#i'm not trying to be coy lol

[hbogirls]

do you guys think that when taylor tours she would do like an A setlist, B setlist, C setlist situation so she could alternate them on different nights and sing more songs since she’s released so many since her last tour? like it would be a ridiculous thing to do but she’s no stranger to doing ridiculous things 

#like what if night 1 in chicago or wherever was setlist A and night 2 was setlist B and then she did setlist C in indianapolis #and just rotated the whole time #i'm just trying to figure out why she's being so coy/secretive about tour lol like there's no way she'd do this

[captainfern]

Hi!! I loved your marigold parts!! I was wondering if you could do jealous price finding out someone was flirting with y/n during training? /nf

All Apologies

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“All Apologies” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price never saw himself as a jealous man. not until a new recruit starts flirting with his lieutenant (you) lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3k • warnings - fem!reader, reader's a lieutenant so higher rank then soap and gaz lol, jealous!price, unprotected piv, hardly any foreplay (mans is desperate 🙏), quick and rough babe, praise, light exhibitionism? idk, strong language

sorry for the break in my writing recently but i'm slowly getting back into writing. hope this is ok x

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You had been tasked with training a new batch of rookies that eventually would make their way into the world of military task forces. You, a lieutenant, knew exactly what it was like to deal with these over-spirited soldiers. Ghost had warned you that training some of these "kids", as he called them, was not for the faint of heart.

You took that as a challenge.

And, well, it wasn't exactly hard. The group of about fifteen listened to you for the most part and, you noted, many of them were scared. Of you. You smiled each time they fixed their posture or stopped whispering when you walked by.

However, there was one rookie who was not scared of you. He wasn't exactly the greatest listener, either. But it was obvious that he was trying to hit on you. Why? You had no idea. But the man just wouldn't give up.

The flirting stared simple, simple enough you barely paid it much attention. Smiles and admiring gazes whilst teaching them drills, wanting to partner up with you when you were teaching evac manoeuvres.

But, as the training progressed through the weeks, so did the flirting. He brought you lunch during cool-downs, sat with you and talked your ear off while you ate. He was at your side during breaks, and more so during training. He loved partnering up with you, offering to be the crash-test-dummy when you were teaching the rookies fighting techniques.

Harmless flirting. A little crush on a superior.

But not to Price.

He could see the training field from his office window, and he stood there watching with his arms folded across his chest. He could clearly see the way that man was all over you, following you around like a lovesick puppy.

He rolled his eyes. Pathetic.

The rookie wouldn't even know how to treat you. Wouldn't know how to handle you. Wouldn't know what you needed.

Price knew what you wanted, what you needed. He'd treat you right, of course. He was a gentleman, not some desperate fucking rookie thinking with his dick. Price knew what his lieutenant needed, and it wasn't a rookie.

It was a captain.

Him.

"Fucking hell..." Price grumbled to himself, cigar between his lips. Jealousy, hot and incessant, stirred in the pit of his stomach like a ball of nerves. He had no right to feel this way. You weren't his.

But you were his lieutenant.

"Christ." He hissed, gritting his teeth as he watched the rookie put his hands on you for what felt like the millionth time.

You were being so good, teaching those rookies how to survive in your career. But you were just too good– letting that son of a bitch hold your hands behind your back, pressing you against his front as you demonstrated how to get out of the hold.

You were so good.

The rookie laughed at something you said, as did the other recruits. Before long, you were slamming the rookie onto the ground, straddling his middle with a wooden training knife against his throat. He had his hands on the thick of your thighs, breathing hard, a coy smile on his face.

Price grit his teeth so hard that he bit the end of his cigar off. The rest of it toppled to the ground at his feet, and he growled as he picked it up. His eyes burned holes in the rookie, where his hands held the fat of your thighs, eyes roaming up your body. Price hoped the fucking rookie could feel the daggers of his stare.

No one gets to look at you like that, except him.

And the fucker ruined his morning cigar.

•º•

"You wanted to see me, captain?" You asked as you entered Price's office that evening. You walked into the office with a small, pleasant smile on your pretty face, and Price's heart lurched in his chest.

He felt like an arsehole for being jealous. But he couldn't help it. There was just something about you that made him a man-starved.

"Lock the door, would you?" Price asked gently, trying not to portray his festering annoyance. You did as you were told, twisting the lock while Price got to his feet, rounding his desk and crossing the room.

You twisted around with a surprised look on your face as Price closed in on your space, your back to the door. You stared him down, and Price could feel the light brush of your chest against his as your breathing picked up.

"That rookie's taken a liking to you." Price said, cutting right to the chase. He saw your facial expression flicker to confusion for a moment, before your eyes brightened.

"Oh, Cairo? Yeah, he's great. He'll make a great soldier." You said, and Price felt his annoyance for the rookie increasing by the second. The way you smiled when you talked about him. The rookie.

Price scoffed. "He's obsessed with you. You know that, right?"

"It's a crush." You rolled your eyes.

"It's pissing me off," Price grunted. "He's barely paying attention to anything else but you."

You looked at Price with a glint in your eye Price had only ever seen once. Once, when the both of you had had too much to drink, and ended up in a very similar position to this one. Only, it ended with Soap drunkenly trying to kick the door down, scared he was missing out on something fun.

"You're jealous," you quipped with that beautiful smile Price loved. "You're jealous of the rookie, captain."

You trailed your fingers down his chest, feeling the warm muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. Price groaned back in his throat, a hushed, grumbled sound that made your smile grow.

"And what if I am?" Price asked, almost breathlessly, as your hand trailed further downwards. The tips of your nails scratched at his waistband, and he could feel his cock twitching in the confines of his boxers.

"I'd think that was totally understandable," you shamelessly flirted, your fingers dipping just a centimetre below Price's waistband, before you dragged your hand back up his abdomen. "I mean, if a rookie started flirting with you, I'd be livid."

Price let out a throaty laugh. "Would you now?"

"Mhm." Your hand skimmed up his throat, and you could feel the vibrations of his deep groans as you did so. You enclosed your hand around his jaw, fingers rubbing through his beard. He closed his eyes as you angled his face downwards, and slowly dragged him towards you.

"I mean, someone flirting with my captain?" You teased, the warmth of your words ghosting over Price's parted lips. "Well, I suppose I'd have to claim you as mine then, wouldn't I?"

Price grunted, another deep noise from the back of his throat, before he was surging forward and slamming his mouth to yours. You kept your hand on his face as you kissed, holding him to you. But he wouldn't have tried to break the kiss anyway– he was in fucking heaven.

The kiss was messy, fuelled by Price's overwhelming need to claim you as his. It wasn't graceful, or gentleman-like, as he had wanted it to be. It was desperate and rough, all tongue and spit, and as he pushed you harder against the door, he couldn't help but love it.

Your other hand was in his hair, tugging at the roots as your tongue met with his. His hands grasped and groped at the slope of your hips, the material of your thick cargo's angering him to the point he was pulling at your belt loops.

You laughed into his mouth, pushing him backwards and slipping your hands down your body. You unbuckled your belt, and Price was there in an instant to rip it away from you. You laughed again as you unzipped your fly and began shimmying your cargos down your legs.

Price slammed his mouth back to yours, the space between you agonising. He slipped his tongue back along your lips as you finally kicked your trousers off, leaving you pressed to your captains door in a t-shirt and underwear.

You were the one to break the kiss to breath, sucking in deep breaths as Price grumbled, trying to chase your lips. You smiled as he pecked at the corners of your mouth, and you grabbed hold of his chin again to steer him away.

"Someone's desperate." You joked, heart racing. Price responded with another grunt as he placed another couple of kisses to the corner of your mouth, before sliding his lips along your cheek and jaw. He began licking and sucking down the expanse of your neck, all the while slipping his hand into your underwear.

He moaned into your neck when two of his fingers made contact with your slick core, your arousal dampening the gusset of your underwear. Price could feel it against his knuckles. You keened into his touch as he rubbed two fingers slowly through your folds, the pace sending electric shocks through the base of your spine.

"Price..." You whispered, nearly a whimper, as his two fingers finally made contact with your dripping hole, teasing the entrance in loose circles. This time, you did whimper, when the rough pads of his fingers pushed inside you, so, so gently.

He moaned into your neck again, his tongue against your jugular, as he eased his fingers inside until the heel of his hand was pushed up against you. It pressed to your clit, thrumming with anticipation, and you felt your legs begin to tremble at the sudden pressure. You whimpered again, chewing on your lip to keep quiet.

The pace of Price's fingers sped up. Soon, the two digits were joined by a third, as he fucked you deep with his fingers. Wet noises filled his office, accompanied by the wet kisses he was placing down your neck, as well as the deep grunts eliciting from the back of his throat. You whimpered, clinging to his body, as your legs began to tremble. The motion of his fingers rubbed the heel of his hand harder against your clit, catching it repeatedly and making your mouth drop open.

Price pressed himself against you, keeping you pinned to the door. You could feel his cock, hard beneath his trousers, pressed up against you. You moaned, trying to get a hand between you, but the way Price was fucking you with his fingers made your limbs wobble. You whined outwardly, and Price moved his head to kiss you.

"Captain," you mewled into his mouth. He groaned lightly in response, his fingers curling inside you. "I n-need... fuck, I need you." You managed to stutter out as your orgasm flared hot inside you, but the weight of his clothed cock against your bare leg was making you dizzy.

He pulled back, eyes searching your face. He licked your saliva from his lips. "You want my cock? Yeah, you want it? Fuck... yeah baby, I'll give it to you, y'just need to come 'round my fingers first, okay? Okay, sweetheart?"

His words went in one ear and out the other, but you found yourself nodding. Nodding as, with one last curl of his fingers into that spongey spot inside you, you came. Your legs trembled, inner thighs shining with sweat and slick as he fingered you over the edge. You moaned loudly, and Price kissed you. You could feel him smiling against your lips.

You huffed against his mouth once your post-orgasmic haze began trickling from you, his fingers leaving your dripping hole with a wet schlick. You moaned when he pulled back and sucked his fingers into his mouth, eyelids fluttering. You moaned again when he took his fingers from his mouth and shoved them past your lips.

You wrapped your tongue around the three digits, enjoying the weight against your bottom teeth, while Price unbuckled his trousers– finally. You squeezed your legs together in anticipation, underwear drenched against you.

You hummed a pleased moan around his fingers when he pulled his cock out, fisting it a couple of times before guiding the tip between your legs. He rubbed it against your slit over the damp fabric of your underwear, and your eyes rolled as he caught your swollen clit.

Price removed his fingers from your mouth, using that hand to pull your underwear to the side. With his other hand, he repeated his earlier actions, this time without your underwear as a barrier. He dragged the leaking head of his cock through your folds, spreading your orgasm over your slit. It made you whimper, and he shushed you gently, placing a couple of quick kisses to the corner of your mouth.

"This alright?" Price asked as the head of his cock pressed heavy to your hole, slowly moving in just a couple of centimetres. It was almost humiliating how you squirmed against him, desperately trying to take more.

"Please, captain, I need you." You panted, head falling forward against his shoulder. You turned your face to the side and sucked above the collar of his shirt.

Price groaned, deep and gravelly and just the way you liked it. The vibrations tickled your lips as you sucked a bruise to his neck. Then, he slowly eased inside you, the stretch making you whimper.

"That's it, take it, there you go," Price whispered into your ear, making you whimper again. "There you go, sweetheart. Is this what you needed?"

"Yeah– ah, fuck." You moaned as Price snapped his hips, shoving his cock in roughly the rest of the way. The head of his cock knocked up against your cervix, and your cunt squeezed around him, making him groan loudly.

"Fuck, this pretty cunt's squeezing me so tight, sweetheart, fucking hell," he groaned out as he shifted his hips, dragging his fat cock out of you, before thrusting back in. He hummed contently as you moaned into his neck, and he gripped your hips, pushing you closer to him. Your underwear was tucked into the crevice of your thigh, the hand Price had on your hip helping it stay out of the way as he fucked you. He groaned again. "There you go, lieutenant. There you go, good girl. S'that feel good? Yeah? S'your captain making you feel good?"

Your reply was a moan against the flushed skin of his neck, your body buzzing as he slammed his cock into you. You could feel him in the base of your tummy, nudging inside you in a way that had sweat layering your skin and thoughts fizzling out of your brain. You could only whimper against him, clinging to his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the door.

His thrusts kept you pinned to the door, your shirt damp with sweat where your back met the wood. Your legs were shaking, with one on the ground and the other hooked around Price's hips. His cock hit that spot inside you over and over– that spot you could never fully reach with your fingers, and you briefly thought to yourself how you went so long without this.

"God, you're such a good girl for me," Price muttered, suddenly grabbing the back of your neck and angling your face to look at him. "You're such a good lieutenant for your captain, sweetheart."

He kissed you, and you couldn't do much in response to be honest. Your brain was falling short of telling you what to do, but you whimpered as his tongue pressed warmly to yours, and you could discern the lingering taste of your arousal in his saliva. That made you whimper, and he licked the sound from your mouth as his cock hit the plug of your womb.

You moaned, orgasm building quickly. Your legs were shaking, the base of your spine tingling. Your fingers tightened around his strong shoulders, your cunt tightening around his cock.

Price moaned. "You wanna come, sweetheart? You wanna come all over your captain's cock?"

This time, you somehow managed to get some words out.

"Please, please, please," you begged breathlessly, barely able to keep you eyes open as he fucked you towards your climax which built heavily in your lower belly. "Please, captain, please."

Price smiled, all coy and proud. The smug bastard, he knew how to make you feel good.

He knew what you needed.

"Come for me then, sweetheart, then 'm gonna fill you up, okay?" Price uttered, placing more kisses to the curve of your jaw, right below your ear. "I want you to tell me whose making you feel good. Whose filling this pretty cunt, hm?"

You hiccuped around a moan, your orgasm building so intensely that your vision was beginning to stray out of focus. You whimpered, high-pitched, as his cock continued to rut into you, ruddy tip slamming against your cervix and making you keen.

"Y-you, Price..." You whimpered, and the last syllable died on a moan. Price tutted, reaching a hand away from your hip to thumb your puffy clit. You whined his name again, breathy and light.

"Louder," Price grunted. "I want that fucking rookie to hear how good I fuck you– how good I'm filling this tight cunt."

His words all but ripped your orgasm through you. You moaned loudly as you came, cunt milking his cock in wet tremors. Your body trembled against him, and against the door, your heart rattling against your ribcage and that tight, hot pleasure releasing from your tummy.

"Captain– oh my–" You moaned loudly, your melodic voice ringing in Price's ears and making him groan out too.

You moaned loudly again as he came inside you with a groan of your name. He pumped you full, cum filling your cervix as Price pressed his pelvis to yours. He rutted into you a few more times, sealing his mouth over yours and swallowing the rest of the little whimpers that dripped from your lips.

"There you go..." He whispered against your mouth, finally stopping his lazy thrusts and pulling out of you, settling both your legs on the ground.

You whimpered, his seed dripping out of your fluttering hole. Price placed your underwear back over you properly, catching whatever else tried to dribble down your pretty thighs. He placed a soft kiss to your lips as he tucked his cock back into his trousers, still holding you up against the door.

"Alright?" He whispered attentively.

"Yeah..." You replied with a smile.

Price smiled too.

And, deep down, like the cocky bastard he is, he hoped the rookie heard all of that.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #captain john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #captain price #captain john price smut #cod smut #price cod #price call of duty #captain price x female reader

[solaireverie]

cl16 | lost in a film scene

summary: [ charles leclerc x f!actress!reader — social media au ] 

sometimes fantasy becomes real life. up-and-coming actress y/n l/n never thought she'd find love when shooting her newest movie, which incidentally involves formula 1, but charles leclerc is determined to sweep her off her feet.

— requested

faceclaim: simone ashley

author’s note: hi there!!! thanks so much for requesting ♡ idk how movies work so suspend your disbelief please lol. i hope that you enjoy this!!

[ masterlist / guidelines ]

89,123 likes

hollywoodupdates Universal Pictures has announced that yourusername will be playing Lila Gallagher, one of the main characters of a highly anticipated motorsports film that will be released next year.

view comments

user ugh i hope they actually represent f1 properly...

↪ user i heard that some of the drivers are involved so it should be okay!! 🤞

user y/n is gorgeous as usual 😍 can't wait to see her slay this role

liked by jacobelordi, raye, charles_leclerc and 23,392,341 others

yourusername monaco grand prix with slipstreammovie 🏎 ❤️🤍 glad to be back in the paddock again

view comments

user what's charles doing in the likes 👀

↪ user he was the one who invited her lmaooo

↪ user wait fr???

↪ user yep 😂 and he still had the audacity to play coy the entire time and act surprised when he saw y/n in the ferrari garage

user i really appreciate how y/n and the rest of the slipstream are genuinely trying to learn more about f1 and motorsport, can't wait for the movie! 🙌

liked by yourusername

user everyone say thank you to y/n for serving everywhere she goes

charles_leclerc enchanté 😉

liked by yourusername

↪ danielricciardo that's my line???

↪ user scratch that what's charles doing in the comments 🤨

charles_leclerc has added to their story

yourusername has added to their story

seen by blakelively, charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter and 3,492,591 others

charles_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 4,129,592 others

liked by charles_leclerc, jacobelordi, slipstreammovie and 52,128,392 others

tagged: slipstreammovie

yourusername and that's a wrap on slipstreammovie 🎬 i'm so excited for you to see the results of our blood, sweat, and tears — in theatres march 2024 🏎💨

view comments

charles_leclerc 👏👏👏

↪ yourusername 💗

↪ user oh my god???

user can't wait 😍

jacobelordi how was karting? 😂

↪ yourusername fantastic, thanks for asking 😌

↪ charles_leclerc if you call shunting it into the walls three times in your first lap fantastic, then yes it was

↪ yourusername french gp 2022...

↪ charles_leclerc okay fine! i never said anything 🥲

↪ user i don't know what's the best part of this conversation 😂 jacob indirectly confirming that karting wasn't a slipstream cast event, which means that y/n went separately with charles, charles teasing y/n, y/n becoming a f1 nerd, or y/n being an absolute savage

user hoping she's actually dating charles omggg

391,128 likes

hollywoodupdates yourusername has arrived on the red carpet for the slipstreammovie premiere! It seems that she's also brought a guest in charles_leclerc, who has been rumoured to be dating the actress since they met at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. Could this be the confirmation we've all been waiting for?

view comments

user i mean y/n just called charles her partner while talking to an interviewer so i guess it's true 🤯

↪ user she did?

↪ user yeah! i think the quote was "i'm really happy to have my partner with me today, especially since he helped me so much with finding the nuance in my role"

↪ user the racers who are also in love 🥹 idc that y/n is only a driver in the movie she'll always be a 2-time world champion in my heart

liked by yourusername, joris__trouche, slipstreammovie and 48,293,102 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc beyond proud of you, mon amour ❤️ you'll always be p1 in my heart

view comments

yourusername what if i'd rather be on pole position? 😏

↪ charles_leclerc there are children on instagram, y/n

↪ charles_leclerc but anything for you 😉

user I CALLED IT 🫡

user they're such a gorgeous couple 😵‍💫

user love how they're obsessed with each other... me core fr

user when's it gonna be my turn huh @ god 😒

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau

[cixteenyne]

I'm gonna ask early for that event if that's okay!! So how about being the Sakamaki's fuckdoll (diabolik lovers)? 👀

Pervy!Poly!Sakamaki’s x Fuckdoll!reader

I loved this idea so much!!! i wanted to make it even LONGERRR BUUUUTTTT i didnt know how, and the sexy music playlist stopped giving me scenarios for this, (female Aligned) (i had to look at various other smuts and videos to get these men right, partly right, since i dropped the show some time ago. hope you enJOyyYY

Content Warning(s): Polyamourous relationship, Exhibition, Edging, Cumming inside, Vulgar wording (i never hold back lol), Rough sex, Soft sex (as soft as a bloodthirsty vampire boy can get), Face fucking, mean vampires, Breeding, Somnophilia. Listen, a lot happens, ok? buckle up lmao.

It was almost like you couldn't catch a break with them. If it wasn't one it was the other, if one was absent another would show up with some outlandish demand!

You always let them do what they wanted to you, but most of that was because- you didn't know how to do any of it.

You were a virgin before this, before the brothers. yeah, but you weren't exactly innocent, just inexperienced.

Having them take the reigns feels so much better, and it feels right

It almost feels as right as the hands that grip at your arms, tugging you to where they wanted, those soft lips that trailed so sophisticatedly down your sides, the way that Shu would drag every part of himself on you, tease you until you whined and pleaded at him so sweetly that it made his cock ache.

He wanted you to whine his name into the air of the seemingly desolate manor they lived in.

He wanted his brothers to hear, to try and get a taste for oneself. 

They would eventually, but Shu learned to be greedy. He learned to keep you to himself with those sweet kisses, those long lasting cockwarming sessions, those marks he'd leave everywhere.

He knew you preferred him if he was greedy.

If Shu wasn't in the room it was Reiji, they way he undressed you while never even thinking to take off his own attire, it was embarrassing, but they way he studied you, as if something new had popped up (it had). He wasn't even kind enough to tug his gloves off.

He just leered over you, taking a skit of time to adjust his glasses, his eyes still never leaving you. He didn't use you per se, he just liked seeing you sink your fingers into yourself.

Sometimes he'd help you with his own fingers if you begged in that pretty way he liked, other times he would be mean and not even touch himself in front of you.

It was on those days where he watched you squirm in irritation and pleasure and couldn't help but want to stick his cock down your throat. Reiji  liked the way you looked at him when he threatened it.

Or when he mentioned that pretty red rope that he just so happened to have brung with him, they way your eyes widened, in excitement, fear, he didn't care. He was entranced by any look you gave him.

Though he likes his alone time with you, he knew you'd get oh so embarrassed and bashful if another brother were to walk in.

What a coincidence, Ayato just so happened to be in the bathroom the whole time…oops!

They'd both apologize so condescendingly, “oh..so sorry for scaring you like that” a frown on his face that did not reach the mirth in his eyes at your bare state, shying away from their apologies.

Ayato heard everything, you fucking your fingers as deep as they can go in front of Reiji, begging him to help, the way Reiji teased you without even touching you, you were too cute to him, like a mouse.

Since Ayato was a bit unfair, he decided to punish you for acting so whorish without him there, his brother said nothing to defend you from his mean sibling, that coy smile and that leering gaze never leaving your body.

They were both hard, painfully so, but they wouldn't let the fun end too soon.

They knew their cocks were a bit much, but you could take them both, yeah?

Kanato was much different from his brash and unthinking brothers, he liked being close to you, since in comparison he was rather icy. He's still almost as mean as his brothers, but he's not exactly nice either, just willing to let things slide for some time before finally doing something about it. Call it karma.

You had done something particularly annoying this morning, thinking he would do nothing given how different he was from his brothers, but he was anything but mindlessly nice, no, that was your job, you were supposed to be the stupid whore who does nothing but take whatever he shoves in you with a smile, and that was what he would remind you of, in his own Kanato way.

But you have fallen asleep, what a shame! Didn't mean he was gonna stop though, it's Kanato we’re talking about.

He had walked all the way to your room only for you to be asleep, so if anything, this was perfect, more than perfect.

Kanato had stripped you of your clothing, caring not about if he'd wake you up or not, you'd take it even if you woke up, he wanted nothing of your complaining

He'd do what Reiji couldn't, he choke you with his cock until you were crying, you were sleeping so what? You got yourself into this

He unbuckled his belt, not bothering to drop his pants to the floor, to make it all the more condescending he brought that damn bear with him..

His hips hovering over your unsuspecting head, he'd slowly dipped the aching tip into your mouth, just the warmth made him shudder against his cold skin, once it slid down your tongue, seemingly in slow motion, he couldn't hold back the moan in his chest.

As more and more of his cock slid down into your mouth, coated by your tongue, and into your throat, he immediately sped up his thrusts, the first 5 hadn't woken you up surprisingly, but the next one had, you woke up and your hand sped to his hips to slow him down, but not get him off, and he noticed- you were a whore whether you noticed it or not, he had to give it to you.

He'd make sure he gave you everything he had as well.

Although Laito was kind of an asshole, he would be what you liked sometimes, but that was only when one of his brothers was spending a bit too much time with you,

Which- he was still an asshole, but in the way that made your thighs clench, when you had to sit with panties full of your own cum.

Laito was rough with the way he handled you towards the bed, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back, constricting you as he rushes with his belt, the sound has you rearing in anticipation. The zip of his pants, the indication of it already has you whining.

Your cute little whorish skirt, that- yes, he had bought you, but that didn't mean to prance around in public with your pussy practically showing. So he's treating you just how you were acting. Like a whore.

He ripped your panties, the strings of your arousal glaring at him, he slowly stroked his cock, teasing you, rubbing the tip in your slicked pussy.

He gave his cock one stroke before plunging in at a set and relentless pace, he lifted your head by your roots, forcing you to look into a mirror he knew was there all along.

 He called you such mean names, so mean that it made your eyes roll back and your knees buckle, you'd have fallen to the floor if it weren't for the bed you were bent on.

He decided you had too many layers on and reached around you, to the button of your shirt and pulled, the material instantly gave in and he was met with the sight of your tits staring back at him in the mirror,

You knew you were being loud, you knew.

But the brothers knew what was going on the moment Shu got too meaningful with his kisses.

And you knew too.

Subaru was more needy than usual, the constant need to be around you before his brothers was intense, but when you confronted him about it, he was just as aggressive as usual.

His behavior has not changed, it has just intensified.

Especially with the way he had you in his lap, putting his lips anywhere he could, taking control of your hips, drinking up every bit of encouragement from you he could. He was somehow being aggressive and affectionate at the same time, he wanted you to feel every bit of him, his hands on your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, his lips on your throat anytime you threw your head back.

He stood up to lay you on the floor, too caught up in you, and his worry of those stupid brothers of his barging in, so he opted for the floor.

He shuffled off his shirt as fast as he could, palming his cock through his pants, as he got on his knees, hovering over you between the space in your legs, he leaned down to kiss you as he pulled his hard cock out of his pants, stroking it as precum beaded at his tip, trying to relieve some stress on his cock.

You didn't know when you got naked, or which one of you took them off, but you didn't have time to think about it with the way he held his hand against your cheek and pushed his head needily into your neck, the sweet gesture didn’t match the pace of his hips at all.

He was panting so hard you’d mistake him for a hound, his hand switched to the back of one of your knees, trying to reach deeper, to make sure his cum reaches the deepest point it could, he knew he came in large amounts and he didn't want any of it spilling out, he wouldn't have any of that, not when every else had their turn with you, the thought of it only made his pace relentless, you could barely think of what's gotten into him at all.

He'd make sure you were officially his after this, but he knew his brothers would only follow the same steps, but it's all a matter of who does it first.

And that would be undeniably him.

(Do not copy or translate anywhere until you ask! yes, you can still reblog, dont worry! <33) (Edited/Proofread 2/22/23 3:33PM)

#Diabolik lovers #subaru sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #smut #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers smut #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers x reader #x reader #x reader smut #laito x reader #laito sakamaki #asks

[ryndicate]

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal. 

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?” 

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why. 

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job. 

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him. 

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead. 

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts. 

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact. 

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways. 

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head. 

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one. 

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously. 

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong." 

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own. 

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort. 

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!" 

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing. 

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute. 

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow. 

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief. 

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him. 

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training. 

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are. 

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else. 

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see. 

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense. 

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side. 

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table. 

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you. 

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul. 

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night. 

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night. 

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves. 

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”. 

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead. 

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?” 

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.” 

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him. 

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt. 

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out. 

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him. 

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night. 

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him. 

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust. 

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now. 

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word. 

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?" 

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye. 

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence. 

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good. 

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade. 

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding. 

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making. 

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease. 

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair. 

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day. 

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement. 

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it. 

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?" 

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart. 

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?" 

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently. 

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight. 

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?" 

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes." 

"Tell me." 

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away. 

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo. 

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?” 

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?” 

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him. 

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations. 

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish. 

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded. 

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—" 

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please." 

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead." 

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that. 

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?" 

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface. 

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it." 

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me." 

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar. 

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p— 

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit. 

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. 

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance. 

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you. 

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall. 

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again." 

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen." 

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh. 

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again." 

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..." 

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me." 

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself." 

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh." 

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously. 

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly. 

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate. 

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature. 

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing." 

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out. 

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?" 

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far. 

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him. 

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting. 

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut

[buckybabesonly]

An Experiment in Jealousy

Summary: You decided to try and make Bucky jealous. Now, you would pay the price.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Self-indulgent porn without plot tbh, lol

Warnings: slightly rough sex, dirty talk, slight!daddy kink, unprotected sex

Length: 2k

Bucky was the first man to ever make love to you. And boy, did he do everything right. He loved to pepper kisses all over your skin, worship your body, whisper I love yous and I'm so lucky to have yous against your mouth as he thrust into you slowly every night, eyes locked with yours as you both reached your climax.

Sometimes, less often, he would fuck you. When you had a fight and the inevitable make-up sex happened, or when you were just in one of those moods and ripped off his clothes with such ferocity that he just knew what you wanted, or when you told him outright that you wanted it fast and hard instead of gentle and slow.

Tonight, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, to own you.

And so you had spent the whole night flirting with Steve, playing it in such a way that just about bordered platonic without being too outrageous, but just enough to get Bucky ticking. This, coupled with how you had absolutely iced your boyfriend out all night and instead spoken to Steve with laser focus, would absolutely get you what you wanted. You were certain of it.

You watched Bucky from the other end of the bar to discreetly observe his reactions, his leather-gloved hand wrapped around a beer bottle, the other one lifting up to brush against his lightly stubbled jaw as he observed you. He took a sip of beer, his eyes piercing, and you could tell he was gently seething.

You suppressed a smile. Jackpot.

Bucky all but slammed you against the door of your shared apartment as soon as you had closed it, pressing up against you firmly as you gasped at his sudden movement. His hands framed either side of your head, body trapping you in place as you stared up at his icy blue eyes.

"Is that how you want to play, doll?" he murmured, gritting his teeth as your chest heaved against his.

"Bucky, please," you whimpered, not even pretending to be coy. You knew that he knew exactly what you were playing at, and now it was time to cash in.

"Please, what?" Bucky all but snarled, cocking his head to the side as you blinked at him.

"I need it. Need you."

"So desperate for my cock, are you? You want me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Bucky asked, eyes flickering down to your mouth.

His words sent delicious chills down your spine, arousal shooting straight to your core. Your hands grasped his leather jacket, moving to peel it off, but his hands were lightning. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and held them back against the door with a gentle thwack.

"No," he said sternly. "You need to be punished."

Your pussy was practically dripping. You were so wet that you were almost convinced he would be able to smell your arousal soaking through your panties.

"How are you going to punish me, daddy?" you asked in a faux-nervous voice, feeling his hard-on through his jeans already, heavy against your inner thigh. You knew he liked it when you called him that.

"On your knees," he said in his deep, authoritative voice, eyes daring you to object. His tone was void of his usual gentleness. Tonight, he meant business.

You sank down to the floor as he worked at his belt, unfastening the piece of leather and letting it snake to the floor.

"Take it out," he instructed.

You reached out and unzipped his jeans obediently, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes. You touched his bulge over his boxers as he sucked in a ragged breath, unable to hide the effect you had on him despite himself.

Tugging down the waistband of his underwear, his cock sprung free, thick and heavy and red, the velvety head waiting to be sheathed inside your mouth.

"Suck it and make daddy feel good," he commanded, his fingers lacing themselves through your hair.

You didn't need to be told twice. You opened your mouth and wasted no time in swallowing up his cock, his length barely fitting inside your mouth, but you tried your best. You relished the taste of him, the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum, urging yourself to take him deeper and farther down your throat no matter how your gag-reflex protested at the intrusion.

Your eyes teared up as he began to gently fuck your mouth, his hands tugging on your hair without the actual force to hurt you, but encouraging you to take more and more of him into your mouth.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, head rolling back in pleasure as you served him, your mouth forming a suction around his fat cock, your tongue gliding up the length of his dick as you released him with a pop.

Your eyes were wet as you dived in again to taste him, so addictive, enough to make you feel so fucking horny.

For a good five minutes, the only sounds filling the room were his dirty praises and the gargle of you choking on his cock. Eventually you couldn't hold in your needy whines any longer.

"Please, can you put it inside me?" you begged.

"Mmm. I don't know if you deserve it."

Panic flashed briefly within you. Bucky had been known to deny you of release before when you had been particularly naughty, and you mewled in protest. You didn't want to be teased tonight.

"Please, I'll be good. Need you inside me. Don't you want to come inside my tight pussy?" You knew exactly what words would make him attack you hungrily like predator on prey.

Bucky snarled and bent down to grasp your upper arms, jerking you upright to your feet. He shucked off his jeans which were still pooled around his ankles and picked you up with ease, bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you onto your bed like you weighed nothing.

He shrugged off his jacket and tore his shirt off so he was completely naked, his muscular chest and arms flexing as he undressed. You were still on your back as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. You watched as he hitched up the bottom of your dress so it rolled up to your waist, pulling down the neckline so your breasts fell out and presented themselves to him.

"You want this?" he asked, slapping his cock against your pussy through your panties. His hands reached down to grab your tits, squeezing roughly.

"Please, please, please," you chanted like a mantra, hands reaching out for him. You pushed your panties aside with one hand and took his cock in the other, urging him to go inside.

"Needy, aren't we?" Bucky chuckled, biting down on his lower lip. "Tell me what you want. Use your words, doll."

"I want your cock in my cunt," you said desperately, wanting - no, needing to be filled by him. "I want you to fuck me like the fuckdoll I am. I want you to cum inside me, please - Bucky!" You screamed out when he suddenly thrust inside you without warning, without letting you adjust as he entered you all at once.

He bottomed out with a groan, his cock stretching your tight hole.

"Oh god, Bucky," you moaned as he moved with ruthless speed, fucking in and out of your pussy with such force that your tits bounced with every movement. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he leaned down and kissed you angrily, tongue sliding into your mouth.

"This cunt is mine," he hissed, punctuating every word with a sharp jerk of his hips. "No one else. You belong to me. Say it."

"I - ah - belong to - ah - I belong you you, Bucky!" you whined, struggling to catch your breath. "Wait, not so fast, please," you moaned as he hit that spot deep inside your cervix with no mercy.

He didn't stop his pace, only moved to prop your legs up over his shoulders to allow him even better access to you, his cock seemingly sinking even deeper into you, in a way that felt impossible. You felt so full, so over-stimulated, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Not so fast?" Bucky repeated with a humorless laugh, mocking you. "You wanted it to badly before, doll. I'm just giving it to you."

"Ah -Bucky - " tears of pleasure leaked from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to make a coherent sentence.

"Love how you're clenching around my cock. You were made to take my cock, to be filled up by me," Bucky said, the words making you wetter by the minute. "Gonna cum inside you, doll, gonna give you every last drop. Gonna remind you who you belong to. Gonna pound my cock into you until you beg me to stop."

"Daddy, please, cum inside me," you gasped. You could feel yourself reaching your orgasm, that feeling of pleasure creeping up slowly until you found yourself begging Bucky to keep going. "Please don't stop, don't stop, i'm almost there. Please keep fucking me, Bucky!"

A feral noise left Bucky's mouth as his cock continued to dive in and out of your sore pussy, never once faltering. You knew he could feel it when you clenched around him with a gasp, stars blinding your eyes as you came, his name falling off your tongue.

"Oh god," you gasped, heart beating rapidly as Bucky never stopped moving, smirking at your shaking form.

His hands reached down to flick at your clit as you squirmed, too sensitive.

"Bucky, no," you whined weakly, the pleasure too much for you as he continued to play with your pussy all the while his shaft disappeared into your cunt again and again, slick with your juices.

"You can do it one more time, doll, I know you can. Cum for daddy," Bucky grunted.

"Are you gonna cum inside me?" you asked as you felt the burning beginnings of another orgasm slowly stir inside you, biting on the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from screaming. Your hands made their way to Bucky's neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

"You're my cumslut, aren't you?" Bucky asked, eyes boring into mine. "Or do you want me to cum on your tits? Your face?"

The image of him painting your face white with his semen was almost too much. Tempting, but you knew you wanted it all in you tonight.

"Inside," you requested, almost begging.

He grunted in acknowledgement, and you knew he was close as he continued to draw circles around your clit.

He sped up the pace, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard behind you, vibranium hand crushing the wood as his hips stuttered. He groaned loudly as he shot his seed inside you, unloading his cum inside your willing cunt.

"Fuck, doll, you feel so fucking good," he hissed.

It was your second undoing at the feeling of him filling you up, and you unraveled seconds after he did, tears streaming down your face at the absolute electric pleasure of it.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating and panting, his lips burying themselves against your neck.

"God, that was fucking incredible," he said eventually, slightly out of breath. His cock was still inside your pussy, and you whimpered at the feeling of him sliding out of your hole as he softened, his cum following suit.

"You're leaking out of me," you sniffed in protest.

Bucky reached down to deftly slide three fingers into your used cunt, inciting a squeal from your lips, a teasing smile on his face as he lifted his head to look at you, challenging you.

His fingers fucked you, fucking his cum back inside, playing with it as you almost sobbed out loud at the feeling. Eventually he withdrew his hand and lifted his digits to your mouth, which you opened automatically.

You licked him clean, the taste of your combined fluids making you shiver with delight.

"Mmm, Bucky..."

You felt your eyes grow heavy as you finally came down from the high, but you could feel Bucky growing hard against you again, his hand pumping his cock to encourage it.

"Doll, we're not even nearly finished yet."

#bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes pwp #bucky pwp #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #daddy!bucky #bucky x you #bucky x you smut #mature

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides blue, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Your Own Space

Had this idea while writing something else lol

"Alright, this is my t-shirt drawer." He quickly opened the top drawer of his dresser, and you leaned over, nodding, trying to seem as interested as possible. "This is where I keep all of my hoodies." You grabbed at your favorite green hoodie of his, one that he wore a lot on your dates. "That's pretty much it." Jack shrugged, turning back to look at you. He quickly pulled you into his body, your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands found your sides, gently massaging your hips.

"As much as I love a tour of your closet, babe, I gotta ask why?" You furrowed your brow at him, making him chuckle. "I think we're at that phase in our relationship." You shook your head, not understanding. "Where you start stealing my clothes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You played coy with him, messing with the curls at the nape of his neck as he pulled you in closer. "Its, fine, really babe. I won't lie, there's nothing I'd like more than to see you in one of my t-shirts and nothing else." You felt your face heat up as he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively. "Jack, stop!" You squealed as he peppered your face with kisses.

You and Jack had been dating for a couple months, and you were at the point in your relationship where if he wasn't out of town, you were spending pretty much all of your time at his place. While you were still bashful around each other at certain points, you were past the "new relationship" jitters and things were slowly beginning to get serious between you two. Jack had brought up the idea of the two of you moving in together before, but you hesitated, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing the issue. He hoped that a few gestures would help you slowly warm up to the idea of living together.

"Alright, I've got one more thing to show you." He gently patted your butt before leading you to the back of his expansive walk-in closet. The space was empty, two racks with nothing but empty hangers and a dresser you could tell was empty due to the open doors. "Ok, now you've lost me." You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning your back against him.

"Its for you. To bring some of your things over here. No pressure of course, but you spend a lot of time here, thought it would be a good idea to give you your own space." You were quiet for a second, making Jack nervous. He stroked at his beard, watching you closely. "I'm sorry, I know it was stupid, and I shouldn't have surprised you-" Jack stopped speaking when you pushed past him without saying a word. He didn't expect this grand gesture to go so sideways.

You returned after a couple of seconds with your arms full of a couple of Jack's hoodies, a huge grin on your face. You hung each one up on the empty rack, before taking your favorite green one off the hanger and slipping it on over your head. Jack watched you with his head tilted, not able to hide his smile. "There, I thought I'd get my collection started now."

"So its not too much?" Your answer to him was a soft kiss on the lips, your hands cupping his face. You gave him a few following gentle pecks before breaking away. "I would love to share a closet with you, Jack. Thank you." He leaned in to kiss you again before pulling you into a tight hug.

"You can't have this hoodie though, babe." He mumbled against your shoulder. You pulled away, your bottom lip pushed out in a pout. "Its my favorite hoodie. You can have any other ones, except this one." You weren't giving up, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, and his resolve was quickly weakening. "Ok, fine", he finally agreed with a huff.

"Thank you baby." Jack watched you as you took your jeans off, tossing them into the closet, followed by your bra and underwear that you managed to take off without removing the hoodie.

"What are you doing?" Jack caught your undergarments as you passed them to him. "Rewarding you for being such a good sport and a kind boyfriend." You lifted the hoodie to flash him your bare ass, and he didn't need any words to know exactly what you were hinting at. "Are we really gonna ruin my favorite hoodie right now?" Jack whined, pulling his shirt over his head. "That's up to you babe!" You called over your shoulder as you ran to the bedroom, Jack jogging behind you.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[cream-stew]

cw: size kink, hand kink, horny rambling, body type headcanon for thoma, gn! reader alluded to as being shorter.

i can't stop thinking about big boyfie thoma + size differences. like he's so… tall ❤️ i've always kinda headcanon him as having a bit of a chubby/beefy body type. no defined muscles exactly, like the type of muscles you develop naturally when doing hard labor.

practically towering almost everyone, he's got those big, strong arms and hands, his fingers thick with callouses (i want them around my neck)

with how often he has to carry heavy luggages during work, no doubt he can easily manhandle you with those big paws 😍 pushing and pulling you into all kinds of different positions. what other things you got that's big, bb boy—

he'd be so reluctant to have sex with you at first, because what if he hurts you!! :(( cue sad golden retriever eyes.

but in actuality, the dork has been fantasizing about your first time with him ever since he first laid eyes on you. secretly having a size kink and goes wild whenever he gets reminded of how tiny you are compared to him.

sitting on his lap, all with a coy smile on your face? how dare you 🤨 internally, he'd be fighting for his life. even with something as innocent as holding hands, he'll end up a blushing mess.

i also just love the thought of sweet, innocent-looking guys going absolutely feral on their partners. it's just so 👋👋👋 you know??? (a,, are you seeing the vision, reader. im holding you by the collar of your shirt, im shaking you. can you see it—)

ahsjsks i'd let him decimate my 150cm ass. i have a few more ideas for big boye! thoma and they got me salivating, foaming at the mouth, shaking like a chihuahua. forgive me, cream-stew. expect me to go feral in your inbox a few more times.

also!! how's your health going? hope you're faring well 🥺 —🐾

🔞minors dni

warnings: afab reader, size kink, rough sex, vaginal fingering

// note: bestie I love these asks you are more than encouraged to keep going feral in here (no matter how long it takes me to reply... that's on me bc I'm lazy lol) this is so valid tho I'm kinda short too and size kink is so...🥰🥰

he starts out so soft and slow, stretching your wet pussy with one (1) single fingers, his hands shaking with the effort of restraining himself, not helped at all by the way you desperately beg him to fuck you already... but noooo you're so much smaller than him, the top of your head barely reaches his collarbones, his hands are so big he can completely encircle your ankles, and he thinks there's just no way his huge cock is gonna fit inside you :((

no matter how much you insist he still holds you down on your stomach, one big hand against the small of your back while the other one slowly pumps more fingers past your entrance, leaving so much of your juices gushing out and staining the bedsheets.

he scissors his two fingers before adding a third one, and you whine in frustration: you could already be bouncing on his fat cock but nope, he wants to be gentle :((

you're crying in equal parts pleasure and crumbling self restraint by the time he's done stretching you with four thick fingers and he's trying to replace them with his cock, gripping your hips with both hands and slowly pushing it inside your loose pussy. it's true that it's an incredible stretch but it feels so good!! you start begging again, this time for him to move and fuck you like he means it, and you're lucky this time: he seems unable to keep holding himself back, so yep, he starts pumping in and out of you at a ruthless pace, your poor pussy struggling to let him back in every time he pulls out completely before slamming right back inside. you just know your tummy is bulging out whenever the tip of his cock hits your cervix🥰

at some point, when he pulls out he doesn't push back inside so quickly: he rolls you on your back, manhandling you so easily it makes butterflies flutter in your belly, and hooks your legs on his shoulders, folding you in half. the position feels a lot better already, his cock hitting even deeper, but it's so embarrassing to be reminded of how short you are compared to him, you can't even see his flushed face as he fucks your brains out :((

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #thoma smut #thoma x reader #🐾 anon

[blue-slxt]

Kinktober 2

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: My first Spider piece! I'm super excited and nervous to get this one out! This was totally inspired by Luna! You can't tell me that Spider is not a pussy eating god. I hope you guys enjoy! All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Spider x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: Oral (F receiving), Teasing, Hair Pulling, Reader talks a lot of shit lol

You’d always had kind of a crush on Spider. As the only other human child left behind on Pandora, you two spent pretty much all of your time together. What started out as a fascination with the only other kid around that looked like you, grew into infatuation for the beautiful, strong man he had grown into. All your lives, you had only had eyes for him and you made it very well known.

Some might say you were…a flirt. Sometimes it seemed that every other sentence out of you was some kind of innuendo or some coy remark. And Spider never seemed to mind. If anything, it endeared you to him. He admired how straight forward you were, even if he never actually acted on any of your advances.

Today started off typical enough. You and Spider were hanging around the lab while Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Kiri were out doing their respective trainings. When you got bored, you two would play palulukan and hunter together. One would be the hunter and the other would be the predator and you would chase each other around trying to see who could corner the other one first. Today, you were the hunter. Spider runs and jumps around your room while you shoot pretend arrows at him and chase after him.

“Oh, you’re a slippery one!” you say firing off another imaginary arrow. Spider quickly evades your shot and comes up behind you and tackles you to the floor. Before you can react, he’s got both your arms pinned and your hips are trapped under the weight of his body. He leans down to your face smiling his lopsided grin that made your heart jump.

“Looks like I win. Again.”

You can’t help but to grin up at him.

“Oh, Spider, you know, I can think of a better use for that pretty mouth of yours than talking shit.” You shoot him a wink and you’re surprised when he raises an eyebrow at you instead of rolling his eyes as usual.

“You couldn’t handle what I’d give you” he says with his eyes flicking down to your lips. It feels like your breath gets caught in your chest. It feels like one of your fantasies coming true right in front of your eyes.

“Come on, I’m a big girl. I tie my own tewng and everything.” You playfully quip at him.

In seconds, his lips are on yours and his hands are all over you. Your hands fly up to get lost in his hair and you quietly pray in your head for this moment to never end.

It feels like his lips leave yours too soon, but they’re immediately back on you down your neck and chest pausing to suck on your stiff nipples.

“Mmf!” it’s an embarrassing squeak that you make. It’s only made even more embarrassing when he gives you that damn smug grin. You roll your eyes at him, “Shut up. You haven’t even done anything yet.”

His hand dips between your legs and straight under your tewng rolling his finger over your clit.

“And yet, you’re already this wet for me.” He says letting his tongue lick a long stripe up your chest between your breasts.

You and Spider may be humans, but his confidence and skill is all na’vi. Your face burns and it’s all you can do just to hold his gaze as he works his way further down your body.

He slides your loincloth to the side to expose your glistening cunt and holds your legs open by the backs of your knees.

You can’t bear to look at him any more when your hands shoot up over your face hoping to hide the flush in your cheeks.  

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now.” You can hear the smirk that he’s wearing right now.

“Shut up.” You say but it comes out muffled behind your palms.

Suddenly a warmth closes around your pussy and your hands fall from your face to see Spider’s head between your thighs. You could feel how he sucked lightly on your clit making your hips jump.

You had heard rumors from girls in the clan about how skilled Spider was, but damn, those rumors don’t do him justice with the way he’s devouring your cunt right now.

Your head flies back and your back arches in ecstasy letting the pleasure overtake you.

“Haah! Spider!” you whine.

His hands temporarily leave your thighs to grab your wrists and lead your hands to his hair, urging you to grip and when he buries his tongue inside of you, your fingers immediately grab hold of him. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the tug on his hair as he buries his face further into you if that were even still possible.

“Oh, my God! Oh, f-fuck! I’m gonna cum!” you say starting to buck your hips against his face.

“Mhm” he hums against your clit sending chills up your spine.

“Ah…shit!”

You shamelessly chase your climax using his mouth to get you there and when you finally reach it, your whole body convulses making your back raise up from the floor and your thighs squeeze around his head. Your hands are caught in a death grip on his hair and he moans against your pussy lapping up your free flowing arousal as you came undone.

Your body falls to the floor numb and the rise and fall of your chest is erratic trying to calm your thundering heart. Spider pulls off of you licking his lips still relishing in the taste of you on his mouth.

“Told you that you couldn’t handle it” he says still wearing that damn grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“What are you talking about? I’m still perfectly fine.” You say very obviously out of breath. “I was just letting you have your fun, but if I got serious, you’d be a mess.”

“Oh yea?” he says bringing his face back to yours and running a thumb over your lower lip. “Well, then how about we put that pretty little mouth of yours to work?” he taunts, mimicking your line from earlier.

You and your big mouth…

Kinktober Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ashlatano7567 @sincerelykaib @jamies-wh0re @quaritchsluts @jakescumdump @delacruzyari @onlyloaksgf @skywonder @taintedlovesworld @myloveforyouisforever @angie-1306 @moodays @childofgod-05 @hadesbabygurl @daddysmurfslefttoenail @loaksulluyswife @y4sm1nsstuff @thewhiltedpeony @lovefrommeelise @neteyamssyulang @rosyjn @imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd @anaclaudiasugar @xxwelshqueenxx @hania11 @xylianasblog @idkanymoregirl @eyrina-avatar @biscuitsaredelish @quinn-sadilla @the_mourning_moon @eyweveng @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @xaxsir @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @navilover24 @sulieykte @iameatingmyhair @leaveitbythewave @ntymavtr @fifilynn16 @kiri-tuk @mstocky78 @neteyamyawne @randumfanfics @sliqeramx @bluewonder @the-morning-moon @nerdfacesposts @vip-btxch @neteyamsyawntu @neteyamsoare

(If your tag isn't working, please check your settings.)

#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar fic #avatar fanfiction #avatar smut #avatar twow #spider x reader smut #spider socorro #spider soccoro x reader #lunaskinktober2023

[bengiyo]

My Personal Weatherman Ep 8 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, we got to see Segasaki's perspective on Yoh from college. We learned that Segasaki never felt comfortable around his friends and always masked. He reacted to Yoh seeing past his mask and drawing him. We also learned that Segasaki feels like he can breathe easier around Yoh, to the point that he believes he can't breathe without him. He thought Yoh had left because he doesn't know that Yoh is hiding the manga from him, and found Yoh trying to bring the laundry in during a storm. They kissed on the roof before coming back down. Segasaki apologized, which Yoh misunderstood, before he tied Yoh's hands and then threw him on the bed.

I like that Segasaki's aura broke under the weight of his insecurity here. Yoh wasn't ready for this at all.

"Have you ever considered my feelings?" is such a valid question.

Yoh really doesn't see how much Segasaki has been pouring his love on him the whole time, and doesn't get how deeply this misunderstanding between them has also hurt Segasaki.

"What is so good about me?" is also a valid and fundamental question that deserves an answer. Sucking on a finger and refusing to answer in a coy tone is not enough, even if it's hot.

Lol, Yoh admits to himself that he liked being tied up because Segasaki was anxious and finally admits aloud that he might like Segasaki.

Okay, Segasaki stopping immediately, and then zipping up the jacket after Yoh sneezed was also hot.

"I don't care anymore. I'm going to do this slowly so even a dense guy like you understands my feelings. You're prepared for this, right?" And that smirk? I'm gone. Bye.

I do like when they get to tend to each other when they're sick, and now we finally get to clear up the manga thing offscreen.

Segasaki tried to confess via the manga and Yoh totally didn't get it. We're running out of time!

I love Man-san. She's connecting her bestie to opportunity and telling him to stop doubting his boyfriend at lunch while still working.

There's only two of them. They'll be eating this curry for days.

Even if he's being himself about it, I like that Segasaki is trying to let Yoh have a life beyond them.

Oh, I really love that Segasaki wants the domestic ritual of coming home.

Oh lord I hope they don't get salmonella poisoning.

Final Verdict: 9, This Was Compelling. I really liked the exploration of this dynamic between the two of them. I feel like we still left a hole in how this got started and why Yoh misunderstood Segasaki so badly in the beginning, but the performances are so captivating that I will forgive them that oversight. I really love how effectively MBS used a small cast and small locations for this drama, and I genuinely hope we see these two actors working together again.

#my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #japanese bl #bl series #Ben watches

[makeyoumine69]

Patrick Bateman 🪓│ NSFW HEADCANONS (A-Z)

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ WARNINGS: NSFW content, horny devil Patrick Bateman himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: Around 1.8k

◥ A/N: This is just a shameless parade of my dirty thoughts. I hope you like it!😁

◥ LINKS: [Main Masterlist] [Original Post]

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Patrick can be completely different, depending on his mood.

He can be loving, he can be indifferent.

He can take you to the shower or run you a nice bath, or he can cuddle with you in his bed and then fuck you again if he's not fully satisfied.

When he's in love, he can hold you tight and watch you fall asleep, then kiss your temple and pull you close to protect you while you sleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well, Patrick is very proud of his dick, because it's beefy and long, with perfect veins on it. (So, I can't judge him for being so arrogant in bed, lol :D)

I'm pretty sure he loves your whole body, but his favorite part is your breasts. He can latch his plump lips around your nipple and suck it for hours like a baby until it swells up and you're begging him to stop.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Depends on his mood!😁

If you make him angry, he can cum all over your face and watch his cum running down your chin to your tits. But most of all, he loves to cum inside you until your pussy is so full of his hot liquid that it flows out.

ALSO, if Patrick wants to show you his absolute dominance, he can unload his cum right onto your belly and mound, and chest...You will be literally covered in his seed, and he'll smirk in satisfaction from this sight.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Patrick has a lot of dirty secrets when it comes to you, one of them is that he wants to see you desperately fucking yourself with a dildo while you moan his name, and your pussy gushes every time you push the dildo deeper.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

This arrogant bastard knows everything about sex, he watches porn every day, what do you expect?

His skillful fingers, tongue and mouth will bring you over the edge before you know it. No matter how hard you try to hold out, the pleasure he gives you will overtake your mind and you will have no choice but to turn into a whimpering dripping mess.

And of course, Patrick will find the perfect angel to fuck you, so that his thick cock will hit your G-spot and make you almost faint with delight.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Because it's so important for him to feel his real dominance, I'd say his favourite sex positions are prone bone, doggy style and when you're on your side and he's on top of you. Patrick will take every opportunity to press you against any surface he's fucking you on, so you can feel his power and his massive muscles.

To be honest, I think prone bone is his number one position. He can fuck you so deep and hard that you will definitely feel his dick hitting your belly.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He's serious most of the time, but sometimes he can chuckle at your coy reactions because Daddy knows you like the way he treats your pussy.

And if you try to deny it, he'll go even harder, fucking you faster with his cock/fingers or eating you out more vigorously, forcing your toes to curl and your voice to crack from how wild you'll moan.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

We all know how perfect this man is, so it's not surprising that his pubic hair is well trimmed.

His slutty line of hair that runs from his navel down to his manhood is something you can't miss to touch/lick/rub every time you have sex. Just because it's so fucking sexy.

And of course, he likes it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

This man is literally a mind-blowing cocktail of animalistic lust and loving tenderness.

He can switch between praising and degrading you so easily, while railing you so hard until you cry, and then he will either allow you to suck his finger or kiss you wherever he can to calm you down a bit, as by that moment you will certainly turn into a soaking moaning mess.

Patrick loves to caress your hips when he's eating you out, especially when you're so close to your orgasm that you can't stop your legs from shaking, he'll possessively but fondly hold them in one place.

And if you decide to make Daddy happy with a delicious blow job, he will definitely stroke your face and help brush your hair away if your bobbing gets too intense.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Patrick can definitely make you play with your pussy so he can watch and jerk off. And if you're a good girl, he can even help you climax by sucking your clit while your fingers slide in and out of your throbbing womb.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

DADDY KINK ALL THE WAY, Patrick wants you to be his little baby girl, so he can take care of you.

CORRUPTION KINK, just the thought of corrupting your innocent soul makes him instantly hard. He'll enjoy every second of corrupting you, reveling in all your unsophisticated reactions, when he eats you out for the first time and you cry out in pleasure, his ego will fly to the moon.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

THAT SLUTTY WHITE COUCH in his living room, for sure! He can fuck you on it, near it, on its back, on its edge. And each time, you will discover something brand new about how to give each other even more pleasure.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Let's be honest, he's horny for you literally 24/7. No matter where you are, in public or at home, Patrick's hungry eyes will be focused only on you and all he can think about is you and him having steamy sensual sex as soon as you have a moment.

But if you accidentally or purposely call him DADDY, he can just rip you apart right where you are, nothing and no one will stop him, believe me.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Patrick will never let you go, NEVER.

Even if you try to run away from him, he will find you because you belong to him. But I really don't recommend you test his patience, because this man gets mad very easily. He literally becomes a beast, and your little holes probably won't survive his savage assault.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

I think 69 position is a perfect option for the two of you, because Patrick loves to go down on you, but he also likes to get some vigorous sloppy head from you.

He can also use his mouth and tongue to overstimulate your pussy until you literally squeak and beg him to stop.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can only be really slow when you are having pregnancy sex.

But the truth is, Patrick knows how to keep a perfect pace, he feels the moment when it's necessary to go faster or deeper.

He will definitely roll his hips against yours to hit all the sweet spots inside your womb, stretching you so deliciously that you will have no choice but to squirm under him and cry out his name.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Damn, he can even fuck you in public if he has to.

So, you should be very careful, because even a little innocent action of yours can light him up like a match.

If he doesn't have enough time for proper sex with you, he can catch you in the kitchen while you're making breakfast for the two of you. Breathing heavily, he will snuggle into you from behind, trapping you in his brawny arms, pulling up your top to grope your boobs and pulling your panties aside to fuck you just right there.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Patrick's a risky guy for sure, but are you a risky one too?

Cause he'll surely get you into some knife games, including the blood play.

He will have a finger pressed against an artery on your neck to feel your crazy heartbeat as the sharp blade of his knife slides across the delicate skin of your cleavage. He will drink in all your high-pitched wails, every little tear, every jolt of your desirable body.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

If he's super horny and fresh, he can easily go at least 3 rounds, you'll definitely ask him to have mercy.

Even if he's super tired, he'll never leave you without some really good fucking. Patrick always takes care of his baby doll like a good Daddy does.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh, he will surely buy a bunch of sex toys just for you!

Butt plugs, vibrators, dildoes… And of course, he'll teach you how to use all of them.

When you tell him that no toy can feel better than his dick, he will go crazy and ready to worship your body for hours. His tongue is as strong as his arms, just sayin'.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's SUCH A TEASE.

Patrick can edge you for a very long period of time, but he actually doesn't like to be teased. So, if you really want to play with fire, try teasing him, but be ready for some orgasm denial, because Bateman is extremely vicious in his revenge.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

This baby boy can be very vocal when he's tied up and you're sliding against his engorged dick without even giving him a chance to touch your body… 😈😈😈.

But usually, he loves to hear you moan to know he's making you feel good.

Growling, huffing, panting - this is all about him too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

This man loves to fuck you when you are wearing nothing but cute socks because he finds it extremely hot and sweet. Daddy loves it when his little girl keeps her feet warm, and it also makes your orgasms more vivid.

He can even buy you a few pairs of lovely socks and ask you to wear them to make Daddy happy.

Of course, Bateman loves all kinds of stockings, because he's so addicted to your legs-he can't stop worshipping them every time you have sex, but SOCKS is his personal kink when it comes to you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's huge, okay?

Like 8 inches in length, and I won't even mention his girth. Your pussy will surely explode just from one sight of his beefy cock.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Let's be honest, his libido is insane!

Patrick can fuck you during the day, before you go to sleep and later in the morning.

Even when you're half asleep after a passionate night, you can feel his big palms roaming all over your body. He will murmur that he wants you again and his raspy voice will send shivers down your spine. And before you realize it, his leaking tip will be poking at your creamy pussy as he's going to pump her again, no matter if he's late for work, he won't leave you alone until he claims you with his cum.

Cause, he's a savage beast after all.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Patrick always falls asleep after you, because he likes to see you collapse from exhaustion, because he has given you a really good ride.

Sometimes, if you fidget too much around his bed, you might accidentally wake him up, and if you do, Daddy won't let you sleep until you satisfy all of his carnal needs.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader

[seasonsbloom]

dime store cowboy . hangman

PART TWO

pairing ; cowboy!jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; jake teaches you about the cowboy hat rule.

wc ; 2k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, non-explicit sexual content (it's just flirting)

note: YEEHAW PARDNERS.......... i'm so obsessed with this i'm gonna cry, thank you forever to the anon who requested this. also what if this becomes a series what then WHAT THEN. sorta modified the title from that one kacey musgraves song lol.

sol. sunderlust. you already know what i'm gonna say thank you for being my bestie :(

The whole thing is Carrie Underwood’s fault. You’ll go to your grave swearing it.

It’s just that you’re three strawberry margaritas deep, the lights in the bar are all dimmed, all neon, all flickering, and Jake is leaning into your space like he’s trying to smell your perfume, smiles at you like he’s completely charmed, and then somebody starts playing Before He Cheats on the jukebox and your brain just sorta like. Short-circuits.

The song always gives you an unwarranted burst of confidence, makes you feel like you, too, could vandalize a cheater’s car in a flurry of righteous wrath, so it’s not that difficult to reach up, lifting half out of the bar stool, face suddenly just an inch from his, and steal his hat. The fabric is surprisingly soft beneath your fingers.

At first, Jake looks surprised, his mouth twitching in amusement.

“What you trying to do with that, sugar?” he asks.

And the thing is this. You’re new in town and decidedly more urban (cosmopolitan, you’d like to say, but really, who are we kidding here?) than the rest of the crowd. It’s all a bit strange, all unfamiliar, but when your co-workers invited you out for a Friday night of drinks at the local bar, you were beyond grateful. It was supposed to be a nice little get-together among people who would hopefully become friends. You didn’t expect a guy who looks like he could be Mr. August in a calendar dedicated to half-naked hot cowboys doing various types of manual labor to walk up to you and start flirting like his life depends on it.

At least you think he’s flirting…? You’re not that well-versed in this whole thing.

You shrug, hope you look more confident than you feel.

“When I was little,” you say, turning the hat over and peeking at the inside, where a label proudly states Property of J. Seresin. You let a finger run over it, tracing the shape of his name. “I used to dream about being a cowgirl.”

You flip the hat again and put it on. It’s big enough that it goes slipping down a few inches, almost covering your eyes.

Something on Jake’s face goes taut, his gaze darkens, the fist on the bartop clenches once then relaxes.

“Did you, now?” he asks, his voice suddenly lower, and he takes a step closer. His hip knocks against your knee where you’re angled toward him, every point of your body unconsciously straining closer during the conversation. He tips the hat back an inch or two from your forehead, clearing your vision, and looks down at you, searches your face for something. “Looking good.”

He’s silhouetted by the lights of the bar, bordered by the people crowding behind him to order, but you can’t see anything past the green in his eyes. He’s pushed so close he’s almost between your legs, your thighs like open brackets around the shape of him. The hand at the brim of the hat wanders down your back slowly before settling on the backrest of your stool. It’s not even a touch, just the allusion to it, but your heart goes pitter-patter in your chest.

“Do I?” you ask, breath hitching, legs bouncing with the nerves of it all.

You just don’t do this sort of stuff. Flirting with people, letting strangers chat you up in bars, going along with the quips and the banter and the coy touches… you’re so out of your element. And even Carrie Underwood and her misplaced pep talks have deserted you now. She just threw the match, and then she hightailed it out of here. Traitor.

Jake nods. “You’re real pretty, sugar,” he says. “I especially like the hat with that dress.”

You glance down at yourself and grin. The dress is decidedly too much for a joint where everybody else seems to show up in denim or flannel. You’re just glad you skipped heels in favor of sneakers to dress the whole thing down - you would have stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of cowboy boots.

“This isn’t really… saloon appropriate, is it?”

He laughs, and the sound of it warms your chest. “Not exactly,” he agrees. “But I like it. It suits you.”

“How so?”

Jake lifts a shoulder in a shrug, something unreadable playing about his mouth. “Makes it look like you’re not from here.”

You frown and ask, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Sugar,” Jake chuckles, and the sound of that stupid, ridiculous pet name sends a shiver down your back, “that’s just about the highest compliment I could ever give a girl.”

You don’t know what to say to that - your cheeks feel kind of warm, and your brain is buzzing like a beehive. 

“I can’t really… see in this thing,” you mumble, tugging at the brim that keeps slipping. Suddenly a little frail.

Jake laughs again, and you decide that you don’t just like the sound - you love it. 

“You’re a cute one, huh?” he says, voice only a little mocking. He leans into your space, crooked grin so close to you that you can see the stubble forming along his cheeks and jaw, a golden dusting of hair against the sun-kissed skin. For a breathless, head-spinning moment, you think about how it would feel pressed to the inside of your thighs, raspy and tickling and just the right side of painful.

He rights the hat, pushes it higher up on your forehead, and then his hand travels to the back of your neck, stays there. His thumb brushes from the brim of the hat to the knob of your spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You let out a shuddering breath, legs clenching.

“So you dreamed about being a cowgirl, yeah?��� he asks, withdrawing his hand and taking a swig of his beer.

You blink a few times until your vision goes from blurred to focused. Then you clear your throat. “Yeah, like… in elementary school, I think.”

“What’s your opinion on cowboys, then?”

You shrug, turn your upper body sideways to finger the stem of your cocktail glass. “I suppose they have their uses.”

He laughs, the sound a little heavier than it was before, and says, “You ever dreamed about any of those, too?”

It’s crude, it’s forward, it’s an innuendo so thinly-veiled it’s pretty much translucent. It should make you balk.

But there’s something about the night. The music, the drinks, the boy. The heat of the summer outside and the thrill of a new town and a new dress and a new life. It all makes you feel a little bit dangerous, a little bit sexy, a little bit loose. Maybe just for one night, you can pretend to be someone else. Let your hair down.

“Maybe,” you say, hoping it comes off mysterious instead of guarded, closed-off, disinterested. You turn to take a sip of your margarita, and then, in a move so bold not even Carrie Underwood and her car-wrecking could claim it, you lick the salt off the rim of the glass.

When you glance up at him again, his pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any green left visible. He’s looking right at your mouth.

“Anything I could make come true?” he asks.

It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you pull back now, you’re pretty sure he’d leave you alone. Jake is forward, confident, sure, but he doesn’t seem like the pushy type. For some insane reason, you feel safe with him.

“Depends,” you say. Your voice has gone so quiet you’re surprised he can hear you over the din of the bar. The song has changed, but you don’t recognize the tune. You can’t focus on anything except the man right in front of you anyway.

He doesn’t ask what it depends on, and you’re glad because you don’t have an answer for him. You’re playing this whole thing by ear, and apparently, your hearing is impaired.

It starts as a tingle, as pins and needles, and when you look down, you find Jake’s hand on your thigh, just above the knee. Fingers splayed wide, radiating heat. As your heart rate kicks up a notch, you squirm in your seat.

Jake raises his free hand and tips two fingers to the brim gently. “You know what this means, pretty girl?”

His thumb traces a path up the inside of your thigh, leaves goosebumps in its wake. Suddenly, your mouth is drier than the Sahara desert.

“What?” you ask stupidly. You feel like there’s an entirely separate conversation happening here, one you aren’t really following.

He smirks, but his eyes don’t move from your face. “It’s not really something good girls do.”

You’re distracted by the tuft of hair protruding from the unbuttoned collar of his flannel, the same color as his beard. You wonder if it stretches all the way down beneath the obnoxiously large belt buckle.

Your voice has gone airy. “Why not?”

He hums, fingers traveling just a little higher up on your thigh, almost creeping beneath the fabric of your dress now. You hope you’re not sticky with sweat. It’s so hot in here. But then his fingernails scrape over your skin, the softest of touches, and that thought dissipates along with any other.

“See, there’s this rule, sugar,” he says and leans even closer. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he just goes on, “You steal the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

Your brain implodes. If you tried to get up right now, you’re pretty sure you’d keel right over.

“Does that really exist?” you ask, voice barely more than a whisper. He’s so close that you can smell his aftershave, can count the freckles scattered on his nose. So close if you just lean in an inch, half an inch, just a bit…

Somebody says your name, and you almost topple backward off the bar stool in your attempt to put distance between him and you.

Your co-worker stands a step behind you, eyebrow raised and a disapproving look on her face.

“I’m heading home now. You still need that ride?”

Part of you wants to say no. Let Jake take you home or to a bathroom stall or to the back of his pick-up. Make good on that rule you’re not sure he didn’t just make up. Give into the insistent thrumming of want in the pit of your stomach.

But there’s a rational part of you left, too, one that hasn’t drowned in margaritas or the green of Jake’s eyes yet. One that remembers who you really are, truly, beneath the thin veneer of tonight’s pretense.

So you clear your throat, slide off the barstool, and right into his arms. For a second, you’re chest to chest, stomach to stomach, then you’re stepping away, wondering distantly just how flustered you look and taking the hat off.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this,” you say sheepishly and hand it back to him.

Jake smirks, something in his eyes twinkling.

“Always happy to make a lady’s dreams come true,” he says, popping the hat back on. “Anytime, Ma’am.”

You grope around for your purse blindly, a lump in your throat that makes it impossible to speak. That and the fact that you have no idea how to answer that.

“Seresin.” Your co-worker nods at him.

He waves back silently, then casts another long, lingering look at you that makes your heart miss a beat or two.

“I’ll see you around?” you ask, voice trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

The corner of Jake’s mouth lifts in a grin. 

“You can count on it,” he says and tips his hat at you. “I believe you may owe me a ride.”

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: dsc

[demeterdefence]

Can we talk about how last chapter Persephone had that moment with her past self saying she'd protect her, protect herself... and then this new chapter didn't have her do anything at all except stand there. She has ONE line protesting apollo's plan and then shuts down. Everyone else is arguing for her. And like, I don't have a problem with people protecting her but. As a story it's hard to take it seriously when she has this big moment saying she'll protect herself and then nothing comes of it. She also only has SIX lines this whole chapter, and 4 of those are after leaving the press conference with Hera.

god yeah i was already so disgruntled over the "i will always protect you" thing because we KNEW it was just more classic "therapy speak" tacked on for some kind of semblance of girl power, but the next part really does just seal it in doesn't it

like i'm sorry, but persephone telling her younger self she'll "always protect you" is a lie front to back because persephone has not and likely will not do anything to address what happened to her, she has done nothing to bring her rapist to justice, she won't even let other people deal with him so the whole scene is just this random facade of girl power that is anything but. and then we dive into the actual mess of it and like

absolutely unrelated but i love how rachel cannot draw feet facing forward she has to draw them from the side so we have this anatomy twister anyways

the warning ahead of the chapter said "manipulation that causes psychological distress" so couple that with the "i will always protect you" from last chapter, you have either persephone realizing how wholly out of her depth she is at doing that, or you have rachel thinking this is? somehow protective?

like okay it's cool you're angry i guess so are you going to do anything about it? are you going to tell all the people watching live that apollo is a rapist? are you going to point to any of the many gods milling around who know what happened (hermes, for example) and say "hey, these guys can vouch for me that apollo is a predator, he has hurt me before and i have good reason to suspect he's trying to do so again."

classic copy paste of panels to meet the panel count but also two former love interests of persephone get to be the one to point out the logical fallacy! interesting!

i forgot about that stupid drill lol but yeah that sure looks like protecting nineteen year old persephone i guess

and i'm not trying to be coy or nitpicky because again, we are talking about facing a rapist who has caused unimaginable damage and it's very easy for people who haven't gone through that to say "just say something persephone!!!" so my frustration isn't necessarily with persephone herself, it's rachel insisting in the narrative that persephone is healed and getting better and stronger and then failing all across the board to show it. it's rachel having hera come in at the last second to save persephone, while the male admirers in persephone's life fight the male abuser. and it's downright insulting that all the times persephone has had a quote unquote "girlboss moment" it's when she's bullying lesser beings or those who simply cannot defend themselves against her. when she's up against a force that frightens her or is stronger than her, she lets other people do the work. it's just so absolutely disrespectful to abuse victims, to the concept of abuse, and to the idea that persephone is protecting anyone, least of all herself.

#answered #anti lo #anti lore olympus #abuse ment / #assault ment / #rereading this chapter to get my evidence and wow the mess is just lying out there #like u really live like this rachel? #like i WANT the scene to WORK #i want her to protect herself!!! #but she's got to do the work! she's got to face the monsters!!! #thank u so much for the ask once again i am fighting rachel at dawn

[eriexplosion]

Cut for fandom salt

The reason I get so heated about the 'Is Tech Alive/Dead' discourse is that like. It is very hard for me to explain just how pissed I would be if he was dead. Not because 'oh no a thing happened in the show that I didn't like' I'm in my fucking thirties I've dealt with shows making stupid decisions before. It's what a permadeath here in particular would mean with everything surrounding it.

It's starting a series based around getting you to want a family to reunite just to pull the rug out 2/3rds in and say 'lol dumbass they were never going to reunite.' All those themes of family and needing it to be complete? Never meant anything.

It's building up a character, intentionally making sure he's read as neurodivergent in a very clear and confirmed way, giving him multiple plotlines, and then cutting them all off without finishing any of them by taking two episodes to set up a mission that has zero plot purpose except to kill him off and then say Oh well it's stakes and consequences there had to be a price to pay for... trying to reunite the family and save their brother I guess. How dare they.

It's providing zero confirmation in story on the death, spending months upon months saying shit like 'he doesn't come back in this episode at least' and 'this was the end of mine - and that's a good thing!' and 'if you could only see who's on my screen' knowing that there's a large portion of fans genuinely upset by his death, using social media pretty much exclusively to rub our faces in the scene, and then turns out they were just stringing everyone along the whole time, he really was dead, the lack of confirmation in episode meant nothing, us playing coy and dropping hints for ten months meant nothing, fuck you for giving a shit.

It's setting up a story where the clones could be more than soldiers and then abruptly cutting it off and going on and on about how wonderful it is that he died self sacrificing as a soldier and it's what any clone would want, because this show about how all clones are individuals is actually about how they're all interchangeable and any clone would want the same thing.

It's that if Tech is dead there is not a single piece of the show, a single interaction with the fans since it happened, a single anything from anybody involved that was not set up to make ND people hope (or god forbid even feel some kind of acceptance at seeing a neurodivergent character getting treated seriously) string them along, and then punish them for it so that everyone else can coo about how mature and bold it was to kill off the autistic guy for shock value. And then they don't even fucking address it the next season because ~oh there's just no time~

And I would really prefer if a show that I have loved almost every other aspect of, that has been genuinely well written and moving, didn't randomly decide to drop every single piece of their writing ability in order to put out the most ambiguous death scene ever, fuck with their audience for ten months, and then shit on them for caring.

#eri talks #because every goddamned day I have to see another thing about why 'oh it's good writing if he's dead' #no it's fucking not #this is not one of my well reasoned and in depth debate posts this is me venting

[my-own-walker]

Jigsaw Falling Into Place

Anonymous asked: Can you do some smut ab evan himself?

note: i am getting back into writing more small stories because i don't wanna get bored of the series haha. trying something a lil different

summary: in 2011, indie musician/rockstar reader has had a thing going with evan peters for a while. neither of them can stop thinking about each other. it's high time they talked it out.

warnings: sm*t, being delulu with a celeb fantasy, f1ngering, p in v, rushed plot lol

+

I loved doing strange things in the name of art. Even if it meant stirring up a bit of controversy. I had my fair share of weird music videos and clothing choices that turned heads. It's what you need to do to get noticed.

My band and I received some negative press when I said some...choice words about men in an interview. Why people were shocked that the female lead singer in a band had strong feminist viewpoints was beyond me. In my time away from working, aka, hiding from the controversy, I spent time socializing.

Being in my early 20s, I felt my freedom was stifled by my schedule and record label obligations. Now that I was being forced to step away, I had time for a social life. I went to more parties and met cool people. One of which being this guy, Evan.

Although we never said it to each other, I think we both knew.

From the moment we locked eyes, I knew one thing; I wanted to know him. I'm not sure if it was him or I that moved toward the other first, but we met in the middle of the crowded room, like a fucking movie, and he said:

"You look...you look very nice. B-beautiful, I mean. Damn, why can't I speak?" He looked around bashfully, saying 'I hope no one heard that' with his eyes.

I returned the compliment with a lopsided grin and a simple, "I'm Y/N."

After a lengthy conversation off in a corner somewhere, I wrote my number down on the back of his hand and took off, fucking off back to my apartment to seem mysterious. I waited by my cellphone with bated breath, seeing if he'd follow the "three-day rule." He texted me within an hour of me leaving.

We saw each other regularly for weeks after, continuously finding reasons to hang out. I was a spellbound darling in the haze of a precious love story, fawning over a starry-eyed boy.

My desire to seem aloof and therein more appealing, though, made me act coy in his presence. I could see it in his eyes that he felt the same, but I wasn't about to make that my problem. My fear of rejection kept me from overstepping the line of friendship.

Another drunken night at a bar after seeing some indie band play left me with some bad press again. I got caught mouthing off to a photographer who was hounding me in the street. A classic story, right?

Due to that, though, I was seriously put in time-out by my label, them advising me to stay home for a while. To avoid nightlife, that is. Just until it all blew over. I sat bored in my apartment, trying to write songs when my cell phone buzzed.

E: hey!!! how are u?

you heard :/

E: yeah. bummer :^(

i'll be fine. more time to b productive!

E: what are u up to now?

about to make dinner :D

E: ooo whatcha makin?

salad!

E: make enough for 2?

I can ;)

E: what's ur address? i'm coming over

I threw my phone onto the couch and sprung into action. I had to make the space look as presentable as possible for his visit. We had known each other for about a month, but neither of us had been to each other's place.

It took him next to no time to arrive. The knock at the door announced his arrival. I physically dropped what I was doing to let him in, anxious to see him.

He stood outside my door, rosy cheeks and bleach-blonde hair making his appearance seem almost ethereal. His eyes sparkled when he saw me.

"Come in," I smiled, gesturing toward the open space of my living room.

"Wow, it's nice in here," he cooed. I parted from him to return to making dinner. I watched as he observed the space and meandered over to the sofa, flopping down a a large sigh.

"What's the matter?" I asked, laughing.

"It was an ordeal getting in, is all," he chuckled, leaning forward in his seat to peer in at me.

"Why? My doorman is rather nice..." I returned.

"No, I made sure I got in in a way that I couldn't be seen," he explained. "I know you probably don't want to get caught with a mysterious guy sneaking into your apartment,"

"And why's that, Evan?" I challenged, finishing up and heading into the living room to sit with him.

"Big news, and all," he said, bashfully. "All things considered."

"I'm not worried about it, honestly," I assured him, putting a hand on his arm. "I've found that once you've ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely."

He coughed lightly and pulled at the collar of his sweater before sitting back with his arms crossed, very obviously checking me out with a smirk on his face. I ran my hand through my hair and adjusted the way I was sitting. So many words to say, but neither of us had the courage to do so.

All at once, Evan's lips were on mine. At first, I tensed up and pulled back, then, I relaxed into it, putting a hand on his cheek. We kissed passionately, his arms eventually snaking around my waist and pulling me even closer.

"My god," he gasped, pulling away. "You're fun to kiss."

I could only reply with a bashful laugh, my cheeks burning red.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he exhaled.

"I've been wanting you to do that for a while," I returned, resting my hand on his chest. He looked down at the touch and back up at me with a glint in his gaze. The moment lingered, and I was spellbound in the light of his undivided attention.

"I never pictured myself getting this far. I don't know what I'm doing, quite frankly," he admitted, his brows turned up in disbelief.

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his, pausing for a moment before giving in to the need to kiss him again. We pressed our foreheads together in the tightest embrace, this being the result of weeks of restraint.

Although we never said it to each other, I think we both knew.

His left hand threaded in my hair, his right still firmly wrapped around me, I was lit on fire. The all-consuming moment made it hard to breathe. I wanted him all at once. I wanted his very essence to touch every part of me. Every cell and fiber and bone in my being.

It mattered not what was going on in the world. The problems and the hurt and the unrest. At that moment, it wasn't our fight. Not our war. No longer a worry.

Evan was the only thing that mattered. Him.

"I need you," I murmured against his lips, grabbing the fabric of his shirt in my hands and pulling him on top of me.

It was like diving into the ocean, too swept up in the current to realize I was drowning in him. His hands were all over me. Pulling at my clothes and feeling at the glimpses of bare skin underneath.

I wanted all of it.

Just as I tugged his sweater over his head. Just as he pulled at my t-shirt. Just as I undid his belt. Just as he slid my skirt down over my knees. Just as he threw his own jeans across the room. A warmth spilled into my chest and spread outward. His presence soaked through my skin.

His lips ran up my neck and stopped next to my ear. "Okay?" he whispered.

"Yes," I breathed.

He spread my legs apart softly before lining himself up with my entrance. I moaned in his mouth when he penetrated me. He kissed me until all I could breathe was him. I ran my hands up his naked back as he found his rhythm.

I lost track of time. I was intoxicated by the heat of the moment, the warmth of his body, the waves of intense pleasure. There was something there that was real and raw and rare. We fit together like a jigsaw falling into place.

Before long, I found myself ready to succumb to the waves of pleasure. Evan must have seen it, because he paused for a moment, to say: "Not yet, beautiful." He pulled out of me and kissed me all over my body, tauntingly slow.

Then, he slid his fingers into me, setting a lazy rhythm that made my back arch and my toes curl. I existed at his very will. And all at once, after clinging desperately, I let go with a light moan. The pressure boiled over. Shudders shook me as I rested my forehead on his.

Evan's hands tightened on my waist. "Alright?" he asked, making sure he had permission to enter me again. I nodded.

He slid in. My arms were wrapped around his shoulders, my uneven breaths fanning his throat. He came with a masculine groan. The moment soaked through my skin. I could have lived in it forever.

We lay together in momentary bliss, I stroking his sweaty hair, him tracing shapes onto my arm with his finger.

"I love you," he whispered, before pausing entirely and saying a bit louder, "god, I mean, I love, holding...you."

I chuckled softly and guided his chin up to kiss me again. "You do?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"I didn't mean to say that but yeah, I think I love you," he replied bashfully.

"Well, I think I love you, too, Evan," I smiled. He hugged me tighter, inhaling deeply in the crook of my neck. "God, I forgot all about dinner," I spoke after a beat. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not for salad," he laughed. "If I'm being honest, I don’t even like it. I just lied to get to your apartment."

+

DID MY BEST TO "TEXT" LIKE IT WAS 2011 FORGIVE ME!!! CRINGE!!! This was a fun one to write hope u like it and pls lmk if you do!!! (but not if you don't)

#evan peters #evan peters fic #me talking #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #ahs #james patrick march #evan peters oneshot #kyle spencer #kit walker #tate langdon ahs #tate langdon