#Been wanting to draw these two for a while now

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x y/n #mclaren #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri drabble

[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @solanathascientst @10ava01 @werewhatkilledthedinosaurs @void21 @groovycass @azrielsgirll @rroslitas @crvptidgf @star-girl-05 @redhead1180 @shadyshadyy @prettypimpcess12 @emotionsmgcbabe @outerbankspov @letmeintourheart @gublerstylesobrien1238

#rafe cameron #rafe #obx #rafe obx #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe fluff #cute rafe #obx fic

[idyllic-ghost]

I've been thinking about woozi aftercare 😫😫 like after an intense session imagine him taking care of you and giving you so many compliments especially if you haven't seen each other in a long time (reader she/her)

ohhh i can see that! i do see him as a very shy person, the type of guy who wouldn't be able to speak his mind in the moment when it comes to love (i do think he's good at communicating love, his songs are his track record, but that he has to sit down and think them over first), but in that moment with so much going on i definitely see it🤭

warnings: not proofed, implied smut, aftercare, MDNI

Your legs are still tangled together, your heavy breaths synchronizing in a harmonious rhythm. He's still inside of you, keeping the close proximity for as long as possible, and your arms are still around his neck - softly playing with his hair. Jihoon lets out a sigh that almost sounds like a whimper as he leans his forehead against yours. The bedsheets are clinging to your sweaty limbs, but you can't bring yourself to start cleaning up.

"Thank you," he whispers before giving you a chaste kiss.

The energy changed in a matter of seconds. Animalistic grunts turned into soft panting, violent movement turned into gentle touches, and the look in his eyes turned from lust to pure love. You had missed this, you had missed him - both of these sides of him. Jihoon had been gone for months on tour, and now he's finally with you again - not just over the phone, or on a face time call, but here with you, in real life.

"Why are you thanking me?" You brush away the hair hanging in front of his face, a playful smile appearing on your lips.

"I don't know..." He huffs and hides his face in the crook of your neck, where he presses a few loving pecks. "You're so beautiful... I just can't believe that you're with me. I've missed you so much."

You wrap your arms tighter around him, the small amount of movement had both of you wincing. He got home two-to-three hours ago, you couldn't quite tell, and the two of you had been at it ever since. It was surprising to see him like this, but you shouldn't be surprised considering the amount of racy photos you had sent him for the past few months. Safe to say, you are more than sensitive right now.

"I've missed you, too," you murmur and then, almost brittle, say, "You don't have to leave soon, do you?"

Jihoon moves to look at you again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He reaches out to your face, brushing something off your cheek with his thumb - you don't know if there was something actually there, or if it was an excuse to caress your cheek.

"If you're thinking about that now, I didn't do a good enough job." He frowns, a soft pout forming on his lips - it's been so long since you've seen him act cute.

"I just don't want to fall asleep now if you'll be gone in the morning," you say.

"I won't be gone," he quickly replies. "I'm staying with you- I've taken a few days off."

It's almost cute how much he's trying to reassure you. His flushed face and his messy hair, combined with his wide eyes, makes you laugh - any worry about the next day disappearing completely. Jihoon quiets down and a smile settles on his lips. He presses a final kiss on your cheek before moving to get up.

"I'll clean up, okay? Wait here," he says, as if you're capable to move at all.

"Hurry back," you chirp as you pull the covers tighter around you.

In a matter of seconds, Jihoon comes back with a warm towel to help clean you up. He can't meet your eyes as he brings the towel to your thighs, so different from how he had treated you a few minutes ago. The shyness has apparently not hit him just yet, as he soon crawls back into bed and moves you to lay on his broad chest. One of his hands are on the top of your head, keeping it in the crook of his neck, while the other is on your back - drawing circles on your sensitive skin with his fingers.

"You're so good for me," he says. "I'm sorry for being away so much."

"It's fine," you answer, "as long as I get to experience you like this every time you come back."

"Noted." The chuckle he lets out almost sounds more like a scoff as it is quickly cut off by a yawn.

His fingers subconsciously drum against your back to some unknown melody. You find yourself wanting to ask what song it was - if it was something old, something new, or an old unreleased track - but Jihoon seems keen on not talking about work tonight. You can't blame him.

"I'm happy you're back," you murmur and nuzzle your face closer to him. "The bed is always cold without you."

Jihoon smells like the laundry detergent you told him you usually buy, his skin radiates the kind of warmth that seeps into your soul, and you can hear his heartbeat quicken at your words. You don't have to look at his face to know that he's turned red.

"I should get you a heating blanket," he grumbles in an attempt to hide his fluster.

"I like this more," you counter.

He removes his hand from your back to place over his eyes as a soft breath leaves his lips. You look up at him with a teasing smile and, as you expected, his ears are bright red.

"Jihoon." Your voice gets his attention and he removes his hand from his face to look at you. "I love you."

His flustered expression changes to a warm and much softer one. You shuffle around until your face is right above his, and you press a kiss on his lips. It's short, and Jihoon must think it's too short as he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

"I love you, too." His eyes stay closed, as if he can't bring himself to look at you or as if he's still expecting you to kiss him again.

You give into him, pressing another kiss on his lips as your hands cup his face. Jihoon smiles against your lips as he gets what he wants, and takes you by surprise as he manhandles you onto your back. His eyes, although not as intense as before, has a lustful spark in them again.

"Again?" you ask incredulously.

"I have to make up for lost time," he argues and presses a kiss to your cheek.

"It's late, aren't you tired?"

"I'm never too tired for you," he murmurs before turning his attention to your body for the umpteenth time that night.

#svthub #svt #seventeen #bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* #kpop fanfiction #ask #anon #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop writer #fanfic #svt fluff #svt smut #svt fic #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #woozi smut #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon #lee jihoon #lee jihoon smut #jihoon x reader #jihoon scenarios

[tojiluv]

EYES DON'T LIE — choso kamo [chapter ten]

description: in which a girl unwittingly becomes involved with a handsome stranger in a club, oblivious to his true identity of being in a famous boyband… OR in which you and Choso must conceal your secret meetings from your friends and his bandmates, especially from his younger brother and your best friend, Yuji.

warnings: nsfw MDNI. fem! receiving. vaginal fingering. praising. doing it in the car. swearing. choso calls you 'angel' & 'pretty'. choso's a tease.

notes: i know i said i come back in two weeks but that didn't happen lol, so sorry! i'm back now and hope this chapter makes up for it, especially for being the longest chapter i wrote (4000+ words). this is my first time writing some form of smut, so bear with me as it may be cringe.

Yuji was home.

Yuji's return sent shockwaves through the house, jolting you and Choso into a frenzy of panic. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, propelling you to disentangle from Choso with a racing heart, desperately attempting to compose yourself.

Choso's eyes widened in alarm, his mind racing for a solution as he cast furtive glances between you and the entrance. "Shit, hide!" he stated urgently, his voice barely audible amidst the impending footsteps, while he frantically attempted to groom his disheveled appearance.

Grabbing your bag, you hurried towards the nearest door, your mind racing to find a hiding spot with limited options. With no choice, you slipped into a nearby closet near the kitchen entrance, your heart pounding as you closed the door behind you with a barely audible click. In the darkness of the closet, you pressed a hand over your mouth, struggling to steady your breathing as you strained to listen for any indication of Yuji's presence. Outside, you heard the muffled sound of Choso's greeting, his voice strained as he feigned nonchalance.

"Hey, Yuji! Back so soon," Choso remarked, his tone forced and unconvincing.

"Yeah, the game ended early. Thought I'd swing by and relax," Yuji replied, his footsteps drawing closer to the living room where Choso awaited.

Your heart raced even faster at the approach of Yuji's footsteps, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach as you silently prayed that he wouldn't uncover your hiding place. Peering through the slits of the doorway, you watched as your best friend casually dropped onto the couch, tossing his bag aside with a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, Choso attempted to maintain his composure, engaging Yuji in conversation to divert his attention away from your concealed presence. Yet, beneath his facade, you detected the strain in his voice, a palpable tension mirroring your anxiety.

Choso quickly glanced at your hiding spot before turning his attention to his brother, feeling a bit relieved that he was distracting Yuji. He knew the risk of being involved with you, especially as Yuji's best friend, but he was willing to take that chance. Everything had been going well, and he was determined to keep it that way.

"I thought you were crashing at Megumi’s tonight?" He inquired, trying to coax his brother out of the room and assist your escape.

Yuji glanced away from the TV, his brow furrowing in response. "Didn’t you want me to come back after the game?"

Choso cursed inwardly, realizing his mistake. Indeed, he had instructed Yuji to return home post-game. If only he had known about your arrival beforehand, he would have urged his brother to prolong his absence indefinitely, especially considering the recent developments between you and him moments earlier.

Meanwhile, you attempted to remain utterly still, refraining from making any sudden movements, alarmed even to shift within the confines of the cramped closet. Your gaze remained fixed on the sibling duo, observing Choso's persistent attempts to usher Yuji away.

Yuji scrutinized his older brother, his expression puzzled. "Are you alright?" he asked, noticing Choso's unease.

The older male nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you're acting all jittery," Yuji pointed out, his keen observation catching Choso off guard. He waved a dismissive hand, attempting to brush off his brother's concern.

"Nothing's wrong, just thinking about something. Don't worry about it," he replied, hoping to divert his attention elsewhere.

Yuji hummed, though he was not entirely convinced, he opted not to pursue the matter further. Shifting in his seat, he felt an unfamiliar object pressing against his back, retrieving it from beneath the couch cushions. As he held up the item to inspect it, Choso and your hearts plummeted.

A Cherry Flavoured Lip Gloss.

"What's this?" Yuji asked, scrutinizing the lip gloss before turning his gaze towards his brother for an explanation.

Your eyes widened in realization, fumbling through your skirt pockets only to confirm that the lip gloss in question indeed belonged to you. It must have slipped out during the make-out session with Choso on the couch, the intensity of which had him tugging at your clothing.

"Shit…!" You mouthed, worried by the unfolding scene. However, matters only escalated as your previous movements accidentally shifted a broom, causing it to collide with the closet wall with an unmistakable clang.

You stifle a gasp, your heart pounding furiously, as both Choso and Yuji swivel their heads toward the source of the disturbance. One wears a concerned expression, while the other's face contorts with dread, drained of color by the knowing sound.

"What was that?" Yuji questioned, rising from his seat.

As Yuji began to investigate, you held your breath, every passing second feeling endless and dreadful. The closet felt increasingly suffocating, the darkness closing in as you awaited the approaching confrontation. At one point, it felt as though your eyes met Yuji's through the doorway as his hand was inching towards the closet door. You instinctively pushed deeper into the confined space, your stomach churning at the thought of facing your best friend.

"It's mine!"

Choso interjected loudly, blurting out anything to stop his brother's movements.

Yuji turned around, tilting his head curiously. "Huh?"

"The lip gloss, it’s, uh.. mine…" Choso mumbled, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

"...Really?" Yuji's skepticism was noticed as he inspected his brother.

Choso nodded curtly, averting his gaze in mortification. "Y-yeah! I’m experimenting with a new look for the upcoming tour."

If only you weren’t in the closet, you might have laughed at Choso's awkwardness. Yuji merely nodded, though there was still some uncertainty. Sensing his brother's weariness, he let it go, thinking Choso's strange behavior was just because he was tired.

He moved away from the closet door, giving you a moment of relief, and gave the lip gloss back to Choso, who quickly put it in his pocket, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Well, I won’t judge you for that," The youngest chuckled. "I'm heading upstairs to get some rest. Are you staying down here?"

Choso let out a tired sigh, exhausted by everything that had happened. He shook his head and said, "No, I think I'll go out for a bit. I'll be back soon."

“Alright then. Stay safe, big bro!”

As the pink-haired male climbed the stairs and said goodbye to his brother, he vanished from sight. Finally, the sound of Yuji's fading footsteps brought a wave of relief, and you slumped against the closet wall, letting out a shaky breath.

Outside, Choso quietly exhales, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. "That was way too close," he murmured, his voice barely audible from where you stood.

You stayed silent, wrestling with the weight of the close call. The realization of the dangerous situation you had narrowly avoided washed over you, along with a surge of guilt. What were you doing, sneaking around with your best friend's brother behind his back? However, amid your self-reproach, you couldn't ignore the inexplicable attraction that had drawn you to Choso, like a moth to a flame. The memory of his lips on yours, his touch sparking a passion within you—it lingered, weaving a spell that defied rationality.

Outside, Choso's voice pierced through your thoughts, breaking the hold of your internal turmoil. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone soft with concern.

"I'll manage," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what now?"

Choso glanced towards the staircase before cautiously opening the closet door. His gaze lingered on your lips, noticing a hint of misplaced lip gloss staining your skin, before returning to meet your eyes.

"I'll take you home," he stated simply, though his conflicted expression betrayed his words. "It's best to avoid any further complications with Yuji around."

You inwardly sighed, acknowledging that he was right, as you swiftly emerged from the closet, hurrying towards the front door with Choso in tow, grabbing his keys.

Disappointment gnawed at you, realizing that your attraction to the dark-haired male had only deepened, though now you were uncertain if you would get another chance to pursue it.

The car sliced through the darkness, tension thickening the air. You stared out the window, watching the lights blur past, lost in your thoughts. Confidence had deserted you when Yuji returned home, leaving you too shy to speak to the man beside you.

Choso's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenched with resolve. Annoyance creased his features, stark against his usual carefree demeanor. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by the sudden predicament or regretting your earlier interaction.

The silence hung heavy, broken only by the engine's hum and your heart pounding. Each moment dragged on, tension and desire simmering beneath the surface. As the car slowed to a stop outside your apartment complex, you felt his gaze linger on you. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you turned to face him, your gaze lowered.

Then Choso spoke up, his lips twitching slightly. "Cherry lip gloss, huh?"

You looked up at him, perplexed. "What?"

He fished the item from his pocket, handing it to you with a small smirk as your eyes widened. Reaching for it, your fingers brushed against his for a fleeting moment before you pulled back.

"Oh, yeah..." you muttered, examining the product before sighing. You felt a bit deflated from the previous encounter, yet it seemed like Choso knew exactly what you were thinking.

He chuckled softly, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at the cherry lip gloss in your hand. "Well, I guess we can say that's one way to leave a lasting impression," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled a bit, nodding in agreement. It struck you how such a small thing had left a memorable impact for both of you, despite the fear you both felt in that moment. You were grateful that Choso took the situation lightly, easing the tension with his playful banter. As a result, you felt your shoulders relax, the weight of the previous tension dissipating.

"I don’t know what to say, but I’m sorry if I caused any problems for you," you said, wanting to make sure he wasn’t upset.

“No need to apologize. You didn’t cause anything, so don’t think like that,” he reassured you. Choso leaned back in his seat, ruffling his hair that was out of his usual style before gracing you with a grin. “Then again, I do believe you owe me one,”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “What for?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, I did tell Yuji that it was my lip gloss,” Choso admitted with a smirk, recalling the earlier exchange.

You remembered that but decided to play along. Humming, you shrugged, “I never heard you say that. Are you sure this isn’t exactly yours?” Choso scoffed, seeing through your playful act. “You’re funny. But nope, it's not mine. I ain’t a cherry type of guy.”

“What’s wrong with cherries?” you mused. Despite being home, you didn’t even think about leaving, not wanting the night to end just yet as you continued to engage with the older male.

He shrugged, “Nothing, just not my preference.”

“Well, I think you’re missing out. It's one of the best flavors to use,” you stated, opening the tube to apply a bit on your lips since it was rubbed off earlier. Unbeknownst to you, Choso gazed at your lips as you applied the product before closing it and putting it away.

He hummed, tilting his head before shifting closer. “Really? If you say so, maybe I should try it.”

You were a bit surprised but didn’t question him before pulling the lip gloss from your purse without a thought. “Oh, sure! Just be careful with the– Hmph!”

Choso's sudden movement caught you off guard as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could react, his lips captured yours in a gentle yet intense kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into the kiss, the world fading away until there was nothing but the heat of his lips against yours, the soft brush of his fingers against your cheek. The taste of cherry lip gloss lingered on your lips, a sweet contrast to the fiery passion that ignited between you.

In that moment, nothing else mattered except the intoxicating sensation of being lost in each other, the weight of the world lifted as you surrendered to the irresistible pull of desire.

As the kiss deepened, a soft sigh escaped your lips that mingled with Choso's ragged breaths. Every touch, every caress spoke of longing and longing, a silent promise of the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

The kiss soon turned into a heated session, your hands gripping his hair to pull him closer before moaning in his mouth as his hands slid down your backside to land on your skirt, gripping your ass in the process. Not caring for any peering eyes, you moved across the console to jump into his seat, maneuvering onto his lap as he roughly pulled your body against his own, the kiss barely breaking off. Your body felt too hot in a way that you didn’t want to lose the feeling, continuing to chase each other’s lips with much urgency.

You didn’t expect this to happen at all, especially after the incident with Yuji, as you thought maybe Choso didn’t want this to continue due to the close call. Yet, he proved you wrong, and you were glad he did, especially from the way he made sure to show you.

Pulling back a bit to catch your breath, Choso took the opportunity to glide his lips against your neck, nicking and licking at any surface he could get as you whimpered from the sensation. You could feel his lips tug up against your pulsing neck, knowing he was grinning from the way you reacted to him. Your body shifted, grinding against his lap, feeling that prominent area rising from your movements as Choso let out a low groan.

Your hand left his hair to grip his chin, pulling him away from your neck to capture his plump lips back to yours, humming in contentment from the way he felt against you.

Feeling his hands move past your skirt bottom, you knew what he was implying and were eager to feel it, too lost in the feeling of his touch. Choso pulled back from the kiss, his breath heaving a bit as his eyes were narrowed with a tint of desire swirling in his dark purple eyes. His other hand lightly tapped your waist as he tilted his head, amused from seeing your desperate expression of wanting to be touched.

”You want me to touch you, hm?”

You nodded fiercely, shifting your body lower to obtain some friction to attend where you needed it the most. But Choso wasn’t taking that as an answer.

“Use your words, angel.”

His words sent another wave of electricity through you as you gulped, trying to not melt into a puddle from the way he was looking at you. Swallowing the saliva that collected in your throat, you managed to speak, voice raspy from the heat that pooled in the bottom of your stomach. You tried to grind on him once more, whining as he kept you still by tightening his grip, a chuckle escaping his lips as he tsked.

"All you need to do is say the words and I'll give you whatever you want.” His deep, husky voice sent another jolt through you, the heat growing stronger and making you almost feel lightheaded.

"Choso, I.." Your voice trailed off, feeling a bit too shy and embarrassed at the situation to continue. But he was persistent, continuing to stare at you with an expecting look.

His thumb caressed the corner of your tinted cherry lips, waiting for your answer patiently. "Come on, angel. Don't go quiet on me now."

Gasping out as his other hand softly pushed and rubbed against your core, you bit your lip and allowed your eyes to flutter, needing him so badly.

This was torture.

“Please..” you whined lowly, rubbing your hands up and down his clothed chest.

He hummed. “Please, what?”

”Please touch me, Choso!”

Choso smirked proudly and cupped his hands against you, pushing your underwear to the side as his fingers skillfully spread apart your throbbing and dripping core. Just a single press against your cunt made you twitch and squirm, eager to feel more. He slid his finger up and down for a bit, enjoying the reactions he pulled from you, anticipating to see you come undone by his hands. He placed a finger against your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing against it a bit harsh and fast, causing you to buck into his hand at the sudden sensation.

“Already so wet for me,”

He glanced at you, keeping eye contact as pleasure spread throughout your body. You wanted more, needed more from the older man under you. You let out an airy gasp as he pressed further into your skin, pushing for more friction that made you shiver as you could feel yourself becoming more wet, watching him through your heavy eyelids.

His eyes, God, his eyes.

He never once looked away as he continued to torture you with his touch, not wanting to miss any reaction he received. Choso loved it all and didn’t want it to stop.

"Please, Choso... Stop teasing..."

You grind yourself further onto his hand, an action Choso couldn't ignore, especially the way your arousal coated his fingers. With a small nibble on the tip of your ear and his hand traveling up the front of your body, slipping underneath the shirt you were wearing to tighten his grip, you began to roll your hips along his wrist, silently begging for him to fuck you with his hands.

He eventually caved, curling two of his fingers inside your slit, the stretch adding another dimension of pleasure and turning you into a wailing mess. A drawn-out moan was heard throughout the entire car as you thrashed on top, back arching against the car’s steering wheel and fingers digging into his clothes.

"Look at you. So responsive and beautiful. Just for me."

His deep voice sent another shudder down your spine, your thighs quivering and threatening to close shut around his hand. Your hands moved towards his shoulders, gripping and holding onto them for dear life.

You couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All that mattered was his fingers stretching out your cunt.

Choso watched in pure lust and hunger, a fire igniting inside him as his hand worked and pumped against your slit. You looked like a goddess with the way you were riding him, the way your lips parted and let out such sweet sounds, the way your chest heaved, the way your eyes were hazed over with pleasure, the way your nails dug into his shoulder, the way your head leaned forward and rested against his chest.

It was an erotic sight. And only he could see you like this.

You felt his thumb circle against your sensitive bud, the pressure sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through your body. It felt so good, and the feeling of his fingers moving inside of you made it even better. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as his thumb pressed against the nub harder.

"You like that?" His voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't do anything except moan and nod, too overwhelmed with the sensations running through your body. His fingers curled inside of you as your walls clenched around his touch, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“More..” You whisper breathlessly, too focused on the feeling to not notice his cunning grin.

“More, huh?”

How could he say no to your pretty demands?

It felt better than you expected as he picked up the pace, adding a third finger, slamming himself into your wet walls and pressing deep and far as his thumb rubbed against your swollen bud, sending your mind spiraling.

“Yes.. yes! Fuck, just like that!” you whimpered, a hand gripping the back of his head while the other slid down his shirt, feeling how toned his chest was and how it felt familiar in your hands.

His fingers continued to pound into you, deep inside your cunt until he curled them upwards, hitting that certain spot that made you moan much louder than before, panting heavily. Opening your eyes, you made eye contact with his heavy-lidded ones that swelled with much yearning from your position. Despite the position, you suddenly became shy from the intense contact before shoving your face into his neck, planting kisses that made him tilt his head for you to get more room as he sighed from the feeling of your lips.

He kept hitting all the right spots that made your toes curl and lips press harder into his irritated skin, letting out a few curses to show how much he affected you deeply with just a touch of his hand.

“S-shit, Choso.. Right there!” You paused the assault on his neck, placing your forehead on his broad shoulders for support, concentrating immensely on the sensation. The only thing keeping you from falling apart was his arm that gripped your waist firmly to hold you up.

The vulgar wet sounds of your cunt were loud, echoing through the car that filled with gasps and moans. The slurping sound of the wetness and the feeling of your velvet walls fueled Choso’s desire to make you cum on his lap. He groaned at the way your pussy swallowed his fingers whole, showing him just how much he affects you with just three fingers, and thought about how different it would be if it was cock inside you right now instead of his hands.

Fuck me. Choso knew the next time he saw you, he certainly wouldn't be only using his hands and especially, won’t be doing it in the car.

You suddenly felt that familiar feeling approaching, causing you to move your hips to align with his movements, chasing that exciting sensation as you moaned out his name.

“I’m so close… I– Ahh, Choso!”

This woman… Just the way you moaned his name got his cock stiffening harder than before, causing him to sweat a bit more from your shameless words that filled the car with your scent and breath. He could feel your walls clenching against his fingers as he continued to pound faster causing you to pull away from his shoulder, knowing you were approaching your climax.

You suddenly felt him release two of his fingers out of you, leaving only one as you whined from the loss of contact till you gasped. He replaced the loss with his fingers circling your clit faster to make you cum, leaving you in a moaning mess from the adrenaline. Eyes closed, you withered against his aggressive but fluttering touch. “Choso..!”

“Look at me…”

Yet, you didn’t hear his words at first, too focused on chasing your high. You felt the pressure building inside of you, something that you've felt once before with the very same man in the car at a different time.

You were close, so close.

"C-Choso.. I'm.."

He knew what you meant, his pace picking up as he pumped his fingers inside of you, his thumb circling your bud in a quicker motion. You were so close, the pressure rising inside you. You felt his other hand grip the back of your head, pushing it forward to his face as he repeated himself.

“Open your eyes for me, pretty.”

His deep tone forced your eyes to peel open, maintaining such passionate eye contact that your body withered from the tension. You knew at that moment that he wanted to keep his eyes on you, to watch you cum messily all over his hands.

And then, with a few more strokes of his fingers and a flick to your sensitive clit, it finally came undone.

The feeling washed over you as your body quivered, not paying attention to anything but the man in front of you that made you feel like you were on cloud nine. You didn’t even notice that your movements buckled you to hit the horn on the wheel behind you for a second, too lost in your overstimulating pleasure.

“That’s it, cum for me.”

You let out a loud moan as your walls clenched around his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you rode out your orgasm. Choso continued pumping his fingers inside of you, his thumb still circling your bud. You could feel your juices coating his fingers as they continued to work inside of you.

As you calmed down from the high, your chest heaved with small breaths as your tired eyes laid heavily against Choso's intense and dark purple orbs, the gaze making you shudder a bit.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful."

Choso's lips roughly found yours as his fingers slipped out, a groan of protest leaving you from the empty feeling. But his lips distracted you as he placed a hand on the side of your cheek, tilting your head back as his tongue found its way inside. The feeling of his tongue exploring and swirling against your own had you weak, knees buckling and nearly falling back if it wasn't for Choso's arm that caught you.

As you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed with desire, you found yourself gazing back into Choso's eyes that reflected the same hunger and lust that burned within your heart. For a moment, you simply sat there, lost in the aftermath of the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance as you revel in the intoxicating rush of emotions that pulsed through your veins.

Your thoughts paused, breath hitched as you watched Choso bring the very same fingers that were just inside of you to place on his wetted lips. Sucking on each one individually to get a taste of you, he hummed in delight before pulling them out, licking his lips.

Choso leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. "Well, I guess that settles it," he utters, wiping the smudge gloss from your lips.

"Cherries aren't so bad after all."

⇽ chapter nine | chapter eleven ⇾

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

#🔮 oryluv #❥ — ❝ tojiluv ❞ #❥ — ❝ tojiluv ❞ eyes don’t lie #choso kamo #choso #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x female reader #choso smut #choso fluff #choso angst #choso kamo smut #choso x you #choso x reader #choso kamo x you #kamo choso #choso kamo imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #choso kamo fanfiction #jjk choso #jjk choso kamo #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #jjk yuji #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x you

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), cum swallowing, vaginal fingering, dirty talk

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Part Fifteen of Ink & Needle

You and Simon start the trip he's been wanting to take you on. Simon thinks he sees a familiar face.

Chapter Fourteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

It takes Simon a week to move his schedule around.

He wanted things to be smoothed out sooner, but sometimes rescheduling takes patience and careful planning. This is why he needs a second person just to keep the scheduling fucking handled. Simon is an organized person, especially when it comes to his work, but even he is beginning to slip.

Simon makes a mental note.

Create a fucking job listing for a goddamn personal assistant.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and then sighs. Simon is only lying to himself. He likes to handle things on his own which is why he was so effective during his military career. Not that he can’t work with a team, just that his skill set lends itself to independence.

Turning off the main lights and securing the deadbolts, Simon activates the alarm system and does a once over to make sure everything is in its place. For the next five days, 141 Ink will be closed to the public.

He’ll be with you. In Scotland.

Simon takes the stairs to his flat two at a time with Bravo on his heels. From his pocket, Simon withdraws his lighter and a cigarette, stepping out onto the sorry excuse of a balcony. The wood is starting to rot in places. Really, he should just tear it down and start fresh, but London has fucking rules about construction.

And Simon is too damn stubborn to deal with bureaucratic nonsense just to replace some wood.

In the dark, he ignites the end of the cigarette, the orange-red glow flaring before receding. He inhales deeply and savors the comforting burn in his lungs.

While Simon dislikes changing around his work schedules, this isn’t really about him. This is about you and what you need. Simon only managed to keep you with him for a few days. You’re too headstrong sometimes, especially when you care about something. While Simon admires that about you, it’s only going to drive you toward burnout.

Those few days were not enough. You were soft and present with him, but you need a proper break away from London and the life you’re building here. Simon escorted you home afterward and all he wanted was to draw you back to him, to keep you even for a few more seconds.

That is, you need a break from the temporary life you’re building here in London.

Simon has to keep telling himself that. You’re not a citizen. Eventually you’ll have to leave or attempt to extend your visa but that isn’t guaranteed. What then? Is Simon willing to let you go?

The answer comes immediately.

No.

He’d rather relive every second of physical therapy, all the fucking medical appointments, and his forced retirement then let you slip away again.

You’re his now. You’re his woman. There is nothing that will keep him from you from this point on.

Simon takes a long drag of his cigarette as the November air slips in to cool his skin beneath his leather jacket.

Johnny keeps badgering Simon about Christmas and if he plans on joining. He always does, but he wants to know if he can bring you along. This time when Simon called Johnny about his family’s cottage up in the Highlands, Johnny lent it to him without question.

But when Johnny asked about him coming to see the family for holiday, Simon shrugged it off. Johnny didn’t seem too worried but Simon also didn’t bring you up at all. Yet it doesn’t mean shit, and Simon just needs to get through these next few days before he even brings it up with Johnny.

Bringing you to the MacTavish farm to meet everyone makes this real.

Solid.

Like Redwood trees.

You will make a home in Simon’s branches. Relax beneath his canopy. Be protected under his shade.

Bravo whines, and Simon glances down at the dog, the domestic longing evaporating like the smoke from the end of his cigarette.

“Ready for a sleepover?” asks Simon, putting out his cigarette and heading back inside.

Bravo’s ears perk up and his tail starts to rotate like a helo’s blades. Simon snorts and reaches down to scratch between Bravo’s ears.

Simon loves Bravo but he is not taking the dog with him. He’s going to pick you up tonight and Simon is dropping Bravo off when he does. Originally, Simon planned on having Gaz watch him, but Amelia suggested that he leave Bravo with her.

Saves Simon a fucking trip.

Everything is coming together, and maybe—just maybe—the two of you can move this relationship into something stable. Because regardless of his obsession, Simon wants peace. He loves the tattoo parlor and his flat and Bravo. But it’s not enough.

Simon is not fulfilled. Not really.

He needs you.

As it stands, you’re not entirely his. Simon needs to claim everything. He might have your heart and your smile and your lips, but he is a possessive creature. Simon wants to ruin everyone else for you. That you will only ever beg for him, to desire him as much as he constantly craves you.

As Simon checks over the large duffle bag he packed for the tip, his mind drifts into the memories of the last few days.

That morning in the shower, Simon nearly lost his head. He knew what you wanted by the way you had arched your back and how your hand palmed him. He was ready to push you up against the shower wall and fuck the life out of you. But Simon fought off the urge even though it clawed at his ribcage.

He can still recall your lips against his skin, and the playful way you covered your eyes to not see his face. You’re always thinking of him. Not pushing. Allowing Simon to give pieces of himself to you when he’s ready.

Hiding all this from me? You’ve been holding out on me, Simon.

Simon stands in the middle of his bedroom grinning like a bloody idiot.

When it comes to you, he’s absolutely fucked.

Simon zips up the duffle bag before changing out of his work clothes. With it being November, it’ll be too fucking cold to take the bike. He’ll need to wait for a nicer day, but he also has no gear for you to wear. Just a helmet, and that isn’t enough to protect you.

He switches into joggers, trainers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a black sip-up hoodie with a fleece interior. If Simon is driving, he wants to be bloody comfortable.

Simon grabs the duffle and lifts it, hauling it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Bravo.”

The German Shepard rolls up and onto his feet, trotting happily beside Simon. Descending the rear staircase, Simon exits into the alleyway behind the building. Attached to the back of the building is a small garage but it’s not automatic. It’s manual.

Simon unlocks it and twists the handle lifting the door up enough that it ascends on its own. Popping the trunk, Simon tosses the duffle in and Bravo jumps inside.

Simon is in the driver’s seat of his SUV and to Amelia’s in less than a minute.

It’s after dinner but that was the plan. He wants to avoid traffic, and driving late at night has always calmed him.

You answer the door, and when your gaze falls on Simon his heart drops into his stomach. From there it explodes outward, every limb in his body tingling with pleasure. You’re grinning, nearly glowing.

Your gaze runs up and down his body before settling on his face. “You’re not wearing the balaclava.”

Simon blinks, his hand starting to rise to feel the balaclava’s absence.

“You’re right. I’m not,” he agrees, forcing his hand back to his side. He forgot to put it on, which is odd since he’s always remembered in the past. “You packed?”

“I am,” you reply, lifting the bag in your hand. Before you can drop it, Simon reaches out and snags it.

Your features change, morphing into indignation as if you’re going to protest. Simon smirks and shakes his head.

“Go on, Bravo,” instructs Simon, nodding his head in the direction of the house.

Bravo greets you with a tail wag before disappearing inside. Moments later, Simon hears Amelia’s delighted yell.

“I’ll take good care of him, Simon!” she calls from somewhere in the house.

You start to turn to call back but Simon shoves his way in. “We’ll be back on Wednesday!” he replies, before filling the entire space with his bulky frame.

You’re not able to move around him, and instead step out onto the front stoop. Simon did that on purpose. You’re acting tough like his actions annoyed you, but he notices the soft way you submit to him. If you were truly upset, you’d say something, but you’re walking toward the SUV with a little skip in your step.

At the car, Simon adds your bag to the trunk but he’s not fast enough to open the passenger door for you. You’re already sitting inside by the time he comes around to the driver’s side.

When Simon opens the door and hops in, starting the car, the reality of the situation sets in.

This is it. This is fucking happening.

Simon glances at you and you greet him with a lovely smile. He could bottle the way you look at him up and drink it down like his favorite whiskey.

“We’re driving?” you ask, briefly glancing around the interior.

“We are,” answers Simon as he checks for oncoming cars, before pulling out from his parking spot.

“Why aren’t we flying?” You’re not asking because you’re confused, you’re asking because you’re probing. Simon never said where he planned on taking you for this trip.

Simon makes a turn. “I hate planes.”

“You hate planes?” you reply, amusement in your tone.

Briefly, Simon’s brain draws forth a memory of when he was handed the controls of a helo and they nearly lost Kyle from Simon’s erratic steering. Gaz has never allowed Simon to forget it.

“Why are you smiling?” you laugh, your eyebrows slightly raised in question.

“Better to stay on the ground,” says Simon, remembering how Price also lost is cigar during that and how bloody pissed off he was about it.

“And what about a train?”

Again, you’re inquiring instead of outright asking.

Simon shrugs. “Not in control.”

Your lips purse but you settle back into your seat, gaze turning toward the passenger door window.

Getting out of London is the hardest part. Everything is packed together, and sometimes traffic doesn’t cease even in the evening which is why Simon wanted to leave after dinner. Once the two of you are out of London, it’ll be much easier to drive up to Edinburgh without having to constantly stop.

Simon spends most of his time muttering obscenities under his breath as he navigates traffic. You don’t interrupt his concentration. Instead, you watch on, clearly amused by Simon’s attitude to everyone around him.

It isn’t until the car exits the bounds of the London metropolitan area that Simon finally takes a fucking breath. Reaching into the center console, Simon snags his lighter and a cigarette.

“Care if I smoke?”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

With the filter end between his teeth, Simon clicks open the lighter. The little flame pops up but Simon doesn’t light the cigarette. “No fight?”

You glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “Would you like an argument?”

Simon brings the flame to the end of the cigarette. Inhales. Clicks off the lighter and tosses it back into the console. The smoke disappears out the cracked car window.

“Maybe,” he replies, voice slightly husky.

You shift in the passenger seat, twisting to face him. “Simon.”

“Yes, love,” he purrs, enjoying the chastising sweetness in your tone.

“Smoking is harmful.”

“Is it?” He takes another drag of his cigarette.

You nod, leaning one forearm against the middle armrest. “Yes. What if you get lung cancer?”

“Who says that will happen?”

“Literally every doctor.”

Simon laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

Your mouth opens in feigned shocked. “Are you telling me how I should feel, Simon?”

He shifts slightly in his seat. This is fun. He likes this. “Not at all, love. But I think I know how to put that mouth to other uses.”

This time your mouth remains open, the shock genuine.

Simon keeps going. “Seems like you already know what to do.”

You promptly shut your mouth. Simon watches as the heat rushes to your face.

Sweet fucking victory.

He takes a final drag on the cigarette and rids himself of the extinguished stub. Returning that hand to the steering wheel, Simon removes the other one, resting it against his thigh. He slides that hand up and down before lightly tapping.

“Come here, sweetheart,” purrs Simon. “Show me what you do with that mouth.”

You immediately smack his arm and Simon bursts out laughing. You’re laughing too but he knows his words stirred something within you. You keep touching your cheek as if you’re feverish.

“You’re terrible, Simon Riley,” you say right before you reach for the water bottle in the cup holder.

He waits until you’re taking a drink. “You won’t think that when I have you on my cock.”

You splutter around the bottle and smack his arm again. Closing the lid, you return the bottle and clear your throat. “When are we supposed to arrive to this mystery place?”

You’re changing the subject again, likely probing for more information. It’s not like it’s some big secret. Simon just wanted it to be a surprise, but there really isn’t any reason to be allusive about it anymore.

Simon shrugs. “It’s about a seven-hour drive to where we’re headed.”

“Seven hours? Where the fuck are you taking me?” You appear genuinely concerned.

He knows why, and Simon quickly attempts to extinguish the rising anxiety. “Evie and Amelia will be fine without you for a few days.”

You sigh. “I know. I’m just—”

The worry lines are back and Simon hates that. You’re always so concerned for others. Always thinking of everyone but yourself.

Reaching out, Simon clasps your hand and squeezes. “We’re going to Scotland.”

“Really?” This time, he hears the pleasure in your voice, and Simon’s chest swells with pride.

“Edinburgh first for a day. Then we’re heading out into the Highlands. Johnny’s family has a small farm up there with a little cottage.”

“Johnny?”

Fuck. You don’t really know the guys. You briefly met them once when Simon nearly punched Adam in the face.

Simon swallows before he speaks. “He was at the pub with me when you were with…Adam.”

“I see,” you reply softly.

“They’ll be gone. Johnny’s family. And the cottage is on the edge of the property.”

Your thumb brushes over the back of Simon’s hand. “So, we’ll be alone?”

“We will,” answers Simon, every muscle in his body tensing.

You nod, still clutching his hand, as you lean further against your seat. “What kind of farm is it?”

Simon glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s not like what you’re used to in America. Johnny’s mother has a little greenhouse but they mostly raise animals.”

“Like what?”

“They have some pigs. Sheep.” Simon shrugs. “Fluffy coos.” He says “cow” the same way Johnny does.

A few Christmases ago when Gaz came, Simon and Kyle watched the fluffy beasts from a distance as Johnny tried to wrangle a few back toward one of the enclosures. They offered their assistance but Johnny was adamant he didn’t need their help. He was face down in the mud with bare ass up in the air after only a few minutes.

Your eyes go wide and you sit up a bit straighter. “Can I pet them?”

“With supervision,” says Simon knowing that while the animals are docile and gentle creatures, their horns can easily harm.

This appears acceptable because you snuggle into your seat.

Two hours in, and you’re asleep.

Simon smokes. Drives. Smokes again.

Occasionally, Simon glances in your direction just to make sure you’re still there. For some reason his brain keeps insisting that you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. You’ll transform into smoke and drift out of the car just like the smoke he exhales from his lungs.

There are roughly three more hours left before arriving in Edinburgh. While most places don’t allow late check-ins, the little hotel Simon plans on taking you to for the night made an exception for him.

By the third hour, Simon is entirely focused on the road. You have not drifted into the air. You are solid and real and asleep in the passenger seat. A calmness settles over him. Everything is as it should be.

So, when Simon feels the weight of your hand against his thigh, he doesn’t think much of it. He drops one hand from the steering wheel intending to reach out to grasp your hand with his own. Yet you do no linger there. Your hand slides upward and Simon’s temporary calmness morphs into understanding.

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

“What are you up to, love?” says Simon softly, returning his hand to the steering wheel.

There is a schedule, and while your hand resting on the outside of his joggers over his dick is a temptation he doesn’t want to resist, the two of you can’t stray far.

“Do you want me to stop?” There is a raspy quality to your voice like you’ve just woken from sleep. Perhaps you have, and in that state of wakefulness, your brain decided that this is a good idea.

But there is also lust in your tone. It drips like thick honey.

Now, that? Simon cannot resist that.

“No,” he says, matching your tone as your hand slips beneath the elastic band of his joggers.

Flexing his hips, Simon adjusts in his seat to give you a better angle. When your fingers find him, it’s difficult for Simon to keep his eyes on the road. The tips of your nails gently scratch against his skin before your fingers wrap around him completely.

Your hand is warm, and that first stroke is maddening.

His control is right on a knife’s edge. If Simon glances away from the road, he’ll fucking crash this car. In his peripheral, Simon sees you moving, and even that is hard to withstand. Simon knows that you’re leaning on the center armrest and that you’re looking at him.

Simon knows you are.

Your stare is a brand on his skin.

“This,” you murmur, gently squeezing him. “Is perfect.”

Fuck. He is fucking done for.

The middle of his chest burns as if he is a tree and his core is on fire. The need to be close to you is a lightning strike.

But Simon is fucking driving, and it’s not like he can just pull you into his lap.

“Careful, love,” growls Simon as you start a steady pace. “Might pull over and make you regret this.”

Because that is what Simon wants to do. Find an exit and a quiet parking lot or silent clump of trees.

“Is that a promise?” you breathe as the pad of your thumb brushes over the slit.

Oh, fuck you’re sweet.

So, this is where you’ve been hiding all along. You’ve always had a bit of fire, but this is what he remembers. In Riot Room, you weren’t shy at all. Your words and actions were bold. You opened like a flower in his hands. Bloomed and melted and reformed.

This is the woman who captured all his attention three years ago.

You haven’t changed at all.

“A fucking guarantee,” growls Simon in answer.

You make a little sound in your throat that goes straight to his dick. He is throbbing in your palm, and that only makes Simon’s control thin further. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. The knuckles of his turn white. Even the tattoos on his fingers pale.

You don’t let up. You just bring Simon closer to the edge. He’s not going to last. Not like this, but he sure as hell isn’t going to finish inside his joggers or on the fucking seat like some teenage boy getting his first handy.

No.

Fucking no.

If you’re going to be bold then you’ll take everything that comes with it.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Simon reaches out and grabs the back of your neck. The whimper you make, and the slight squeeze of your hand around his cock nearly causes him to bust right then and there.

“Use that gorgeous mouth and suck me off,” he growls, you tugging your head closer.

Simon isn’t fucking asking. It’s a demand.

Your answer is a playful smile and teasing tone. “You don’t tell me what to do, Simon.”

Simon shakes his head. “Oh, sweetheart, you love it when I tell you what do it.” He briefly glances in your direction before returning his gaze to the road. “Especially when my head is between your legs.”

By your sharp inhale, Simon knows you’re recalling the night when he made you count every orgasm.

“Now,” he says, his exhale stuttering slightly as it releases from him. “Be good. And swallow.”

You reach for him, and Simon lifts his hips a bit. It’s just enough for you to shove the band of his joggers down.

Even then, with his cock out, Simon does not glance away from the road.

Not when you lean forward completely.

Not when his hand fists your hair to keep you in place.

Not even when your mouth suctions around him and you throat him to the fucking root.

But his nostrils flare, and the muscles in his neck and jaw are fucking tight with tension. Every instinct is telling him to pull over, to fuck your luscious mouth, and then drag you into his lap so he can watch you ride his fingers.

That would be bloody perfect. That would be ideal.

Instead, he breathes in and out of his nose, attempting to stifle every groan as your head bobs. One of your hands cups him gently and Simon’s grip in your hair tightens.

“I’m—fuck,” groans Simon.

He feels the resistance of your throat from his instruction and hears the wet sound it makes when his length is entirely too much. You pull back a bit before trying again, and that is fucking it.

Your tongue lightly grazes against the underside of the head, and Simon’s lower half tenses, hips thrusting up slightly to meet you.

And you, like the good girl you are, take every drop.

Thank fuck he turned on the cruise control.

Simon’s fingers slowly unlace from your strands of hair. He’s careful not to tug, and then it’s just a gentle caress as you lift your head.

For a moment—a brief few seconds—Simon is fixated on your puffy, swollen lips. He wants to kiss those lips. To taste himself along with you.

“Eyes on the road, Simon.”

He quickly averts his gaze but still reaches out with his thumb to wipe away the bit of his cum that still slings to the corner of your mouth. Your grab his wrist and bring that thumb to your mouth.

Lips suctioning around it, you suck off that last little drop. When you release his thumb, Simon briefly presses it against your bottom lip.

Simon makes it only a kilometer before he pulls over, pushes his seat back, drags you into his lap, shoves your pants down to your ankles, and has you fucking yourself on his fingers. The hand not between your legs presses against your upper right thigh. His tattooed fingers are slightly curled inward to cling there.

He doesn’t want you moving.

“Come on, love. Grind down on me.”

There is sweat on your brow and it’s beautiful. Your mouth is open, head tilted backward in bliss to expose your throat. Your eyes are heavy-lidded, clearly lost in a lust-laced haze.

With one hand on Simon’s chest and the other on his thigh, you’re a goddess above him. Simon watches his index and middle finger appear and disappear as you use them for your pleasure, rolling your hips in fluid rhythm.

Sure, this is about you, but this is doing plenty for him. He’s fucking hard again just watching your pussy squeeze and stretch in time with your movements. Simon sits up a bit and gently bites your left breast through your shirt.

You whimper and grind down on him like he asks. It’s so sweet the way you come undone. The way your pussy tightens around his fingers. The way you say his name. It’s like you’re asking for more and yet chastising him.

And this is just his fingers inside you.

Soon, you’ll take his cock, and Simon cannot fucking wait to hear the sounds you’ll make then.

Tenderly, Simon eases his fingers from your pussy. They’re glossy. Shiny. And Simon brings them to his mouth to clean just as your head dips forward. Your gaze lands on his face the moment his fingers enter his mouth. Your eyes widen slightly, and Simon takes his time.

He wants you to see.

He wants you to know.

The little detour nearly adds an hour but Simon could give a fuck.

Simon sits smugly while you doze off in the passenger seat. He would have had you continue if he weren’t pressed for time. If Simon had another hour, he would have told you to continue until your legs shook. Even then, he’d simply do the work himself until your voice went hoarse.

By the time Edinburgh is in Simon’s sights, it’s late.

You still haven’t stirred. You’re curled up in the passenger seat and Simon has no idea how you’re comfortable.

When he pulls up to the hotel he booked, Simon decides not to wake you. Finding a parking spot in the little lot to the side of the building, Simon leaves you alone in the car. He’ll check in at the front desk, grab the room key, and then come back for you.

You deserve some sleep.

“Evening, mate,” says Simon to the clerk behind the desk.

It’s an older gentleman whose entire appearance reminds Simon of Ben.

“Evening. You’re,” he checks his little computer, “Mr. Riley?”

“That’s me,” nods Simon.

“Need to see some identification and I’ll square you away.”

Simon hands it over, and then it’s back in his wallet along with a set of keycards. The entire interaction takes less than three minutes.

As Simon exits the building and turns right to head into the little lot, he stops at the first row of cars.

At first, he’s not sure what the fuck he’s looking at.

The small lot is full and there was only one parking spot when Simon pulled up. He took it, not thinking much since the lot itself is well-lit.

But that isn’t the case now.

Several of the lights are out and is that—

No. It fucking can’t be.

Anyone else might mistake the odd lump as a trick of the shadows or even the back of another vehicle. But Simon isn’t mistaken. That is not just shadows playing games or a bad parking job.

That is a person. A man. Leaning against Simon’s SUV.

And he knows that stance, that casual lean that seems aloof but isn’t.

He knows who it belongs to.

Simon bolts, striding toward the SUV with purpose in every step. He loses sight of the back end of the SUV for the briefest second as he crosses over, another large vehicle in the way before it comes back into view.

But there is no one there.

All that training clicks back in like it never left.

Simon approaches slowly, walking around his car once to make sure. He’s completely on alert, his head on a swivel as he scans the area.

There is only you sleeping in the passenger seat.

There is no one else in the lot but Simon fucking checks anyway. He walks both lengths of the lot. Checks every car and corner. He even goes out to the street and back, canvasing further than he likely needs to but doing it anyway.

But he was so sure there was someone there.

He’s back, Simon.

No. What Simon saw was a fucking illusion. An old memory surfacing. That fucker—that waste of human—is in America. He isn’t here.

Unlocking the trunk, Simon removes both bags, tossing one over either shoulder. Then he’s at your door opening it, reaching out to gently shake you awake.

“We’re here.”

You groan softly and grab his hand. Simon keeps you closely tucked against him all the way to the room because it’s the only thing that keeps his hands from shaking.

Once you’re both inside the hotel room, Simon helps you out of your clothes.

“Want to shower?” he asks and you shake your head, rubbing at your eyes.

Simon offers you one of his shirts and you put it on. It’s all he can do for you before you plop onto the bed. You wiggle a bit and then finally dive under the covers, completely disappearing.

Once you’re settled, Simon checks the door and the two windows. Everything is locked and secure. There is no reason for him to panic like this.

Simon rubs at his face before sighing softly and stripping down to his boxer briefs. Sleep is what he needs. It’s what you both need.

And it is Simon who wakes first, the faintest bit of stress still lingering at his temples. But Simon isn’t one for sleeping in or even staying in bed once he’s awoken. You’re still snoozing, just a tangle of hair above the covers and nothing else.

Simon orders breakfast, and when you do wake up, it arrives.

“This all for us?” you yawn, stretching your arms over your head.

“We’re exploring today,” replies Simon, bring the espresso cup to his lips. While tea is his usual beverage of choice, he needs some fucking caffeine.

You plop down onto your side and then slowly roll over until you bump into him. Simon arches an eyebrow as you sit up. Instead of reaching for the food, you reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair as you tug him down to meet you.

Your lips find his and the heat of that kiss goes straight to his toes.

“You need to fucking brush your teeth.”

“Simon, I fucking swear—”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away, but Simon is moving with you, pressing you into the bed, slotting himself between your legs.

“Let’s stay here,” you murmur after a few more kisses.

“While I’d love to stay right here,” says Simon, emphasizing his words by pressing himself against your sex. “We have things to do today.”

“Do we?”

“Don’t want to explore the city with me?” counters Simon, wrapping you up in his arms only to haul you back up to a seated position.

“You know I do, Simon,” you reply softly, fingers brushing lightly against the line of his jaw. “That’s not even a question.”

Simon rubs your back before disentangling himself. “Then eat,” he says, pointing to the feast he ordered because he panicked and decided on one of everything.

He pushes off the bed, his bad knee aching slightly. Simon stretches into it, covering up the limp before he straightens up. You don’t notice, too busy buttering up some toast with lots of jam.

Five days.

He has five days with you.

Simon is about to savor every second.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@miaraei @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98

@kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz

@berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte

@saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk

@thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @lxblm

@ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien

@mudisgranapat @i-feel-violated @emi-flaces @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow

@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon riley x fem!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #cod smut

[bestworstcase]

the only purpose of the shock collar was to subjugate, enforce cinder’s status as an object the madame owned. she neither chose it nor wanted it—and in the end, it was just a necklace. cinder breaks it with ease, with one hand. anyone might have set her free at any time with, literally, no more effort than it would take to lift a finger.

(do not try the bullshit nonsense about cinder’s enslavement being legal with me. slavery was abolished after the great war, and when the madame is displeased she brings cinder into the kitchen to torture her behind closed doors. adopting an impoverished orphan from a foreign country and using a collar made to look like a pretty necklace is how she gets away with it, enabled by the complete indifference of her wealthy patrons to the plight of the "adopted child."

the thematic point of rhodes is that he enforces the law only when it’s convenient for him to do so: he knows cinder is being abused, but he’s a regular patron of the hotel and he chooses not to say or do anything to intervene until he recognizes cinder as a threat to the madame. “hurting them won’t make your life any easier.”

we see this pattern reoccur again and again in atlas, that those who hold political or economic power flout the law without consequence or contort it to work for them while those beneath are subjected to strict, unforgiving enforcement. everything robyn does before the election is legal and above-board but the ace-ops openly treat her like a criminal and hound her about obeying the law, while ironwood misappropriates construction materials earmarked for mantle. this is the idea that rhodes embodies.)

so the greatest injustice of the collar is that it had no real power, by itself, over cinder. she could take it off whenever she wanted, except that she was not allowed to; no one willing to help her, no safe haven where she could find refuge after, and when she becomes desperate enough to resort to violence to free herself she is immediately prevented from doing so by a huntsmen—exemplars of moral virtue as they are intended to be—who tells her that in order to be good she must endure seven more years before she is allowed to leave without her guardian’s permission.

as an instrument of control, the collar can exist only through the willingness of the hotel’s patrons to participate in the fiction that cinder, having been lifted out of poverty by the madame’s generosity (look, she even gave the girl a lovely necklace!), is now earning her keep, learning the value of hard work. pay the scars no mind. rhodes intervenes to keep protect the madame, and his fondness for cinder is circumscribed by that motive.

the first time he leaves after he begins to train her, rhodes says goodbye by placing his hand on top of her head; cinder flinches—

—and the scene cuts right to the collar:

in the same mode, the madame electrocutes cinder in a panic as cinder strangles her, and rhodes’ final act is to place his hand on cinder’s head, scaring her—

—after which she cuts him down and stands upright to remove her collar:

the collar and the gentle (unwanted) hand are one and the same, two faces of a single instrument. carrot, stick. neither figures cinder as a human being. rhodes is only gentle until she disobeys him, whereupon the covert violence of their first meeting is reified: he enters her only ‘safe’ place to catch her in an unlawful act; his first action is to pass judgment; his second, to draw his weapons.

now, that’s not yours, is it?—huntsmen are called to embody a heroic ideal, to protect others who cannot protect themselves. rhodes places his own weapons into cinder’s hands and declares that he will train her as a huntress on the condition that she agrees not to protect herself; he releases himself from his duty to protect her by moving her into the category of people who do not need to be protected, and thereby makes her both guardian and grimm: as a child who will become a huntress it falls to her to protect her family from the monster of herself.

thus she’s forced to become an active participant in her own abuse; before she can break free of the collar, she has to bite the hand that held it in place.

now to the grimm. during the montage of cinder’s training-and-abuse, there is a particular sequence that goes like this: rhodes and cinder spar with wasters late one night, he disengages and gives her an approving nod; we cut to cinder kneeling before the madame in the empty lobby, dusting a glass statuette of a sabyr for inspection. her work is found inadequate, and the madame finds quiet satisfaction in reminding cinder of the power she has over cinder:

then the madame walks away, and although cinder strives to maintain the performance of being unaffected—indifferent—she can’t:

in contrast to the scenes preceding cinder’s bargain with rhodes—wherein the larger-than-life glass statues looming over the lobby alternate between prominently visible or just protruding into frame and cinder’s face is an open book of angry resentment—this is the only instance of a grimm figurine being clearly visible and in focus during the montage, and also the one time cinder’s mask slips to reveal her anger.

similarly, in the time-skip at the end of the montage, the glass sphinx sitting on the coffee table in the mid-left is removed to signal the passage of time, with no other changes made to the decor:

but guess who’s back as soon as the situation reaches critical mass?

glass wolf. glass dragon. glass shoes.

the point is, throughout the flashback midnight leverages these glass-grimm to symbolize cinder’s true self, her anger which protects her and which the gentle hand demands she extinguish. the fantastical gilded opulence of the glass unicorn depends on cinder staying quietly in her cage. no, it isn’t fair—the gentle hand admits this—but it is her moral imperative to serve others. in this distorted unreality the defenseless and the indefensible become commingled. a huntress, as salem would have it, is a defender who lives and dies to protect a lifestyle. or she is, as ozpin defines it, one who guards the peace by killing monsters.

cinder’s instinctive understanding that this is not fair—that she is not nothing—that she has been wronged—is the monster she must slay to become the hero of this story, the story of the glass unicorn and madame and rhodes and all of atlas. and in the end she can’t.

rwby has never been precious about depicting blood, but there is no blood in this scene: not not on the floor, not on the bodies, not on her weapons, not a single drop upon her white shirt. her hands are clean. in shadow, the monster snaps the chain around her throat and turns to looks up at the moon—and its light reveals what is true. her tears, her scars. a child who deserved better than she was given. a child who did nothing wrong.

ahem.

Keeping [grimm] in captivity has proved to be an understandably difficult task, as the creatures tend to either die, or kill those who imprisoned them in the first place.

hm! anyway. the narrative function of this flashback is to provide context and contrast with the scenes that follow.

to review:

the collar’s power is enforced by communal indifference and complicity.

the madame, though unaware of him, depends on rhodes to keep cinder under her control; rhodes intervenes to protect the madame from cinder.

the gentle hand is an equal to the collar, a mechanism of control by which cinder is made to participate in her own abuse, and when she disobeys, it turns to iron and inflicts violent punishment. even when he is gentle, cinder flinches under his touch.

by training cinder to fight but forbidding her to defend herself, rhodes casts her into the role of both guardian and grimm: she is expected to protect the madame by slaying her anger and turning the other cheek.

the glass grimm figurines symbolize cinder’s anger, which protects her. when she defends herself, cinder metaphorically becomes grimm: the monster of the glass unicorn is destined to be hated and hunted for the rest of her life, and the monster of the glass unicorn is a blameless child who refused to let herself be hurt. grimm, in this story, are good.

also note

the similar framing here.

now!—from the moment cinder wakes up, it is abundantly clear that she expects to be met with brutal punishment for her failure. “you—you brought me back here… we failed.” she’s horror-stricken at finding herself in this place and that hardens into terror as the reality sinks in that she is within salem’s reach.

later, on the bridge, she affects calm until salem pauses in front of her; her eyes snap open. she shrinks into herself at the sound of salem’s voice but hangs on every word. when salem mentions the winter maiden, cinder grits her teeth and braces herself.

cinder associates salem with the madame: that is why without you, i am nothing falls out of her mouth so easily when salem tears her down in 8.1 and again when salem threatens her in 8.4—those are the words to make the pain stop, to appease, to demonstrate that she is contrite and repentant and grateful. she believes that this is what salem wants to hear when cinder has displeased her. and she is, at the top of the bridge scene, waiting for the torture to begin so that she can choke it out again and survive this humiliating ordeal.

except that is not what salem wants to hear.

by now salem knows beyond any doubt that “without you, i am nothing” is what cinder believes she wants to hear, and it is obvious to anyone with eyes that cinder expects to be tortured. whether salem knows cinder’s history or not—i don’t think she does, not in any great detail—she knows people well enough to put two and two together. salem knows, then, that cinder expects to be tortured into groveling self-denigration.

she doesn’t want cinder to expect that from her. there’s no other reason for salem to be so thorough in dismantling the expectation.

if she wanted to make cinder afraid, the more effective way is to decline to torture her at all: cinder is so certain that salem will hurt her that withholding punishment entirely will only convince her that salem intends to wait until the moment she lets her guard down, or some other form of deferred retribution all the worse for being delayed.

whereas the most efficient way to puncture cinder’s terror of being tortured is—somewhat perversely—to actually torture her a little bit. because cinder does not BELIEVE there is any possible outcome in which salem spares her, if salem wants to introduce the possibility of mercy she first needs to enter cinder’s reality, where mercy doesn’t exist, by proving she can and will inflict pain to answer both defiance (“you chose to disobey my specific instructions”) and failure (“just to fail again…”)

a brief burst of pain to express displeasure instead of holding cinder under torture until she breaks isn’t really merciful, but it’s the lower bound of what cinder will be able to trust and it eases her into the idea that salem is lenient.

then, “and i’ve realized it’s all my fault. you’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want, and here i am holding you back, instead of lifting you up; you deserve so much more than i’ve given you.”

aside from being a straightforward subversion of cinder’s clear expectation—cinder thinks she will be abused without mercy until she breaks, salem stops and absolves cinder by reframing cinder’s disobedience as a natural consequence of her own failures—salem has a few specific things in mind here.

the most obvious is the reversal of what she said to cinder in 4.11: “i thought you were the girl who wanted power. did you lie to me? then stop holding back.” and she’s also pointedly walking back things she said yesterday, in 8.1 and 8.4: “all you need concern yourself with is your ability to act when i tell you to” and the “she thinks; she wants…” bit are here flipped into implicit praise for cinder’s tenacity in pursuing what she wants and implicit apology for standing in her way.

but the most interesting angle to consider is that this is salem’s response to “without you, i am nothing.” salem does not verbally respond either of the times cinder says that to her in 8.1 and 8.4; the first time, she dismisses everyone with a gesture, and the second time she just walks away. both reactions are in line with what cinder expects—after all, the point is to remind cinder that she is nothing.

however, cinder has—from what we’ve seen—never spoken to salem this way before, and given she seems genuinely taken aback when salem shuts her down in 8.1 i do think it’s likelier than not that salem has never demeaned her like this before, and that together with having been in atlas for months is what surfaces the trauma association with the madame and thence the appeasing behavior.

so consider how this looks to salem.

the last time she spoke to cinder, she said “you’re free to speak your mind,” and cinder whipped around from the window without hesitation, outraged: “i don’t understand! working with bandits? leaving ruby alive? what’s the point? we’re strong enough to take what we want by force!”—not even a ma’am in there. cinder addressed her like she saw herself and salem as equals, notwithstanding that salem had final say, and salem clearly didn’t have a problem with that.

several months pass. salem is displeased about the loss at haven but trusts that cinder will make an effort to recover the lamp; she is also worried enough for cinder to toss her plans and divert nearly everything to atlas, not that she’s willing to admit that’s why.

cinder walks onto the bridge and the first words out of her mouth are “my queen.” a few minutes in salem curtly informs her that no she will not go rampaging after the winter maiden and cinder’s answer is a demure, “of course; without you, i am nothing.” and then a few hours later they quarrel about it and cinder repeats those exact words in exactly the same tone again.

unless salem knows cinder’s history in far more granular detail than i believe cinder would be willing to divulge, that’s… a really strange shift in behavior with no clear reason; yes, she had to make up the loss at haven (and she did), and yes, salem was unusually mean to her, but neither of those things add up to this plainly well-practiced self-abasement from the girl who only a few months ago did not appear to have a humble bone in her body. once might have been sarcasm; but twice within a few hours?

whereafter cinder ran off to attack the winter maiden and almost died again and salem had six hours to pick all of this apart in her head while cinder lay unconscious.

why didn’t she respond to cinder saying “without you, i am nothing,” if that is not what she wants from cinder? well,

“you disobeyed my specific instructions, just to fail again, and i’ve realized it’s all my fault.” both times cinder said that, it was in response to the specific instructions that cinder disobeyed when she went after penny: you will act when i tell you to, and you will remain here. six hours, salem had to think about this. “you’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want, and here i am holding you back, instead of lifting you up; you deserve so much more than i’ve given you.”

salem does not think of cinder as nothing. even when she is deliberately being mean, she makes a point to say that she values cinder (“just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn–”). cinder holds the key to her victory and cinder is also important to her in ways she cannot bring herself to admit except that she keeps bending her plans further and further for cinder’s sake. the first time cinder says “without you, i am nothing” to her, she seems bemused (brows up) and then wry. the second time, she doesn’t react at all.

then because she left it there, cinder nearly dies and is unconscious for hours. and once she wakes up salem hits her with:

this is my fault

what you want matters

i should be lifting you up

you deserve better

i will help you

IN A CLASSIC SALEM MOVE she does not actually say what she means, which is “you are not nothing,” but she finds an impressive number of ways to say it without saying it in just a handful of lines. and:

she doesn’t touch cinder, but instead she offers, gives cinder a choice to take her hand or not, and this matters because no other character has ever given cinder that.

in 2.1 cinder touches roman’s face to assert her power over him; she does the same to pyrrha in 3.12 right before killing her; she slaps emerald in 3.7.

in 5.9, cinder reacts to watts grabbing her wrist like this—

—and then sets his hand on fire. in 8.1, emerald starts to run over to embrace her, cinder snaps her head around and snarls “quiet.,” stopping her in her tracks. and after she wakes up in midnight, when emerald rushes into the room and grabs her, cinder tenses and verbally lashes out before jerking her hand away.

cinder really does not like to be touched and that all traces back to:

rhodes patting her head. which is what he’s reaching down for when cinder kills him, because this time she senses him moving to touch her and can’t take it.

cinder bristles and retaliates whenever anyone touches her, and outside of grappling during fights the only times cinder ever touches other people is to hurt them or to remind them of her power to hurt them, because that is what touch means to her; it’s something those with power do to those beneath them, and something the weak must endure.

for salem to offer her hand to help cinder up is strange and unsettling; it breaks the rules. and cinder is very hesitant to take it—her fingers shake—but she does, and it isn’t a trick, salem pulls her to her feet without hurting her.

whereupon cinder’s whole demeanor transforms from terrified incredulity to calculation. she doesn’t understand what just happened, but she knows touch is an instrument of coercion and a way to inflict pain. if salem were like the madame, she would not have done any of that; if salem didn’t touch her with the intent to harm her, then there are only two possibilities:

one, that salem’s resemblance to the madame is superficial and she is actually much more like rhodes; or two, that salem is the weak one and cinder holds some unknown degree of power over her.

the instant this thought enters cinder’s head, it becomes urgently important to figure out which it is, hence the murdering of colleagues and stepsisters and lying to salem’s face that cinder gets up to immediately afterward. BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT THIS POST IS ABOUT THIS IS A POST ABOUT THE GRIMM ARM. AND THEMES.

wheeze. okay

in the glass unicorn, cinder has two parental figures—the madame and rhodes—who act in synchronicity to keep her in her place. shock collar, pat on the head. stick, carrot. she is tortured and made to refract this violence inwards, against herself, by turning the other cheek. within this narrative, the symbolic purpose of the grimm is to protect cinder and cinder herself is symbolically identified as grimm; just as black glass is her signature in in the present, the white glass of the hotel’s grimm figurines reflects cinder’s starkly white-and-grey uniform.

glass, cinder. glass grimm, glass shoes.

unicorns, classically, are said to be ferociously wild and dangerous beasts tamable only by the touch of a maiden. those who hunt unicorns, then, should solicit a maiden’s assistance. she goes out into the woods alone; the unicorn finds her and docilely, fearlessly lays its head upon her lap and goes to sleep; and thus the hunters take it. this manner of hunting unicorns is called entrapment, and among medieval and renaissance depictions of unicorns it is by far the most common motif.

in the world of remnant, if unicorns are real then they are undoubtedly a kind of grimm.

gestures at cinder, the fall maiden, who can tame the grimm. who feels for them. maiden. unicorn. maiden. unicorn.

the story of the glass unicorn is a story about a maiden-monster whom a huntsman instructs to tame herself lest she be hunted forever; an entrapment of the self; in the end she hears the baying of hunting dogs in the distance and awakens to the truth that she too will be killed, in spirit if not in body, if she obeys the huntsman. the unicorn is not to blame, and the maiden is right to protect it, and the unicorn is, has always been, grimm.

bearing all of this in mind,

is the grimm arm another collar?

i don’t think it…is, actually, in any sense except that cinder forms an association between the madame and salem in 8.1—the collar and the arm are diametric opposites, mirror-images of each other:

where the collar was fragile and easily removed, the grimm arm is part of cinder’s body. where the collar derived all its power from pretense (it’s only a pretty necklace!), the grimm arm is impossible to mistake for something other than what it is. where the collar’s sole purpose was to inflict pain and remind cinder of her place, the foremost purpose of the arm is to replace cinder’s missing limb. where the collar was forced upon her and she hated it, cinder trained hard to master her new arm and has grown more comfortable with it in every new volume.

paired with the way grimm function symbolically within the glass unicorn narrative, as representations of cinder’s justified anger and desire to protect herself… well. maiden, unicorn. lol

is it then an iteration of the gentle hand? that’s a more interesting question, because salem’s abuse of cinder is really quite a lot more like rhodes than the madame, but then there’s also… the reversal. rhodes’ affection for cinder is restricted by his interest in protecting the madame, and when cinder disobeys him he attacks her presumably with the intent to arrest her for murder. whereas salem has repeatedly and increasingly rearranged her plans for cinder’s benefit, and when cinder disobeys her, she reconsiders her treatment of cinder and offers an apology.

and obviously—

—we have the way rhodes touches cinder’s head, which at best makes her tense up in discomfort and at worst scares her so much she kills him to make him stop, mirrored in the same episode by salem offering her hand and cinder choosing to take it.

salem is not by any stretch of the imagination good to cinder, but midnight places her in juxtaposition with the madame and rhodes in order to clarify the difference between salem and the parent-figures of cinder’s childhood. it’s salem who tells cinder that she isn’t nothing, that she deserves better, that she was right to become defiant when salem was cruel to her. it’s salem who gives cinder a choice to let salem touch her or not.

everyone who gets where the wind is blowing with cinder understands, because it is obvious, that her turnaround is going to be incited by someone showing her mercy, which will shatter her view of the world and open a door for her to change. but… that “someone” is salem. it is literally already happening.

the first crack is salem telling her you deserve so much more than i’ve given you, as she pulls cinder to her feet.

and cinder doesn’t know how to parse that, she has no frame of reference except the madame and rhodes and she’s superimposed them both onto salem; the discrepancies, the pieces that don’t fit, are small right now. they will get larger, and the cracks will keep widening until the looking glass breaks.

which is why the grimm arm is related to the collar in the specific way that it is, with cinder flashing back to her childhood and the pain salem inflicts ending when cinder shifts emotionally from helpless fear to defiance and salem then explicitly affirming the rightness of cinder’s anger. the moral of the glass unicorn narrative according to rhodes is that what cinder did is unforgivable, and she will never escape it; the moral according to salem is that cinder did the right thing, and deserves better. the symbolic function of the grimm figurines in the glass unicorn narrative is to represent cinder’s self-protective anger. salem, grimm, uses cinder’s grimm arm to make a point that cinder should get angry when salem mistreats her, and then rewards her for being defiant.

is that a really fucked up way for salem to make that point YES OBVIOUSLY but no one else is even trying. lol

little steps.

(whispers into a cup) the grimm arm is also a metaphor for learning to be vulnerable and trust others not to harm you

cinder feels its pain. when it’s severed, it hurts, but also grows back. it’s both powerful (superbly strong, inhuman flexibility) and vulnerable (aura can’t protect it). salem can use it to hurt her; it connects them both together, so salem knows she’s alive and cinder knows when she’s back. it refused to bond with cinder until she let go of her fear and welcomed it.

the shattering trauma that made her what she is now was rhodes telling her that defending herself made her an irredeemable monster. the grimm figurines in her childhood story symbolize cinder’s desire to defend herself. the grimm arm is part of her body that connects her to salem in a way that salem can abuse to hurt her, but salem is also the first character to look cinder in the eye and tell her that she is right to defend herself. both cinder and salem are in the early stages of developing villain -> hero arcs.

your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness, salem says. remember that it comes with a cost. take care to protect yourself; there is only so much i can do to aid you. cinder wants to be strong, but she is terrified of weakness, and it is the terror of weakness that drives her, that must be faced, that must be resolved before she can find peace. her story isn’t about “learning to be satisfied with the power she already has” it’s about learning to be okay with being vulnerable. with having weaknesses.

like an arm she can’t shield with aura, that grows back when it’s severed, which she feared and then hid in discomfort and now accepts as a part of herself. just because salem can hurt her doesn’t mean that salem is incapable of choosing not to. salem could also, like, smash cinder into a gory pancake with a snap of her fingers.

it’s a story. about trust.

#blah blah blah ''but her shoulder—'' #cinder doesn’t care. #v8 is HER volume and not one #single solitary HINT that cinder is #even a little bit concerned about #this thing putting up roots? #none of you would survive sirin hárohȧm lmfao

[nana-b0b]

》🔞 These panels are censored, you can go to the last of the post to find out where to see them!

A little historical info to better understand:

♡♡♡♡♡!!! I really feel happy and overcome with these panels, I was thinking a lot about how to make them since there were several obstacles: I had never drawn something NSFW before as it should be ��� I never got that far so to speak, there was always a line that prevented me from taking that step, since it is not the same to draw some small scene where you only see something specific to a whole pose as such and all that implies. But after many ideas and turns I managed to take that step (maybe small for some but for me it was like reaching the moon 😂) and the most important and most feared was that the essence of the drawings and the style would be lost but I could keep it well and make it coexist ♡.

Note: as for the text accompanying the panels I want to say that it's not my best work as a narrator hahaha I don't write anything since I was about fifteen and it was my era of fanfics and stuff, so I feel its very basic and empty! 😅 ♥!

Now, let's talk a bit about the panels! Well, as we all knew this moment was coming, it was no surprise -3- Ryomen really had to be patient to get what he had been thinking for a while, but he didn't want it to be something random as it could be with any woman he wanted, he was really curious to see how Aurora could look like with the full appearance of a lady of the Heian era and when he saw her, he just couldn't resist. One thing will be clear: Aurora won't wear black teeth again, there will be no way to paint her teeth again without someone losing a limb. As for her eyebrows: she's really mad about that, but I'll let it go.

And to close this post I come with a novelty (I've been thinking about this for days) now we are going to be able to have these drawings completely uncensored on patreon.

I'm not going to lie, using more than two social networks for me is already a lot 😥 if it were up to me I would only post everything in one place but we know how the rules are and we have to respect them, if just by showing a nipple (which is a pixel 😂 ) they almost censored me on Instagram I knew this would be difficult and Tumblr is not lagging behind, while there are things that it lets pass there are others that it doesn't and it's not nice to have to make such complex drawings so that the AI doesn't detect them as 🔞 since there comes a certain point that you get tired too and it loses the grace.

My patreon will be the place for all my works 🔞 without any censorship already, you are going to be able to enjoy both public and private content depending on the type of work ♡. I think also for me it's an incentive to be able to start letting go more of my ideas and continue with everything I want to do :)

To say goodbye first I want to always thank you for all the support you give me and all your messages 🖤 and second to warn you that this CAP of Ren will be in patreon already published privately but all the other censored drawings are public for you to see and enjoy them as they should ⭐

Here are the publications that I censored and that you can now see, there are not many at the moment x'D

#sketch #jjk #jujutsu fanart #sukuna ryomen #jjk oc #ransketch #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen

[daydreams-after-dark]

SORSHA!!! The fuck boy besties Lix & Ji????

Omg, I was talking about them being your besties I know in college maybe roommates but them being besties & fucking you dumb after meeting in a club!🫠🫠🫠

Definitely love your pov of it💯🤌🏽

🎀

Oh no I messed it up 😫😭😭😭 I’m so sorry I misinterpreted your ask 😔🥹 I feel so silly !!!

(Annonie is referring to this ask)

But now I’m having whole other thoughts!!!

Like the three of you live together as housemates. Jisung and Felix usually go out and pick up girls to bring back to the apartment.

It’s usually your chance to stay home, have some special alone time. They get back so late and they’re so preoccupied you could be painting the living room walls and they wouldn’t know.

So.. as usual when they’re out doing what fuck boys do, you settle on your bed in just your oversized tee. You tend to your own needs. Touch yourself, finger fuck yourself, use your dildo.

What you don’t realise is that Ji and Lix, for whatever reason, come home early (and alone).

They hear your whimpers. They wonder who you have in your room.

They sneak up to the door, it’s ajar, and see you fucking yourself slow and deep with your dildo.

Jisung and Felix are mesmerised as they watch your hips rock against the toy. They subconsciously lick their lips when they see your arousal coating it each time you withdraw it from your cunt.

Jisung whimpers. Fuck! He looks at Felix who is biting his lip hungrily.

Your eyes spring open and you lift your head to see the two men staring at your pussy.

“A-are you just going to stand there?” You pant. “I know you know how to fuck a girl good…”

Jisung and Felix look at each other.

“I hear how you make them scream…while I’m here… using a fucking…toy.” You’re actually pretty close to coming. Especially having your friends eyes on you.

Felix and Jisung exchange a knowing look, and saunter into your bedroom.

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy is so wet.” Says Jisung, not only from the visual, but also how loud the wet noises were coming from your cunt.

“Let’s take this shirt of, yeah? That way we can take care of you properly.”

“You always…always…take care of random girls.” You pant.

“We’re so sorry, baby. Me and Lixi are here now.” Jisung coos as he nestles alongside your now naked body.

Felix lies on the other side of you, and starts to caress your body. He sucks on your nipple as his hands roam your stomach. “What do you think about when you touch yourself.” He whispers.

Should you tell them the truth? That you think about being one of their hookups? One of their conquests?

“Hmph.” Jisung chuckles low. “I bet our pretty baby listens to us fuck girls and imagine it’s her pussy we’re tearing up?”

Your silence followed by a hard swallow gives you way.

Jisung winks at you. “Knew it.” He whispers as his hand reaches down to grasp the dildo.

You draw in a sharp breath and then a long moan when he takes over and starts fucking you with your toy.

Felix releases your nipple with a pop. “Does our good girl imagine sucking our cocks?”

“Yes!” You cry. “Wanna taste your cocks.”

Jisung pulls the dildo from your aching cunt and tosses it to the side, and you whimper in protest.

“Shh… you’ll be filled again soon enough, sweetheart.”

They pull you off the bed to kneel on the floor and stand side by side in front of you. You watch wide eyed as they peel their clothes off and the three of you are completely naked.

They are likes pair of fucking gods. Toned, slender, strong. The sight of their very hard, and surprisingly large cocks has you poor dripping, empty, cunt clenching.

“Is our pretty girl just going to look, or is she going to open up wide?” Felix says softly. “You say you want us. Show us. Show us just how much you have been thinking about our cocks.’

They step towards you and you reach out to take hold of them. You start with Felix, taking him in as far as possible, gagging a little with your overzealous enthusiasm, while you jerk off Jisung with you other hand.

Then you swap, eventually alternating between them several times.

“Baby, you mouth. Fuck it feels perfect.”

“Look how much she can take in.”

“Someone needs to fuck me.” You moan. “Please… fill me up. Make me your slut.”

The two men groan at your filthy request, moving you back on the bed.

Jisung lays on his back while you kneel between his legs and take him deep into your throat. You want to fucking choke on his delicious cock.

“Pop your arse up for me love… that’s it.” Growls Felix, digging his fingers into your hips and guiding the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Ready?” It isn’t a question for you, but between Jisung and Felix.

Jisung tangles his fingers into the hair on the back of your head and lifts your head until just the tip is inside your mouth. Then, as Felix pushes inside of you, Jisung pushes your head down over his cock.

They fuck you like this. Every withdrawal from Felix, Jisung releases your head up. Every thrust into your cunt was mirrored with your head being pushed down all the way to the base.

They fuck you until you come all over Felix’s cock and Felix comes all over your back. Then they swap, getting hard again quickly.

“Baby, you feel so fucking perfect. Can I come inside you?” Jisung moans.

“Yes… please…” you pop of Felix momentarily.

“Oh fuck!” You cry as you come again, then feel Jisung spill inside you. Felix follows, coating the back of your throat.

The three of you lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs while you catch your breath.

“I think we need to stay in every night and fuck.” Declares Jisung.

You and Felix nod in agreement.

A/n I had to flesh this out!!! It’s rushed but I hope it still came out ok 😘😘😘

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina

@3rachasdomesticbanana

@palindrome969

@xxkissesforchanniexx

@chuuchuu1224

@fun-fanfics

@wolfennracha

#skz smut #Jisung smut #Felix smut #sorsha after dark #I feel like I messed it up

[em-harlsnow]

Something I’ve had in my mind for a while, so I did a little speed-write:

When he gets back from his therapist, Mickey’s on the couch with his laptop open in front of him.

He doesn’t make a big deal of anything, just looks up, smiles and asks how it went. Today it wasn’t too taxing, just one of the fortnightly appointments that they can afford now. Ian smiles back.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Mickey looks up from the laptop, paying full attention.

He blows out a breath. “Yeah. It was fine, really. Nothing huge.” He says, because nothing huge was revealed, nothing huge was said. Therapy just takes a lot out of him energy-wise.

“Okay.” Mickey replies, placing a hand on his knee, squeezing, and then returns to the screen.

“What are you looking at?” Ian asks, trying to peak.

“That stupid shit you like. Pin Interest or whatever the fuck.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “You like it, Mick. And I know you know it’s called Pinterest.”

Mickey shrugs.

“So, what are you looking at on Pin Interest?” He smirks and Mickey snorts.

“Tattoo ideas. I was thinkin’ of getting another one.” Mickey’s gaze is laser focused as he scans through images, saving some and scowling at others as if they personally offend him.

Ian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Where do you want it?” He tries to picture his husband with more tattoos and very much likes the image. He likes his current ones too much to not want him to get more.

“I dunno, man. Some sleeves are cool. But they take ages to build up. Maybe just one on my shoulder to start.”

“That sounds good.” Ian tries to get closer, but he still can’t really see what Mickey’s looking at. “Can I see?” He asks, pointing at the device.

Mickey sighs like he’s the most annoying fucker on the planet, but he tilts the screen towards him anyway.

He can see now that Mickey’s searched up ‘black tattoo shoulder men’ and there are just piles on piles of buff men with shoulder tats.

“I like the snake one.” Mickey tells him, pointing at the picture he means. It’s a serpent winding around the top of the guy’s arm, tangling together and going down to the bottom of his bicep.

“Yeah, that one’s cool.” Ian agrees. “What about that one?” He points at one with a fine lined dragon reaching onto the guy’s peck.

“I guess, but I don’t want it too thin, you know? When they do it too intricate, the lines all blur together.” Ian hums in assent.

“Show me what you already have saved.”

Mickey clicks through the website, and Ian catches a glimpse of his pre-existing boards before he goes to the tattoo one. There’s one called ‘wedding’ and one called ‘apartment’ and one called ‘dope shit’. The cover photo of ‘dope shit’ is an aesthetic image of two beers and two cigarettes clasped in two hands. Ian’s not really surprised that this is what Mickey considers to be ‘dope shit’.

In the folder is a lot of similar things. Snakes, dragons, one cat with bat wings. One looks like a weird cross between a gun and a dagger. They’re all pretty hot, and Ian tells him about his favourites.

“I was thinkin’ of drawing it myself. I don’t wanna just copy what someone else has.”

“What did you do for this one?” Ian asks, grasping Mickey’s forearm.

“Drew it.” He explains simply, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yeah? It’s good. You should draw the next one, too then.”

Mickey hums in agreement but continues to browse the website, probably looking for ideas.

Ian clicks on the TV, starting up an episode of New Girl while Mickey’s distracted.

They sit in peaceful silence for a while, until Mickey speaks again.

“There’s a tattoo place up the street. The reviews seem good. Don’t wanna go somewhere if they’ll just fuck it up.”

“That’s true.” Ian pauses. “If you’re getting one, I might get one too.”

Mickey raises his eyes brows in that expressive way of his. “You want a new tat? Fuckin’ copy cat.” He grumbles, but with the way he looks Ian up and down he can tell he’s not opposed.

“Yeah, been thinkin about it for a bit.”

“Oh yeah? What you thinkin, tough guy, I’ll look up some ideas.” Mickey suggests, already looking back at ‘Pin Interest’.

“Don’t worry, I already know what I want.”

When he doesn’t say more, Mickey huffs impatiently. “Gonna keep me waiting all night or what?”

Ian smirks and leans forward. “I was thinkin’ of an ‘MM’ tattoo, right here.” He tells him, pointing at a spot on the inside of his wrist.

Mickey looks surprised, and fond, and happy all at once. Even so, he tuts at him. “Tshc, you don’t have to do that just because I got your name.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I fuckin’ know that, dork. I like the idea of having a more permanent thing than the rings.”

“Yeah, coz you keep fuckin’ losing your rings.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want it to fall down a drain or something, Mick.” He laughs, exasperated. “But a tattoo won’t fall down the drain.”

Mickey looks at him, and he’s so happy that Ian can’t help but wind their fingers together.

“You don’t want it to look like Mandy Milkovich, though. Gotta get my middle initial, too.”

“Wouldn’t her initials be ‘AM’? For Amanda?” Ian raises his eyebrows. Mickey scrunches his.

“Oh yeah.”

“You hate your middle name, anyway. And ‘MAM’ looks like I got something for my mum, I want this for you.”

“Yeah, you already got those titties for Monica.” Mickey jokes lightly and Ian pushes his side.

<3333

i might write a next part, where they actually go get them!

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction #they’re adorable

[tragedybunny]

Pretty Baby 2

༺Summary༻

Astarion is a brat on several occasions and is duly punished for it. In between, he and Mommy (Fina) deal with some emotional issues.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Tav

༺Warnings༻ NSFW - PiV Sex, Anal Play, Femdom, Mommy Kink, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Chastity Cage, Porn with Feelings, Porn streaming, Pegging, Astarion being a brat

༺Word Count༻ 3783

༺A/N༻

So, it's chapter 2 of a fic I never planned to write. Lol. And somewhow now we've got plot and feelings involved. Hope you all enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing it. And huge thank you to the best of betas and friends, @icybluepenguin

The chat is populated by Tav's and other characters from my friends, they all helped makes this a delight.

Check out two similar fics if you dig mine. Decadent Torture and Careless Whisper

Read On AO3 Chapter 1

“Hush, a little more, then your punishment is over.” I let go of his cock, turn off the plug vibrating in his ass, and give him a short reprieve. 

Drawing gasping breaths, he looks up at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. God, his eyes are pretty; startling crimson, soft, and round. Normally, I cave when they're all watery like this. But not tonight - tonight is for lessons. 

I play with the little pink bow on his white thigh high stocking. Leaving him with only those, his white bra, and of course his collar, made him such a fetching picture for our little teaching session.

He'd spent most of the night on his knees in the naughty corner, those stockings peeking out of his pleated white skirt, a little pink cashmere sweater completing his look. I'd posted a few pictures that had his audience nice and worked up.

Demi_g0ddess: oh looks like Little Star was very bad today can’t wait to see what Mommy does to the little brat Bookworm420: didn’t realize Mommy was a thicc queen this might be too much for my ovaries

The chat had been crowded when we set up for the stream. Before the camera went on, I told him what to take off and how to prep, but not what I was planning. 

We went live and I made him give a little introduction. 

“I've had a very bad attitude lately and Mommy wants to make sure I'm thoroughly punished, so she's letting you all watch.” Every word was said petulantly as he leaned into playing the brat. 

Ari147: wonder what he did… Drag-onme: who cares, as long we get to watch the aftermath BardlockLongdick: is that a leather couch animal cruelty is not sexy.

“Go on,” I prompted, gesturing for him to get ready. 

The clothes he stripped were folded and set to the side, the chat cheering him on. When he kneeled down, I handed him a vibrating plug that made his eyes go wide. 

“Mommy, please…” he pleaded, but obediently went to work prepping and inserting it, cheeks flushed a deep red. I let him position himself in my lap, head propped on the arm of the couch. Then I started typing, Astarion watching with dawning horror.  

Mommy: Little Star has been an absolute brat about wearing a chastity cage while I’m out of town, because he wouldn’t be able to touch himself. So, tonight, I’m making him come as many times as I think he can handle. 

Demonbbyy: poor little thing got himself into a lot of trouble  TestyZesty: Mommy is way too nice about it but I’m still going to watch.

And here we were- Astarion, covered in his own semen, whimpering in my arms. I drag my finger along his cock, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. One more and I think he’ll have learned his lesson. I push the button on the remote for the plug.

“Fuck,” he whines the word. 

Penguino: aww, Mommy, I think he’s had enough  TestyZesty: nah, he’s still coherent  keep going Demi_g0ddess: Zesty, we’re sharing a brain cell  DrowDaddy: this chat is very mean tonight

I put a generous coating of lube on my hand and begin to work his shaft again. He pants and moans, desperate sounds falling from his lips as he builds to another orgasm. 

The chat continues to go feral as he whines and cries. I'm gentle this last round, languidly rubbing, letting the plug do its work. “That's it, one more for me. You've been so good for your punishment.”

He squirms at the praise, tearfully whimpering, hips weakly bucking as I take him to climax again. My other hand turns up the intensity on the plug. 

“Pleeeease,” he cries, voice ragged.

Another spurt of cum and he goes limp. I turn off the plug and lean down to kiss his sweat soaked forehead, letting him recover for a moment. He's so pretty like this, spent and helpless in my lap.  “Now, are you ready to apologize for being such a little brat the past couple of days?” 

He doesn't hesitate. “I'm sorry, Mommy,” he whimpers, tears running down his face. 

“Good baby. Almost done.” 

He tenses. “But...”

“Shh. They get to see because of the attitude.” He makes a noise. “Don't turn this into a spanking session,” I warn and he gets quiet. 

I take a warm, moist towel I'd set up earlier and clean up his pretty cock. The chat is losing it. 

KneelForMeSweets: and we get to see the cage  can he act up every night 

It's a pretty pink little chastity cage, just perfect for him. I slide the ring on first, then put the tube over his cock before locking it down. He's so quiet, I can hear every breath and the sniffles he's still fighting. 

Once they get a good look, I shut down the stream. 

Mommy: I'm going to go get this little brat cleaned up. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.

Bitchybambi: I hope not, I want to see what you do next  KneelForMeSweets: she can DM me for ideas.

I kill the video and give him a proper kiss as he clings to me, spent and shivering. “Come on, you. Bath time.”

Astarion is unusually quiet during our aftercare session, and when he's settled into bed in a pair of oversized pajamas, I pull him close, and he snuggles into my neck on instinct. 

“You know, if you think it's too much to wear it, you don't have to.” I run my fingers through his curls and cover his face in soft kisses. He's done stints in the cage before, but I'm starting to doubt myself on this one. It would kill me to ever hurt him for real. 

He doesn't move; if anything, he burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. “It's not, and I am sorry for being a pain. It's just…”

He makes a small, frustrated noise and I keep petting him. “Take your time.” 

For a few minutes, he just takes shaky breaths, and then he speaks. “It’s this whole going back to school thing. I'm nervous, and you're going to be gone for the next two days. And what if this is a dumb idea and I can't do it.”

“It's not a dumb idea, you really like fashion design, baby. And why do you think you can't do it?” 

“Remember the last time I was in school? I failed out.” 

“Astarion, you didn't want to be a lawyer and you hated law school. You only went because Caz-” I feel him tense in my arms, “because he made you.” 

“I know.” He sounds teary again. “But it doesn't mean I don't feel stupid.”

“Love, my pretty little wife, you are not stupid. You’re capable and creative. And you know I won’t have time on this stupid team building trip, otherwise I’d bring you with.” 

“Still going to miss you, though.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning, Astarion drives me to the airport. I put the keys for his collar and the cage in my jewelry box in case of an emergency or if it’s too much for him. It's cold and rainy, and he’s adorable in oversize sweats with sleepy eyes. After he unloads my bag, I pull him in for a hug and feel it pressed against me. A wave of lust courses through me; I can’t wait to come back and have a nice little session with him. 

“Call me when you land, Fina.” 

I don’t know if he realizes how much I’ll miss him. Astarion and I have rarely been apart since we met in grad school. It's just as hard on me to get on that plane and be without him.

We get one quick call before I’m off to the first of many “activities” the firm planned. I can’t be too angry about it, they pay a ton, and it finances my trophy wife’s lifestyle. I tell Astarion I’ll call him after dinner and karaoke hour. 

The whole day isn't that tortuous, and most of my coworkers get into the spirit of things for karaoke. I still make my exit as soon as I can to get some time in with Astarion. 

To my surprise, I see he's streaming. Sprawled out on the bed in a sheer black satin chemise that's ridden up his thighs enough to show off his beautifully caged cock. 

Instead of anything salacious, he's painting his nails. Not every stream is as action filled as last night. Some of them are just mundane things like now. I can’t fault the audience, I'd still pay to see him too, if he wasn’t mine already. I slide into the chat without announcing myself. 

Ari147: nothing fun tonight? :( 

“I’m afraid not, darling. If I don’t get any fun, neither do you.” He blows a cheeky kiss to the camera, and readjusts, spreading his legs more. One hand idly traces unpainted nails along a thigh while he blows on the ones he just painted. 

He’s such a filthy little tease. 

Mommy: glad to see you’re behaving yourself tonight

He sits up straighter, eyes lighting up. “Hi, Mommy. Missing all this?” His hand climbs higher, running up his abdomen to his chest. 

Demonbbyy: if she isn’t, I’ll take him   Mommy: settle yourselves down

Astarion leans over, getting on all fours to look directly into the camera, licking his lips. “Well, are you?” he pouts. 

Mommy: you know I am, and I’ll prove it when I get home 

His breath hitches. “That’s all for tonight, darlings. I want to give Mommy all my… attention.” 

The stream goes blank and he’s video-calling me seconds later. “Hi.” He smiles giddily. “I thought you might be a little later.”

“What can I say, I do actually miss you a lot. How was your day?”

We chat for a while and I watch him finish his nails, still in his chemise, which hides nothing as he shifts around. He seems less nervous about the school situation, which I chalk up to actually talking about it. 

“Alright, I should probably get to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

The morning call goes smooth enough, but the day is filled with seminars and an afternoon paintball session. Why do HR departments always think that’s a good idea? Astarion starts texting me around lunch, chatty little messages that I don’t have time to properly answer. Then the attitude creeps in. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I. Am. Busy. Astarion. I’ll call after dinner.”

I forgot dinner is an awards banquet that traps me for longer than I’d anticipated. It never seems to end, and I start trying to text him during it. No response, and a part of me begins to stress that he’s not doing well. He’d tell me though if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure. 

I practically run up to my room after dinner, skipping the cocktail hour after and all the great networking. All because he has me nearly panicked with worry. So of course, when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m furious to find him on stream. 

He’s not actually wearing anything, sitting on the plush white rug, a cozy glow from the fireplace providing ambient lighting.

BaasaNova: weren’t you supposed to be in a chastity cage while Mommy is gone 

He gives his hard cock a firm stroke and moans dramatically, red eyes dancing with mischief. “If I’m getting ignored, I’m not going to listen. Besides, she’s busy, so what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”

Bookworm420: this seems like a bad idea I don't want to see you get in trouble. 

It isn’t about disobeying me, or any other kink related thing. He really thinks I’d ignore him on purpose. And that stings like nothing else I've ever felt. 

I wait and lurk while he continues to touch himself. He's bubbly and flamboyant, basking in the praise of the chat. Normally, I'd be entranced by his hand working that gorgeous shaft, now I'm getting more furious. 

Finally, with an exaggerated cry, he comes all over himself. While his hand gives a few more lazy pumps, he glances at the chat. 

Mommy: I hope that was worth it 

His eyes get wide and he sits up straight. “Shit.” 

The stream dies just as he starts calling me.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” he whimpers before I can say anything.

“Astarion,” I cut him off. “I want you to know that I still love you and that isn't going to change. But I'm so hurt and angry right now that you could decide I would ignore you on purpose.”

“Please, I just…” 

“No, we're not going to talk about this now. I'm going to give you until I get home tomorrow to get your thoughts together. But right now I'm too angry to talk to you. So I'm going to go to bed and will call you in the morning.”

 He sobs. “No, stay on the phone with me. Please, Fina.”

I sigh and relent. “I love you, Star.”

We lay in silence for a long time, the occasional sniffle coming from his end. Finally, I'm too exhausted and have to sleep, and reluctantly tell him goodnight.  

There's a subdued call in the morning and I tell him I'll get a cab at the airport, I don't think he should be driving while that upset. Then I'm on the way home. The anger has mostly worn off but this stunt of his still hurts. 

When I get home, hev hasn't left the bed, completely naked, almost hiding under the covers. I don't even think twice before getting under them with him and pulling him to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly into my neck, reminding me so much of the day we first kissed. The day I'd needed to take care of him after what Cazador had done to him. 

“I know. Tell me what happened.” I bury my face in his curls and kiss his head. 

“I started getting nervous again and started to panic, and I wanted to talk to you. And I got upset that I couldn't. I know you wouldn't just ignore me.”

“Then why didn't you say you were anxious? I could have made time if I had known you were panicking.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weak. Especially after you told me that you believed in me.”

“Astarion, love, you are always going to be one of the strongest people I've ever met.” My hands rub his back, fingers finding the scars of years of his adopted father's “discipline.” “I'm sorry too, I think I pushed you into something you didn't need while you were nervous. Even if you said you were alright with it.” 

He gets quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t your fault. You’re always the best you can be to me.” 

“Still, maybe we should take a break from some of the more performative things.” I feel him tense and kiss his cheek to reassure him. 

“No, it makes me so happy to be like that, to be so completely yours. Don’t take that away.” 

“Let's talk some more tomorrow. There's no need to rush anything.”

“Alright. And, well, you did say that you were going to show me how much you missed me?” His voice pitches soft and breathy. 

“Astarion, you horny little gremlin,” I tease. 

“Please, Mommy. I know I was very naughty, but don't I deserve a little treat?” 

I already feel slick between my legs, even if I'm not sure that I should let him do this. 

“I know what you're thinking, but I can handle some relatively vanilla sex right now. I want to be loved.” He gives me his best wide-eyed pleading look. 

“Alright, baby.” 

I sit up, and he helps me undress, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. My hand reaches out to wrap around his stiffened cock and give a few languid strokes. I catch his eyes wandering down to my breasts with naked longing. 

Relatively vanilla, he said.

“Come here.” 

I lay back, and he follows, slotting between my legs. His cock pushes into me as his lips latch onto a nipple, and he sucks frantically. “There you go.” I stroke his hair, and he starts fucking me with wild, desperate thrusts. “That's what you needed, huh, baby.”

He whines and sucks harder, teeth scraping until pleasure blends with pain. Molten heat builds in my core with each snap of his hips, and I doubt either of us will last long. 

“So good for me,” I pant as I feel myself contract around him and my body tingle with bliss. That does it, and he gives one last jerky thrust as I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to take every drop of him. 

He collapses on top of me, still suckling, and I let him stay that way, fucked and comforted.

After a very nice Saturday in our pajamas, we talk and settle some things between us. Astarion is still very nervous about school in a couple of weeks, but doesn't want to change the things he loves about our relationship. He even insists on punishment for his bad behavior.

We agree on three days with the chastity cage, the two he originally was supposed to have and one extra. No clothing at home, so I can see it at all times. It kills me not being able to play with my wife's pretty cock. But you know, discipline hurts me more than it hurts him, or something.  

And at the end of the third day, a very serious lesson. So, I arrange something special, to be shared with his audience, like he shared his misbehavior. He's been waiting in the bedroom while I set things up.

“Safe word, wifey,” I order when I come to collect him. 

He stares at my too short, black latex dress with my pale pink strap-on visible where it rides up over my thighs, and blushes. “Objection.” 

“Good, baby.” I lead him to the living room where the camera is already at the right angle to watch as I bend him over the couch arm, pushing his face into the cushion right next to the waiting paddle. I watch him shiver with anticipation and spare a glance at the chat. They’re in rare form tonight. 

DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Back from my two week ban just in time.  Thornyonmain: Hggnnnnnn, god he looks so good like that am I enjoying the impending pain too much Bitchybambi: Nah, he's asked for this  Demi_g0ddess : You're so right, bestie Penguino: Aww, you guys, have a little sympathy

Picking up the paddle, I run it over the curve of his ass and hear him whimper. My hand pushes down on his back, commanding and reassuring. The first smack is light and I give him a moment. He trembles but says nothing. 

Another one, slightly harder, he whines but doesn’t say anything. I keep going, watching his pale skin burst into red blossoms with each impact. I can feel him shaking under my hand and hear when he starts to cry. 

“You’re being so good,” I coo.

He sobs in response. It’s been awhile since he had a serious spanking session. I keep whispering praise as I go, letting him know how well he’s doing, how much I love him. He’s a teary mess when I’m done, and I can feel the warmth coming from his skin. 

“I’m sorry I was naughty, Mommy,” he whines through tears.

“Shh, shh, I know. I think you deserve a little reward for taking the punishment so well.”

l take the lube I have waiting and coat my fingers. He whines for a totally different reason when I spread him open and push a finger inside his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he mewls when the second one enters. 

He pants through clenched teeth while I work them inside of him, getting him ready to take me. Each stretch and flex draws a new noise and when he’s ready, I coat the strap in lube and press the tip of it against his entrance. Even with a stinging ass, he rolls his hips into it, desperate and needy. 

I gave him a little playful smack on the marks darkening to bruises. “Behave.” 

He yelps but stills. Slowly, I slide it into him, relishing each little moan as I fill him. Then my hips rock, and I thrust deeply, before stilling again. 

“Please,” he begs, desperately. 

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Mommy.” 

I reward him with another deep thrust, and began to move my hips with a quick rhythm. Under me, Astarion is losing himself, keening wails and pleading whimpers accompany my every movement. 

I'm aware just how achingly empty I am; later we’ll take care of me. Right now, I focus on making him properly blissed out. 

I know his cock is straining against the cage, leaking helplessly, as he reaches the edge. My fingers dig into his hips and I fuck him as deep as I can until a wordless shout rips from him and his whole body is shaking again. I press my hips tight to his, as deep into him as I can while his orgasm ebbs away with multiple whimpers, only pulling out when he’s stilled. 

Turning back, I give the chat a good-bye and end the stream.

SquidDomme: He has in fact not learned anything DrowDaddyG: I think he'll try to be better, he's such a sweet boy BardlockLongdick: Maybe you all should try opening a Bible instead of this website DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Anyone know how I can get an air horn noise to play in chat (I'm joking, please don't ban me again)

Then I remove the strap-on and save it for later clean up. “Come here, wifey,” I say, sitting on the couch. 

Sluggishly, he obeys, coming to rest his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and let him come  down from the experience. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into my thighs.

“I love you too. No more bratty behavior, right?” 

I feel the little smirk he makes. “Absolutely, lesson learned.” 

We both know he's lying, but I trust none of it will be super hurtful again. “Good little wife.”

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin 

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblogg @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch @waking-electric @snowfolly

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #bg3 tav #tav #astarion x tav #my fanfic #my writing #modern au

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Really enjoyed your review of spoiler alert and you were so right about everything, and I wanted to say I've read a handful of books where fandom plays a significant role and each time it's treated as something taboo and unspeakable while also being embroiled in early 2000s social media/fandom sites while simultaneously having traits of modern fandom? Which is so interesting because it makes me wonder how much the authors are drawing off of experiences from when they were younger and how involved they are today to be both so aware of trends and so out of touch. And every time it's had some kind of "coming out" vibe attached to it so it's not just this book that did it. Which i guess what else can you do if you want your protagonist to have some dark secret that isn't actually that big of a deal AND you want to rehash fandom opinions

man books that are "fandom themed" for lack of a better description have been on the rise for a minute now. it started in YA (I think Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl was patient zero in 2013, but it was definitely picking up steam by 2017; I remember books like Kathryn Ormsbee's Tash Hearts Tolstoy and Jen Wilde's Queens of Geek were getting recced everywhere I looked) but it's also really hit romance in a huge way.

I've by and large avoided fandom-heavy books because they unfortunately almost all seem (and I do not say this lightly) kind of. unbearably cringe in terms if how they handle fandom, especially with the bizarro cloak and dagger attitude you mentioned. idk maybe if someone writes me a hot romance between two housewives who fall in love sending furtive gay star trek smut back and forth or something I can get on board with it, but for the most part being a fan of things just is not that interesting of a premise. TO ME.

#bookblr

[tonightsyanderes]

Yandere Beastman

•Tiger Beastman•

TW: death(not reader), non-con, stalking, I am basing this off of the actual mating habits of a tiger. blood. injury to reader.

Don't like it or if these trigger you please don't read and take care of your mental health. I do NOT support or want anyone in this kind of relationship they are highly toxic and unsafe. I write the stories for entertainment purposes only.

There are not a lot of "Yandere tendencies" in this fic. Just a lot of fucked up stuff.....

Please Enjoy~

The hectic life you had before would be calm compared to the life you have now. Trying to keep yourself level-headed while the world changes around you is hard and mentally draining.

‘Note to self never trust someone that promises it’s a time machine that you’re stepping into. Even if they are… were your best friend.’ You mumble to yourself bitterly about how unfair it was to be stuck somewhere or when with nothing to help you. You heard a rustling of leaves behind you. The wind blew green leaves in your face as the rustling got louder.

You could hear the thud of hooves drawing closer to you. You quickly wiped your face clean and moved behind a tree to hide from whatever was coming. Heartbeat ringing in your ears you try to calm down by breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. You try not to hold your breath until it gets closer. The thudding grew louder, shaking the ground. A figure ran past you, too quick to see what it was. Two more things ran by the tree you hid behind, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your breathing. One of them had antlers… with ears like a deer. Their legs were like a deer too… and with hooves! Where the hell are you?!?

You heard a deep growl in front of the tree. A shrill scream followed by a loud crunch was mere feet from you. Your body couldn’t move. You tried to back away, tried to uncover your mouth, tried anything! But your body refused to listen… The crunching sound was like breaking celery, a crisp crack/crunch. It stopped and you could hear the chewing of something wet and tough. One of those things must have been caught. Whatever caught it could find you too… would it eat you too? You could imagine the way it would tear into you, it would eat you alive. It ate whatever that thing was alive so you could only imagine what you would see as it tears into your stomach as the life drained away from you. The last thing you would remember would be that horrifying scene.

‘I need to get out of here… quietly’ You looked around trying to make less noise than the eating sounds. You tried to turn around when the wind picked up again. Except this time you were upwind from the beast. The sound stopped… not just the eating sounds, all the sounds around you… the birds let long ago, the wind stopped whistling, the river stopped bubbling, and the far-off thudding of hooves was no longer heard. The beating of your heart quicked, it hurt your chest. The chest that you were sure would be ripped open in mere seconds. 

Another growl and you couldn't move again. ‘Not this shit again! I need out of here!!’ Your eyes were restless and you looked around wildly. You can’t hear the soft thuds headed to the tree you hid behind. The way the beast made slow, calculating movements was a sign that it was an apex predator. Nothing scared it. A claw of a tiger stepped out from the other side. It was massive, about the size of your head. You imagined it slicing through your stomach. 

Its head followed soon after, traces of its meal all over its face. It looks almost… human. It, no He turned towards you, and you backed away as his whole body came into view. His face and torso were more human but the rest was like a tiger. His arms and legs were tiger limbs. He had an orange and black tail. Tiger ears on top of his head. He had no clothes on. Blood was caked on him everywhere. The fur on his body became clumped together and dyed red. He continued to growl at you. His teeth were long and the tips were sharp. You backed away from him as much as you could. He glared at you and stepped closer. 

“Get back! I taste bad I promise!” You shout out of fear. In your right mind, you would not be saying something like that. He stopped growling and stayed still. Just looking at you, it was worse than him moving. Staying still made him unpredictable. You crawled away quickly. He didn’t move just stared at you. You stood up slowly and continued to walk backward until you had a few trees between you and him. You sprinted away from the area and towards the sound of the river. 

 You made a small shelter out of fallen branches that leaned against a tree. The river is a small walk from the shelter, fishing got easier with time and practice. You had no idea how to start a fire without a lighter so you go cold most nights. You have seen a few… bloody leftovers of other beasts that left you berries or other foods around your little camp. 

You were trying to catch some fish with your makeshift net. A long-sleeved t-shirt with a stick in the shape of a Y can only do so much. You were so busy focusing on fishing that you didn’t hear the noises behind you. Suddenly you were pushed face-first into the ground. A growl from whatever was holding you made you freeze. It sounded so familiar… so overly terrifying. 

This was it you are going to die… you’re going to be eaten alive by that man-beast thing! A bite on the back of your neck sent pain down your spine. A scream erupted from your mouth as you kicked and grabbed at it from behind you. You heard a chuckle behind you. The claws on the massive paws tore through your clothes with ease. The teeth on the back of your neck never let up. Something wet, slime-y, and hard was pressed into your thighs. He used one hand to bring your hips up, the claws dug into your skin and drew blood. His penis was barbed on one side and painful when he entered you with no preparation. Another scream erupted from you, you tried to fight back even more. Nothing worked as he kept going until he filled you to the brim with his cum. You cried until you passed out, you’d rather be asleep when you die than awake. 

You woke up in a den with the tiger beast beside you. A dead deer beast was in front of him, he was already eating it. You whimpered and he looked over at you. He tore off a leg and tried to hand it to you. You gagged as the limb dripped blood all over the ground. He huffed and walked over to you wagging it in your face. You shook your head and started to kick at him when he came too close. He smirked and showed off his phallus it was hard and pink. 

“No! Not again! Fuck you!” You shouted as he got even closer not bothered by your attempts to hurt him. He opened his mouth his teeth on full display.

“Again! You!” He mimicked your voice almost perfectly. ‘What the hell… how the fuck…’ You couldn’t believe this… “Mine… mate… season… you fight… you mate now.” He said in broken words. “Kill… others… need… me not… them.” He growled as he walked towards you. Your vision goes black as you pass out from fear. ‘Will I see the light of day again?...’

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere smut #tw: noncon

[monstersflashlight]

Gym slut

Orcs x fem!human || Exhibitionism, size kink, dub-con (kinda), humiliation, sharing is caring

You’ve been watching him for months. He always arrives to the gym at the same hour as you, usually parking not too far from your car. He holds the door for you and always smiles and winks when you pass him. His tusks gleaming under the gym lights. Watching him work out is the best hobby you currently have. He’s so tall and so big. You are sure he’d tower over everyone you know. Even if his skin wasn’t the prettiest shade of green, the size of his muscles would draw your eyes to him. He’s just… massive. Twice your size if not more.

And today is the day. You are sexually frustrated and you have been carrying a gym-crush on him for months. You are going to try to have your sweet way with him. You had no plan, just horniness, as you approached him.

“Can you spot me?” You ask, looking at him from under your lashes, trying to be coy. He smirks knowingly, nodding.

He smirks, his tusks look sharp under the fluorescent lights. “Sure thing, little human.”

He helps you work out for the rest of the session, his body closer than it should, but you don’t care. You lean into him, pushing your ass against his dick as many times as possible. Pushing your boobs against his face, “accidentally” falling on his lap and slowly getting up, making sure to moan as you do so. You know you are playing with fire, his eyes are getting hotter and the outline of his dick is visible in his gym shorts. You lick your lips looking at it. He laughs, noticing.

“You want to get out of here?” He asks. You nod, anticipation filling your body.

You thought he would lead you to his car, to someplace different, but he grabs your hand and drags you to the men’s changing rooms. There’s nobody there, way too early for people to be in the gym.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, his mouth covering yours as he makes a quick job stripping you off your clothes. You think you hear something rip, and soon after you see your panties torn on the floor. Dang, that’s hot. He kisses your neck, pinching your nipples as his other hand travels down your abdomen, rapidly finding your clit.

He plays with your pussy for a little while, rolling his thumb over your clit as he pushes one finger inside. Then two, then three. You groan and moan as you move your hips to create friction, chasing your pleasure on his hand. His fingers are bigger than yours, so much bigger. With three of his fingers, you already feel like it’s too much. And then he pushes a fourth in, making you groan and whimper. He fucks you like that for a few minutes, not even caring that you aren’t exactly in a private area.

“Hurry up, somebody could come.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He chuckles, taking his time thrusting into your hungry pussy.

“I do.” You say, trying to sound stern but failing when his thumb rolls over your clit again and your words break with a groan.

“No, you don’t. You are a gym slut, you want my dick so bad you wouldn’t care if somebody came right now. Wouldn’t you?” You shake your head, but his words ignite something inside of you. “I felt your pussy flutter, you like that, don’t you? You like the idea of somebody catching us, of somebody watching you being a slut.” He punctuates the last word with a twist of his wrist, making your knees buckle under you as tremors run down your body. “I knew you’d be a little whore, I knew you’d like it rough and dirty, like the little slut you are. I’ve been watching you, flaunting your ass around, exposing your tits a bit too much. You wanted this for a while, didn’t you?” He doesn’t let you answer. “Of course you did, you’ve been dreaming of being my gym slut, right?” You say nothing, embarrassment and humiliation filling you.

You look down, avoiding his knowing eyes. He laughs, his fingers still fucking you slowly, parting his fingers slightly every once in a while. Stretching you. And then he lowers his pants, and you see what you already suspected. He’s big. Monster size big. So big it’s probably bigger than your forearm, but most of all, he’s thick. So fucking thick. There’s no way.

“I- You are too big. That’s not gonna fit.” You murmur, trying to push away from him.

He grabs you, not letting you get away, his fingers still inside of your pussy, making you groan as he twists them. “Oh yes, it will.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” He pulls his fingers out as he picks you up, one arm under your ass as he positions you right over his dick, your legs instinctively going around his hips.

“You’ve been teasing me with those leggings for months. It will fit.” Then he starts to push inside, parting your folds with his fingers as the tip of his cock breaches you. It’s too big. It won’t fit. There’s no way he’s gonna fit. But he keeps going. The bite of pain makes your pussy clench as you whimper. “Relax.” He orders. You try to, you exhale the air you were holding, feeling how the head of his cock penetrates you, making you groan.

The mixture of pain and pleasure is driving your brain into overload. You don’t know how to feel, it’s just too much. But he doesn’t care. He allows you to babble all you want, wiping your tears as they flow, but he keeps going, and going, and going. “Almost all the way in, little human.” You don’t think you can take anymore, it’s too far in, too deep, you can feel like he’s splitting you in two. You moan, tears rolling down your cheeks as he pushes the final inches inside of you. You can feel him in the back of your throat. Too much. Too deep. Too big.

He doesn’t wait for you to accommodate his size, he doesn’t wait for you to tell him it’s okay if he moves. He just starts thrusting as soon as he hits bottom, pulling almost all the way out before going back in. You feel like he’s rearranging your insides as he keeps thrusting, keeps using your whole body as a fleshlight, his hands on your hips, pushing you up and down his dick like a fuck doll.

You try to hide the embarrassment, but the way he’s using you is making it hard to hide how turned on you are. Your juices are dripping, your body accepting him inside of you, the mixture of pain and pleasure tilting the balance until the pleasure is so big you are coming around his dick. He pinches your nipple as you cum, making the climax go so high you think you can touch the stars. And he keeps going, your body goes lax in his hold, and he still doesn’t care. He keeps fucking you on his dick and grunting every time he hits bottom.

And then it happens.

You hear the door before you register what that means. “Somebody is watching, little human.” He murmurs in your ear, his dick still inside of you as he uses you like a fleshlight. Not stopping. You can’t ignore the way your pussy pulses at the thought of somebody watching. “I felt that.” He chuckles. “Wanna give him a show?” You want to say no, you want to get away, but you are drunk with pleasure and the thought of somebody watching is turning you one more than anything before. Your pussy constricts around his dick, once again telling him all he needs to know.

He turns you around, still holding all your weight with his arms, your legs up. You are folded like a pretzel, your pussy exposed completely. Your whole body exposed to the hungry eyes of the newcomer. Your gym-crush impales himself on you from behind as the person in front of you gasps. It’s another orc. Not as big as your gym-crush but still so much bigger than you. You pant, looking at him intensely as you keep being fucked. You can see the outline of his dick as he massages his hardness over his sweatpants.

The orc at your back laughs. “Look at her, bro. She’s dripping. She’s such a slut. She approached me and begged to be fucked.” You try to deny it, but you can’t talk as he keeps thrusting inside you. “And now look, her eyes are unfocused and her drool is flowing, she’s just a slut, a dirty gym slut that likes orc cock inside her pussy. Wanna touch her? She’s not gonna refuse.” You feel humiliated, but good lord if it’s not doing it for you.

The other orc approaches you as you pant, your face so flushed it burns. He lowers his head and sucks on your nipple, making you cry out as the orc behind you laughs. “See? A slut. She’s not even trying to act offended, she likes to be a slut.” The second orc laughs along with him, pinching your nipple as he plays with your tits, one hand still massaging his dick through his pants. Second orc pinches your clit next, making you whimper and try to pull away as they laugh at your inability to move away from your gym-crush hold. “Be still, little slut.” He chastises, his tone humorous. He’s having fun humiliating you, laughing at you. Your pussy clenches on his dick.

You feel embarrassed and ashamed as you moan like the slut they named you. Completely at the mercy of two big orcs. The two of them playing with your body like you are a doll made to be fucked.

Orc number two falls to his knees before you, his mouth hovering over your pussy, mere inches apart from where your gym crush is fucking you restlessly. In a heartbeat, he’s making out with your pussy, licking every inch he can reach and making your body react like a lighting just hit you. The pressure of his tusks a reminder of what they are, their otherworldliness and how much that turns you on.

Your next orgasm hits you before you can say anything at all, the two orcs giving you pleasure as you fall apart. And then you feel it, the start of something big, the telltale sign of your bladder feeling full as they keep going, not even caring that you already came. And then you are showering them, you never squirted before, but it feels too much, too fast, too oversensitive.

“Did she just squirt?” The orc behind you asks, surprised. The one between your legs nods, his face wet with your release as he licks his lips. Your whole body feels like a raw nerve as they keep going. Both of them laughing at you as they continue to ravish you.

You cum a couple times more before they stop their assault, the orc under you getting up and jerking off right over your pussy. His cum hits your clit and drips down. There’s so much of it, you feel it coating your thighs and ass before it drips to the floor. He gently pats your pussy, chuckling as you whimper. The one behind you is close behind, his thrusts going erratic as he gets as far as he can go and cums deep inside. And cums. And cums. There’s so much of it you are overflowing, his semen mixing with the one already dripping from your pussy. It’s nasty, and you feel ashamed to be enjoying it so much. You feel like the slut they call you. Like a cumslut.

“Want a turn? Her pussy is amazing, all tight and warm.” Your gym-crush asks the other, pulling out and laughing again as you whimper, both of them fixated on the amount of cum covering your pussy.

“Nah dude, I’m late for work.” He says as he pulls off his shirt and goes into the showers.

The cum is drips from your cunt, making a puddle on the floor and making you feel like the slut they called you, your pussy raw and used, his mixed cum all over it. You are sure you look like you just got the best fuck of your life.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna be late, too.” The first orc says, following him. I lay there, over the bench as I listen to them shower, not able to move just yet.

The orc who ate your pussy doesn’t even look back at you as he exists the room, not bothering to acknowledge your presence. The other one, your gym crush, walks out the shower and dresses quietly. “You should clean that, slut.” He tells you signaling the puddle on the floor. You nod, not able to say anything. He laughs again, your embarrassment making you blush from head to toe, humiliated at his words. “I hope to see you around again, gym slut.” He says as he passes you, pinching your nipple mockingly as you lay there, unable to process what just happened.

You just had the best sex of your life, being used by two orcs who you don’t even know the name of. Maybe they are right, maybe you are a gym slut.

But you can’t wait to do it again.

#monster #monster fucker #monster x human #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster x reader #orc #orc x reader #orc x human #let me know if you think i should add some kinks to the title

[2millu2]

Hii!! Can you do some headcanons/drabble for Hiori Yo from Blue Lock ? Tysm 💕

Missed Shot || Hiori Yo

| ✵ ft. (The sweetest boy) Hiori yo

🝮 a small Drabble of being his best friend and helping him with his worries

"So how'd practice go?" You ask, tossing your backpack onto the couch and dropping down beside it.

"... Fine." Hiori replies, his focus still on the TV.

You don't press further. You're used to this routine by now. You know Hiori is usually eager to talk about everything except his practice. But today seems different. He's quieter than usual and there's a frown on his face. Maybe he's overthinking things again.

"Are you sure you're alright?" You ask, giving him a glance.

Hiori doesn't answer for a moment. You know he's probably debating whether or not to tell you.

"It's just... it was rough. I missed that last shot and everyone was talking about it afterward, you know? They kept saying how I've never missed that shot before."

"I know," you reply, nodding along. Hiori has been struggling like this for a while. You've heard him talk about these problems before, but something does feel different today...

"That doesn't matter though... but still, I'm supposed to be the perfect player. I'm supposed to be the best... and right now, I don't feel like that at all."

Hiori glances your way, searching your face for any sign of judgment. But you've heard these worries before. You know exactly how to handle it.

"Hey, you know what?" you say, smiling at him. "That shot didn't matter. We all mess up occasionally. We're human, not machines."

Hiori lets out a sigh, but you can see he's relieved. A smile spreads across his face as he relaxes back into the couch, finally accepting the positive message and letting go of his worry.

"Yeah..." he mumbles. "You're right. I know that."

You give him a light pat on the shoulder and grin back at him. "Of course I'm right," you say, "I'm your best friend."

Hiori smiles again, and then suddenly remembers something.

"Oh, hey... you promised you'd help me with that one level, didn't you?"

You roll your eyes, but also grin.

"Yeah, I remember," you say, "I'm here to keep my promise."

And with that, you two launch into some intense video gaming.

You laugh at his comment, but soon enough he actually does catch up. The intense competition continues, with neither of you backing down.

You and Hiori are neck and neck as you play through the level, strategizing and making split-second decisions. At one point, you manage to pull ahead and take the lead.

"Yes!" you exclaim, feeling proud of yourself. But Hiori doesn't seem upset. In fact, he's smiling as well.

"Good job," he says. "Don't worry, I'll catch up."

The two of you are so absorbed in the game that you barely notice when the time has passed. It's been hours, but it feels like only minutes have passed. It's late now, but neither of you wants to stop playing just yet.

"Shall we call it a draw?" you ask, and Hiori nods, smiling.

You two turn off the game and walk back to the couch. You're tired but still buzzing with energy. You collapse back onto the couch, and Hiori snuggles up beside you.

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, enjoying the quiet but also feeling the tiredness creeping in. Hiori leans his head on your lap, and you stroke his hair gently. Then he speaks up again.

"Thanks... for always being here for me," he says, glancing up at you.

You nod, smiling back. "It's no problem," you reply, "that's what best friends do, right?"

He laughs softly, closing his eyes again. "Right," he says. "That's exactly right."

Hiori shifts slightly on the couch, snuggling a little closer to you, and you feel him begin to breath slowly as he drifts off to sleep. He's sound asleep now, a peaceful look on his face. You look at him for a moment, feeling your eyes growing heavy as well.

#hiori yo #bllk hiori #blue lock hiori #Hiori fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #millu works

[vampyrsm]

Oh god Alex the amount of restraint best friend!Yuuji is going to need when your hips inevitably start bucking up and chasing his hand in your sleep…

Yuuji’s touches have sent you into a wet dream (about him? Maybe. He would sure like to think so) and damn I mean… what kind of a friend would have be if he didn’t help you out? He’s certainly not the kind of guy to start something and leave it unfinished.

And I mean, maybe he just wants to see what your pretty face looks like when you cum. What you don’t know can’t hurt you :3

mdni; female reader, somno, dubcon/noncon, yuuji just wants to feel you cum on his fingers. 1.2k. not beta reader. divider by @///cafekitsune

Yuuji knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s a massive breach in your trust in him. But surely, you knew what you were doing crawling into bed with him wearing only a baggy t-shirt (which was his) and a pair of panties that did nothing to hide what was waiting beneath. It was hard enough to just keep his hands to himself when you were getting comfortable, but now you were asleep and you’re pressed so closely to him that he can feel the heat between your thighs.

His cock had been hard for a while, aching against the band of his boxers—the only thing he wore to bed, given that he ran hot anyway and adding another body to the bed would just make matters worse. Not that any of that mattered when he was sweating at what he was currently doing. You see, Yuuji Itadori has quite a good amount of self-control, he can keep his hands to himself like a good boy but it was far too tempting when you shimmied your butt close enough that you grazed against his thigh. He could feel everything. 

It started with just his fingers, delicately tracing lines along your pussy to just feel the warmth of it, how squishy it was beneath the pad of his fingers through your cotton panties. He had to stop himself from outwardly groaning when he found your clit through the material, and rubbed it just the right way to have you backing up against him to chase the feeling. 

You were soaking by now, he could feel the glide of it beneath the tips of his fingers and his cock twitched again when he thought about sinking the fat head of it between your pussy lips. 

With a glance over your shoulder, he can still see you’re fast asleep albeit in a much different dream with the way you huff out a breath and scrunch your eyebrows together. Fuck, he can’t help but wonder how he can make that little expression of yours change into pure euphoric pleasure. 

Yuuji’s extra gentle in moving your panties to the side, giving him just enough space to press his fingers against your bare pussy. His hips buck automatically at how wet and warm it is, and he takes the briefest of moments to part from your pussy to tug down his own boxers to give himself a little bit of relief. 

The tip of his cock is sticky, drooling pre as it lays flat against your back when Yuuji scoots himself close enough to make sure he didn’t jostle you too much for what’s to come. His fingers slip back down to your cunt, large fingers spreading your drooling lips apart to crudely swipe his fingers through it before reaching the tight entrance of your pussy. 

Now, this should be the point where Yuuji should stop. But it’s not the first time you’ve messed around with each other, after all, he lost his blowjob virginity to you all those years ago. It never made your friendship weird or strange, it just felt natural… and since then, there had been numerous times where you both had ended up kissing with a little too much saliva or getting a little too handsy in a club. 

So Yuuji doesn’t feel like he has to stop, not when he knows what’s to come. 

One thick finger sinks in easily, all the way down to his knuckle and that’s when Yuuji has to bury his face into the back of your head—quietly—to breathe out a moan at just how hot it is inside. His finger draws back just enough to allow him to press in another finger slowly, gently, until he’s two fingers deep inside the tightest pussy he’s ever gotten to feel. 

His cock leaks heavily against your back, he just hopes you don’t mind the mess. Yuuji, again being careful, slowly starts to draw his fingers back before stroking them forward again to coax out more of your wetness to aid him in getting you to cum before you wake up. The tips of his fingers graze along your velveteen walls, how they squeeze and throb around him as if you were aware of what was going on. 

Maybe you did, on some level, as you rut your hips back every now and again with his thrusts. Your mouth is open just enough now for him to hear your breathing is a little more rapid, and how there’s the slightest whine in your throat when he curls those thick fingers to press against your walls. 

Yuuji can’t help but curl his body more around yours, pressing you into his chest so he can fuck you deeper with his fingers; imagining that it’s his cock that’s making your eyebrows pinch together. Fuck—would you let him fuck you? After all this? He really hopes you would. He needs to feel you around his cock, needs to hear you whimper when you have to take every last inch even if it feels like it’s too much. 

His fingers spread just slightly deep inside, the wet sound of your pussy growing loud enough that he’s actually a little concerned you’ll wake up before he gets you to cum. So he shifts his hand just slightly, seeking out the spot he knows to find and when he does, your entire body tenses quick enough to cause Yuuji to freeze. 

He watches over your shoulder carefully to see if your eyes flutter open, but they never do—thank fuck you’re a heavy sleeper. He rubs the tip of his fingers against your g-spot again before repeatedly curling his fingers against it, your body moves against his own, your stomach tensing up harshly and your thighs clamping down together in an attempt to relieve you of the building pressure. 

Yuuji moans against your hair again when you buck your hips back, the slightest arch in your back that gives him the perfect view when he glances down to see your bare ass with his cock resting against it. He continues to fuck you with his fingers until you finally cum, your eyebrows raise and you actually moan in your sleep, and fuck if it isn’t the best sound Yuuji has ever heard. 

He’ll blame what happens next on the lust-driven haze he’s in—but Yuuji carefully withdraws his fingers from your still twitching pussy to stroke his cock quickly, not enough to jerk you awake but enough to have his toes curling and thigh muscles tensing. 

With a bit of luck and angling, he presses his cock down until it’s against your pussy lips—and then he cums. In thick warm spurts, he cums all over your puffy pussy and watches as it mixes so beautifully with the thick slick that drools from your cunt. His lip is raw from biting down on it to stop himself from moaning like a whore at the forbidden release against your pussy. 

He knows there’ll be questions in the morning, but Yuuji doesn’t care when he’s seen how beautiful you look when you cum. Maybe he can distract you from what happened by showing you how well he can fuck you when you’re awake… so for now, he untucks your panties from the side and places it over your cum covered pussy to watch it stain and outline the pussy he’ll beg to be buried within come morning.

#— alex has mail ! #— user pavloves-dog #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw noncon #just to be safe #yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori smut

[kabukiaku]

malewife + girlboss dynamic.

#my art #the band ghost #ghost band #papa nihil #sister imperator #papa emeritus zero #seestor #been wanting to draw these two for a while now #ghost band fanart #ghost fanart #guys nihil isnt a mean guy all the time he's just stupid and goofy who maybe needs a bonk or two in the head #but oh my god he is such a delight #sister is scarwyyyyyyy #watch out for her #respect tho she killin it with the pink pumps