stuff together and tried to get other guys to join, and it sort of became a weird cock rock disaster. they didn't even seem to know who they were opening for, and also, a huge cluster of old people came up front for that band. really strange stuff, they must have some kind of following. i have no clue about whether or not that's local or not.

we did get a t-shirt, also, i'm excited to wear that. speaking of that yesterday i talked about how i planned/scheduled my getting ready period and a lot of today was spent languishing / waiting on showering/shaving so i could pluck (lol cuz when am i ever going to get laser hair removal) as much hair from my face as possible. and then i showered which was normal and stuff and then i tried to do my hair in a bouffant but i don't think i'm ever going to get my hair in a bouffant and that makes me a little sad or maybe horrifically sad because it would be perfect i think but i'm too dumb to figure it out or my head is just not good for that really. so my hair's got a bunch of spray and hair clay in it and it was big and fucked up, at least. then i tried like 3 outfits on in a kind of rush, the first two were way too pretty/nice and i was kind of cunt about that because i wanted badly to wear them but my gf told me it was a bad idea and i was resistant for whatever reason. i'm really annoying like that and i wish i weren't but being told not no but that's a bad idea is worse than just being told no i think, for me, which is dumb because someone's trying to save your feelings but it just feels worse/ gently condescending i guess. i should be less stupid. i settled on a really fun thing i think, at least, which is more fun cuz i was trying to do a 60s dress w/ a belt in the middle thing but w/ a tshirt and dress layered under. it's at least the thought process that went into that. the trying outfits on kind of sucked because the whole time i was worried about my gf's mom showing up to take us there early so we could eat before the show.

anyways here's the look pre show:

and here's one after the show:

look at how my sweat interacts w/ the hairspray, so grody!

and god my back hurts rn and my shoulders too.

also today i did not wake up early or work on music like i wanted to, which sucks, and i didn't really write and that sucks and makes me feel bad/lazy/whatever, kind of dumb i guess. i feel dumb and worry about feeling dumb and never want to feel dumb always, constantly, i want to get out of my own head so badly a lot but it sucks and i can't, i want to be perfect always too and that's making me crazy right now kind of, it's at the back of my heart, it's inching in and it'll take it over and i'll walk in circles a bunch some day soon but not now, so there's dread that makes it harder to approach all the things i am working on and want to do. i want to cry now talking about this, and lay down and curl up and stuff.

during the show i got so sweaty that my mascara leaked into my eyes and i had to wipe them on my bag but it kept burning and i was crying because of that, and that felt good/interesting, the fact i was suffering and the loudness of everything, in retrospect i'm really happy about experiencing that and all the people shoving me, and the moments where i got to dance in my little spot up front, communing as best i could with the total noise of the band, the only other show like that i've been to was the machine girl show in reno i went to 4-5 years ago. i think this one could have been better, as a show, the crowd experiences were a little different, i think machine girl's crowd felt so extremely positive, a narrow group showed up for that, all weird and mostly gay, in reno which is a miserable place, so the dispersal of energy was kind of total, everyone was aiming at excess and i guess we all met it together. w/ melt banana it was getting there with the band and my friends, but moshing/dancing felt like i had to weaponize myself sort of, to protect from these really dumb people trying to rush to the front and guys who just kind of, i dunno, threw themselves against me/anyone just cuz i guess. one guy was awful in particular because he was grabbing me/anyone who looked like a girl, he started getting his nails involved too i remember, and he'd get really close on my ass too somethimes, and just try and pull you away/push you out because he wanted to be up front so badly. he was some dumbass in a denim jacket, i had to sock him in the ribs at one point because he got too aggressive w/ me and everyone else up front that didn't look tough, i guess. he retaliated (obv) which isn't bruising or anything it seems but like i said he and a bunch of other people made my knees get all fucked and i spent myself so totally i can hardly walk straight. even typing sort of hurts. so you know that this is like a labor of love, i think, right.

anyways, i know it sounds like i really hated the crowd but i didn't, mostly, i just think crowds at these types of shows can get very annoying, and w/r/t weaponizing myself, i wore chelsea boots that have heels and i was jumping up and down and i know i was landing on people's feet. sorry but fuck you kind of, i guess, maybe i was as bad as anyone else, i also feel like that's just how you assert some claim over space i guess. i dunno. all i wanted and what i got was communication w/ the music, it really overpowered me and being made blind because of my makeup sometimes added to that, it felt really honestly religious, and it's silly music, i like that anything/everything can feel like that.

after the show i stumbled to sit in a big couch a little while, and then i had to go piss. when i go piss in public i use the men's room cuz idk what to do so i just go w/ whatever default i've had because since i have a penis i have always figured no one would argue with me, but tonight, after pissing, this bathroom attendant said: you can't be here. and i was washing my hands so i was like: okay. he handed me paper towels and i left. that was really funny. honestly i think i feel basically good about that because i honestly feel like after i dance a lot at a concert and am all sweaty i have to be pretty uggo and like, not fishy anymore. i guess he thought i was, or something.

i'm reminded now, i kept thinking, watching yasuko use her midi control pad thing to play the drums / do fills and things, that she was giving mother. i felt it really deeply, it is a conviction, it's a river that ran through me my whole life and i've found it, in the crust of the earth, people who dig under their houses and find subterranean pools and streams. it's been a long time since i'd really listened to melt banana, they were there since hs for me though, it had the dust of excavation about it, hearing lost parts stinging me so cold was really incredible, a perfectly simple riff just driven so hard it absorbs you into it, or something, that song is an ideal of music.

even her voice, it was faintly there, maybe that's cuz i was so close and the guitars were so loud, which was fine cuz i was wearing earplugs (obv) but seeing her saying things and not hearing added a lot, they were there somewhere, or the effort to communicate and the willingness to get lost in the mess was really perfect, it matched the music, both of them were so happy performing, when i got there i was worried they were both not happy, or something, i dunno. idk why, but agata was wearing his mask and yasuko was sitting at the merch table stonefaced. they seemed genuinely happy onstage though, the whole time i saw agata's eyes smiling.

such a violent joy, i want violent joy always and forever.

we did hang out with my friends after, my friend's gf got super wasted and had to sleep and i talked with my friend about his music, i read him this hilarious thing another friend wrote in his notes app that i read to everyone but i won't read to you probably ever, sorry. it's this insanely goofy rap he wrote, goofy isn't the right word but the right word is really cruel and i feel like i don't want to be cruel right now. i just want to feel like this always, a weight lifted from my back and a soreness in its place, the soreness an etching onto my body of having been somewhere and having done something.

[princeleyjeans]

Behold, the character examples for my OC's: 1st photo is the base for Brawg (Or Borg, for easy) 2nd photo is his husband, Sakixen, (Also called Steven by anyone unwilling to accept his Navajo family linage) --- Borg comes home a small rural town somewhere between Illinois and Utah, raised predominately within a cult based compound under the guise of a nameless religion and optimistic blindness toward anything against their figurehead. Despite this, He is quite aimed toward leaving and starting his own life, even slinking away during the night to avoid his fathers helpers and being convinced to stay within the grounds of safety. At the beginning of the tale, Borg is around 26. Characteristics are as follows- Age: 26 (At the tales beginning) height: Nearing 8 foot, if just an inch or so shorter than the record breaker. Hair colour: Brownie red, copper in the sun with bearish highlights. Build:,Grey-ish pink skin. dull copper eyes that glow brilliant fire when provoked or excited. Tightly spiraled horns on either side of his head. Stocky, not overly muscular but nicely filled similar to a rugby player without the intense exercise. strong. tiny pooch of a tummy. wide shoulders and ever so slight curve on the spine with protruding, lizard like spikes. elongated tail like a monkeys, acts as a third arm. Deformed feet, shaped similar to a werewolves but able to wear shoes, can dislocate toes on demand. Hurts like fuck. --- Sak/Steven comes from New Mexico, raised by a close knit Navajo cattle rancher family whose matriarch (His beloved Grandma) dabbles in the occult to protect their farm against the open elements of old and newfound evil, regardless of his role set to be the next one in charge once Aberaayi (His father) steps down, Sak longs to travel the collapsed world beyond America's governed boarders. Characteristics are as follows: Age: 29 (At the beginning) height: 6 foot 1 at a push. Hair Colour: Black, experiences minor graying from stress but dyes it blond lazily to hide the grays. Build: Olive-y complexion due to Italian/Spanish ties (The photo is the only decent comparison I have so ignore the shade in the pic), Light yellow/brown eyes (Similar to Bella Goth's in the sims 4). Naturally thin, not underweight but struggles to gain anything to beef himself up. Toned, lean and taught muscles from years of working around animals and heavy machinery. Short sighted yet not enough to always wear glasses. --- I might do more posts like these depending if anyone is interested in hearing more about my OC's. I'm a terrible artist but a decent story teller

#Mine #OC's #story #creator #like and comment #my ocs #original character

[cadavercowboy]

Restless Heart

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Reader

Summary: Part of loving somebody means accepting their flaws. And loving yourself means coming to terms with your own, no matter how fucked up they may be.

Word Count: 16.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Violence & injury. Cannibalism. Forced cannibalism. Kidnapping & imprisonment. Oral sex. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Slapping. Blood kink. Spit kink. Cum play. Dub-con/non-con elements (seriously, please heed this warning). Stockholm syndrome. I kind of redeemed Steve, and that’s probably a crime in and of itself.

A/N: Call me toxic, but I loved this character and wanted to give him a happy ending lmao. This baby is long as hell, but I hope you’ll still strap in for the ride and enjoy the journey into exactly how fucked up I am. :) This role may truly have broken me and I put my whole entire heart, soul, and pussy into this piece...so any feedback is greatly appreciated and certainly welcomed. <3

Your chin sits cradled in your palm as you watch the remnants of your third martini sloshing around the glass you swirl in the opposite hand. Another night, another piss-poor date…story of your life. This one hadn’t even made it past the appetizers before you were excusing yourself to the bathroom and making your escape. Well, you should have expected that outcome when he showed up wearing a fedora and greeted you with a haughty “m’lady”. Damn those dating apps and their frighteningly inaccurate algorithms. 

It’s a Friday night and here you sit, alone and jaded at the most painfully boring bar in the city; just you, the grouchy businessmen, and the mysterious rich assholes tucked in the shadowy corners with their day-old newspapers. Maybe you can tempt one of them into taking you home…seduce them, fall in love, inherit their fortunes. If only. After the week you’ve had, you certainly deserve it.

Monday had been a nightmare when you misplaced the keys to your apartment and spent all fucking day waiting for the superintendent to get back to you with a new set. Tuesday saw you without a means of transportation when some piece of shit decided to steal your car. Wednesday? You left your phone on the bus you’d been forced to take on account of the grand theft auto. Thursday you were held up in the parking garage of the mall — where you just bought yourself a new phone — and had both your wallet and your will to live taken from you. 

Now with a new phone but no wallet, you sit and lick the wounds of your bruised ego, hoping one of these old farts will take pity on your situation and buy you a nice steak or something. Maybe you just need to get laid. Either way, as you glance around the vacant and dim restaurant, you don’t have any hope of that coming to fruition.

Instead, you pull out your phone and tap one of the many notifications from Tinder. You must really hate yourself if you’re seriously sitting here considering entertaining yet another disappointing man. Knowing full well you’re at risk of seeing at least one unsolicited dick pic, you open a message thread from one of your many matches and begin to type out a short message.

Before you can click send, someone sidles up to the bar and tosses their keys onto it with a clatter, their exhausted voice requesting a Manhattan. Sparing a glance in the stranger’s direction, you nearly choke on the plastic drink stirrer you’ve been absently chewing on. This guy is fucking hot. And he’s at least 20 years younger than any other man in here which has your interest piqued immediately.

The tall man sheds his jacket and drapes it carefully over the back of the barstool he climbs into. He rolls up the sleeves of his expensive-looking burgundy sweater and anxiously runs his hands through the soft tresses of his hair. You know you’re staring, but you just don’t care. He’s beautiful. When the bartender places a highball glass before the man, you watch him take the first sip, enraptured by the way his smooth lips part and his throat ripples with each gulp he takes. He finishes the drink in one go and you wonder if perhaps this stranger has had a week just as awful as yours. You don’t have a chance to ask.

“Do I have something on my face or is there another reason you’re over there staring at me like I'm a piece of meat?” he wonders, eyes turned forward and not even looking at you.

His unexpected words make you hesitate for a second, though the alcohol coursing through your veins has you loosened up just enough to be a little bolder than usual.

“Sorry, I was just seeing how long it would take for you to buy me a drink,” you purr flirtatiously. “The rest of these guys have been really disappointing.”

That earns you a slight chuckle and the man finally looks your way. His eyes are the bluest you’ve ever seen and you find yourself lost in them for the briefest moment. Lines form in the smooth skin of his clean-shaven face as he laughs and his nose crinkles adorably. It’s probably just your libido talking, but you have to admit that he’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. A little older and maybe even too shy for your usual tastes, but you’ll try anything once.

“How about you tell me your name first?” he counters playfully, albeit somewhat nervously. “And then maybe we’ll see about that drink.”

“Uh oh, a man who plays games? That’s a big red flag.”

“No, no…no games,” he assures you. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Even more dangerous,” you flirt with a poorly-executed wink.

You offer him your name and he introduces himself as Steve, taking your hand in his much larger one to give it a strong and unexpectedly confident shake. The tips of his fingers burn with electricity as he drags them away from your flesh, his skin soft and smooth. Your eyes are locked and you can already feel yourself falling.

The drinks flow and eventually Steve does politely offer to pay for yours, though you’re smart enough to stop before you’ve had too many. At some point, you move from the bar to a cozy U-shaped booth, the leather seat cradling your clumsy body as you stumble into it. Steve is still nursing the last Manhattan he ordered and you’ve officially lost count of how many he’s had by now. 

Your senses are dulled, but in the boozy haze in your brain, they all feel heightened somehow. Ears ringing with the soft jazzy tune playing from the speakers, your skin buzzing with the soft sensation of your clothes shifting and dragging, your eyes a bit fuzzy, but pointedly honed in on Steve’s gorgeous features and the slight flush that blooms along his sharp cheekbones.

He fishes one of the scarlet cherries from the pool of tepid alcohol in his glass and holds it up by its stem to inspect it. The sight of him squinting suspiciously at the itty bitty piece of fruit sends you into a fit of giggles and he’s soon to join you. Scooting a bit further away, you pop your mouth open and implore Steve to throw the cherry your way so you can catch it. He seems to think it’s not a wise choice given how drunk you are, but the excitement shining in your glassy eyes is irresistible. Besides, he knows the Heimlich maneuver.

With a wet slap, the cherry lands perfectly in the center of your tongue and upon your gasp of elated surprise, you nearly swallow the thing whole. You choke briefly and Steve's face is awash with worry so you hold your hand up to let him know you’re fine. The cherry bursts with a mixture of sweet juices and bitter alcohol when you bite into it, chewing the fleshy skin and holding the skinny stem between your teeth. 

As your jaw moves side to side and your expression becomes deeply concentrated, Steve realizes what you’re doing, though he has no reason to believe you’ll be successful. Your eyebrows lift, a silent warning for him to be prepared. Sticking your tongue out, you pluck the stem from between your lips; perfectly tied in a little knot.

“Holy shit, she’s done it,” he drawls in amazement.

“My best kept secret,” you declare with a flourishing bow. “And my best party trick.”

“Well, I’m certainly impressed.”

“So…tell me your secret,” you prompt, leaning your elbows heavily on the tabletop. “You’ve gotta have something interesting after all these years of…life.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, his body angling closer to yours. “Are you calling me old?”

“Nope, no…not at all,” you slur slightly, poking good-naturedly at his surprisingly muscular bicep. “I’m just sayin’ that you’re…more experienced. So what are you hiding, Steve?”

Something dark flashes in his crystalline eyes, though he’s quick to mask it with a tense chuckle. You don’t know precisely what it is, but the passing shadow has your skin prickling. Had you been just a little less drunk, perhaps you’d have heard the warning bells your whole body is setting off.

“Jeez, I don’t know,” he whispers, dragging a hand along his chin as he stalls to give himself time to think of a response. “I’m really good with my hands.”

Steve’s admittance is met with your stunned silence. Which is then followed by a raucous burst of laughter that has the few people lingering in the bar turning their heads your way.

“God, that was awful wasn’t it?” Steve groans, the blush in his cheeks growing even more prominent.

“It was…it was pretty bad,” you agree.

“It wasn’t just a come-on,” he’s quick to defend. “I’m uh, I’m actually a reconstructive surgeon. Which I guess isn’t really a good secret.”

“What? No way! Really?” you shift closer, your arm inches away from Steve’s as he captures your full attention with his confession. “So you do like boob jobs and butt lifts and stuff?”

“Something like that.”

His earlier bashfulness has returned and there’s something endearing about it. You pry a bit more, asking Steve question after question, first about his job and then about his family and any other boring information you might need to know about a complete stranger. When you begin to tell him about yourself and your lack of family and limited choice of friends, his eyes are alight; not with the usual pity you expect, but with a sense of understanding. A connection.

“Okay, so your turn,” Steve states, attempting to lighten the heaviness that has fallen. “Tell me something you don’t want me to know about you.”

“If I tell you, does that not defeat the whole…” you trail off when you see Steve’s admonishing expression. 

“C’mon, you said you didn’t like games. Gotta get it all out on the table,” he demands, waving both hands theatrically over the dark wood surface before him.

“Okay, fine. Hmm, let’s see.”

You tap the tips of your fingers against your pursed lips, making a show of your extended moment of contemplation. Steve watches on, dipping his slender fingers into his glass to grab the second cherry that swims in it; he wraps his lips around the fruit, popping it off the stem and chewing it thoughtfully.

“I don’t want you to know…that I hate this,” you whisper, gesturing vaguely between the pair of you. 

“Oh,” he responds, shocked. “Oh, I…I’m sorry, I guess.”

“No, no…I don’t mean you. You seem cool.  I just mean dating. I hate all the awkward first conversations and pretending to get to know someone when you know they just wanna get in your pants.”

Steve nods in agreement as he downs the last of his drink and slams the glass back onto the ring of condensation that stains the napkin on the table. You go on to regale him with the many horror stories of your latest dates, and before long you’re bumping shoulders as you laugh in tandem at your own suffering. Steve calms himself with a sigh, staring at you, long and hard.

“W-what?” you murmur shyly.

“Nothing, it’s just…you have a really pretty smile.”

His compliment warms you even more than the alcohol, though it’s the liquor you blame for what you do next. Heaving forward, you wrap a hand around the back of Steve’s neck and smash your mouth to his in an uncoordinated kiss. He makes a sound of surprise that prompts you to pull away. The sight of his parted lips draws your attention, quivering and slick from your kiss; begging for another. You’re eager to deliver.

Steve groans once more, though this time it is an indication of pleasure. His wide hands find their place against the small of your back and along your hip, pulling you in close until you’re nearly in his lap. He separates from your exploring mouth and takes a moment to nuzzle the tip of his sharp nose along your jawline before you capture his mouth once more and nip sharply at the plush, swollen flesh; the growl you receive only solidifies your decision to take this complete stranger home with you. You know you’ve got him, but more importantly, Steve knows he’s got you. And he won’t ever let you go now.

One less drink and maybe you wouldn’t be crashing through your front door, lip-locked with someone you met only hours ago. He pushes you roughly against the small table in the hall, knocking your keys from your hand and threading his fingers through your hair to hold your head in place. You moan wantonly, his mouth sealing around your lower lip as he sucks harshly.

When your fingers dig impatiently under his jacket and push it off his shoulders, he’s quick to obey your silent command. He sheds the garment with shocking finesse before doing the same with yours. Steve fits himself between your thighs and when you lift your hips to press against the growing hardness in his slacks, he pulls back.

“What’s wrong?” you pant.

“No, it’s just…” he sighs and your heart drops. “Maybe it’s too much…too fast.

You can hardly believe your ears. You’ve been ready to pounce on Steve since you left the restaurant — just barely kept your clothes on during the taxi ride back home — and now he’s changing his mind? Not wanting to come off as a pushy asshole, you slip past Steve with a deep breath and rub your hands agitatedly over the sides of your face. 

Without anything else to do, you begin anxiously gathering a blanket from the floor and empty takeout containers from the cluttered coffee table. You toss the blanket on the couch and dispose of the trash before whirling around to look at Steve. He stands at the edge of your tiny living room, hands on his hips and his lips pressed into a firm line. Looking down, you spot the subtle edge of his erection through the thin black material of his pants and you notice his expression is pained.

“Can I get you anything?” you extend awkwardly. “Something to drink? Something to eat?”

Steve lets out a shaky breath as he lowers himself into your favorite high back chair. He can’t even look at you and you’re beginning to accept that this night is no longer going to end the way you want. He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’re quickly learning is his most telling nervous habit.

“Just you.”

The fire blazing in his light eyes when they finally meet yours nearly knocks you on your ass. You trip over your feet and past the coffee table, climbing into Steve’s lap and immediately connecting your lips to his. His arms curl around you, wrapping you in his warmth and trapping you against his broad chest. Forgetting any reservations you may have had, you lower your weight against his thighs and grind your covered core against his straining erection.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hair and gently tilting your head backwards. 

Smiling to yourself, you do it again, more slowly this time. You swear you feel him twitch beneath you. Steve tilts your head further, exposing the length of your throat so he can latch his lips onto the thin, sensitive skin. He sucks lightly, dragging his teeth along the edge of the light bruise he leaves in his wake. A shiver runs through your body and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips. 

“Tell me where your room is before I take you right here,” Steve demands darkly.

One less drink and maybe you’d have kept your wits about you and kept your clothes on. You wouldn’t have walked straight into the clutches of a man who’d soon have you questioning all your morals and everything you’ve ever known about dating and feelings. You wouldn’t have been so drunk on lust that you’re leading a complete stranger into the safe sanctuary of your bedroom. He wouldn’t be tugging your shirt over your head as he sheds his own and you reach for one another’s pants to get rid of those, too.

You’re out of your jeans and dropping your bra before Steve manages to stumble and struggle his way out of a single pant leg. Your corresponding chuckles mingle when he finally frees himself and tumbles against you, playfully pushing you onto the bed beneath him. The smile that splits your face is so wide that your cheeks burn and you find it mirrored on the handsome face before you. Steve’s movements are a bizarre conglomerate of a man confident in his prowess though powerless against the nerves brought about by a beautiful, unfamiliar woman. 

“Is this okay?” he wonders, kind eyes meeting yours as he toys with the lacy edge of your panties. 

“More than okay,” you reassure him, pulling him into a long kiss.

Steve’s fingers move languidly, barely touching the damp gusset of your underwear, but earning a sharp gasp just the same. He repeats the motion, this time adding a bit more pressure and the material dampens further with your arousal. His hand dives gently beneath your underwear then, his long dexterous fingers prodding pointedly at your sensitive bud as his mouth drops to suck delicately at your nipple. 

Though his tenderness may possibly hint at inexperience, you’re quickly learning that’s not the case. The complete opposite, in fact. Steve teases you, his fingers swirling with not nearly enough speed to bring you over the edge, but enough to send you into a frenzy. You writhe and whimper under his ministrations, only further turned on by his smug expression as he watches you come apart for him.

“Does that feel good?” he taunts.

“Fuck, yes,” you grit through clenched teeth as he pays particular attention to your clit.

“Good girl,” he purrs, nearly setting off your orgasm.

When he twists his hand to ease a finger along your slit and into your pussy, his thumb presses firmly against the bud and your back bends upwards off the mattress. Sensing how close you are, Steve opts not to deny you what you want any longer. His nose drags along your cheek, his lips kissing you along the way.

“Go ahead,” he allows.

Given his permission, you let go and cum with a relieved cry, soaking his fingers as your own dig into his muscle-bound arm. Steve talks you through your orgasm, soft and encouraging words that have you floating along in sheer ecstasy. He allows you to bask in the warmth of your release, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your thigh as he releases himself from the confines of his boxers.

Your eyes drop to his cock and widen at the size of it as it swings between his legs. He chuckles almost bashfully, leaning forward to capture your mouth in an unhurried kiss. Swiveling your hips towards him, you moan into Steve’s mouth and use your body to beg him for more. His lips part on a low laugh and he separates your mouths with a wet smack.

“You ready?” he inquires, taking his cock in his hand and swirling the heated, glistening tip through your sodden folds.

“Take me.”

Your breathless words are all the consent he needs and he pushes his weight forward, the bulbous head of his dick breaching your entrance with delicious friction. He allows you to adjust to his length as he feeds you every inch little by little. You’re not exactly inexperienced, but you can certainly say you’ve ever been with someone quite so caring or mindful of your pleasure. Steve doesn’t just take the way most men do; he wants you to enjoy yourself, he gets off on seeing you in the throes of orgasmic bliss.

Your heart clenches at the tender gaze Steve levels on you and your core clenches in kind when he delivers a pointed thrust. Any unexpected feelings that begin creeping in are long forgotten when he raises your hips, angling your body to better accept his languorous strokes. He keeps his speed slow and consistent, ratcheting your pleasure up, up, up…until you’re at the precipice. The moment he knows you’re close, he braces himself and cants his hips in a crazed fashion. You ripple and constrict around him with a keening cry, the delight of your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Steve watches your enraptured face as he makes you cum; taking in every nuance, every little mewling sound. He’s close now too, pistoning into your pliant body and burying himself as deeply as he can until the very last second. Very nearly not pulling out in time, Steve fists his slick cock; stroking once, twice, three times before his cum sprays across your lower stomach in a messy array of thick white fluid.

One less drink and maybe you wouldn’t have had the best sex of your life or fallen asleep in the comforting arms of the loveliest stranger you’ve ever met. You’ll have to remember to tip the bartender extra next time.

The sun’s warm rays fall over your face blindingly, but that’s not what rouses you from your restful slumber. It’s the warm, stubbly kisses being peppered along your bare shoulder and the heat seeping into your skin from the man fitted snugly against your back. As you awaken, so does the heated flesh pressed against your backside. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt quite so peaceful.

“Morning,” you murmur, your mouth barely moving out of fear of morning breath.

“Hi there,” Steve responds, chuckling against your warm flesh.

“Whatcha doin’ back there?” you say as you stretch languidly.

“Thinking about how perfect you are,” Steve admits.

Your heart clenches and skips at his words. He speaks them so seriously that you’re not sure whether he’s kidding. All you’re sure of is the way your heartbeat kicks up a notch and butterflies take flight in your growling stomach.

“I think you’re still drunk,” you deflect.

“You have such beautiful skin,” Steve praises, ignoring your comment; his hands running fervently over your hips and down your thighs before sneaking between them. “So soft…tender.”

His comment strikes you as a bit odd, though he’s quick to distract you by dipping his fingers between your legs and sweeping them through the slick he finds already awaiting him. You hum heatedly, allowing him to explore your moist flesh as he wishes, reveling in his masterful touch. It takes him no time at all to make you cum — first with his fingers and then again and again with his mouth — and you’re eager to recompense, though he assures you it isn’t necessary.

It’s a routine you grow accustomed to over the next few weeks: inviting Steve over on as many nights as he has free and waking up in the pleasant warmth of his embrace. Until one morning you wake to a cold and empty bed. For a moment you worry that your blissful bubble is about to burst and you’re going to be ghosted by the first person you’ve actually liked in months. And you really, really like him — maybe more — so you don’t want that to happen. The savory scent of bacon that soon surrounds you assuages that worry. 

Donning the cozy cashmere sweater Steve had shed the night before, you climb out of bed and pad barefoot to the kitchen. There you find a glorious sight — one which has your heart racing and warming all over again — Steve clad only in his expensively branded black boxers, holding a spatula and bent over a pan of sizzling bacon. Knowing you hadn’t had much in the way of ingredients, you wonder how early he’d gotten up to go out and get food to make for you.

“Hey, you,” he greets sweetly, plating up a stack of fluffy pancakes.

“Good morning, chef,” you respond, standing on your toes to give him a chaste kiss.

“So here’s another secret about me,” he begins with a smile. “I’m actually a really good cook.”

“I never would have guessed.”

He smiles at your joking tone, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I don’t usually cook for people. My tastes are a bit…unconventional.”

“Yeah, I mean…pancakes. That’s risky.”

Steve kisses the tip of your nose and pushes you towards the small table in the kitchen. Before long, he joins you, carrying a plate of pancakes and one stacked full of bacon. It all feels very domestic: the guy you’re hooking up with making you breakfast and kissing you so sweetly. You can’t deny just how much you like it. Thanking Steve for the thoughtful gesture, you direct him to the utensil drawer as he endeavors to find some forks. Digging into the greasy pile of meat while you wait, you nibble on a bite of bacon and hum contentedly at the flavor of it. It’s sweet and syrupy and tastes unlike any bacon you’ve had before. It’s absolutely delicious.  

“What is this?” you wonder, feeding the rest of the slice into your mouth. “What kind of bacon?”

“Candy bacon.”

“You mean candied?” you correct. “It’s really good, I’ve never had it before!”

Not wanting to be rude and speak with his mouth full, Steve remains quiet and merely chuckles dryly. In the back of his mind, he pictures a once-familiar woman. The young, short blonde girl who worked at the hospital’s pharmacy. She’d caught his attention immediately and though he wanted so badly to get close to her, he knew better than to shit where he eats…just like his father always taught him. But when she left her job and moved outside the city, he could no longer resist. She was the perfect target, the sweet and innocent Candy Marshall. He wonders whether her family is still looking for her.

Steve really liked Candy, so much in fact that he almost felt bad when he finally had to get rid of her. It’s always harder to work with the women he knows, but he rather likes it; he finds that he enjoys the personal aspect of it. He’s looking forward to introducing you to that part of him soon, too; the initial reveal is always his favorite part.

“I was thinking about going away,” Steve declares as he clears the dirty dishes from the table and brings them to you at the sink. “Would you be interested?”

“In going? With you?” you wonder, soapy water dripping from your hands.

“Yeah, I mean…it’s just something to think about,” he says, wavering slightly. “Fuck it, y’know. Why not, right?”

“Yeah, fuck it,” you laugh. “I’d love to come with you.”

Steve gathers you into his arms, hardly believing that you’ve agreed to come along. It’s almost too easy, but he kind of loves that about you. No games. He sweeps you off your feet, laying wet kisses all over your face and promising you’re going to have the best time…an unforgettable trip, for sure.

The driveway Steve turns down is long and winding. Trees line the paved path and block your view of anything surrounding the property. Before long, a massive structure slips into your line of sight and you’re amazed by the architecture of the house he stops in front of. It looks like something straight out of a magazine; a home that boasts wealth and taste.

“Here we are,” Steve announces, climbing out of the car to grab your bags.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you check the time as you follow Steve to the door and wait for him to unlock it. You notice that you don’t have service though you don’t pay it too much attention. He swings the door open to reveal an artistically decorated space, the walls are hung with abstract paintings and the furniture is eclectic and cultured. You exclaim in awe and Steve shrugs modestly as you compliment his choice of decor. 

He moves to the kitchen, leaving you to explore as he prepares a drink for you. In his absence, you check your phone once more, wanting to let your closest friend and neighbor know that you’ve arrived safely. Instead, you find that you still have no service and are thus unable to do so. Steve comes in then, carrying two glasses of amber liquid and a smile that could — and does — melt your heart.

“Hey, I can’t get any service. Do you have wifi here?”

Steve hums contemplatively as he sets the glasses down on an end table. “Must be out again. The service is pretty spotty up here, but if you walk around sometimes you can catch a few bars,” he responds dismissively. “C’mere, you gotta try this drink.”

Pocketing your cell, you join him on an impressively comfortable couch and accept the glass he hands to you. The chilled liquid seeps through the thin cup and condensation forms against your warm palm as you sip the drink within. It’s bitter and spicy and fruity and you nod your approval as Steve watches you test the flavors on your tongue.

“Good, right?” he asks.

“Very,” you agree. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I can think of one thing,” he purrs, replacing your glass on the table as he reaches out for you.

You allow Steve to pull you into his lap and you look down at him with adoration written all over your face. His hands journey from your shoulder blades, down your back, and over your hips where they eventually come to rest on your ass. Using his grip on your backside, he pushes his crotch upwards into yours.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” you wonder breathlessly.

“I’m not good at keeping my hands off of you,” he murmurs, the whiskey on his own breath mixing with yours as he kisses you heatedly. “Just wanna eat you up.”

It’s at that exact moment your stomach decides to growl loudly, effectively ruining the moment. The drive up had been long and you’re starving, but there are much more pressing matters at hand. Steve chuckles beneath you, peering up at you with an expectant face and a crooked smirk. He ignores the way your hips swivel against his and inhales deeply as he observes you.

“I guess I should feed you, huh?” he comments.

You lean in, pressing your forehead to the silky material of his button-up shirt and whine.

“I’m not that kind of hungry, though,” you whisper against his shoulder which shakes with laughter beneath you.

“We have all weekend for that,” he assures you, tapping your ass lightly as he begins to shift you to your feet. “Up.”

You obey, although you do so begrudgingly. Steve captures your lips in a toe-curling kiss and takes your hand, leading you into an immaculate kitchen. Setting you up on a high stool at the counter, he fiddles with the dials on the stove and flits about the kitchen; bouncing from the fridge to the cabinets as he whips up a meal for you. The room fills with the savory scent of garlic, onions, and browning meat and Steve hums along to the soft rock playing from the phonograph in the next room. By the time he’s plating up the food, you're sure your stomach is beginning to eat itself.

“Here you are, my dear,” Steve announces, draping a hand towel over his shoulder as he sets the dish before you and offers you a fork.

“Smells delish,” you praise, smiling gratefully up at him.

Steve grabs his own fork, bracing his elbows on the countertop as he waits for you to have the first bite. The plate is filled with a small pile of handmade pasta, complete with two over-sized meatballs. It’s a simple meal, but at this point you’d be willing to eat almost anything. Opting to try his pasta first, you stab the tines of your utensil into several pieces before sliding them off the fork with your teeth; the taste and texture are better than anything you’ve had before, though you only have store-bought to compare it to. Next, you slice a chunk off the sauce-coated meatball and lift it to your lips. 

You don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes track your every movement as you raise the bite of meat to your mouth; his pulse pounding in his ears and his heart racing. Your tongue peeks out, sweeping a remnant drop of sauce from your lips as you chew thoughtfully. The meatball is juicy and perfectly seasoned, something unfamiliar but decadent about its flavor.

“Okay,” you begin, pausing to swallow the mouthful of food. “This is the best meatball I’ve ever had. Hands down.”

“That right there is a $30,000 meatball,” Steve declares, spearing pasta into his own mouth.

It’s obvious in the way you giggle at his admission that you think he’s joking. If only you knew.

“I bet it is,” you chuckle, playing along.

The remainder of the meal is shared in comfortable silence, aside from your pleasured hums as you enjoy Steve’s delicious cooking. When you’re finished he insists that — as his guest — you’re not allowed to help him with the dishes, so he instead prepares a mixed drink for you and sends you away to go explore his home.

He finds you in the ambiently lit sitting room, slowly circling the perimeter and appreciating the extravagant art that adorns each wall. You don’t know he’s entered the room and it allows him to observe you in a natural and completely vulnerable light. As you make your way to the massive canvas that hides his darkest secret, he notices the way you begin to sway slightly. That’s good. 

You lean in towards the odd installation you stand before, taking note of the three dimensional aspects among the thick strokes of oil paint. Upon closer inspection, they appear to be very thin bits of leather, all in varying shades and tones. Bending a bit to get a better look, you lift a hand to touch a section of sleek, white…rocks? No, they almost look like…

“Sweetheart?” Steve barks, prompting you to jump.

Ice cubes rattle loudly in your glass and you nearly spill your drink on the soft carpet. You whirl around to find Steve, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Somehow he’s snuck up on you while you were taking in the decor and you chuckle as you try to slow your racing heart.

“Are those…” you slur, shocked by how dry your mouth feels all of a sudden.

Steve knows what you’re going to ask, though he knows it won’t be necessary for him to confirm. You wobble uneasily, the glass in your hand dangerously close to slipping from your weak fingers. Perfect timing. He utters your name, but you’re too zoned out to respond right away.

“Look at me,” he demands. “Come here.”

You barely manage a single step before your knees buckle and the glass tumbles from your grasp with a dull thud. Steve moves quickly, traversing the room and making it to you moments before your fall face-first onto the floor.

The heaviness in your body makes it almost impossible to move. Your head is throbbing and swimming and it hurts to open your eyes. An inexplicable metallic taste fills your mouth as you move carefully, easing onto your back. Taking in your surroundings, you have no idea where the hell you are. A distorted voice calls out to you, though it seems incredibly far away.

It takes a moment for you to recognize the dulcet tone, but then it registers. Steve. You’re with Steve. You’re at his house. You shift further, sinking into the soft mattress beneath you as you turn and spot him in the opposite corner of the room. Why is he sitting all the way over there?

“How did you sleep?” he prompts blandly.

“Good, I guess,” you croak sheepishly, vaguely aware of a rattling sound as you sit up. “I’m sorry, I don’t even remember—”

As you lift your hand to rub it over your face, your words are halted along with your arm. You hadn’t even noticed it on account of how heavy your limbs felt: the leather cuff around your wrist. Or the one encircling the other arm as well.

And the length of chain padlocked between them.

You stretch your arms away from your body, as if trying to escape your own imprisoned limbs. The thick chain runs along the mattress and behind your seated form where it is attached to a steel loop embedded in the wall. It’s all too much to process at once with your foggy brain so you merely stare dumbly for a long, long moment. You can’t quite determine why you’re dressed in what appear to be tan hospital scrubs or why you’re sitting on a mattress on the floor, either.

“What…what is this?” you whimper, turning back to Steve.

Your question is met only with a sympathetic half-smile. There’s something so eerie and dismissive about it. How can he be so blasé about the fact that you’re chained to a fucking wall?

“Is this…is this a joke?” you wonder, your tone indicating how badly you want it to be that simple. “Steve, please. Tell me this is a joke.”

“I drugged you,” he admits airily, as indifferently as if he’s commenting on the weather.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

The abject horror in your words has him sighing pitifully as he stands from the chair he sits upon and begins to approach. You scurry as far as you can within your confines and push your back up against the wall behind you. He continues to close in on you, stopping just out of reach to crouch before you.

“I’m not. I mean…I kind of am, but you’re not going to feel it. Y’know…’cause I’m a doctor, so I’ve got the strong stuff.”

The creepy smile and the way he waves his hands so casually at his own joke makes your skin crawl. Nothing is making any sense to you and you’re utterly terrified. Your eyes well with tears and your entire body vibrates with dread.

“I…I don’t understand,” you barely manage to whisper.

“I’m going to sell your meat.”

Everything stops then. Your breathing. Your heart. Time.

There’s no possible way you heard that correctly. There’s no way he meant what you think he means when he dropped that bomb like it was no big deal, gesturing vaguely towards your body as he said it. There is no fucking way. 

“Please…don’t do this,” you plead, the tears flowing freely now as you begin to sob. “Please don’t kill me.”

Steve’s face twists piteously at the feeble sounds you emit and he shifts to his knees, drawing nearer to you. His fingers ghost over your ankle and if you had room to run, you’d have pulled away from the way his touch burns your skin.

“Hey, shhh,” he soothes. “I’m not going to kill you. Well, not just yet. People pay me a lot of money for this. I promise I’ll try to keep you alive as long as I possibly can.”

The idea that keeping you alive longer is somehow going to soften the blow of being fucking murdered sends you into a fit, your chest constricts so painfully that you can no longer draw breath. Your lungs feel as though they’re collapsing and the sounds that escape your strangled throat as you begin to hyperventilate are disturbing to say the least. Steve murmurs your name several times, though you cannot make it out over the sounds of your woeful cries; not until he forcefully screams the moniker and you’re forced to quiet the sounds you make.

You still pant and whimper, sniffling as mucus drips unimpeded from your nose. Steve inches closer, crawling over to you and gathering you into his muscular arms to hold your head against his chest. Your cries pick up again and with an arm braced across your chest, he holds your shoulder in one hand and your face in the other. The palm of his hand muffles your cries as he imprisons you against him.

“You’re alright, honey,” he assures you menacingly. “It’s fine. You’re going to be okay.”

You’re too discombobulated to fight him as he rubs his fingers along your scalp and coos quietly into your hair. You never expected to be aware of how you’re going to die and you had certainly not expected to know that it’s coming.

“There you go. No games, right?” he whispers. “That’s what you wanted. Stop being so dramatic.”

His words cause a fresh wave of tears and you hiccup softly as you soak his designer shirt with your sorrow. The gentle pressure of his hands is anything but comforting and when he kisses the top of your head in what you suppose is meant to be a placating gesture before tossing you away from him and standing up, it cracks your chest wide open with defeat.

The next time you see Steve, he’s dressed in wrinkled teal scrubs and wearing an expression of sheer exhaustion. You have no idea how long you’ve been here, only able to tell time by the routine sound of feminine screams you witness every so often. From what you can tell, Steve ventures down to the basement once a day to work on his…patients, which means you’ve been here for at least a week.

There’s something slightly less lonely about knowing you aren’t the only one down here, but that notion is also heartbreaking. You don’t know if the screams you hear belong to the same few women or if he’s cycling through new victims each day. Either way, you live in constant fear; wondering when it will be your turn.

The metallic sound of the lock unlatching is succeeded by the rattle of the slatted door sliding open. The fact that Steve hadn’t beckoned you over to attach your banded wrists to the short chain hanging from a hook near the door like he always does before entering is just further evidence of how tired he is. It’s careless and that’s very unlike the meticulous man. 

He enters looking haggard and his feet drag as he shuffles over with a tray of food in one hand and a disposable cup of what you presume is coffee in the other. Steve lays the tray beside the mattress you’re curled up on, giving you an expectant look. You’ve yet to eat almost anything he’s offered you thus far and you don’t intend to give in now. He bends at the waist, snatching a few green grapes from one of the bowls before he settles on the floor near the opposite wall, placing the cup beside him. His legs are sprawled far apart and he slumps slightly as he chews on the juicy ovular fruit.

“I want you to join me for dinner tomorrow night,” he implores, his voice raspier than usual.

“I want you to go fuck yourself,” you hiss.

You’re not sure where it comes from or why, but your blatant attitude is met with a glare from the rumpled man across the room, one which warns you to tread very carefully going forward. However, your fate is already sealed, so what harm will it do to be as difficult as you possibly can be until your time finally comes? With that in mind, you use your bare toes to shove the tray of food away from you; the glass of water tips over and splashes along the floor and the bowl of soup sloshes messily.

Steve doesn’t immediately react to your act of your defiance, instead slurping noisily from his cup as he stares you down. His eyes are colder than you’re used to, but you stand your ground and hold his gaze.

“You need to eat. If you don’t eat, you’re of no use to me.”

The unspoken threat in his words is deafening. It knocks your temerity down a few notches to be reminded that Steve is in complete control here. He groans lowly as he lifts his weary body from the floor, his over-used joints cracking and popping as he makes his way to the door. The window of opportunity presents itself wonderfully and you spring to your feet the moment his back turns towards you. Unfortunately, Steve’s eyes fall on the forgotten chain dangling near the door and he suddenly realizes his mistake; a realization which prepares him for your assault. 

With a harried yelp, you latch your arms around his neck and jump on his back. Steve grunts in surprise as he pitches forward and tosses you over his shoulder. You barely manage to keep your balance, using your grip on his top to pull him off kilter, the thin fabric tearing loudly. Steve has no patience for your behavior and he smashes his forearm forcefully into your chest. The blow sends you reeling and you trip, your body slamming painfully against the edge of the steel toilet in the corner. 

Upon impact, you know immediately that at least two of your ribs are broken. The searing pain takes your breath away and you cry out, your arms wrapping protectively around your torso. Steve smooths his hands over his disheveled hair and gathers the length of chain from the wall. He stomps over to you and lifts you without concern for your fresh injury. You scream in pain when he tries to toss you haphazardly onto the mattress and ends up tumbling down with you.

Though it’s excruciating, you roll onto your back and pummel your small fists into the chest of the man who hovers threateningly over your prone form. You land a few blows against his face for good measure before he gathers your wrists in one hand and clips the chain to your cuffs. He pins your arms above your head so you resort to lifting a knee towards his crotch, although the pain in your side prevents you from putting any real force behind it.

“That’s enough,” Steve barks. “Knock it off!”

You’re sobbing all over again as he yells in your face and jostles your whole body. Your arms go limp and your flailing legs finally settle. Each pant that passes your lips causes your lungs to inflate with great discomfort and you begin to feel nauseous from the ache.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” You scream, spittle flying unbidden from your lips.

It goes unnoticed, but a flash of pain bursts in Steve’s eyes as you howl and weep beneath him; even more so when he shifts to wipe a tear from your cheek and you flinch instinctively. This isn't at all how he wanted things to go. Not even close. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’ll do what he has to. 

When you’ve finally quieted down, Steve lets up on your wrists, removing his grip and placing his palms beside your head to bear his weight. Almost instantly, you’re swinging your fists upwards and catching his nose with a brutal punch. He grunts in pain and the blood flow is immediate. The warm, crimson stream drips from his nose and splatters against your face, gathering in the crevice of your right nostril and along the seam of your sealed lips. Steve’s eyes grow concerningly stormy and you realize this is it. This is how you die. As his fingers slip around the delicate column of your throat, you’re sure of it. You close your eyes and prepare.

What you don’t expect is the jarring collision of his mouth against yours; angry and fervent and hungry. Your eyes pop open as Steve devours your lips, his blood smearing all over his own face and yours as he nips and sucks at your mouth. Too stunned to stop him, your lips are forced open and his tongue delves into the warm recesses of your mouth, swirling and searching. Saliva coats your chin, mixing with and diluting the scarlet sheen that’s spreading across Steve’s face.

By the time your brain catches up, Steve is already pulling away and yanking at the elastic waistband of your oversized pants. He’s got them off your legs and free of your feet before you can even think of protesting. Even worse though, the way he’s so ardently and needily kissing you has your thighs clenching and your nerves tingling. When his hands delve under your shirt and his fingers ghost along your sternum, you object only because you know you should. 

Steve hesitates momentarily, though he swallows any words you try to say with his lips sealed tightly against yours. His touch continues its journey, reaching its target when he gathers the weight of your breasts in his palms and his thumbs drag lazily over your hardened nipples. You’re not sure what the sound you make is indicative of, only that it seems to spur him on. Dropping his hips, he grinds his erection roughly against your panty-covered core and leaves no doubt in your mind about what he’s after.

With the coppery tang still on your tongue and the scent of blood assaulting your nose as it continues to dribble down onto you, you come to your senses and yank your lips away from Steve’s. He’s breathing heavily and bloodied and ravenous. Turning his attention lower, he pushes the material of your shirt out of the way of his exploring mouth as he covers your belly with slow, wet kisses; a sanguine trail left behind as he descends. When he reaches the edge of your panties, his eyes lift to meet yours; lust-blown and tinged with challenge. Just try and stop me, they scream.

You make one final effort to wriggle away, though there’s nowhere for you to go with the chain tethering you to the wall and the pull of the mesmerizing man tethering you to this godforsaken mattress. Still, you wiggle your hips and plant your feet to push your body further up the soft surface under you. To no avail. Steve’s hands are on your waist at once, stilling you and forcing you to heed the warning in his eyes. Eyes that drop between your shifting thighs and darken with lust.

“Oh, honey,” he purrs with condescension as he observes the dark, damp spot staining the gusset of your panties. “I thought you didn’t like playing games. Yet here you are pretending you don’t want me while your little pussy is absolutely dripping.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and pools low in your belly at Steve’s vulgar observation. You move to shut your legs in embarrassment, but he’s grabbing them with firm hands before you have a chance. The way his body slithers further down and his parted lips hover over your center is reminiscent of your first incredible morning together, though the circumstances are much different this time. What isn’t different is the knot that tightens in your belly when he breathes hotly over you. Or the white hot flash of inexplicable desire that washes over you when he leisurely removes your sticky panties. 

Shame burns deep within you, nestled in right beside the need that sizzles through your bloodstream. You can’t exactly reason with the sudden relief you feel at the first touch of Steve’s warm, wet tongue along your sodden folds. He laves your flesh with pointed, sure strokes, wasting no time as he swirls slackly around your swollen bud. You whimper for a multitude of reasons, your eyes clenched shut as if not being able to see what’s happening will somehow transport you away from what he’s doing and the indignity of it all.

Steve moans shamelessly into your slick, slippery pussy, burying his face in your essence and his tongue in the clenching opening of your channel. With expert pressure and rhythm, he sweeps the tip of the muscle relentlessly around your clit, stopping when a shiver wracks your body. Pushing up, he fits his hips between your thighs and braces himself above you.

“You wanna taste how badly you want me?” he taunts confidently.

Gathering the saliva that floods your mouth, you purse your lips and spit the glob directly into Steve’s face. The surprise in his expression is swiftly ousted by something much more sinister and licentious. You don’t even see it coming when Steve sweeps his arm and backhands you across the mouth, hard.

“Bad girl,” he growls.

With teeth bared, he wipes most of your saliva from his still-bloodied face and leans in close. Using the thumb of the same hand, he pries your jaw open with uncomfortable force and spits directly into your gaping, bloody mouth. When you swallow it all obediently — your eyes wide with both reproach and submission — he feels himself grow harder than he’s ever been in his life. His thumb drags along the moist surface of your tongue, soaking his flesh and leaving a wet trail down your chin when he retreats. 

Steve yanks the stretchy waistband of his scrubs low, just enough to release his oozing cock and he pulls you closer to him. You squirm in the grasp of his strong hands; not necessarily because you want him to stop, but because you’re humiliated by how easily you know your body is going to accept him. He halts your movements effortlessly with his next words.

“Behave yourself or I’m going to take your ass,” he warns, his spit-slicked thumb slipping down to press against the ring of muscle and really drive the point home.

Sensing your capitulation, Steve adjusts his position and fits your backside against his thick thighs. He shoves clumsily at his pants once more and takes hold of himself, brushing the painfully swollen head of his throbbing cock against your bundle of nerves. You jolt at the unexpected stimulation, an alarmed squeak quickly morphing into a ragged, debauched moan when his cock slips deeply into your body which yields to his intrusion with no resistance whatsoever.

He gives you no time to adjust to the imposing girth of his length, instead settling into a rough and punishing rhythm. Because that’s exactly what this is: a punishment. For defying him. For bewitching him. For making him question everything he’s ever known. Grunting and growling, he pummels your body with his cock and drags a chorus of unrestrained screams from you. He’d much rather earn your pleasured sounds another way, but you made your choice.

You can hardly catch your breath under the relentless assault on your body and the vigorous movement is wreaking havoc on your throbbing ribs. You’re only able to squeal and pant and take everything he gives you. Unlike the bliss of the first time he fucked you, Steve has no interest in your comfort. This isn’t about you, it’s for him. He’s taking what he wants and reminding you of your situation. But you won’t let him break you. 

With your eyes pressed shut, you block out Steve’s feral expression and the animalistic sounds he makes above you, willing your mind to focus on the man you thought he was. The one who handled your body like a fragile piece of glass, like an object to be worshipped and cared for. The man who respected you as a person and didn’t view you as just a piece of meat for him to fuck. The one who showed you how it felt to love and be loved.

The strained, grating moan that claws its way up Steve’s throat forces you back to your reality, however. It’s thunderous and it rattles you as his fingers thread around your neck once more and he drives his full weight behind his thrusts. Mouth parting with a silent screech, you crumble under his ferocious ministrations; breaking apart upon the painful undertow you feel beneath the crashing waves of pleasure. Your walls constrict with enough pressure that Steve is forced to still, his dick being divinely strangled as your orgasm rips through you.

Unable to hold back, he climaxes right alongside you. His cock twitches so hard you can feel it and he pours his cum into your willing body, filling you with a warm, wet flood that makes your stomach flutter for several reasons. Steve lowers his head to your shoulder — his sweat-dampened hair flopping across your heated flesh — and he whimpers; a sound so weak and pathetic, you hardly believe it came from him. You’re shaking and drained, your malnourished body not capable of remaining conscious. Before Steve has even slipped free of your wrecked pussy, your vision blacks out.

When you come to, it’s to the sound of the door being opened again. Your eyes creak open to reveal Steve entering your room. You hadn’t seen him redress or leave; you’re not sure how long he was gone for or how long you were out. All you know is that you feel horrendous and you’re unusually aware of every aching inch of your body. Without looking down, you can tell that you’re still naked; something that makes you feel uncomfortably vulnerable when Steve kneels on the mattress beside you. Too bad you’re much too wrung out to do anything about it.

He observes you with a discerning gaze, leaning forward to lift the edge of your shirt and examine the purple, blotchy bruise that forms along the ridges of your ribcage. Humming sympathetically, his fingers trail along your side and over your bare hip. You can only whine, unable to move away from his tickling touch. When his hand wanders between your thighs, you shut your eyes again, allowing the haze of fatigue to cloud your mind.

“Are you still sore?” Steve asks, noting your miniscule nod of confirmation. “Good. Let it be a reminder of what happens when you aren’t good for me.”

Steve takes you again, though it isn’t nearly as rough as the first time. His fingers explore delicately beneath your blood-stained shirt, his kisses tender and cautious. Every thrust of his hips is slower, gentler. Even his eyes soften when eventually you look into them, something apologetic swimming in their icy depths.

This time when he finishes, it isn’t inside you — something you’re grateful for. Instead, he pulls out, stroking his cock and cupping the tip to collect the thick spurts of cum in his palm. Before you can react, he’s pressing his hand to your face; smearing the sticky warmth of his release over your mouth and across your chin. Some of it trails down your neck where it collects in the hollow of your throat. Steve pries your mouth open, slipping a cum-slathered finger along your tongue and forcing you to lick his entire hand clean. He takes a moment to admire you — the way one might observe and appreciate a piece of art — and then he’s gone.

A heady cocktail of nerves and adrenaline surges through your veins, setting your limbs to shaking as Steve leads you into the kitchen. It feels like years since you’ve been up here and you realize there’s no real way for you to confirm that it hasn’t been. He disconnects the lock between your wrists and attaches only one to the arm of the stool you sit upon, giving you full use of your other arm. You wipe your damp palms along the leggings he’d given you and shift beneath the t-shirt you can only assume belongs to him.

Following your punishment, Steve’s presence had been sparse. Aside from delivering three meals a day to the room you’ve been relegated to, you didn’t see him and he rarely ever spoke to you. It had been you who had ultimately broken the ice, quietly luring him into conversation and testing the waters to see if he was still upset with you. Not that it matters much how he feels towards you when he’s planning to kill you.

“How did you start?” you murmur hesitantly. “The first time…”

Steve looks your way as he rolls up the sleeves of a soft-looking black sweater and places two plates on the kitchen island. He shoves the dish furthest from him so that you can reach it and stands with his hips propped on the opposite counter, merely watching you. You’ve taken a bite of your food before he finally acknowledges the question.

“It just kind of...happened. I was 18 or 19,” he begins, the tone of his voice careful and closed off; like he doesn’t want to say too much. Not that he can tell you anything worse than what you already know. “I was horrified at first. I mean, who wouldn’t be? I was just a normal kid, y’know? I had a normal life. And then I had to deal with this...thing that I couldn’t share with anybody. And that killed me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth. I liked it…I liked the way it made me feel.”

You listen with morbid interest, your curiosity piqued as you learn just how exactly one becomes a cannibal. Steve describes the whole experience so poetically that you’re entranced by his words and drawn into the mesmerizingly gory picture he so beautifully paints. The way he explains it is almost…religious; he’s passionate and fervid, volunteering the most intimate parts of himself. You’re feeling it again; that closeness you’d once known when he let you tear down the walls of who he is as you laid in his arms morning after morning…that connection. He pokes absently at the plate of food he lifts from the counter, taking small bites here and there and savoring it as he continues.

“All this time I’ve had to hide my way of life. This…this idiosyncrasy about myself. And all I’ve ever wanted is the freedom of having someone know,” he admits, almost sounding pained by his own words. “It’s such a powerful thing…giving yourself over to someone like that. It’s a…it’s a beautiful thing.”

Steve is rounding the counter now, prowling and fluid as he makes his way behind you. Your shoulders heave with uneasy breaths and your airway is constricted by phantom hands of apprehension. The hands that slip over your shoulders are warm, but the touch chills you to the bone. Something about the way his body cages you in makes you feel like a trapped and scared animal, much more than the shackle upon your wrist does. Steve’s breath comes hot and steady as he noses along the shell of your ear.

“You can’t know how liberating it is to share something so private with someone,” he whispers eagerly. “Becoming one with somebody else…bonded forever to them with this secret. That’s surrender. That’s love.”

A shiver runs down your spine at Steve’s breathless declaration. His hands travel down your biceps and along your forearms before reaching your wrists where they stop to surround the leather cuffs already encircling your wrists. The expanse of his broad chest presses insistently against your back and you can feel the heavy, heightened pounding of his heart; all at once he seems significantly more human.

“I want you to be that,” he confesses with emotion, his soft lips just barely caressing your clammy skin. “I want you to surrender to me.”

The vehement words feel almost heartfelt and the impassioned way he expresses them threatens to disintegrate the very foundation of your moral compass. Ignoring how right it feels to be enshrouded beneath his commanding presence and formidable body, you swallow thickly and take a steadying breath.

“What is it like?” you query, your wafer-thin voice belying the disquietude you feel.

The sharp edge of Steve’s chin digs into your shoulder when he rests his head there and contemplates your inquest for a long, tense moment. His fingers massage absently in small circles at the edge of your cuffs.

“If it’s done right…it’s fucking exquisite,” he guarantees, pulling away from you and returning to where he previously stood on the other side of the island, facing you and watching you closely. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever had before. Wouldn’t you say?”

He tips his chin, gesturing to your forgotten supper. Your eyes drift from Steve’s blank face to the plate and then back again. Something deep inside you registers what he’s just said — based on the way your heart stutters and your mouth floods with moisture at the wave of nausea you feel — but it takes your brain just a second longer to catch up. It’s not so much what he’s admitted to doing that bothers you as much as it is the fact he’d done so without telling you. However, the reality that you’re not as bothered by it as you should be is what prompts your reaction.

With the hand not chained up, you cover your mouth, leaning forward you quell the lurching in your stomach. A whimper wrenches free from your lungs and the splitting pain reminds you that your ribs still haven’t fully healed. The desperate sounds that leave you as tears begin to fall are barely muffled by your shaking hand. It takes everything you have not to lean into Steve’s smooth palm when he cups your cheek and angles your face upwards.

“What is it?” he wonders. “What’s wrong?”

You want to scream at him, scratch your throat raw telling him how fucked up he is and how wrong and immoral his choices are. You want to yell until there’s no air left in your deflated lungs; tell him how much you hate him for ruining everything, for making you fall in love with him only to rip the rug right out from under you with his sordid, sinful doings. You want to, but you don’t. Because even after it all, you still love him and the only person here who should be ashamed is you. For how much shame you don’t actually carry. It feels impossible to admit to him let alone to yourself, though it’s not as if you should expect to be judged.

“I feel awful,” you wail tearfully. “I feel awful because I don’t feel awful.”

Steve tsks in saddened understanding, pulling you in close and pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead. His lips rest there for a moment before he buries his nose in your hair and deeply inhales your scent. You cry even harder, burying your tear-soaked face in the luxurious fabric of his sweater. 

“The acceptance is the hardest part,” he coos. “Accepting what you are.”

When eventually you separate from Steve to meet his penetrating eyes, his gaze is surging with a look you’re growing all too familiar with. The one that says “I know you” and “I see you” and “you’re just like me.”

You wonder at what point the flip switched in your brain that made you believe you could accept someone who eats people, but it’s evident that it has momentarily flipped back. Though as the branches and twigs rip at the skin of your bare ankles and feet, you ponder whether you’re really making the best choice here. It’s disorienting and confusing, being knocked off kilter by your inability to decide what is right and what is wrong and where specifically you draw that line when it involves someone you love. But you don’t have time to think about that right now. Not when the echoing sound of Steve’s enraged yells are drawing so close as you sprint through the woods behind his house.

The way you see it, you have only two choices. Either you wave the white flag and return to Steve, resigning yourself to a life with the man you love and all of his homicidal, cannibalistic shortcomings, or you simply die. Whether it’s fast and painless via the gun he’s toting or slowly beneath the sharp edge of the tools that had taken apart his previous victims piece by piece, you don’t know if it really makes much of a difference. It’s death all the same. 

It all happened so fast…the events that led to you making your escape and running into the darkness of the unknown in the dead of the night. Things had been going fine; at least as fine as they could be, you suppose. Steve had been spending more time with you and less partaking in his…hobby. He’d even let you out every night to join him for fanciful dinners; on occasion he’d even forgotten to chain you up. A look of befuddled wonderment crossed his visage when he finally realized and saw that you’d been aware all along though you made no attempt to flee. As the days passed, a sense of understanding and even a level of trust developed between you. But you’ve shattered that to bits now.

When Steve had left you unchained and free to roam after providing you one too many glasses of wine, you’d wandered into the living room; he followed you there, watching as you swayed freely to the soft music that played. Eventually, he joined you with his hands braced tenderly around your hips as he danced in perfect rhythm with you. The delicate press of his lips against the side of your neck and along your shoulder sparked the fire that rapidly contorted into a blazing inferno. 

You found yourself wrapped around one another and drunk on each other’s touch, all lips and teeth and panting moans. Steve took your hand in his, his mouth inviting you to his bed and his smoldering eyes merely reiterating the request. It’d be the first time being with him since he’d taken from you in order to penalize you and keep you in line; only this time he’s leaving the decision entirely up to you. Standing precariously at the edge of something acutely iniquitous, you were not quite sure if you’re ready to take the leap. And it is precisely that uncertainty that had you shoving Steve off balance and taking a panicked course through the glass-paned door at the back of the house — which you were glad to have found unlocked. 

Sweat soaks into the thin material of the tee you wear, the insubstantial garment offering no protection against the nighttime chill. The rush of heat elicited by your physical exertion and  pumping adrenaline will keep you plenty warm. Steve pursues you from a short distance — one which is swiftly dwindling and inducing a sickening panic that settles deep in the pit of your stomach — and he’s screaming; he’s apologizing, though you don’t know what for. But God, something in you wants to stop and find out. 

Your muscles are disused and your body under-nourished, making it difficult for you to keep up your pace as you weave in and out of the thick underbrush. As your stamina dwindles, so does the dim halo of radiance from the house’s floodlights that make your path through the forest even somewhat visible.

Now running blindly, your heart pounds so hard it hurts. Steve is closing in on you, his voice rough and cracking as he bellows into the night and orders you to stop. In your haste, you lose your footing and twist your ankle painfully. With a wounded shriek, you go down hard and you realize you’re at the edge of a steep hill. Your palms slap wetly into a particularly muddy portion of ground and you slip until you’re sprawled on your stomach, gliding over the dirt on a layer of wet leaves and detritus as you tumble down the incline.

Your ankle throbs uncomfortably, begging you to stay off of it, though you can’t exactly heed your body’s warning. Even as his voice grows closer and with the beam of the flashlight he holds reflecting off the branches of the trees near you, you’re not ready to admit defeat. Rallying what little strength you have left, you drag yourself along the forest floor. 

Although you can’t see yourself, you know you’re covered in a layer of filth and your pants are soaked through; something drips down the bit of leg that shows through the rip in your pants, but you’re not sure if it’s mud or blood…or both. It’ll be nearly impossible to outrun Steve with your current injury, so you scurry as fast as you can and obscure your body behind the widest tree trunk you can find, under a half-dead bush. Your lungs burn as you suck in cold air and release it with a huff, repeating the action as you fight to catch your breath. 

Steve’s steps approach, prompting you to curl up and make yourself as small as possible. You can hear the sounds of him panting as well and his footfalls slow a bit. He’s moving methodically, picking his way through the foliage and keeping his steps light. The searching beacon of his flashlight passes right over your hiding spot and you squeeze your eyes shut, saying a silent prayer that no part of you is visible to him. Just when you think you’ve successfully evaded him, something catches Steve’s attention.

As his flashlight illuminates a group of massive trees, he spots a swirling cloud of what appears to be fog. He pauses for a moment…waiting, watching. Another cloud. And then a third. Both relief and anger floods his entire being and he moves the light away, just beyond the tree you’re behind so that you believe he hasn’t seen you. A sigh leaves his lips, bringing with it his own whirling mist.

The crunching of leaves and sticks comes louder, the peril of Steve’s approach now a physical weight that threatens to crush you into the damp soil. He’s right on you and you ease a palm over your nose and mouth to hush your hurried breathing. It falls eerily silent and your eyes slip open. Before you can even register that it’s pitch black again — the glow of the flashlight suddenly missing — something is wrenching the back of your shirt and you’re being hauled to your feet. A petrified howl parts your lips without even having to see him. 

As terror overcomes you and Steve yanks you into his chest and encircles your throat with a daunting amount of pressure, you begin to regret your decision to run. Surely, the consequences of rejecting Steve’s advances couldn’t have been worse than whatever punishment you’re about to endure now.

You can smell his sweat and the whiskey-tinged flavor of his labored breaths. The adrenaline heightens your senses; his heavy panting mixes with your own, the symphony of exhalations deafening as it rushes past your ear drums. Your skin tingles beneath his brutal touch, the silky linen of his button-up searing you anywhere it connects with your bare flesh. Fear engulfs you just as strongly as his thick arms do and you wonder whether there’s any chance of escape for you now. If there is, this is your last chance...the final act; you’d better make it count.

Clawing desperately at the hand wrapped around your windpipe, you gasp and suck in a much needed breath. Steve struggles against your relentless scratching, attempting to wrangle your squirming body into submission. The muzzle of the gun he presses between the two lowest ribs on your right side accomplishes that.

“Steve, please,” you choke.

Tears pour unimpeded down your cheeks, the moisture racing off your chin and down your neck where it loosens Steve’s grip around your throat. You’re gasping again, pulling in as much air as you can before he readjusts his hand and cuts you off once more.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, the words escaping you with a strangled gag. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Something about the sincerity and the terror in your sobbing wails hits him like a punch in the gut. This isn’t what he wanted. He’s growing tired of things not going the way he wants. Still, your pleas have the desired effect; you only know this because you can finally breathe again. Steve’s hand still has you trapped against him, but he isn’t trying to squeeze the life out of you anymore.

“I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want you to be angry with me,” you supply, your weak knees beginning to give out. “I was so scared.”

Your admission nearly makes him crack. Maybe he had pushed you too far, not given you time to accept and adjust; with all of this being so new to you, he should have known you’d be overwhelmed. The last thing he wants is for you to be afraid of him. With that, he forces you forward and spins you around to face him. The barrel of the gun is still pointed threateningly at you, though it’s no longer pressed dangerously close to any important internal organs. Your eyes are welling with tears and remorse; what you find in Steve’s isn’t fury like you expected. It’s hurt. It’s betrayal. He trusted you — vulnerably bared every part of himself to you — and still you ran. You left it behind. You left him.

It’s then that you see it: your chance at forgiveness. It’s buried beneath the roiling seas of pain, mistrust, and vengeance in his frosted stare, but it’s there. The blinding luminescence of the flashlight blurs your vision a bit, but you hold Steve’s gaze nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry for breaking your trust,” you whisper. “I promise I’ll be good.”

The surprise is brief, but it is glaring. Steve’s hardened visage softens only for a moment before he furrows his brow and flattens his mouth into a displeased line. You stumble slightly when he pushes you, your ankle screaming in protest as you scream in pain. He takes mercy on you then — albeit with an annoyed sigh — and he tucks his weapon into his waistband to free his hands so that he can scoop you into his arms. Your arm wraps instinctively around his neck as he looks down at you, a fleeting look of shared guilt passed between you.

Steve totes you effortlessly back to his home, making sure to lock the door behind him when he brings you inside. You’re carried swiftly down the hall to where you know his bedroom awaits, though he takes you instead to the luxurious and expansive bathroom. He sets you easily at the edge of a massive soaking tub and turns the taps, his fingers drifting through the flow of water until he’s deemed it the perfect temperature. Standing at his full height, he looms above you, regarding you for a long moment.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands, softly though it leaves absolutely no room for disobedience.

You hesitate only for a second, but it’s enough. His fingers drift along your jaw where they eventually wrap around your chin, lifting your head slightly. A single, quirked eyebrow is all you earn, a silent reminder of your promise to behave. Steve sees the compliance and acceptance settling in your eyes and he drags the pad of his thumb along your lower lip in a tender show of praise.

You’re at least allowed the courtesy of privacy when Steve turns his back, delving beneath the counter for a plush towel and a few expensive looking bottles of necessary toiletries. You strip with haste, leaving your filthy, ruined clothes in a disheveled pile at your feet. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you dip your toes into the hot water to ensure it won’t scald you and quickly lower your body into it before Steve has a chance to turn around. The temperature of the water soothes your injured ankle, dulling the endless throbbing just a bit. 

There’s a tinge of disappointment in his gaze when he finds you obscured beneath the thick layer of sudsy bubbles though he’s swift in hiding it as he approaches with an armful of shampoo, conditioner, and opulent soaps. He crouches beside the tub and you divert your gaze, too nervous to look his way in your exposed state. As you soak, you begin to assess your other injuries. The slight burn along your shin prompts you to glance down where your knee protrudes from the water and Steve does the same. You know now that it had been blood running down your limb, oozing from the small gash on your leg. 

Steve tuts quietly, running a finger along the dried blood that clings to your skin. He murmurs an offer to bandage the wound once you’re cleaned up and reaches for a cloth which he wets and lathers with soap. He hands it to you, watching intently while you drag the cloth over your muddied skin to cleanse the events of the night from your body. The bathwater has turned a hue of tan by the time you’re finished.

“Scoot forward,” Steve prompts as he takes the soiled cloth from your now-pruney fingers.

You think he’s going to assist you by washing your back for you since he’s now unbuttoning and shedding his shirt, but when he drops the cloth and stands to reach for his belt as well, that notion is long-forgotten. The muscles of his chest and torso ripple and bunch as he divests himself of his clothes and places his gun out of your reach on the other edge of the tub. His ice-blue eyes watch you unflinchingly, though you’re too preoccupied devouring the sight of him clad only in a pair of tight gray boxer briefs to notice. When Steve tucks his thumbs into the waistband, you finally manage to tear your eyes away. 

The water sloshes when Steve steps in behind your curled-up form, his legs brushing yours as he settles his body into the cramped space. You’re trapped between his knees and then up against his hard frame when a hand slithers beneath your protective arms and his wet palm pulls you back against him. You grow dizzy with the heat that now comes not only from the warm bath, but from the man pressed tightly to you, too. 

He says nothing to you as he squirts a bit of shampoo into his hand and lathers it methodically against your scalp. You find your head tilting back of its own accord, seeking to shift closer to his touch. He repeats the process with the conditioner, his hands moving expertly as he rinses the last of the soapy dredges from your hair. You’re utterly lost in the delightful sensation when finally he speaks.

“You know I need to punish you,” he states unemotionally.

His words make your blood run cold and your body tenses. Something which Steve takes notice of immediately and tries to assuage by taking your upper arms in a loose grip, rubbing your limbs soothingly.

“Or you can make it up to me.” Steve offers, pressing his lips to the damp skin of your shoulder blade. “Is that what you want?”

You can’t seem to find the words to respond as his hands drift lower and brush lightly along your sensitive sides, so you merely nod. Steve draws in a sharp breath at your yielding answer and you become aware of a distinct hardness growing along your lower back. He begins exploring more boldly now, causing you to suck in a breath when he drags his fingertips along your ribs towards the swell of your breasts, then along your arms to the leather bands still around your wrists. His hands journey back down, over the curve of your hips and across your thighs. The thud of your heart pounds in your ears and you exhale shakily as your eyes slip shut.

He’s teasing and taunting you, ghosting his touch over every inch of you he can reach, though never really applying any pressure or moving where you want him. Your skin is engulfed with flames of hunger when he delicately grips your thighs and parts them beneath the cooling bathwater. His chin fits itself in the crook of your neck and Steve’s heart races right along with yours. It’s taking everything he has to hold back; to allow you to come to him, to mend the crevasse your duplicity had ripped open between the two of you.

A small whimper bubbles past your lips when his hands drag higher and higher, nearing the apex of your spread legs, though still not allowing you any relief. You reposition yourself and lift your hips imperceptibly, a wordless request for him to put you out of your misery. Instead, his thumbs gently massage into the flesh between your thigh and your wanting core. Your head tips back again, falling helplessly to Steve’s shoulder. His lips meander lazily along your jawline, peppering a trail of wet kisses towards your ear where he nibbles softly on the lobe. 

“Are you gonna be good?” he queries, his voice dark and coarse and lecherous.

When his fingers finally — oh God, finally — dip between your soaked folds, you can do nothing more than moan brokenly, signaling your anguished confirmation. Steve pulls his fingers along the swollen flesh with ease, your slickness noticeable even under all the water. He groans against your cheek, his lips parting to allow him to nip sweetly at the edge of your jaw. The hot length of his cock bumps insistently against your back, though he doesn’t seem to be concerned about himself. He’s only focused on you, on making you his.

“Then give me what I want,” he demands despairingly. “Surrender.”

It’s so fucked up — you know that — but the part of you that doesn’t want to acquiesce is so much smaller than the part of you that does. His voice is broken and torn; so desperately in need of your concession, so desperately in need of feeling necessary. The way you gasp and melt bonelessly against him is all the reaction he needs. He knows he’s got you then. 

His fingers sweep determinedly over your swollen, neglected clit, wrenching a passionate cry from your lips. Something about the way he holds you tightly in his embrace while he pulls you apart with his deft hands makes you feel safe. Desired. Protected. As sick and twisted as Steve is, you can feel how deeply and truly the man loves you. Worships you, in fact. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Steve shifts behind you, better angling his arm so that he can slip his two middle fingers into you with ease. You cry out yet again as his thumb flicks precisely over your clit and sends you hurtling right to the edge. Waves splash around you as your parted legs try to clench shut around his invading fingers, though Steve won’t allow that. He utilizes his free hand to keep you bared to him, his whispered words of both praise and warning prompting you to simply let go.

And you do. God, you do. With a ragged scream and a full-bodied convulsion, you come apart in his arms and he works you through the powerful explosion. His fingers continue pumping slowly in and out of your sucking heat, eliciting a secondary orgasm that grips you just as fiercely as the first. All the while, Steve’s teeth graze faintly across your shoulder, digging almost painfully into the tender flesh at the base of your neck when your body twitches again and squeezes his fingers forcefully. 

When at last you make your way back down from your powerful orgasm, Steve rises gingerly from the tub and offers his hand to help you out as well. You don’t know why you cover yourself so shyly while he stands there, his impressive erection bobbing proudly between you as he swaddles your slippery body in a fluffy towel and wraps another around his own waist. He threads his fingers between yours, beckoning you to follow him into the bedroom, making sure to move slowly on account of your sore ankle. The same apprehension from earlier floods you once again, though this time it’s borne of nerves and not fear.

Standing before you at the foot of the bed, Steve watches you expectantly, trying to gauge your mood from the amalgamation of emotions that swirl in your shifting eyes. With both hands, he holds your face with devastating tenderness, imploring you to focus only on him.

“Kiss me,” he breathes. 

The barely audible syllables break down any part of the walls that may have remained. Everything you’ve known is flipped on its head and you realize now that you’re the one with the power. Steve wants you badly, that’s obvious; but more than that, he wants you to come to him. Preferably of your own volition. So you relent, taking the half-step it requires to close the distance between you and standing on your toes to reach his parted lips. This time, you’re the one to tease him; leaving only a breadth of space between your mouths, torturously drawing the moment out. 

Steve breathes out — shaky and unsteady — when you brace your warm palms on the firm planes of his bare chest. Every second you make him wait, he tiptoes closer and closer to snapping; dangerously close to throwing you down and fucking you vigorously. Just when he thinks he can stand it no longer, you press your lips to his. He sighs into the kiss, hands dropping to draw you ever closer and offer you no means of escape as he kisses you back hungrily.

You come up for air only when it is absolutely necessary, begrudgingly drawing back, a line of sticky saliva dripping down your chin. Steve groans at the sight, his thumb instinctively sweeping the dribble away before pushing insistently between your lips. When your tongue swirls lasciviously around the digit and your pleading eyes peer up at him, he loses all patience; throwing caution to the wind and deciding to regain control of the reins.

“On the bed,” he prompts succinctly, shedding the damp towel from around his waist. 

Though you obey enthusiastically, you can’t help shutting your legs and bracing an arm across your chest as you drop your own towel and climb atop the mattress. Steve glances at you, eyes shining with slight disappointment as he takes himself in hand and fists his cock with sure, slow strokes. Leaning over your prone form, he braces one hand beside your head as the other continues to work over the length of his weeping dick. Eyes sweeping over your poorly covered body, he shakes his head disapprovingly. 

“Where’s my sweet girl? I thought you were going to be good for me,” he beseeches. “Can you be good for me again?”

For some reason — which you don’t dare unpack for the sake of your already-dwindled sanity — you want to. Just for him. You can no longer fight it…you desire for the insidious man prowling over you. Even worse though, you can no longer deny how fucked up you are. Maybe you are perfect for each other.

You don’t have much time to think about it when he slides between your thighs and immediately sets to work landing sloppy kisses along your sternum and down your belly before journeying between your legs where he laves your dripping pussy with the same indolent attention. Your juices mingle with his saliva, creating a slippery, wet mess on your skin that gathers on the sheets beneath you. Steve pulls back, admiring his handiwork and the low light in the room reflects off the sheen of your essence coating his lips and chin. 

His lust-blown eyes scan over you as he raises up and settles on his haunches, but before they reach your strung out face, they drop to your ribs. Even in the poor lightning he can see the shadow of your fading bruise; the sickly yellow-brown splotch marring your perfect skin. His eyes darken with something primal and you wonder what he’s thinking.

It kills him to see that…to know that you’re hurting and it’s because of him. He only wants to protect you, to take care of you, to love you. Ridding his mind of such culpable thoughts, he focuses on making things better…making things right by making you his once and for all. Bending forward, Steve spits loudly, the glob of saliva landing directly on your clit before sliding down to your cunt. You clench around nothing at the sensation, your craving for the man written boldly all over your face.

He shifts above you, fitting his slender hips between your thighs and his eyes meet yours as the bulbous head of his cock — slippery with pre-cum and throbbing — pokes tauntingly at your entrance. It takes one swift, smooth movement and Steve is seated deep inside you, your eyes rolling back and your mouth flying open with a triumphant scream. His fingers twist viciously into the sheets as he fights to hold back, not wanting to hurt you given how intensely he wishes to let loose and give you everything he’s got.

“There she is, there’s my good girl,” he praises, drawing his hips back and dragging his length from your body so that only the tip remains within your rippling walls.

There’s only a moment for you to brace for impact and prepare for the delicious, burning stretch of his incredible girth when he slams home and buries himself to the hilt. You feel as though you’re being torn to bits, but in the most excruciatingly beautiful way. As Steve drives his cock into you over and over, euphoria washes over you. You can feel every bulging vein, every bump and ridge as he pins you to the mattress and pummels you. His rhythm is relentless and unwavering, though it is sheer bliss nonetheless. He pours every bit of anger and frustration and hurt into the way he fucks you; one hand gathering your wrists above your head and the other pressing deliciously against your belly where you can feel him pounding into you.

The sex is so much different than all the other times; nowhere near as tender or affectionate as the first time, and nothing like the brutal couplings you’d experienced recently. But the emotion behind it is heartbreakingly intense and much more powerful. Steve is rough and frenzied, though his attentions are meticulous, attentive, and passionate. Like a man starved, he cannot get enough of you to satisfy the raging beast within him.

You’re surrounded by the wet sounds of your body as it accepts Steve’s feral onslaught as well as the carnal sounds he produces as he fucks you stupid. There’s nothing for you to do but lie there and take it, which is exactly what he wants from you. He wanted your surrender and he’s getting it a thousand times over. 

When the tempo of his grinding cock stutters, you know he’s close. So are you, though you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve already cum around his unforgiving length, clenching and strangling his dick as he races towards his own release. Steve’s hands grip your hips with savage strength that you have no doubt will leave bruises come morning. He’s practically growling now, his teeth bared with exertion as he seeks to ruin and utterly possess you.

“You want me to cum inside you, don’t you?” he grunts.

It’s less of a question and more of a presumption. One which is spot-on and you assure him as much.

“Cum inside me, please,” you barely manage to squeal. “I need it…I need you, Steve. I wanna feel all of you.”

That’s all it takes for him to let go of what little restraint he has been managing to exert and he fucks into you so rapidly and so deeply that your toes curl and your lungs seize up. Your body is wracked with orgasmic shivers and your pussy spasms so hard, you nearly squeeze him right out of the slippery channel he never wants to leave. His movements are wild and untamed, and with a furious howl of pleasure, he releases into the depths of your welcoming core; thick, hot spurts of cum coating your insides and effectively claiming you…at long last.

Almost immediately, Steve collapses on top of you. Each of your bodies shiver and quake with the aftermath of your respective climaxes and your hearts beat madly against one another’s chest. He’s slick with sweat and his skin sticks to yours as he pants into your hair. Your hands move timidly, unsure and trembling as they lift to wrap around his massive form. Fingers skate nimbly over each little bump of his spine while you wait for him to come down from his earth-shattering high. Tears prick your eyes and as much as you want to blame it on the intensity of your release, you know it’s deeper than that. 

Eventually, Steve rolls off of you and fits his body alongside yours. His sticky skin still clings to yours, but you don’t really mind the slightly uncomfortable feeling. Neither of you move or speak for a long, long while; you merely share in the electrically-charged corollary of your coupling. You remain in your own head until Steve finally shifts, his softening cock slipping free from your body as he rises to clean you both up.

When he pulls the blankets down and gestures for you to climb into his bed with him, you do so dubiously. As you settle against the overly-fluffed pillows and sink into the cool sheets, Steve climbs in next to you. Purely out of instinct, you hold your wrists out for him, just like you’d always done so he could attach the detestable chain that would prevent your escape. Considering your actions tonight, you had expected him to tether you so you can’t up and leave him in the middle of the night. He stares at the proffered limbs, dumbfounded.

Steve rolls over and a spark of panic ignites deep in your belly. He wrenches open the bedside drawer before facing you again, a small silver key in his hand. Fitting the key into the lock on one wrist, he unlocks it and repeats the action with the other, releasing the bands from around your chaffed wrists. It isn’t lost on you that this is the first true taste of freedom you’ve had in weeks. It’s also the most telling sign Steve could have given you to signify that he really does trust you. You’ve presented him with the ultimate surrender: giving yourself over to him completely, accepting all of him regardless of what horrors he’s shown you. This is the least of what he can offer you in return.

Your own vulnerability is reflected in his penitent cerulean pools and it splinters you. A vanquished sob bursts forth as you’re overcome with emotion and you collapse against Steve’s chest. He pulls you close right away, cradling you protectively against his body, the warmth of his flesh soothing. His thumb brushes tenderly along the angry, red mark of the bite he’d left behind. The sounds of your defeated cries crush him, though he knows this is the breakthrough you need. One step closer to total acceptance. 

Steve coos sweetly, caressing your back with soft touches and providing the comfort he knows you require. He vows to give you anything and everything from here on out if it means you’ll need him like this. He’ll imbed himself so deeply in your exigencies that you won’t ever be able to stand being away from him. If you leave him now, it will rip his fucking heart out. But he’d just return the favor.

A/N: As always, I have to give a supreme word of thanks to my bestie @hswrites​ for being the most hilarious, iconic, and helpful beta and for encouraging me along the way with this monstrous story. So so so grateful to you boo! <3

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#sorry it is so long and massive...i modeled it after steve kemp's cock :-) #i've never wanted to vomit more out of fear while posting a fic so i hope y'all love it #man-eater played while i edited and i am taking it as a sign #of what...i'm not sure #fresh #fresh spoilers #steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp fanfiction #steve kemp x reader fanfiction #steve kemp smut #steve kemp x reader smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan #steve kemp x you #fresh fanfiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #the losers #dc

[dadbodosamu]

only you || extras

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x OFC

WARNINGS: anal (f receiving), threesome (ffm), rimming (f receiving), face sitting, girlxgirl, bisexual characters, filming, sharing pics/videos, unsafe sex, oral (m+f receiving), face slapping, established safe words (not used), squirting, daddy kink, spit kink, size kink, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex toys

11.1k words

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

You cheered loudly as your wing spiker scored the winning point. You hugged her tightly, lifting the tall girl off the ground before the rest of your team crowded around you two. You pressed a kiss to her cheeks before pulling back, allowing the rest of your teammates to congratulate her. You smiled widely as your team celebrated.

“That’s my girl!” You exclaimed, clapping your wing spiker on the back. She smiled widely, holding her arms up as she cheered.

“Couldn’t have done it without my captain!” She exclaimed, clapping you on your back. She grabbed your hand and lifted it into the air. “To Y/n! The best damn volleyball captain in Japan!”

Your team whooped and clapped.

“Okay, okay!” You shouted, still smiling. “Let’s get cleaned up so we can go out and celebrate our nationals win for real!”

You dragged behind your team as they clambered to the locker room. Osamu was standing on the sidelines, arms held open and smiling wide.

“Samu!” You exclaimed, throwing yourself at him. “I thought you couldn’t make it!”

“Like I would miss my baby’s last nationals game,” Osamu said, pulling you into a tight hug. “The guys made it, too.” Osamu pointed towards the stands.

You turned to look, immediately finding a tall group of guys. Atsumu, Suna, Sakusa, Hinata, and Bokuto were all cheering. You waved at them.

“They all insisted on being here for you,” Osamu said. Your eyes burned with tears.

“I’m glad you all could make it,” you said, rubbing your eyes.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Osamu said, hugging you again. “Now go get clean so we can go out.”

“One vodka cran and a jack and coke!” You said to the bartender. He nodded and made your drinks, quickly handing them to you and Osamu, who hovered over your shoulder.

You followed Osamu back to the area where your team stood around.

“Now that our lovely captain is here, let’s get fucked up!” Your libero, Hanako, exclaimed, raising her drink in the air.

The rest of the team cheered and raised their glasses. You raised your glass then chugged the contents of it, setting the empty glass on a side table.

“I say we start the night with shots!” You exclaimed. Your team cheered.

“I’ll get them,” Osamu said.

“I’ll help!” Hinata exclaimed, following Osamu back to the bar.

“So, MSBY and an EJP Raijin showed up to our game, then they came out with us to celebrate,” your wing spiker, Mai, said, standing next to you.

“You forgot Olympic gold medalists,” a middle blocker, Kanae, said, sipping her drink.

“Want me to introduce you?” You asked. “Tsumu and Omi have a little thing going on, but Sunarin, Sho-kun, and Bokkun are single.”

“You’re on nickname basis with Olympic gold medalists,” Kanae said.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” you said as Atsumu walked up to you. He threw his arm over your shoulders.

“My favourite niece! Y/n-chan!” Atsumu exclaimed. Kanae and Mai both raised an eyebrow.

“Inside joke,” you said. You faced Atsumu. “Where’s Kiyo-kun?”

“He’s getting our drinks,” Atsumu said. “Who are these pretty, young ladies?”

He winked at Kanae and Mai, making them blush deeply.

“This is my starting wing spiker, Mai. She’s the one who scored the winning point,” you said. “And this is my middle blocker, Kanae. Mai, Kanae, this is Miya Atsumu, setter for MSBY Black Jackals and resident pain in my ass.”

“She loves me,” Atsumu said. Sakusa wandered up, holding out a fruity looking drink for Atsumu while he sipped a glass of dark liquor.

“Unfortunately,” you teased. “And this is his better half, Sakusa Kiyoomi, outside hitter for MSBY Black Jackals.”

“Hello,” Sakusa said.

“Oh, this is Mai and Kanae, my wing spiker and middle blocker,” you said.

“Who wants shots?!” Hinata exclaimed, walking up with a plate of shots. Osamu followed behind him with another plate.

“Hell yeah!” You exclaimed. The team all grabbed a shot, toasting before throwing them back. You grabbed an extra and tossed it back easily.

“Careful,” Osamu whispered in your ear.

You smiled at him as you grabbed a third shot. “Careful is my middle name.”

The night passed in flashes. One moment you were throwing back your third shot, the next you were on the dance floor, grinding against Hanako as the small girl groped your hips. Nana, your opposite hitter, was dancing against you, caressing your sides.

You could see Osamu watching from the sidelines, sitting in a leather chair and looking for all the world like he owned the club. He took a sip from his drink as he caught your eye.

“Hey! Eyes on me!” Nana exclaimed, grabbing your face. Her thumb traced your bottom lip. “I heard they’re doing body shots at the bar!”

You nodded and let her drag you to the bar. You laid across the bar and sat still as they salted your body, pouring tequila in your belly button and placing a lime between your lips.

Osamu appeared in your vision as Nana licked the salt from your skin. He was blocked as she grabbed the lime from you with her teeth. She bit the lime and swallowed the shot before pulling you up into a sloppy kiss. The bar raged as her hands found their way up your cropped shirt and her tongue danced against yours. You met Osamu’s eyes again as your hands caressed Nana’s sides. His eyes were dark as he watched you grope the other girl’s ass.

“Samu,” you mumbled, pulling away from the kiss. Nana kissed down your neck, licking and sucking.

You moaned as Nana bit your skin and Osamu came closer.

“That’s more than enough,” Osamu said, grabbing Nana by the hair. The tall girl let out a moan as her head fell back. “If y’all wanna fuck, let’s not do it on the bar.”

“Samu,” you said, hopping off the bar with wobbly legs.

“Come on,” he said, letting Nana go. “Ya wanna come?”

Nana nodded quickly.

“Uber’s outside,” Osamu said. You and Nana followed him obediently.

He opened the door to the car and helped you both in the backseat.

Nana crawled in your lap as soon as Osamu shut the door behind him. You looked at him.

“G’head,” he said. You kissed Nana deeply, teeth clashing and tongues battling for dominance.

“Y/n,” she moaned as you kissed down her throat. You moaned as she ground against you, forcing her short dress even higher on her hips. Osamu pulled her from your lap into his.

“I think it’s kinda rude just to play with my toys without askin’,” Osamu said. Nana whimpered as Osamu’s hands pushed her dress up, revealing her lace covered ass.

You moaned as Osamu kissed her, tongues messily sliding together and spit running down their chins. Is this what it looked like when you kissed?

Osamu slapped Nana’s ass heavily, making the opposite hitter jump and thrust her hips against Osamu’s. You whined, wanting to feel him under you.

“Samu,” you whined, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.

The car came to a stop in front of your apartment building. Osamu handed the driver a wad of cash and climbed out of the car, still holding Nana as she kissed down his throat. You followed after them, stumbling in your heels.

“Come ‘ere, baby,” Osamu said, turning towards you. He moved Nana to one arm and held out his other for you. You grabbed his arm and stumbled alongside him as he led you to the elevator.

The elevator ride was quick and before you knew it, you were being pressed against your door by Nana as Osamu watched.

Nana pushed your shirt up and over your head, releasing your bare breasts. She looked at Osamu.

“G’head,” he said. She leaned down, kissing and biting your breasts as Osamu came up behind her. He pushed her dress up around her waist and kneaded her ass as he kissed her neck.

“Nana,” you moaned as her hand pushed down the front of your skirt and panties. She hummed as she rubbed your clit. “Bedroom.”

Osamu led the two of you to the bedroom, pushing you both on to the bed. He pulled his shirt off and Nana immediately got on her knees, still on the bed, and ran her hands over his broad chest.

“You’re selfish,” she said, turning to look at you. “Keeping this all to yourself.”

“Not all to myself if you’re here,” you said, kneeling next to her. Your fingers flicked at one of his pierced nipples as Nana wrapped her lips around the other. Osamu grabbed both of you by the hair and pulled you back. Nana let out a whine.

“I want you both on the floor on your knees,” Osamu said. You both scrambled to the floor as Osamu undid his jeans, kicking them off, along with his boxers.

His cock bobbed heavily between his legs and your mouth watered. Nana, on the other hand, paled.

“You really take all of that?” She asked.

“And more sometimes,” you said, nodding. You watched as she kitten licked the pierced tip.

“Be a good girl and don’t tease,” Osamu said, tapping his cock against her cheek. Nana nodded and sucked the tip in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. You kissed along the thick shaft, teasing the prominent veins with your tongue as Nana bobbed her head.

Osamu moaned as he tangled his fingers in her long, black hair.

“Good girl,” he moaned, forcing her to take more. She gagged but forced herself to take more.

You sucked one of his balls in your mouth, gently squeezing the other one. You pulled away and pulled Nana away. You pulled her into a bruising kiss, biting her lower lip as she pulled away. You took Osamu’s cock in your mouth and wrapped your hand around what you couldn’t fit.

“That’s my girl,” Osamu said as you forced yourself farther on his cock. You pulled back and jerked his cock, feeling his cock twitching in your hands.

“Gonna cum, daddy?” You asked. Osamu moaned and nodded.

“Want him to cum on my face,” Nana said. Osamu knocked your hands away and pumped himself quickly as you and Nana waited.

“Open yer mouths,” Osamu said. Your tongue fell out of your mouth just as hot cum spurted from Osamu’s cock. You moaned as it landed on your tongue and cheeks. “Don’t swallow.”

You pulled Nana in for a messy kiss, pushing cum into her mouth. She moaned as cum and spit ran down your chins. You pulled back, strands of cum and spit still connecting you to Nana.

“Fuck,” Nana swore. You grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it off, leaving her in just a pair of white lace panties.

You kneaded her breasts as you kissed her again. Osamu pulled your skirt and panties off.

“How do you wanna do this?” You breathed. “You want Samu’s cock first?”

Nana glanced at Osamu, who was currently kissing your shoulder.

“Want to sit on your face first,” she said. You climbed on the bed and laid back. Nana slowly peeled her panties off before climbing next to you. Osamu slapped her ass, making her jump.

“Gonna look so cute on my baby’s face, sweetheart,” Osamu said. You smiled at him before Nana straddled your face, facing Osamu between your thighs.

“Watch how well she takes me,” Osamu said, spreading your legs as you placed a few kitten licks to Nana’s cunt. You felt Osamu’s cock slap against your clit a few times before he pressed it against your tight hole. You moaned in anticipation.

“It-It looks too big,” Nana stuttered as you sucked at her clit. “It’s not gonna fit.”

“I have my baby well trained,” Osamu said, patting your thigh. “I’ll have ya takin’ the whole thing, too, by the time the night’s over. Ya’ll be beggin’ fer me, sweetheart.”

Nana shivered as you slurped up her juices. You wiggled your hips, desperate for Osamu to fuck you.

Osamu slowly pushed his cock in, stretching your cunt. You moaned under Nana, wrapping your arms around her thighs and pulling her down more. Your tongue flicked against her clit as Osamu rutted into you at a steady pace.

“Fuck, she’s so stretched out around you,” Nana moaned, bucking her hips. “I want it.”

“She takes me so well,” Osamu grunted. “Her lil cunt just sucks me in.”

Nana whined as Osamu reached forward and squeezed her breast, pinching and pulling her nipple.

“Osamu,” Nana moaned. You slapped her ass.

“Someone’s jealous,” Osamu teased, snapping his hips against yours. You whimpered as his cock threatened to breach your cervix.

“I can see how deep you’re in her,” Nana said, running her hands along the small bulge between your hips. Osamu moaned as she pressed down. “So— fuck!— so deep!”

You sucked harshly at her clit.

“Come ‘ere,” Osamu said, pulling Nana forward. Their lips molded together as Nana bounced on your tongue and Osamu pounded into you.

You whined as Nana’s slim fingers rubbed fast circles over your clit. Osamu hiked your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders as his balls slapped against your ass.

“Gonna cum,” you gasped. You pulled Nana back down and sucked at her clit. She gasped as she came over your face, cum gushing out and coating your chin. She whimpered as you lapped at her messy cunt.

“Too much!” She exclaimed, bucking her hips. You let her thighs go and she fell to the side, laying next to you as Osamu continued to fuck you. She breathed heavily as you licked your lips.

“Samu!” You cried out as he slapped your clit.

“Come here.” Nana pulled your face over to meet hers. You moaned against her lips as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Gonna make a mess in front of yer friend?” Osamu asked, pushing your legs against your chest. You nodded. “G’head, make a mess fer me.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You moaned. Osamu reached down and pinched your clit lightly. You moaned loudly as the knot in your stomach snapped. Your orgasm squirted out of you, juices coating Osamu’s stomach and dripping down to the bed.

“Fuck,” Nana said, watching with starry eyes as your eyes rolled back. Osamu pulled out, holding the base of his cock.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, gesturing to your leaking cunt. Nana nodded enthusiastically and crawled down the bed before burying her face in your cunt. You whimpered as her tongue licked into your hot core.

“Tastes good,” Nana said. She looked up at Osamu. “Would taste better with your cum leaking out of her.”

“Why don’t we find out?” Osamu asked. Nana moved over as Osamu thrusted back into you. It only took one, two, three thrusts before your gummy, tight walls milked his second orgasm. You moaned as you felt his hot cum fill you up. Nana leaned down, licking around where Osamu’s cock met your stretched cunt.

“Fuck, eat my cum out of her,” Osamu said, pulling away from you. You moaned as Nana’s tongue dug into your hole.

“Fuck,” you hissed as she pressed two fingers into you. She licked a broad stripe up your slit, slurping up a mixture of your juices and Osamu’s cum.

“I was right,” Nana said, leaning back on her feet as you gasped for breath.

“Ya ready to take me, sweetheart?” Osamu asked, rubbing his hands over Nana’s back. Nana nodded.

“How do you want me, daddy?” She asked, turning her head up to look at Osamu. You moaned softly.

“Oh, I’m gonna fold ya in half, sweetheart,” Osamu said, pushing her down on the mattress.

Nana laid beside you on her back, spreading her legs and reaching down to spread her folds, showing off her tight hole.

“Condom?” Osamu asked. Nana shook her head.

“I’m clean,” she said. “Want you to cum inside me, daddy.”

“Fuck, okay,” Osamu said.

You crawled down the bed, kneeling behind Osamu, watching over his shoulder as he lined up the fat head of his cock with her tight entrance. You ran your hands over Osamu’s shoulders, then wrapped your arms around his chest. Your hands rubbed over his chest as you rested your head on his shoulder. Nana whined as he teased her clit with the head of his cock.

“No teasing!” She whined. “Want you in me, wanna feel your fat cock stretching me out.”

“Ya sure you can take it?” Osamu asked, pressing the tip in. Nana moaned.

“Want it,” she keened. “Please, daddy.”

“If ya insist, sweetheart,” Osamu said. You kissed his neck as he snapped his hips forward. Nana’s back arched as she let out a loud moan.

“Ah, ah! Hurts!” She exclaimed, fisting the blanket below her. Osamu stilled, allowing her time to adjust. He rubbed her clit softly, helping her relax.

“Yer so tight, squeezin’ me t’ death with that tight cunt o’ yers,” Osamu said, rolling his hips shallowly.

Nana let out a breathy laugh. “Can hardly understand you.”

“His accent gets thicker when he can’t think,” you said, nipping his neck. “He can’t think when he’s getting his dick wet.”

“Shut up,” Osamu said, smiling at you. “I can think a lot o’ thoughts right now. Like how I wanna pound this lil pussy ‘til she cries.”

“Do it,” you challenged. “I wanna see her cry over your cock.”

Osamu slowly pulled out. Nana moaned.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Osamu asked. She nodded. Osamu pushed her legs into her chest.

“She’s the most flexible on the team,” you whispered in his ear. “Can put both of her feet behind her head.”

Osamu groaned and pushed further, until her ankles were parallel with her ears.

“Fuck,” Osamu swore. He thrusted into her at a steady pace. Nana whimpered as his cock hit her cervix and his piercing dragged against her walls.

“More, more, please, daddy,” she gasped. You moved around the bed, holding her legs in place as Osamu grabbed her thick thighs, pulling her to meet his powerful thrusts. Their skin slapped together noisily and you moaned at the sight of Osamu’s cock disappearing into her wet cunt.

“Fuck her harder,” you said. Osamu’s hips sped up. “You’re so wet, Nana. You’re leaking all over my blanket.”

“S-Sorry,” she stuttered. “Sit on my face so I can apologise?”

“You’re not going hard enough if she can still speak coherently,” you said, letting her legs go. You straddled her face. You moaned loudly as her tongue slid through your folds, teasing your clit.

Osamu grabbed her ankles and spread her legs apart as he pounded into her.

Her tongue circled your clit. Your back arched as she wrapped her arms around your thighs.

“Rub her clit, want her t’ cum ‘round my cock,” Osamu grunted. You nodded and leaned down, rubbing your fingers over her clit. Her tongue stopped as she moaned against you. You bucked your hips, eager for friction.

“Just stick your tongue out,” you said. Nana obeyed, letting you grind against her tongue.

“Fuck, she’s squeezin’ me so tight,” Osamu moaned. He snapped his hips harshly and Nana cried out.

“Fuck, he’s— Fuck!” She screamed. Osamu slowed down. “Keep-Keep going!”

“He’s fucking past your cervix, yeah?” You asked. “Hurts but feels so fucking good.”

Nana moaned and her arms fell limply to her sides as Osamu roughly fucked her.

“Tongue,” you said. She stuck her tongue out again. You moved your hips back and forth, dragging your clit across her tongue. “Gonna cum, Nana.”

She suckled lightly at your clit as your juices gushed over her face. You ground against her face as your thighs shook from overstimulation.

Nana moaned out, her words muffled by your cunt. You crawled off of her and fell limp beside her.

“Gonna cum,” she repeated. Her eyes rolled back and her fingers dug into the blanket as Osamu moaned. You reached down and rubbed her clit. She tensed up and cum gushed around Osamu’s cock as she cried out.

“Good girl,” Osamu praised. He knocked your hand out of the way and slapped her clit. “Gonna make ya cum again and again, sweetheart.”

Nana whimpered as Osamu continued to fuck her and alternate between rubbing and slapping her clit. You leaned back and slowly rubbed your own clit.

“Fuck, fuck,” Nana moaned. “Hit me, hit me.”

Osamu slapped her clit and she shook her head.

“Tell daddy what ya want, sweetheart,” Osamu said.

“The face, slap me in the face,” Nana moaned. “Please, daddy.”

Osamu’s hips stuttered as he looked down at Nana.

“Fuck, okay,” he said. He leaned forward and his hand connected with her face with a light slap.

“Harder,” Nana said, looking fucked out. Osamu slapped her harder and all three of you moaned as her face turned. “Again.”

“What a fuckin’ naughty girl,” Osamu said. His hand connected to her face with a loud slap.

Nana moaned and you rubbed your clit harder.

“That turn ya on, baby?” Osamu asked, looking over at you. You nodded.

“Want it,” you moaned.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, reaching over and yanking you up. You leaned back on your elbows as his hand rushed towards you. Your head spun as his hand connected and your head turned with a moan.

“Oh, fuck!” Nana swore, throwing her head back as she squirted around Osamu’s cock.

“Want me t’ fill ya up?” Osamu asked, fucking her through her orgasm.

Nana nodded. Osamu braced his foot against the bed and pistoned his cock in and out. He let out a long moan as his hips stuttered. He breathed deeply before pulling out.

You watched as Osamu’s cum poured out of her, dripping onto the bed.

All three of you breathed heavily as Osamu collapsed beside you.

“Bathroom?” Nana asked after she caught her breath.

“Through those doors,” you said, pointing to the connected bathroom.

Her legs wobbled and she fell back on the bed. You stood up, wobbly legged, and helped her to the bathroom.

“You really take that on a regular basis?” She asked, sitting down on the toilet.

“Every night if I’m lucky,” you said, sitting on the counter. “Sometimes more.”

“How do you just walk around like you didn’t get your insides rearranged?” She asked. “You come to practice and run around like your soul didn’t get fucked out of you.”

“What about you? You like to get the fuck slapped out of you,” you laughed.

“Apparently, so do you,” she shot back.

“It was nice,” you said, sighing happily. “You should try choking, though. Once, Samu choked me until I passed out, best orgasm I ever had.”

“Maybe I will,” she said, standing up. The two of you stumbled back to bed, where Osamu had pulled on a pair of boxers. You crawled next to him and held your arms open for Nana. She crawled in and wrapped her arms around you, burying her head in your neck. You sighed happily as Osamu slung an arm around your waist.

“No, like this,” you said, pumping Osamu’s cock. “You gotta twist.”

“Okay, okay,” Nana said, copying you. Osamu groaned as he woke up.

“Morning, baby,” you said, smiling up at him. Nana leaned down and licked down the side of his cock.

“Mornin’,” Osamu mumbled. You leaned down and licked the other side of his cock, tongue meeting Nana’s in the middle. You both moaned around his cock. Your lips met around the tip and you twisted your tongues together.

“Fuck,” Osamu swore, grabbing both of you by the hair and pulling you back. “One o’ ya is gonna take my cock down yer throat.”

You leaned in and took the tip in your mouth, bobbing your head as Nana leaned down and kissed his sac.

“Come on, I know ya can take more than that,” Osamu said, pushing you down on his cock. Your eyes watered as you choked around him. The corners of your mouth burned as your lips stretched around his cock, but you ignored it as Osamu groaned. Nana pulled away as Osamu forced you lower. Your jaw ached but soon your nose was buried in soft curls.

“Fuck, I can feel you in her throat,” Nana said, wrapping her hands around your neck.

Osamu held you there until you got lightheaded from lack of oxygen. You tapped on his thigh and he pulled you off his cock. You gasped for air as spit ran down your chin.

“Tongues out,” Osamu said, tugging at his throbbing cock. Nana leaned down next to you just as the first spurt of cum hit your tongue. The next landed on Nana’s waiting tongue and the rest landed on your chests.

“Clean her up,” Osamu said, shoving you into Nana’s chest. You licked the cum off her breasts, flicking your tongue over her pebbled nipples.

“Did I say you could swallow?” Osamu asked, grabbing Nana’s jaw roughly. She shook her head and Osamu’s hand connected with her already red cheek. She moaned.

“Sorry, daddy, I couldn’t help it, you taste so good,” she said as you pulled away from her.

“Show her how good girls hold daddy’s cum,” Osamu said, grabbing your hair. Your mouth fell open, showing off all the cum you’d licked off Nana’s chest. “Come ‘ere, my sweet girl.”

Osamu pulled you into a deep kiss, pulling your body against his, covering his chest with the cum on your breasts.

“Now, clean us up,” Osamu said, pulling you down next to him. Nana crawled over Osamu, straddling his waist as she leaned down and licked his chest clean. She leaned over to you and licked the cum off your breasts.

“Good girl,” Osamu said as she showed him the mouthful of cum. He pulled Nana into a kiss, pulling away when cum dripped down her chin. “Now you can swallow.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she said. She rolled over to Osamu’s other side and curled into his side.

“Breakfast?” Osamu asked, holding both of you against him. You nodded. “Pancakes alright?”

You both nodded again. You whined as Osamu sat up. He rolled over you, kissing your forehead before pulling his boxers on and wandering out of the bedroom.

You scooted over until you were flush against Nana.

“Still horny?” She asked, slotting her thigh between your legs. You nodded as you ground down against her thigh. She pressed her lips against yours, grabbing your hips and guiding you.

You moaned softly against her lips as your clit rubbed against her flexing thighs. She rolled you over so that she was on top of you.

“Hold on,” she mumbled. You pulled back as she crawled down the bed, spreading your legs. She pressed two fingers into your wet heat and leaned down to lap at your clit.

“Oh,” you moaned, throwing your head back. She pushed your knees into your chest, and pressed a kiss to your ankle.

“Hold your legs up for me,” she said. You wrapped your arms under your knees as she pushed three fingers into your core,

“Harder, harder,” you moaned. Her other hand came down on your clit as her fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Next time, I’m gonna give you my strap,” she said. You moaned and nodded.

“Please, please, want your strap,” you begged.

“Have one even bigger than Osamu,” she said, strumming your clit. “Just for size queens like you.”

“Want it,” you whined.

“Yeah? Osamu not enough to please your little cunt? You need more? Maybe we’ll fuck you at the same time. He ever take your ass?” Nana asked. She pulled her fingers out of you and slid one down, pressing it against your other hole.

Your eyes flew open as she pressed her finger past the tight ring of muscles.

“Nana!” You gasped. She slowly pushed her finger all the way in.

“So fucking tight, bet you’ve never had anything up here, have you?” Nana asked. Your face heated up as you shook your head. “I’m gonna stretch you out and then we’ll see if Osamu can fit his cock in here without breaking you.”

“Feels weird,” you mumbled as she thrusted her finger in and out of you.

“Good weird?” She asked. You nodded and moaned as she added another finger. “Think you can cum just from this?”

“Dunno,” you said. You threw your head back and moaned as she scissored her fingers, stretching your hole.

“God, I wanna see you take his cock,” Nana groaned. She pulled her fingers out and spat directly in your hole as you clenched around nothing. “He’s not gonna last once he feels how tight you are. It’ll be over in seconds.”

“Sa-Samu can keep going,” you moaned as she inserted three fingers. “He can fuck me through his orgasm.”

“Oh?” Nana asked, twisting her fingers in you. “Aw, look at your little pussy, just clenching around nothing. You got something I can put in there?”

You nodded and pointed to Osamu’s bedside table.

Nana leaned over and pulled out a sparkly pink dildo. It was barely anything compared to Osamu, bought as a gag gift by Atsumu. It was six inches long and of average girth.

Nana ran it through your folds, slapping your clit with it a couple of times before shoving it in your needy hole. You moaned loudly as she thrusted it in and out of you, following the pace her fingers went in your ass.

“Oh, oh, oh!” You moaned. “Nana, so close, please, please!”

She shoved the dildo in you deeply and leaned down to suck on your clit.

“Gonna-gon’ cu—“ You came with a shout, clenching around the silicone toy and Nana’s fingers and squirting into her face.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” Nana moaned, licking your juices off her lips. “Fuck, you’re so hot. Squirting in my face like that. If I was Osamu, I’d never be away from your cunt.”

“He-He isn’t,” you said, smiling weakly as you tried to catch your breath. “I have to beat him off with a stick sometimes.”

“Pancakes are—“ Osamu paused, taking in the scene in front of him. The pink dildo was still shoved in you and Nana’s fingers were still knuckle deep in your ass.

“I’m just prepping her for you, daddy,” Nana said, innocently. She twisted her fingers, drawing a moan from you. “You think three fingers are enough or should I add another?”

“Add another,” Osamu breathed, coming closer. His eyes were blown wide and his cock strained against his boxers. Nana added a fourth finger and you bucked your hips.

“She’s so tight back here, daddy,” Nana moaned. “See how she’s just sucking my fingers in?”

“Fuck,” Osamu swore, palming himself through his boxers. “Let me just—“ He grabbed the base of the pink dildo and moved it slowly. You arched your back and moaned.

“Daddy,” you keened, fisting the blanket. “Daddy, I want you in me.”

“What hole, baby?” He asked. “They’re both so needy.”

Your face burned again. “Want you in my ass, daddy,” you mumbled.

“What was that, sweet girl?” Osamu asked, smiling cheekily.

“My ass, daddy!” You exclaimed. “Wanna feel you stretch me out.”

“That’s my girl,” Osamu said, pinching your thigh lightly. He pulled the dildo out and handed it to Nana. She moved out of the way, leaning against the headboard next to you. “There’s lube in that top drawer.” Osamu pointed to his bedside table.

Nana reached over and grabbed a small bottle of lube and handed it to Osamu.

He generously lubed his cock and drizzled some on your stretched asshole, rubbing it around with two fingers.

“Ya ready, princess?” He asked, pressing the fat head of his cock to your virgin hole. A shiver went up your spine as you nodded.

“Yes, daddy,” you said. He nodded and slowly popped the mushroom head of his cock in.

You whined at the intrusion. Even four of Nana’s fingers didn’t prepare you for the stretch Osamu’s head caused.

“Slowly, daddy, slowly,” you said. Osamu nodded again and slowly, slowly, inch by inch, stretched your ass.

“So- fucking- tight,” Osamu grunted as he bottomed out. Nana moaned as she rubbed her clit. “Hand me my phone.”

Nana reached over to the bedside table and handed Osamu his phone.

“Think the guys will enjoy this?” Osamu asked as he started recording. His cock slid slowly in and out of your ass. He pulled out and watched as your little hole fluttered around nothing.

“Daddy,” you whined, bucking your hips desperately. “Need you.”

Osamu zoomed the camera in as his cock stretched your hole out.

“Think ya can take more?” Osamu asked. You nodded. “Nana, bring that dildo down here.”

Osamu zoomed out and turned the camera towards Nana as she crawled down the bed, holding the pink dildo in her hand.

“Say hi,” Osamu said, smiling. Nana waved to the camera before she slowly slid the pink dildo into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed as you moaned.

“So full,” you moaned. They fell into a nice rhythm, one pushing in when the other pulled out, so you were never empty.

“Look how tight she is,” Osamu said, moving the camera closer to you. “She’s the best lil cocksleeve. Who’s making ya feel good, baby?”

“Daddy and Nana,” you moaned. Osamu snapped his hips against your ass.

“Yer clenchin’ ‘round me so tight, ya gonna cum?” Osamu asked. You nodded.

“Gonna cum for daddy and Nana,” you moaned.

“Come on, cum around his cock,” Nana said. You whimpered as they changed the rhythm, both pumping into you at the same time.

“Fuck,” you hissed as Osamu’s piercing dragged against your sensitive walls. Your walls clenched around silicone and flesh as your stomach tightened.

“Come on, cum for daddy,” Osamu said, pressing down on the bulge between your hips. He turned the camera towards your face. You moaned loudly as your eyes rolled back and your walls fluttered. You gushed around the fake cock as Osamu gasped.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” he grunted. You fell limp as they continued to fuck you. Nana sighed. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Need something in me,” she said.

“Fuck yerself with the dildo,” Osamu said. She leaned back next to you and shoved the dildo deep in her cunt with a loud moan.

Osamu filmed her as she fucked herself.

“Not enough,” she whined. “Not enough after taking your fat cock.”

“Oh, yeah? Ya want my cock again?” Osamu asked. She nodded. “I ruined ya fer any other cock, isn’t that right, sweetheart? Don’t worry, after this ya can ride my cock ‘til ya cry.”

“Please, please, daddy,” she cried, moving the dildo faster.

“Daddy,” you whined, upset with the lack of attention you were getting.

“What is it, baby? Ya want daddy’s attention?” Osamu asked. “My cock isn’t enough fer ya?”

“Want you to cum in me,” you said, reaching down to rub your clit.

“Oh, my baby wants daddy’s cum?” Osamu asked, tilting your hips up with his free hand. You moaned loudly. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna give it to ya.”

Osamu held his phone tightly as he pounded your ass.

“Fuck, baby, squeeze ‘round me again,” Osamu said. You clenched around him. He landed a smack on your clit, making your walls clamp down.

“There we go,” he said. He zoomed the camera in as his cock throbbed. “Fuck, gonna fill ya up, baby.”

“Please, please, daddy, please!” You cried as he slapped your clit again. He let out a low groan as his cum flooded your ass.

He fucked you through his orgasm, each thrust highlighted by a nasty squelch as his cum was forced out of your hole.

“Fuck, baby,” Osamu said, pulling out. Your ass clenched around nothing, forcing his cum out. He moved the camera closer as his cum dripped out of you. “Both o’ ya, come ‘ere.”

You whined as you crawled down the bed, kneeling in front of Osamu next to Nana.

“Clean me up,” he said. You both leaned down, licking up the sides of his cum coated cock. Your tongues met around his tip. You kissed Nana messily, pushing cum into her mouth and moaning when she pushed it back.

“Open,” Osamu ordered. He grabbed your chin roughly and held his phone to your mouth. “Now swallow.”

You swallowed his cum greedily. He shook your face and you opened your mouth again, showing off the lack of cum.

He grabbed your tongue and shoved his fingers in your mouth as you gagged.

“Good girl,” he said. He turned his phone towards Nana and gave her the same treatment.

“Say bye to the boys fer now,” Osamu said, leaning back to get you both on camera.

“Bye bye,” you said, waving at the camera with a wide smile. Nana waved at the camera with a sultry smile.

“So, who are the boys?” Nana asked, after Osamu sat his phone down.

“Just the guys from last night,” you said. “I suspect the group chat’ll be popping off soon.”

Almost immediately, your phone started going off. You grabbed it from the bedside table as you leaned back against the headboard. Nana leaned next to you as Osamu went back to the kitchen.

uncle tsumu: ‘fuck, i want her ass next time, samu’

kiyo-kun: ‘who’s the extra one? is she going to be a regular addition bc fuck she’s hot’

sho-kun: ‘nana deserves a nice cock too’

sho-kun: ‘more than willing to volunteer’

sunarin: ‘how are you going so hard this early in the morning?’

bokkun: ‘send more girlxgirl action’

uncle tsumu: ‘^^ seconded’

“Should we send them a little something?” You asked, looking over at Nana.

“Definitely,” she said. You opened your camera and held your phone out as you pulled Nana into a sloppy kiss. You grabbed her breast, rolling her nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

Nana smiled against your lips and bit your bottom lip as she pulled back. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You stopped the recording and sent the video in the group chat before tossing your phone to the side.

“Who said I can’t finish?” You asked, pouncing on top of her.

“Me,” Osamu said, coming in holding two plates in his hands. “Food first then sex.”

Your stomach grumbled as he propped up a tray and sat it over your lap. He propped another one over Nana’s lap.

“Chocolate chip and pecan pancakes for my baby,” Osamu said, handing you your plate. He handed the other plate to Nana. “And chocolate chip for my sweetheart. I didn’t know what ya liked so I played it safe. I can make ya something different if ya don’t like them though.”

“Chocolate chips are good,” Nana said. “Do you have syrup?”

“Blueberry and maple,” he said, holding out two bottles.

“Blueberry, please,” Nana said. Osamu poured syrup over her pancakes before moving to yours.

“Thank you, Samu,” you said, taking a bite.

“Thank you,” Nana said. Osamu sat cross legged at the foot of the bed as he ate. You leaned forward, offering him a bite of your pancake.

“Thank ya, baby,” he said, chewing. You smiled at him.

You leaned back and closed your eyes once you finished.

“Want me to run a bath?” Osamu asked. You glanced at Nana.

“It’s big enough for two,” you said. You glanced at Osamu. “Or three.”

“I could go for a bath,” she said.

Osamu nodded and grabbed your plates and trays, taking them back to the kitchen before returning and entering the bathroom. You heard the water start.

“Is he always like this?” Nana asked, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Like what?” You asked.

“This. Making breakfast, offering to run you a bath, actually making you cum,” Nana said. “I don’t know, perfect?”

You smiled widely. “Yeah, he’s always like this. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

“Ready?” Osamu asked, peeking his head around the bathroom door.

“I am,” Nana said, rolling off the bed. Her legs wobbled slightly but she stayed upright. You weren’t as lucky, falling back onto the bed as soon as you stood up.

“Let me get ya, baby,” Osamu said, coming over and swooping you up.

Nana was already sinking into the steaming water when Osamu lowered you down on the other side of the tub.

“Do either of ya want anything?” He asked. You both shook your heads. “Call if ya need anything.”

Osamu left the two of you alone. You moved over to sit beside Nana.

“I’m gonna be walking funny for a week,” you said. Nana laughed.

“With any luck, so will I,” she said, winking at you.

“People are going to think we got beat up,” you said. “Bruises on our cheeks and limping.”

“That’s how you know it was good sex,” she said. She pulled you on top of her, so you were straddling her.

“You’re as bad as Osamu,” you murmured as she kissed your neck.

“Oh, I’m worse.”

You let out a breathy moan as she nibbled your neck. When you opened your eyes, Osamu was watching from the counter.

“Samu,” you moaned as he palmed himself through his boxers.

“Uh-uh, you’re not paying attention to him right now, just me,” Nana said, grabbing your chin and turning your head. She shoved her thumb in your mouth. “Suck.”

You obediently sucked on her thumb, hollowing your cheeks as she guided your hips on her thighs.

“Want more,” you mumbled, lips still wrapped around her thumb. You bucked your hips.

“Take it,” she said. You whined as she flexed her thighs. You glanced over to Osamu, who had pushed his boxers to the floor and was slowly jerking his cock.

“Eyes on me,” Nana said. She rubbed your cheek before placing a sharp slap on it. You moaned. “Forget Osamu’s here. He’s not getting you off right now, I am.”

“Can’t- can’t help it,” you said. “He’s so fucking distracting.”

“If you look at him again before you cum, I’ll make you watch him fuck me and you will not be getting off,” she said. You nodded as she bounced her thigh. Osamu let out a breathy moan that had you struggling not to turn your head.

She pulled you into another kiss, slotting your lips together and sucking your tongue. You moaned into the kiss as she groped your breasts, pinching and tugging on your nipples.

“Fuck,” Osamu hissed. You could hear the slick sounds of his hand going up and down his cock. You closed your eyes.

“Nope,” Nana said, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling your head back. “I said, eyes on me.” You moaned as she kissed down your throat.

“Can I film?” Osamu asked. You fought the urge to look at him.

“Go ahead,” Nana said, lazily looking over at him as you sucked on her neck. “Remember, no looking at him.”

You heard Osamu’s feet hit the ground as he left the bathroom. You ground against Nana’s thighs, pointedly ignoring Osamu as he came back in, holding his phone on the two of you.

“Say hi,” Osamu said. Nana turned and waved at the camera.

“You don’t wanna say hi, Y/n?” Nana asked, smirking at you. You shook your head.

“Come on, let me see yer pretty face, baby,” Osamu said. You shook your head again.

“Wanna get off,” you said, bucking your hips against Nana’s thighs.

“The boys are gonna be so upset they can’t see your pretty face,” Nana said.

“Yeah, baby, why don’t ya just look at me and give me a big smile?” Osamu asked. You looked down to where your pussy was grinding against Nana’s strong thighs, ignoring Osamu.

“Eyes up, babe,” Nana said, tilting your chin up. You looked up at her. Her dark eyes were swallowing you whole as she took you in.

“Shit, baby, gonna hurt my feelin’s,” Osamu said, stroking his cock as he filmed you. “Look at daddy.”

“Can’t,” you whined, throwing your head back. “Wanna, so bad, daddy.”

“Look at me,” Nana said, once again tilting your chin to face her. She kissed you deeply. You rutted against her thighs, eager to cum. You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach.

“Nana,” you moaned, grinding down harder.

“Gonna cum, babe?” She asked. You grabbed her shoulders, nodding.

“Wanna look at the camera while ya cum, sweet girl?” Osamu asked. You shook your head.

You panted as you got closer and closer. Nana leaned down and sucked one of your nipples in her mouth, kneading the other one while her other hand guided your hips.

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back. Your walls fluttered around nothing as you came over Nana’s thighs. The water washed away your slick as Nana grabbed your ass.

“Good girl,” she praised, grabbing your hair. she pulled you into a bruising kiss, biting your bottom lip. “Wanna look at daddy now? He’s about to cum.”

Your eyes flew to Osamu. One of his hands was holding his phone while the other was wrapped around his cock.

“Want my cum, sweet girl?” He asked. You nodded and leaned over the side of the tub. He pointed the camera down to film you taking the tip of his cock in your mouth. “Fuck.”

He spilled into your mouth, filling it up and running down your chin. He grabbed your chin.

“Open yer mouth,” he said, tracing your swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “You know Bokkun loves seeing yer mouth full of cum.”

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. Cum dripped from your tongue onto your chest. Osamu patted your head like a dog.

“Share with Nana,” he said. You were reluctant to look away from him but you turned away from him and kissed Nana messily. She moaned into your mouth as you snowballed Osamu’s cum back and forth.

“G’head and swallow,” Osamu said. You pulled back and swallowed the cum in your mouth then turned and showed the camera your empty mouth. “That’s my girl. Nana, you too.”

Nana showed the camera the cum in her mouth then swallowed, showing the camera her clean tongue.

“My good girls,” Osamu praised. He stopped filming and sat his phone on the counter before walking to the tub.

“Come ‘ere, baby,” he said, opening his arms. You left Nana’s lap quickly, being pulled into Osamu’s strong chest.

“Daddy,” you said, kissing his chest. Nana stood up behind you, kissing your neck. “Wanna focus on daddy.”

“Let’s go back to the bedroom,” Osamu said. “Someone still has to ride my cock.”

You and Nana padded after him like ducklings. Osamu rolled onto the bed, leaning back on his elbows.

You crawled next to him, leaning down and taking one of his nipples in your mouth. You pressed your tongue against the pierced bud, and looked up through your lashes to see Nana doing the same thing on his opposite side. Osamu moaned and fell back.

“Samu,” you moaned, reaching down to palm his half hard cock. Your hand met Nana’s and you slowly pulled away.

“Wanna ride him,” Nana said, looking at you. You frowned.

“I wanna ride him,” you said.

“Be nice,” Osamu said, reaching down and swatting your ass. “Ya can sit on my face while Nana rides me. Ya can ride me later.”

You pouted but nodded.

“Stop fuckin’ pouting before I make ya watch,” Osamu said, pulling on your bottom lip.

“Being mean,” you said. Osamu grabbed your jaw roughly.

“Watch yer tone,” he said. You puckered your lips. Osamu rubbed his hand over your cheek, just like Nana had before she— Slap!

“Daddy,” you cried, clutching your cheek. Your cheek stung and your pussy throbbed.

“Hit her again,” Nana said, looking at you with wide eyes.

Osamu shook his head. “She’ll be a good girl now, won’t ya, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled. You sniffled as tears burned at your eyes. Osamu caressed your red cheek gently.

“How are ya, baby?” He asked.

“Green,” you sniffled, rubbing your nose.

“Ya sure?” Osamu asked.

You nodded. “Liked it, daddy. Green.”

“Good girl,” Osamu said, patting your cheek. “Come ‘ere, baby.”

You shuffled into his arms, letting him pull you against his chest. He kissed your head before letting you go.

“I love ya,” he mumbled.

“Love you,” you said. You pulled away and watched as Nana straddled him, slotting Osamu’s hard cock between her folds and grinding down.

“Come sit on my face, baby,” Osamu said. You straddled his face and leaned over to grab your phone.

“Can I film you?” You asked as Nana teased Osamu’s cock by grinding against it.

She nodded and grinned, running her hands down her body and onto Osamu’s. She arched her back as she ran her hands over his abdomen and chest.

“Gonna take him all?” You asked. You whimpered as Osamu’s tongue flattened against your clit.

“Gonna bounce on his cock until I can’t move,” Nana said. You smiled.

“Don’t worry, if you can’t move, he’ll move you,” you said. You moaned as Osamu buried his tongue in your warm core.

“Daddy’s cock is so thick,” she said, rolling her hips against his cock. You saw his cock throb.

“Go ahead, sit on his cock,” you said, zooming in on where Nana’s folds enveloped his cock.

Nana reached down and tapped his cock against her clit a few times. Osamu groaned into your folds.

“Samu,” you moaned.

Nana slowly aligned his cock with her entrance.

“Come on, sink down on his cock,” you said. Osamu’s fingers dug into your plush thighs as Nana popped the head of his cock inside her. She moaned softly and swivelled her hips.

“Take more,” you said. Osamu flicked his tongue against your clit.

“Don’t rush me,” she said, sinking down a few inches. You zoomed in to where her pussy swallowed his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” You swore, nearly dropping the phone as Osamu sucked harshly at your clit. You steadied the phone and bucked your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Oh,” Nana moaned, finally sinking all the way down.

“You have a bulge,” you said, leaning forward to show the camera the small bulge Osamu’s cock made between her hips.

She ran her fingers down her stomach and pressed down on the bulge. She and Osamu both moaned.

“Fuckin’ move,” Osamu said from beneath you. “Before I move ya.”

“Y/n, grind down on his fucking face so he can’t speak,” Nana said. You smiled wickedly and ground down against his tongue.

“Can’t speak if you’re doing your job right, Samu,” you said, grinding against his face.

He smacked your ass as Nana slowly moved up and down his cock. You moaned as Osamu’s nose nudged your clit as his tongue dug into your hole.

“Fuck, his cock is so big,” Nana panted. “Fuckin’ hurts.”

“Just get used to it,” you said. “Roll your hips.”

Nana rolled her hips and moaned. Her eyes rolled back as Osamu rutted his hips up.

“Osamu, no,” she moaned, bracing her hands on his stomach. Osamu grabbed her hips and pulled her down on his cock. He planted his feet on the bed and thrusted up.

“Fuck, fuck, Osamu,” she moaned, throwing her head back. You whined as Osamu focused on fucking into Nana and ignoring you.

“Daddy,” you whined, grinding down on his face. He stuck his tongue out, letting you grind your clit against it.

You showed the camera Nana’s fucked out expression before lowering it down to her bouncing breasts, then even lower to where Osamu stretched her out.

“Gonna cum,” Nana moaned. She reached down and rubbed her clit.

“Cum on daddy’s cock,” you said, zooming out to fit all of Nana on the screen.

Osamu snapped his hips up and sucked at your clit at the same time.

Nana squealed as she squirted around Osamu’s cock, her cum pooling on his stomach and dripping down to the bed. She shook as Osamu continued to fuck her.

“‘S’too much, too much!” She exclaimed, back arching.

“You can take it,” you said as Osamu’s plush lips wrapped around your clit again. You reached forward to rub her clit. She weakly tried to push your hand away.

Osamu suckled your clit, all the while pounding into Nana’s sensitive cunt. She cried out as she came again, gushing over Osamu’s cock. Creamy, white cum coated Osamu’s cock as he fucked her.

“Fuck, fill me up, please, please,” Nana begged, thighs shaking.

“Not before Y/n cums,” Osamu said, voice muffled under you. He used one hand to pull you down and the other held Nana in place.

Osamu’s tongue thrusted in and out of you while his nose rubbed your clit.

You moaned as your stomach tightened and a fire burned low in your gut.

“Gonna cum,” you whimpered. Nana grabbed the phone from you and turned it on you.

“Which boy loves seeing you ate out?” Nana asked.

“S-Sunarin!” You cried, throwing your head back. Osamu slapped your ass and sucked at your clit.

“Oh? Daddy doesn’t like it when his baby moans another guy’s name?” Nana asked. “What about the guy who loves to see your tits?”

Nana leaned forward, grabbing and groping your breast with her free hand.

“Bokkun!” You moaned. Osamu slapped your ass again and ate you out vigorously. His hips slowed down as he grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide.

“Guy that loves to see your hair pulled?” Nana asked, yanking your head back. She moaned as Osamu snapped his hips up.

“Kiyoomi!”

You cried out as Osamu dug his fingernails into your ass, spreading your cheeks.

Nana grabbed your chin roughly. She leaned in and kissed you.

“Guy that would spit in your mouth?” She whispered, pulling back.

“Sh-Shoyo-kun,” you whimpered. Nana forced your mouth open and spat on your waiting tongue.

Osamu shifted you, and licked lower. You gasped as his tongue circled the rim of your asshole.

“Samu!” You exclaimed. You felt him smile against your skin.

“Come on, cum on his face,” Nana said, showing the camera your fucked out expression. Osamu spread your cheeks, digging his tongue past the ring of muscles. You moaned and dug your fingers into Osamu’s chest.

“Fu-uck,” you moaned, voice wobbling.

“Cum on daddy’s face,” Nana said, dragging her nails down your body. You let out a high pitched whine as Osamu moved back to your cunt. His fingers rubbed over your asshole, threatening to break through the tight ring of muscles.

You gushed on Osamu’s tongue, and he lapped it up eagerly. You slumped over, leaning your head on Nana’s shoulder. Nana moaned as Osamu rolled his hips.

“Fill me up, daddy,” she said, rotating her hips. Osamu groaned as his cock throbbed in her tight walls. He thrusted into her and painted her walls white.

You took the phone back from Nana as she dropped her arms.

You crawled off Osamu, legs shaking. You zoomed in on Nana’s messy cunt as she lifted herself off of Osamu’s cock. Cum spilled out and you reached forward, pushing it back in with two fingers.

“You’re supposed to keep daddy’s gift,” you said. Nana fell back on the bed next to Osamu.

You moved the phone closer to her leaking cunt, fingering it back in her slowly. She moaned softly.

“For Tsumu,” you said, spreading her folds with your fingers so the camera should catch sight of her messy hole. You flipped the camera on to your face and filmed as you licked your fingers clean. You winked at the camera before saving the video and sending it to the group chat.

uncle tsumu: ‘fuck do y’all even take breaks? i’m just now getting over the last video’

sunarin: ‘already love it based on the thumbnail alone’

You glanced at the thumbnail and saw Nana spitting into your mouth.

kiyo-kun: ‘this is a long one’

bokkun: ‘fuck i’m still jerking to the last video’

sho-kun: ‘stop blowing up the chat i’m trying to watch the video’

you: ‘enjoy’ You sent your text along with a selfie.

“Come here,” Osamu said. You crawled over him and snuggled into his side. “What are the boys saying?”

“They’re watching it now,” you said.

“We’re feeding them a lot today,” Osamu said. “They’re gonna be expecting daily videos now.”

You shrugged. “We fuck enough.”

“You two are literally the most insatiable people I’ve ever met,” Nana said, laying on Osamu’s chest with his arm around her.

“What, you too tired to go another round?” You asked. “What happened to that volleyball stamina?”

“Another round, are you kidding me?” Nana asked. You shrugged and looked up at Osamu.

“He hasn’t filled up my cunt yet,” you said, running your fingers down his chest.

“Give me a minute and I’ll fill ya up ‘til yer swollen with my cum,” Osamu said, looking down at you.

“You can count me out,” Nana said. “I’m taking a shower and heading home. I can’t take anymore.”

“I’ll get you some clothes to wear home,” you said. “And I insist that you eat lunch before leaving.”

“Is that all you two do on your off days? Just fuck and eat?” Nana asked.

“Sometimes,” you said. “Gotta replenish.”

“You two are like robots,” she laughed. She stood up, before falling back on the bed.

“Help her to the shower,” you said, pushing Osamu towards her. He grunted as he stood up and offered his arm to her. She grabbed onto it graciously and they slowly made their way into the bathroom.

You grabbed your phone and went to the group chat, which was blowing up.

bokkun: ‘might fuck around and come over just to cum in your mouth’

sunarin: ‘seriously i want to see you swallow my cum like that’

uncle tsumu: ‘how tf does samu end up with two girls on his cock’

kiyo-kun: ‘didn’t you see him at the bar? he looked like he owned the place’

kiyo-kun: ‘you’re lucky i didn’t go home with him’

bokkun: ‘the way you moaned my name…’

bokkun: ‘shit i busted my nut’

bokkun: ‘let me give you a real reason to moan my name’

sunarin: ‘i smell a gangbang in the near future’

uncle tsumu: ‘^^ seconded’

sho-kun: ‘literally omw rn’

sho-kun: ‘u think i would spit in ur mouth?’

sho-kun: ‘ur right’

you: ‘literally talking to samu rn about a gangbang’

you: *photo* ‘literally so wet just thinking about it’

bokkun: ‘wet enough to take this?’ *photo*

sunarin: ‘literally no one here wants to see your dick’

uncle tsumu: ‘yeah this is for Y/n nudes only’

you: ‘well i think we should change that’

you: ‘it’s not fair if i’m the only one sending nudes’

you: ‘and i for one liked seeing bokkun’s cock’

sunarin: *photo*

you: ‘is that my libero?’

sunarin: ‘brought her back after the bar’

sunarin: ‘she’s so cute taking my cock’ *video*

sunarin: ‘but you’d be cuter’

sho-kun: ‘are we sharing nudes?’

sho-kun: *photo*

you: ‘aw, the curtains match the drapes’

sho-kun: ‘:(‘

you: ‘don’t be sad i’d still drool all over it bb’

sho-kun: ‘oh?’

uncle tsumu: *video*

you: ‘next time cum inside me’

uncle tsumu: ‘aw doll i’ll fill you up’

uncle tsumu: ‘just wait until my cock is back in you’

sho-kun: ‘atsumu-san u have a piercing?’

you: ‘a very nice one’

you: ‘feels good dragging against my walls’

kiyo-kun: *photo*

you: ‘:O’

you: ‘^^ how i’m gonna look next time i see you’

you: ‘want you in my mouth, ugh’

daddy samu: ‘if you want something in your mouth just come to the bathroom’

daddy samu: *photo*

daddy samu: ‘he misses you baby’

you: *photo*

you: ‘i miss you too daddy’

you: ‘want you in me’

sunarin: ‘send pics’

bokkun: ‘you can always come sit on my cock little girl’

you: ‘one of these days i’m gonna take you up on that’

bokkun: ‘it can always be today’

You smiled as Nana and Osamu walked back into the bedroom.

“Fuck, let me get you some clothes,” you said, hopping up. “You want Osamu’s shirt or one of mine?”

“Osamu’s,” she said. You pulled out an Onigiri Miya shirt and a pair of old shorts and handed them to her.

She pulled them on as Osamu pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and you pulled on Osamu’s t-shirt from the night before.

“Onigiri for lunch sound good?” Osamu asked. Nana nodded. “What kind do ya like?”

“Tarako,” she said.

“I’ll run down to the restaurant and grab some,” Osamu said. He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt and threw on a hat. “I’ll be right back. I love ya, baby.”

He leaned down and pecked your lips quickly before leaving the apartment.

You grabbed a clean pair of panties and went into the bathroom. You quickly used the bathroom and washed your face before tugging the panties on and wandering to the living room, where Nana was sitting on the couch.

“I had fun,” you said, sitting next to her. “I hope this won’t make anything awkward between us.”

“Definitely not!” Nana exclaimed. “I’m just thinking about how I’m supposed to walk around knowing you’re getting the ultimate dick down every night.”

You smiled. “Well, this doesn’t have to be a one time thing,” you said. “Samu says he doesn’t like to share but he’s a liar.”

“I can tell,” she said. “You got more jealous than he did.” She playfully knocked your shoulder.

“In my defence, that’s totally Samu’s fault,” you said. “He has me spoiled, I’m not used to someone else having his attention.”

“Babe, I barely had his attention,” Nana said. “He was so focused on you the entire time. I didn’t even know a man could focus on something else with a girl on his dick.”

Your face burned hot with embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

Osamu entered the apartment carrying a bag of food and boba.

“I forgot to ask what kind of boba ya like, so I just got ya brown sugar like Y/n,” Osamu said, setting the food and drinks on the kitchen table.

You and Nana made your way to the table. Before you could sit down, Osamu pulled you into his lap. You giggled as he kissed down your neck.

“Gross,” Nana teased, biting into her onigiri. You stuck your tongue out at her.

Osamu lifted your onigiri to your lips, feeding you sweetly.

“Thank you, baby,” you mumbled, chewing carefully.

“Anything for my baby,” Osamu said. You lifted his drink up for him to take a sip.

“You two are too cute,” Nana said, smiling widely.

She grabbed your phone and opened the camera.

“Smile!” She said. You both smiled widely as she snapped a picture. “Cute!”

You looked at the photo and quickly changed it to your phone home screen.

You ate mostly in silence, polishing off your onigiri with onion soup and brown sugar boba.

“We should do this again sometimes,” Nana said, holding her clothes from last night as she stood at the door.

“Definitely,” you said. You hugged her tightly.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, walking down the hall.

“Bye!” You called after her. Osamu waved. Once the door clicked shut, Osamu had his arms around your waist.

“I think I owe ya something,” he said, kissing down your neck. You twisted around in his arms and wrapped yours around him.

“I think you do,” you said, leaning on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jawline. He rutted his hips against yours.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby,” Osamu said, pushing you down on the couch. He pulled your panties down and tossed them across the room.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing your phone. “Sunarin wants pictures.”

“Hold yer legs to yer chest,” he said, opening the camera. You wrapped your arms under your knees and pulled them to your chest. Osamu snapped a photo of you, groaning as he palmed himself through his shorts. He pressed two fingers into your hole, snapping another photo.

“So tight even after taking that dildo earlier,” Osamu said, scissoring open your hole. “Was it not enough fer ya, sweet girl?”

You shook your head. “Need you, daddy. Nothing’s ever enough.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. He sent the photos to the group chat and tossed your phone to the side. “Gotta be in ya.”

He pushed his shorts down just enough to free his aching cock. You moaned at the sight of his cock springing out.

“In me, in me,” you whined. He quickly lined his cock up with your entrance and thrusted into you. You both let out a long moan. He draped your legs over his shoulders and pushed your shirt up, palming your breasts.

“Already squeezin’ me so tight, ya gonna cum already?” Osamu asked, pushing in deeper with his next thrust. You shuttered as the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

“Needed you so bad, daddy,” you moaned, reaching for his hand. He grabbed your searching hand and intertwined your fingers.

“G’head and cum, baby, it’s okay,” he said, slowly thrusting into you. You came with a moan, gushing around his cock. He leaned down and kissed you as his hips rocked steadily into you.

“I love you,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. He smiled against your lips, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love ya, too, baby,” he said. He furrowed his brows as his cock twitched. “Not gonna last long.”

“‘S’okay,” you said. “Just want to feel you.”

Osamu bit his lip, trying to stave off his own orgasm. He closed his eyes and cried out as he spilled inside you.

“Samu, Samu, Samu,” you moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

“‘M sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning his forehead against yours again.

“It’s okay,” you said, combing your fingers through his hair. You pecked his lips. “I love you.”

“I love ya,” he said. He pulled back and rearranged you so that you were sitting on his lap. He carefully slipped his cock back into you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You relaxed against him.

You grabbed your phone and opened the group chat.

you: *photo*

you: *photo*

you: *photo*

kiyo-kun: ‘i want a taste’

sunarin: ‘damn even sakusa-kun can’t hold back his thirst’

sunarin: ‘i would also like a taste’

bokkun: ‘i don’t see how that tiny little hole fit both osamu-kun and atsumu at the same time’

uncle tsumu: ‘i wanna stretch that lil hole out again’

sho-kun: ‘i wanna see that little hole stretched around my cock’

bokkun: ‘next time i wanna see her taking two cocks in her ass’

bokkun: ‘i volunteer as one of the cocks’

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

you: ‘i just started doing anal and we’re already discussing dp?’

bokkun: ‘yes’

sho-kun: ‘yes’

kiyo-kun: ‘yes’

sunarin: ‘yes’

uncle tsumu: ‘yes’

you: ‘i hate all of you’

#samu thoughts #cai writes #haikyuu smut #miya osamu #miya osamu imagines #miya osamu smut #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya smut #osamu miya #haikyuu #tw:threesome #tw:face slapping #tw:physical violence #only you

[bloody-bee-tea]

Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much  more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #getting together #healing #tattoos #first kiss