#no reader description

[giftedyoungster3000]

Stay with me

Dbf and adrenaline C3 and C4

Summary: after your father had received a number of serious threats he figured it would be best to put you under protection and have a trusted bodyguard at your side. Who better for that job than his close friend Bucky. (Bucky met reader when she was already an adult)

Warning: age gap (reader is early 20s Bucky is about 40 or so, both are consenting adults) dads best friend, creep at bar, mention of future smut/public sex, pet names, slight implications reader is female, no real description of reader

@buckybarnesevents June-iverse

Word count: 1k

A/n: pushing the due date for this last fic but here it is. It’s unedited not proof read or anything but it’s posted.

“Stop being a brat. I’m not happy to be doing this either, I owed your dad a favour” his hot breath danced on your neck as his annoyed voice snarled. His hands landed on your waist bringing you closer. He knew exactly how flustered you got around him. And boy did he use it to his advantage. Always finding a reason to be holding you, especially in front of your father. He could get off just by watching your cheeks heat up bright pink and you trying not to squirm. He knew he shouldn’t have these thoughts about his old pal's daughter. But he reasoned with himself that it was ok seeing as he met you at a bar before he even knew you were his friend's kid. So was it really that wrong?

He surveyed the bar before refocusing his attention on you. He knew the threat wasn’t serious and your father was overly paranoid but Bucky wasn’t taking any chances. He was asked to protect you and he sure as hell wouldn’t let you get hurt under his watch.

You stood in front of Bucky looking up at him desperately wanting all of his attention. You were about to snap. You were almost completely sure that whatever feelings you had toward this absolute beauty of a man were reciprocated. But then doubts would creep in. He was almost double your age and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Surely he wouldn’t want a kid like you. But ever since your dad started getting threats and he asked Bucky to be a bodyguard of sorts you allow yourself to take these moments alone and fantasize about what it would be like to have his attention on you for other reasons. Be able to have him for yourself, claim him and make sure all the people who were eyeing him knew that he belonged to you.

“I’m bored James.” You wine trying to pull his attention away from the crowd and towards the pout and puppy dog eyes, you wore.

He sighed looking at you and flicking his eyes down to your lips, they looked so full and soft, shining in the light of the club. His patience was getting thin.

“This is what you chose to do tonight.” He pointed out, struggling to pull his eyes away from your face. “So either we stick the night out, or I take you back home so you can hide away in your room again.” He lays the two options out for you calling out your habits in the meantime.

“Fine, at least get me a drink please?” He silently nods and pulls away to get your drink already knows what your favourite is. You follow him with your eyes as he walks over to the bar. Your mind is too distracted by the eye candy walking away from you to notice the man creeping up behind you.

His hand grips your waist unexpectedly and turns you to him. The strong smell of smoke enters your lungs and you feel nauseous.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Are you looking for a good time huh? Well, you’re in luck, babe.” The man’s voice dragged through the air and into your ears.

“Excuse me?” You push the man away from you trying to put space between you and this creep when he grabs your arm tight enough to make you wince.

“Don’t talk to me like that you whore. Who do you think you are.” His face was close to yours and his voice laced with venom. You were sure this was your end.

Before you had even finished mentally saying your goodbyes the man was pulled off of you and thrown into the side of the bar counter. Effectively making him no longer a threat.

“No who do you think you are.” An oddly familiar voice asked the man now laying on the floor. Looking over to the two men, Bucky stood over the creep who curled on the floor in pain. Bucky's heavy black boot lay against his chest keeping him down. Bucky reaches forward grabs the man's shirt collar and pulls him up. As Bucky stood a head taller than this man he leaned down just enough to whisper some sort of what you assumed was a threat into the man’s ear. he pushed him into the crowd and the general direction of the door before turning back to face you, his face softening as he looked you over.

“You hurt doll?” His hands inspect you, gently moving over your body assessing to see any damage.

“I’m fine James, just a little shaken up.”

“Good, I leave you for two minutes and you already get yourself in trouble. What would you do without me huh?” His tone was mocking but there was a certain amount of truth behind that statement. What would you do without him, you never wanted to find out.

“I guess you should just never leave my side then” you joked.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all night doll.” All signs of humour left his voice, he pulled you by the waist over to an empty booth in one of the far corners, sitting himself down and pulling you along with him and onto his lap. “This is what you wanted doll?” That damn smirk he always wears made an appearance on his face again, he knew from the way you were squirming that you were enjoying this. “What’s the matter, princess? You suddenly don’t have much to say.” He used a playful mocking tone, almost like he was speaking to a child.

A surprised gasp left your lips as you felt Bucky pressing against your thighs. There was no doubt that he was big, but feeling him against your most sensitive area made you realize just how big he was.

He could tell by the way you paused for a quick second before shifting again that you could feel how hard he was, so why not use that to his advantage?

Leaning in, Bucky once again lets his hot breath fan your neck as he whispers in a low sultry tone, “You gonna let me take you right here in the back of the club, in front of all these people?”

#marvel #avengers #bucky barnes #oneshots #bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #no reader description #dbf!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bodyguard!bucky #no use of y/n #bodyguard!Bucky x reader #dbf!bucky x reader #dads best friend!Bucky x reader #bucky barnes events #juneiverse #voyuerism #fluff #bucky x reader smut #smut #future smut #bucky barnes angst #feels

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good host

words: 4.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, blowjobs, voyeurism, getting off rafes friends :), female receiving oral, riding, protected and unprotected p in v sex, male masturbation, cock warming, men other than rafe fuck reader including ocs

your heels click down the steps, the circle of boys suddenly falling into silence as you enter out the sliding doors onto the patio.

“need anything?” you ask, trying your best to play the good housewife and host now that you and rafe have moved in together.

“couple more beers if you don’t mind.” rafe says, and you nod, tiny skirt swishing as you head back inside, getting as many cold beers as you can carry before hustling back to the outdoor seating area, all the boys eyes moving from the game on the television to you as you bend down and set the beers down on the table, giving them an eyeful down your shirt.

“anything else?” you ask rafe, who wraps his hand around your thigh and tugs you closer, making you giggle as you bend down and press a kiss to his lips.

“why don’t you suck me off?” rafe asks, stroking his hand up, flipping up the bottom of your skirt to show everyone the tiny pink thong you are wearing as his hand grips the flesh of your ass.

“in… in front of everyone?”

“yeah, entertain me. this game is boring as fuck.” rafe watches as you sink to your knees, forever his good girl, listening to whatever he tells you with minimal questions.

rafe glances at the guys as you rub over his crotch, feeling him harden under his khakis. “don’t worry boys, you can use her too after she’s done with me.” 

your eyes widen, glancing at the other guys sitting amongst the couches and chairs. topper and kelce you know well, but theres two more guys whose names you only vaguely remember, chris and ezra. you think that rafe met them golfing, but you usually are only half paying attention when rafe recounts his round of golf to you.

“you good with that baby?” rafe asks, giving you an opportunity to back out, but he knows that you would never.

“of course. whatever you want rafe.” you smile up at him as your fingers work quickly, unbuttoning his shorts with ease, having repeated the action so many times. the zipper is the next thing to be tugged down and open, your hand diving into the open space, rubbing your fingers over his length through the material of his underwear.

“oh, fuck yeah.” rafe groans with a smile on his face, leaning back against the couch as your fingertips get him hard, wanting him to be as thick and big as possible before pulling his dick out, not that rafes size could ever be an embarrassment to him.

“come on baby, suck me.” rafe lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to tug his shorts and underwear down enough for his cock to push free from the confides. you smile at the sight of his dick, forgetting that anyone elses is around as you wrap your hand around the base, stroking a few times until he’s got a bead of precum leaking from his tip, which you quickly lick up, tongue lapping over the head of his cock.

you glance to the side to kelce who is sitting next to rafe, winking at him before lowering your head, your mouth expanding as rafes big cock pushes inside of you. you swallow around his length, drool already beginning to drip down your chin.

“her mouth is so good, just wait till yall feel this.” rafe moans, one hand fisting in your hair, helping you keep your rhythm as he hits the back of your throat, making you gag but not letting it stop your movements.

“i call next.” a voice you realize must be ezra pops up. you slow down at his voice, only slightly, not wanting rafe to be finished too quickly. you have no problem getting his friends off if thats what rafe wants, but you also only crave him, only want his cock, so you plan on relishing in his taste.

“alright, chill, everyone will get a turn.” rafe laughs, proud knowing that his girlfriend is so desired. if he wasn’t so confident in the strength of your relationship, he would beat ezra to a pulp for even thinking about you in a sexual way, but you’re such a good girl for him rafe knows you don’t see another man that way.

you pull off rafes cock to drag your tongue around his head before going over the slit, making rafe squirm slightly, his hand tightening in your hair as you retake his cock in your hand, stroking while your tongue licks along his length, going all the way down to the base before kissing his balls gently.

rafe groans when you take one into your mouth, keeping your sucking gentle because you know how delicate and sensitive his skin there is.

you make sure to give them some good attention while your hand takes care of his cock before you need to have him inside you again, sinking your lips around his cock and quickly building back up to the same rapid pace you know rafe likes.

“close.” rafe groans, his hips rising slightly off the couch, pushing up in time with your head bobbing. you close your eyes and clench your thumb between your first, willing your gag reflex to not force you to pull off as you take him deep.

you suck his cock down, swallowing around his thickness until he pulses inside of your throat, a telltale sign that hes seconds away from bursting. rafes cock suddenly swells and then hes cumming, shooting his load down your throat as you continue to suckle on his cock, pulling off slightly so you can taste sum of his cum on your tongue.

“fuuuuck.” rafe groans, slumping against the couch. you pull off with a happy smile, pressing a kiss to his softening cock. you can’t resist kissing up along his length before you tuck him carefully back into his underwear and shorts.

“good girl.” rafe leans down, kissing your forehead. “why don’t you take your top off then go suck ezra? hmm?”

“okay.” you nod. you tug your shirt up, turning so everyone can see as you toss it to the ground before you reach behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall away. rafe smirks at the boys faces, eyes trained on your chest as you blush under all of their gazes before moving across to the other couch to ezra.

“can i touch?” ezra asks, but not to you as he looks to rafe, who must nod as ezra reaches for your tits, cupping them in his palms, feeling so different to rafes large hands. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples, and while it feels good you don’t want another man to make you moan so easily, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“come on, doll. don’t just sit there get to work.” rafe says, suddenly blinking back to reality, reaching forward while ezra continues to play with your chest while you undo his pants, eyes widening when you realize he’s not wearing underwear as his cock pushes free of its confines.

you wrap your hand around his length, smaller than rafe in length but similar thickness. you begin stroking, watching in fascination at ezras reaction. you glance behind you to make sure rafe is still satisfied and giving his approval.

when rafe gives you a nod to go ahead, you lean forward and take ezra into your mouth, cringing initially at the different taste before you get used to it, rubbing your tongue against the bottom of his cock while you sink down, his cock not going down your throat like rafes does.

“fuck, she is good.” ezra moans. your cheeks flush, realizing you haven’t even pulled out all your tricks yet as you speed up, bobbing your head up and down in a dramatic fashion to show rafe just how good you’re being, obediently getting his friends off.

you don’t savor ezras taste like you do rafes, wanting him to cum quickly as you allow your teeth to gently graze the bottom of his cock, making ezra let out a mix of a shout and a moan.

“god, rafe, are you sure your girlfriends not a porn star?” kelce asks, making you giggle and have to pull off, hand stroking ezra as you wait for rafes answer.

“nah, she only fucks who i let her. you know she was a virgin when we met? now look at her, my fucking slut.” rafe makes sure to emphasis that you belong to him, and while the other boys may be given this chance to use you, they better not get any wrong ideas.

“only a whore for you, rafey.” you giggle, taking ezras cock back into your mouth, also wanting to point out that the only reason you’re interested in even touching any of them is because rafe wants you to, needing to repay his friends for coming over only to watch such a boring game of football.

you suckle at the head of ezras cock before pushing down, nuzzling your nose into his skin as you feel him pulse and then shoot his load in the back of your mouth. you happily swallow before pulling off with a smirk.

“come here.” topper calls to you from the armchair. you stand up and cross over to topper, looking to rafe before back to his friend. 

“can i eat her out?” topper asks, holding your hips in his hands as you stand between his legs.

“yeah.” rafe nods, knowing he’s bragged to topper about how delicious you are, how good the sounds you make get when he’s lapping at your cunt, clearly bragging enough to make topper choose eating you out before receiving head himself.

“but baby-” rafes voice has you turning to look at him. “you’re not allowed to cum. only i can make you cum.”

you nod as topper stands, switching so you can sit down on the armchair. you spread your legs for topper, revealing the tiny thong, already covered with a wet patch as he kneels between your legs.

topper kisses along your thighs teasingly, enjoying feeling your warm flesh as the sound of the football game fills the background. he finally reaches your underwear, his tongue pressing against the wetness, your thighs clenching temporarily before relaxing again, looking to rafe, whose eyes are flickering between the game and you, your open legs with his best friend kneeled between them.

“can i take them off?” topper asks, rafe quickly saying yes. you raise your hips up, fingers gripping into the fabric of the arms of the chair as topper pulls your underwear down, leaving your tiny flouncy skirt on.

he buries his head immediately between your legs, tongue lapping against your cunt as chris grabs your wet thong, bringing it up to his nose and taking a deep sniff of the material.

you frown when he holds onto the material, knowing that all your underwear belongs to rafe, but you don’t say anything yet, losing focus on chris as topper flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“fuck, you are delicious. you guys need to taste.” topper scooches back as kelce shoots forward, taking his place. kelce is far less gentle, shoving his tongue into your hole as you let out a low moan. your hands grip at your tits, massaging them while chris undoes his pants, taking his cock out and wrapping your thong around his length, similar in size to ezras but slightly slimmer.

“such a beautiful pussy.” kelce says, barely pulling away as his words vibrate over your cunt. you whine, eyes flickering between rafe and chris stroking himself with your thong, rubbing it over his length.

kelce focuses on your hole while topper reaches forward to place the pad of his thumb on your clit, making your body shake, feeling overstimulated as a rush of wetness floods over you, knowing you’re bound to drip onto the cushion beneath you.

kelce thrusts his tongue in and out, making you gyrate your hips, wanting more. kelce seems to get the memo when he pulls away, pushing a finger into your cunt, easily able to slide in with how wet you are.

topper switches back to using his mouth, making kelce stretch to finger you as topper sucks at your clit, replacing his thumb and bringing you even more pleasure.

“remember, princess, don’t cum.” rafe reminds you, eyes quickly turning back to the tv when a good play happens.

“but hes so good at head.” you whine, telling the truth, topper has a talented mouth, using his lips, tongue and even teeth as they graze over your sensitive skin.

kelce laughs at rafes frown as he pushes a second finger into you, pulling his cock out with his free hand and stroking, now two of the boys getting themselves off as chris continues. you don’t want the thong back anymore, knowing he’s going to ruin it with cum soon enough.

its like topper is trying to make you break rafes rule and force you into an orgasm, his eyes closed as he focuses on your pleasure, trying desperately to bring it out of you.

“p-please.” you whine, kelces fingers moving faster, pumping into you with obscene sounds spreading. you can’t help the almost nonstop moans, eyes flickering to chris’s cock then face as he paints your thong white before slumping down, his cock pulsing.

“can i fuck her? please let me fuck her.” kelce asks, looking to rafe, squeezing his cock knowing he won’t last much longer.

“yeah.” rafe shrugs. “let me make her cum first.” he says as halftime begins, using the break in the game to his advantage as he walks over to you, chest heaving as topper continues right up until rafe taps him out. you let out a sigh of relief, not sure how much longer you would have lasted.

rafe sinks down, pushing kelces hand away too as his fingers instantly take the spot of pumping into you, already feeling so much better, longer and more familiar. 

“lets see if my mouth is better.” rafe smirks, and you know you’re bound to cum quickly as his head drops, instantly sucking your clit into his mouth with a level of fervor that he rarely gives you, clearly wanting to prove that no one can pleasure you like he can.

you scream out, not able to control your squeals as your hands grip his hair, holding his head tight to your pussy, the other boys watching as your tits bounce, a light gleam of sweat making them look even more appetizing. 

you cum quickly with such force that your entire body shudders, shaking as rafe gently licks you through your high, keeping his fingers lodged deep inside of you.

“good girl.” he smiles, kissing your thigh before moving up to peck your lips, even as you still breath heavily, jaw slack.

“now you’re gonna ride kelce for me right? be my good girl and make him cum.” rafe questions, and you quickly nod, swallowing as you look to kelce, who has now sat himself on the couch, his large cock almost rivaling rafes.

“put a condom on, man.” rafe says as he stands up. “you’re not taking my girl raw, are you crazy?”

kelce hustles to grab his wallet, not wanting to upset rafe and lose out on the opportunity as you pull your skirt off to bring yourself totally nude, somehow still feeling comfortable in front of all the mostly dressed men, just happy to be doing what rafe wants and entertaining his friends.

you move over to the couch after kelce has rolled the condom on, straddling his lap and grinding down against his dick, rubbing it between your folds. usually in this position you’d be making out with rafe, but you really don’t want to kiss anyone else but him, so you keep your back straight.

“come on.” kelce grabs your ass, grinding you down harder, clearly tired of the teasing, especially since he’s already been stroking himself.

you giggle at his impatience and reach down, lining his cock up with your entrance before sinking down, moaning slightly at his length, not used to the rubber since rafe never uses condoms, but kelce feels pretty similar.

you immediately begin to bounce, not caring about your pleasure, knowing you won’t be able to cum from this anyways. kelces hand gripping your ass helps you move, making sure to keep a quick pace, clenching your cunt around his cock every time you pull off.

“such a pretty girl.” rafe coos, reaching out to grip your chest, palm swallowing your bouncing tit. “give me a kiss, come on.”

you sink down on kelces cock, grinding gently as you lean over to rafe, pressing a kiss against his lips, giving him a soft smile, ignoring the way kelce instantly begins to buck his hips up into you.

“you’re doing so good for me.” rafe says. “thank you for helping my boys out and keeping us entertained.” “just wanna make you happy.” you tell rafe, stroking your thumb over his cheek before kissing him again, mouth so sweet against his, in sharp contrast to the way kelce is thrusting up into your pussy, grunting and groaning as he clearly struggles to hold back, but you’re too focused on rafe.

“love you.” you whisper against rafes lip, his tongue sweeping out to enter your mouth as kelce lets out a final shout, holding your hips down as he cums into the condom. you slide off the second he’s done, crawling onto rafes lap to continue to kiss.

“gonna take you for a massage tomorrow.” rafe says, rubbing over your thighs, knowing he’s putting your body through a lot. “and a shopping spree.” “mkay.” you smile, fluttering your eyelashes at rafe before turning, seeing toppers dick out, having retaken his spot in the armchair, just now without pants.

“want me to suck you off now top?” you question, wanting to return the head that he gave you.

“can i-” he swallows roughly “can i fuck you too?”

“aww, of course sweetie!” you stand up, moving over to topper. he’s always been your favorite amongst rafes friends. he will hold conversations with you when you’re hanging out, unlike the other guys who are mostly just scared to touch rafes things. you’re wonder how much will change after today.

topper stands up, gesturing for you to get on the chair. you kneel on it, pushing your chest into the back of the couch as toppers hands rub over your ass. you look back at him, nodding that he can start whenever.

“condom.” rafe calls out as a reminder, making topper groan quietly, hoping he could get away with it, but he grabs a condom offered to him from kelce and rolls it on.

you giggle at his face, one of pure pleasure before he even gets inside of you. topper rubs his cock through your folds, still dripping onto the seat as he suddenly pushes forward, burying his entire length inside of you.

you let out a moan, head falling against the back of the seat, surprised by how big topper feels from this angle. he begins to thrust, keeping his movements slow but deep, making sure to fully press against your ass, using his hands on your hips to keep you still.

“goddamn, i wanna fuck her too.” ezra groans.

“nah, she’s gonna sit on my cock next, you already cummed.” rafe says, feeling a slightly bit of jealousy bubble up in his gut from watching you give pleasure to another man.

“alright, i call first for fucking her next time.” ezra concedes.

“no way bro, she didn’t even touch me! i’m getting her first.” chris argues as topper begins to move faster, the argument being drowned out by both of your moans.

“need i remind you she is my girl? i get to choose who uses her. you’re lucky she’s being such a good hostess and willing to entertain yall, dont ruin it by fighting.” rafe warns.

chris and ezra quietly agree and apologize. rafe glances again at you, your pussy squelching each time topper pushes his hips in. if he was a less confident man, he would shove top away and show you how only he can fuck you right, but at the end of the day, rafe knows you only want him.

“don’t-don’t rub my clit.” you warn topper when he reaches around you to touch your pussy.

“gonna cum if i do?” he questions, grinning when you nod. he’s not used to taking such a dominant role, liking how you are clearly brought to pleasure by him.

“you better not, brat.” rafe warns, reminding you of his rule as topper listens and places his both his hands back on your hips, not wanting you to get in trouble with rafe after being such a good girl.

topper snaps his hips faster, not ashamed to cum quickly considering how easily some of the other guys busted. he can only hold off for a few more minutes, especially when you start pushing your hips back.

“i-i’m close.” topper warns seconds before he cums, letting out a string of moans as you continue to slowly move on his cock, letting his high run its course before he pulls out, the condom filled with white.

“come on, princess.” rafe reaches his hand out to you as you stumble over to him, thighs now tired but willing to have a little more energy for rafe to do whatever he pleases for you.

“you’ve been such a good girl, come take a seat.” rafe says, and you realize he had gotten his cock out again at some point. “you can watch the last quarter with us, yeah?” 

you nod, turning so your ass is in rafes face as you slowly lower down, moaning when his big cock stretches you out. you settle all the way down until he’s pressed right up against your cervix, leaning your back into rafes chest. he grabs his beer off the side table next to him, taking a sip while you relax, eyes turning to the game as well.

the other guys can sense that you’re finished, tucking themselves away and retaking their position to watch the game. you don’t miss chris pushing your underwear into his pocket. you’ll have to buy another pair when rafe takes you on a shopping trip tomorrow.

the game is just as boring as rafe says it was, and you understand why he needed some entertainment, the only touchdown being scored in the first half. you aren’t the biggest fan of watching sports in general, but having rafes cock inside of you makes it a lot more enjoyable. he even gives you a couple sips of his beer.

the game ends with little fanfare, making all the boys sigh, just happy that it’s over but disappointed as a whole.

“i trust you boys can see yourselves out.” rafe pipes up, looking around at his friends. “i need to fuck my lady now.”

the boys take their cue, quickly grabbing whatever they brought and heading out, but topper stops as he passes you. “thank you for being such a good host.”

“thank you for the good head.” you giggle, making rafes hand squeeze tighter on your thigh. topper smiles before leaving, kelce also taking the opportunity to mumble a thank you after toppers lead.

“don’t invite chris back.” you say, glad that you were able to get away with not touching him. “he kinda gives me the creeps.”

rafe laughs but nods, “whatever you want baby girl. thank you for doing that.” “of course.” you nod. “it’s part of living with you, keeping your friends stocked up on beers and also making them cum.”

“how in the world did i find a girl as perfect as you?” rafe says softly, moving you suddenly before you can even comprehend, your back being pressed into the sofa as rafe kneels between your legs, shoving his cock back deep in your cunt.

you giggle, cheeks turning red. “i just love you so much. wanna make you happy.”

“you make me very happy, baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your lips before beginning to pump his cock into you, your moans drowning out the tv still on in the background.

“your cock is perfect.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as rafe pounds into you, going deep and hard after being buried inside of you without moving for so long. “no one else compares to you.”

“and don’t you forget it, baby.” rafe smirks.

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#the image shows a girl with light skin but theres no description of skintone in the fic btw!! #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagines #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x female!reader #topper smut

[mammonsrockstargf]

"Fuck, the things I wouldn't do for a cheeseburger right now,"

Beelzebub's attention is immediately on you, eyes twinkling red. "We can go to Hell's Burger after this then," he says, eager to oblige to any and all requests you make. The fact that it involves food only entices him further. You sigh and shake your head, much to his confusion.

"No, Beel, like a real burger," you say, resting your head in your hands, elbows on your desk. You're sitting at the back of the class, so your teacher doesn't notice that neither of you is particularly focused. Beelzebub's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Hell's Burger's burgers aren't real?" he mumbles and you smile apologetically at him, shaking your head.

"Sorry, Beel, I just-" You stop for a second, reminiscing about your favourite burger restaurant. Beel waits patiently for you to sort out your thoughts, although the talk of burgers has increased the never-ending rumble of his stomach.

"I just crave a human-world burger, that doesn't have the word death or poison in the name or has 4,000-year-old cheese in it," you say and pout at him. "I want a proper burger, with normal cheese and lettuce and pickles-" your rant is interrupted by the loud noise of Beel's stomach, so loud that the entire class turns to look at you for a second before realising it's just Beel. The teacher sighs and resumes the lesson. Your brows furrow in concern. "You got any lunch left, big guy?" you ask and Beel shakes his head while holding onto his stomach.

Without looking up from his book a single time, Satan, sitting in front of you, reaches down into his bag and pulls out his lunch, giving it to Beel. Beel gratefully accepts it, with a sheepish look.

"Thanks, bro."

ੈ♡˳

Your craving for a real cheeseburger doesn't go away, but you resolve to not tell Beel about it after his... expressive reaction. That's until three days later when Beels is pulling you down the street by your hand. "Beel, where are we going?" you ask, but he just smiles at you, grinning from ear to ear. "Mmmh, it's a surprise," he says. You don't realize where you are until you're standing in front of the passage that you've used a couple of times before. The seal to the human realm.

"What's going on?" you ask. Beel shrugs. "Got permission from Lucifer to take you to a real burger place," he says and you stare at him in awe. "Beel, that's really nice of you," you say and he smiles. "Yeah, yeah, thank me later,"

Before you know it, you're pulled into the passage with a squeal.

ੈ♡˳

The great thing about going out with Beel is that there is absolutely no shame when it comes to ordering food. The demon is as shameless as a baby. The more the two of you order, the more the cashier in front of you seems to pale. Pretty much every burger on the menu is ordered, several portions of fries, every single dip, 20 chili cheese tops, 3 milkshakes (one for each flavour), 2 sodas, chicken wings-

"Oh, Beel, you gotta taste this one, it's the best," you say, pointing at the menu. The cashier begrudgingly adds it to your total. "Anything else I can do for you?" they ask and you smile apologetically at them. "I think we're good for now," you say pinching Beel's arm, before he begins ordering any more. He closes his mouth and blinks at you. You wonder how long he would continue to order if you didn't stop him.

"Will you be eating here or taking it with you?" The cashier asks and they raise their brows when you tell them you'll be eating it there. Probably wondering how two people can eat that much food.

You honestly can't even blame them, but it's not like you can explain that they're dealing with the Avatar of Gluttony. Beel doesn't even seem to notice the cashier's judgment when he pulls out Lucifer's card and pays for the food.

You find a secluded table and sit down. It feels almost too normal, being back in your own world, sitting at a fast-food restaurant. Beel notes your nostalgia and grabs your hand. You smile at him. "Truly, Beel, thank you for this. I needed it," you say and once again Beel just shrugs.

"Figured it was the least I could do," he says. "You've done so much for us, always getting caught in me 'n my brother's fights," he mumbles and begins to rub soothing circles into your wrist. You sit like that in comfortable silence for a while before you lean over the table to place a chaste kiss to his lips. Beel's belly grumbles and he leans over to chase your lips, but you're interrupted when three workers come over and place an insane amount of food on your table. You smile at Beel and shrug when he makes a disappointed noise.

"We're definitely getting dessert after this right?" he asks, still oblivious to the judgemental stares from the restaurant workers, but you find yourself not caring either when you grin mischievously.

"How about I'll be your dessert?"

a/n: so i did some research and i couldn't really figure out if chili cheese tops is an international thing of just a scandinavian thing? it's fried cheeseballs with jalapeno in them and bread on the outside. is that a thing in your country?

thanks for reading! find my other stuff here.

#i'm actually vegetarian #but often times a burger king veggie burger really hits #and chili cheese tops on the side #also there's this really good burger joint 2 minutes from where i live #they have the best veggie burgers ever #so i didn't go to into descriptions about meat but you can just imagine whatever gets you going #perse fics #perse fluff #obey me #obey me fic #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub x reader #om! shall we date #om! beelzebub #obey me swd #obey me beel x reader #obey me beel fluff #obey me fluff #obey me beelzebub fluff

[asyor]

talking his ear off and taking his head off(??)

#image desc in alt text #my art #sketch #based on me accidentally beheading my gf with an umbrella #several times... #yeah.. #orv #orv fanart #dokjoong #joongdok #kdj x yjh #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #omniscient reader's viewpoint #image description by @/princess-of-purple-prose #thank you sm for the ID!!

[icy-gendango]

Hhhhhhhhh <3

Full image under cut:

I love them your honor

#daycare attendant #dca fnaf #dca fanart #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca sun #fnaf sundrop #sundrop fnaf #sun fnaf #sun x reader #masc y/n #masc reader #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant fnaf #ltritd au #learning to run in the dark au #oops i forgot to tag #id in alt text #image description in alt #his ass is NOT listening #he just wants cuddl #icy art

[grand-line-shenanigans]

For those of us who cannot comprehend big numbers (me) I have done the math. FOUR FUCKING YEARS. SECUNIT WHAT THE FUCK.

#the murderbot diaries #all systems red #murderbot #secunit #words #math #yes i write in my books. sometimes. when i love them a lot #on a totally unrelated note (totally)- if i doodled pictures of the characters based on their descriptions in the library copy of #Network Effect (in pencil only) would that be an asshole move or would it be a charming little treat for the next reader to find? #i almost certainly will not do it because i like the public library and do not want to offend them #but. in pencil. and only little doodles in the margins. #only like. one or two. #id be so charmed if i found somethig like that in a library book??? is that just me am i alone in this????? #thoughts please

[nomazee]

close to your heart and that bed of yours too

you've been having the same weird dream about dan heng, over and over, and it just so happens that he's had the same dream, too.

dan heng x gn reader — 2.4k — super suggestive content but definitely nothing serious or graphic, some guilt abt attraction, dreams, romantic fantasies but not weird ones, kissing and closeness and physical touch, literal sleeping together

notes: forgive me and my debaucherous writing... this is nowhere near smut but it's definitely suggestive they get touchy and feely but it's very emotions-focused...oh my god what did i write this is so

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

It’s probably not possible to get cabin fever on a constantly-running space train, but that’s the only reasonable explanation for the weird, weird recurring dream you’ve been having about Dan Heng. It’s not— not that weird, not weird enough that you feel like a complete deviant, but enough for you to realize that it’s a complete reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires, and that scares you more than anything. 

The dream— it goes like this: 

You wake up—not in real life, but in the dream world, which freaked you out the first time because you didn't realize you were dreaming at all so you thought everything was entirely real—and it’s usually because of the noise of your door sliding open. The instinct to look and see who it is doesn’t hit you. You lay there, gaze fixed distantly on the steel surface of your ceiling until the feeling of your bedsheets moving next to you pushes you to full awareness. 

You still don’t move your gaze until you feel a body—warm, breathing, real real real?—lift up your blankets and slide underneath them, pressing next to you, curling into your side as if seeking out your life source. Your breath catches in your throat every single time as you turn to see that it’s Dan Heng, still dressed in his work clothes because he doesn’t understand the concept of pajamas, and his arm reaches around you and curls around your shoulder and he rests his head on your collarbone, gently, and you can feel his breath fan against the fabric of your shirt and your skin. 

Dan Heng says your name with reverence, with something like desire, and it makes your stomach clench and he turns his body into you more. He tucks his leg between yours—not moving, just sitting there, a reminder of him, his warmth—and he’s so, so warm, it amazes you that he’s like a furnace, and that he’s so unbothered by laying so close to you under all of your blankets. 

And he says your name again, each and every time, and it spurs something in you and you bring your arms around him each and every time, and pull him close, and feel the way he shudders, like a cold breeze wracking his body, like he’s never been this close to anyone before, and it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t—and that thought alone spirals into the realization that Dan Heng would never do this—

And then you wake up. Each time. 

The first time it happened, you didn't realize it was a dream, and you were so overwhelmed with thought after thought and feeling after feeling and sensation after sensation. When you finally woke up, it felt like you were grieving a loss. You felt too cold, and too empty, and curled into yourself and laid in your bed for an hour taking in shaky breaths until you finally got over yourself. 

You couldn't face Dan Heng for that entire day. Which was fine, because he spent his whole day in his room shuffling through the archives, so he was easy to dodge. But then you dreamt of him again. And again, and again, and then it just became a part of your nighttime routine to dream of your own friend so intimately and then wake up and pretend like nothing matters and nothing changed. Pretend like you didn't feel anything, and pretend like these dreams didn't flood you with guilt about your sick sick feelings and your sick sick fantasies. 

You tried to rationalize it, make yourself feel less awful. The dreams never went past him laying beside you, for the most part, and you preferred it that way. If they got any more intimate than they already were, you would’ve thrown yourself off the Express the next morning. 

Regardless, the Dan Heng in your dream and the Dan Heng that you saw every morning were different people, because the Dan Heng you saw every morning would never get so close to you. Would never lay in your bed and breathe on your neck like that. 

Never. That distinction is the only thing that convinces you to let yourself dream. You indulge, and it’s sickening, but you let your dreams happen over and over, and each time you hold Dan Heng tighter and tighter and tighter, and let him breathe against your neck, and feel the rush of his blood circulating through his body. 

One night, in one iteration of this dream, Dan Heng kisses you. It feels so real that it makes you nauseous. His lips were warm and damp and clumsy against the corner of your mouth, and he let out anxious breaths until you tangled your hands in his hair and tugged him closer and kissed him back. 

You woke up sick, running to your bathroom to puke in the sink as your hands shook in guilt. Somehow, you could still talk to Dan Heng normally that day, stomach twisting only the slightest bit whenever your gaze lingered on him for too long. 

Welt might have noticed how weird you were acting. There was a nagging furrow in his brow and he caught your gaze more than once and each time, you felt waves of humiliation crash into you, flooding you in heat and guilt and vertigo. He looked like he wanted to pry in that odd, awkward, old-man-paternal way of his, but you just shook your head and looked away and begged, hoped, wished upon a star that you would have a normal dream tonight.

The night— it goes like this: 

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, leftover remnants of guilt swimming in your lungs and nightly congestion forcing you to take shallow breaths through your mouth. Thoughts run through your mind and slam into your skull at rapid speed. Has Dan Heng noticed how weird you’ve been acting? He hasn’t treated you any differently, but maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention, because you’re so busy replaying that dream over and over and over, obsessive, wondering if you should just let go of the rope you’re suspended on and slam into the water and drown in your wants and your needs. 

So you close your eyes, and you let yourself drift off and wake back up in your dream. You’re on your side now, instead of on your back, and the door is on the far wall behind you. You still hear it slide open, as it always does in this dream, and the footsteps get closer until you hear the shuffling of someone kneeling behind you. And then there’s nothing. 

Your blankets don’t get lifted up. There’s no warm body tucking itself next to you. But there’s— a voice, Dan Heng’s voice, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear the pitch of his voice, the vibrations of sound. 

“Are you awake?”

Your brow furrows, and you clench and unclench your fists twice before parting your dry, trembling lips. He’s never spoken in a dream before, not like this. He’s only ever said your name. Your fingers twitch with the instinct to pinch yourself. 

“Yes,” you respond, hoping that the confusion isn’t clear in the timbre of your voice. “What’s— is something wrong?” 

“No,” he says immediately. Clothes rustle as he adjusts himself. You’re scared to turn around and face him. You don’t know what you’d see. “You…” and he pauses, thinking of his words. Dan Heng would rather take a full minute to think about what to say, what words to pick, instead of stumbling over syllables, and it’s so unlike your own habits and as you think of this, your fingers twitch again. This time with the desire to hold his hand, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this dream, but everything feels too real now and you don’t know where you are. 

Finally, he finds his words. You’re patient with him. “I can’t sleep alone,” he whispers, as if embarrassed to admit it, “not tonight. I trust you.” 

God. He can’t say that. He shouldn’t say that, because your head is spinning and you’re going to throw up. Your hand finds the strength to pick itself up and pinch the skin of your forearm. You’re not dreaming. 

“Yeah,” you cough out, sniffling afterwards to cover up your budding anxiety as you finally sit up and turn to face him. “Yeah, you can, um. Sleep here.” 

When he finally enters your field of vision, he looks the same as he always does—both in your dreams and in real life. It makes you sick. The guilt that you feel now comes more from the fact that he’s still in his typical outfit instead of pajamas. 

“Dan Heng,” you start as you shuffle back on your bed to make space for him. He follows your motion, kneeling on the edge of your mattress before adjusting the sheets around you to tuck himself underneath and lay down. “We need to get you pajamas. I don’t know how you sleep like that.” 

“I don’t sleep,” he admits, “not usually. I don’t need a lot of sleep.” 

“You do. You might not think so, but you probably do. I wish I had a spare set of pajamas, but— they’re all, um, in the wash right now.” 

“It’s okay. Your blankets are nice.” 

Words tingle against your gums, syllables of confessions lighting up in your mouth. You want to tell him that a dream-version of him has slept under a copy of these blankets multiple times before, that you’ve dreamed for weeks about him curled into you and sleeping, and saying your name, and kissing the corner of your mouth. Right now, you’re just laid side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but you can feel how warm he is and his hand is so close to yours and you just want to hold it. You want him to say your name and look at you and hold your hand. 

“Good,” you say instead of everything else that you could say, because you have a sense of self control at times. 

Then Dan Heng says your name, rolling onto his side to face you, hands tucked underneath the side of his face in a stupidly endearing sleeping position. You follow suit, because your self control isn’t that strong. He doesn’t say anything else. Just your name, once. With reverence and desire. Maybe you’re dreaming it, but you pinch your knuckles again and yet you’re still in the same room with the same man in front of you. 

One of your arms is bent between you two, hand resting on the pillow that separates you two. Dan Heng’s own hand—warm, and breathing, and real— comes up to rest on top of yours, and you cannot believe any of this is happening. You want to pinch yourself again but his hand is curling around yours and he’s inching forward and you hope that your deer-in-headlights expression doesn’t scare him off. 

“Dan Heng,” you whisper, voice cracking with an embarrassing desperation. It’s a warning for him, before he does whatever he’s about to do. But he says your name, again, and his face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath fan against your face, and your entire body is warmed and your hand flips over to hold his, fingers slipping between his and tightening around it. 

“Have you had these odd dreams these last few nights,” he asks, a leading tone in his voice, “because I have. About you,” and he’s too honest, and you have to swallow your saliva before it turns into sweat and blood, and you feel his hand squeeze back around yours. His is shaking, and you find some kind of comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one. 

“Yeah,” you answer, because you can’t get more than one syllable out at a time tonight. Could anyone blame you? Would Dan Heng blame you for that, afterwards, even though his face is so close and his hand is so warm and it’s tight around you, and he’s shuffling around again, constantly fidgeting, and he takes his other arm and slides it around you, hand between your shoulder blades. He hooks a leg between yours, tugging you closer and closer and closer. You’re blinking at him, heart caught in your throat and eyes landing on his lips so that maybe he’ll finally take the hint. 

He does. He does, and as cliche as it is, it’s better than your dream. He kisses you, desperate, and right before your eyes flutter shut you catch the contemplative furrow in his brow. His mouth is—warm, damp, but you feel the crack in the skin in the center of his bottom lip. It scrapes against you and you can’t help the shaky sigh you release at the feeling, and the hand on your back curls into the fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Your eyes are closed, tight, scared that if you open them, you’ll just wake up back in your room, alone and cold again with your empty steel ceiling. Dan Heng’s mouth is moving against yours with a practiced proficiency that you’re almost jealous of. You let your tongue trace the edges of his teeth, carnal in your desires, before you bite down on his lip hard enough to leave a temporary dent. He shudders, hand trembling against yours and lips pulling back from yours as he tucks his head into your neck and lets out shaky breaths lines with addictive sounds. You’re going crazy. He’s driving you crazy. 

The hard, carved metal parts of his clothes dig into you. Your hand goes around him to rest on the back of his head, threading through his hair as his breathing slows against you. “We can go shopping somewhere tomorrow,” you tell him, already thinking of how you’d convince Pom-Pom to land at some shopping district of some planet. “You need pajamas.” 

“There’s no need for me to have that,” he says, stubborn and set in his ways, even with something as mundane as sleep clothes. “My normal clothes are fine.” 

“Not if you’ll be sleeping in my bed.” 

And that makes him succumb to your whims, much too easy for your own good, and you laugh when he lets out a weary sigh at your reciprocal stubbornness. Your fingers keep combing through his hair, soft and meaningful, until he falls asleep. You think you'll get him a blue plaid pajama set. He'd look nice in it.

#dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr fanfiction #honkai star rail fanfiction #dan heng fluff #dan heng smut #me when i lie in my tags maybe #dan heng x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr fic #dan heng fic #honkai star rail fic #if i did not tag this properly in my little content description thing then let me know #i am so out of practice i have not written something like this maybe ever. #its not even out of practice #like there is no practice period #do u guys like my long ass titles

[usedtobecooler]

something about edging eddie until he's crying <3

tw: dom/sub undertones, orgasm denial, cumming without permission, handjobs, dacryphilia, scratching, one singular slap to the leg.

"please, please, baby — need it, baby. fuckin' hurts— aah, aah, nngh,"

eddie's gasps of pleasure send ripples of goosepimples up your spine, your hazy eyes glancing up from where they were glued to the almost purple tip of his cock. it kicks up slightly, a blurt of precum spilling from the slit as you squeeze just ever so slightly harder around his balls and the base of his length, clamping your thumb and middle finger like a makeshift cock ring, squeezing the soft flesh until he's wailing.

"one more?" you coo, using your other hand to stroke up the fuzz of his inner thigh until the muscles spasm under your tender grip, his leg kicking out, "one more, i promise. then you can cum, okay?"

you watch with morbid fascination as eddie's neck strains, his wild hair fanning out over the pillows and matting to his forehead with sweat, clinging to his temples as the tears begin to roll. the tendons in his neck pop as he grits his teeth, struggling to hold it — panting and gasping when you release the tight hold, once you know he's coming down from the impending orgasm you just cruelly denied him.

"colour?" you ask, just to make sure as your pre and lube slick hand wraps around the thick, neglected head of his cock again, startling a growl from deep in eddie's chest as you do. he hisses, arches into the touch, spine curving up from the mattress.

"green," eddie grits out, bitchy and annoyed as he bucks his hips up, tries to get you to just move your fucking hand, "so fucking green, i promise."

you hum contentedly, your hand that was once soothing his thigh coming down to crack lightly across the sensitive skin, shocking a yelp from him, "hips down, stop being a brat. let that be a warning."

your dominant hand slowly starts to pump up and down eddie's shaft, eliciting soft little whines and cries from him as your pace quickens, squeezing the hardened flesh the way you know he likes.

"so fuckin' desperate, please, please," he's a squirming, begging mess, clinging onto the bedsheets with bitten, polish chipped nails. he buries his face into the pillow, biting down on it and moaning into the fluffy lining when your palm swipes over the head.

you're working eddie over in a way that you know will send him spiraling, a small smirk gracing your features, knowing you'll be snatching it away from him soon, just as he reaches his high.

his hips jerk uncontrollably into the slickness of your hand, the squeaking bedsprings adding to the loud slap of flesh on flesh that bounces around the walls of your bedroom — rhythmic, dirty, filthy, even.

you watch under hooded eyelids as eddie's arms strain, veins protruding from the backs of his hands up to his elbows. a red flush of colour spattering all over his chest, back arched like a bitch in heat. he's ethereal, a fucking siren beckoning you and luring you in, making you lose all inhibition without even realising it.

you know it's going to happen before even he does, he's too slow to tell you he's close, and you're so dazed and hazy from watching his pretty face contort in pleasure that your reaction time isn't quick enough. you're not able to snatch your hand away before his cock is pulsing in your grip and the first shot of cum lands in his curly bush of pubes.

"sorry, sorry—nggh," eddie's whining, whimpering and crying as his load coats your hand, spurting up his stomach and making a fucking mess. his back arches and straightens up just as quickly, like a bow once the arrows been shot, as he tries to wriggle away from your tight grip.

you can't look away from his soft tummy as it twitches and quivers from the sheer force of his orgasm, ropes of cum splashing his pale skin and marking him up, painting the pretty purple bruises you'd left behind with a harsh mouth earlier.

it's stunning, almost painful to watch and listen to as your insides burn with arousal. your hand works him over as if on autopilot, your ears only just catching his wet gasps, his pleading for you to stop or keep going, you're not sure.

"baby, baby," he babbles, arching away from your touch and crying wetly when you thumb up over his sensitive tip, rubbing over the glans until he's thrashing his legs, "m'so sorry, baby. didn't- didn't mean to—"

"you didn't warn me," you cut him off, words coming out a bit more choked and soft than they usually would've when he disobeyed you, "so now, i'm going to work you over until you're hard again, okay? and we'll start from the top. colour?"

eddie sobs wetly, wincing as he stares at you with big, glassy orbs. your own eyes soften as your gazes lock, and he whimpers, breathy and desperate when your other hand ghosts down his thigh, nails bluntly scraping the skin in a scratching motion;

"green."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #my fanfic #mine #blurb #drabble #idk i saw a tweet about this and i had a visceral reaction #no character description so this one is gender neutral! <3

[eddiemunsonw]

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery #i'm so great at promoting my fics with a cool description #not

[askablindperson]

In what way does alt text serve as an accessibility tool for blind people? Do you use text to speech? I'm having trouble imagining that. I suppose I'm in general not understanding how a blind person might use Tumblr, but I'm particularly interested in the function of alt text.

In short, yes. We use text to speech (among other access technology like braille displays) very frequently to navigate online spaces. Text to speech software specifically designed for blind people are called screen readers, and when use on computers, they enable us to navigate the entire interface using the keyboard instead of the mouse And hear everything on screen, as long as those things are accessible. The same applies for touchscreens on smart phones and tablets, just instead of using keyboard commands, it alters the way touch affect the screen so we hear what we touch before anything actually gets activated. That part is hard to explain via text, but you should be able to find many videos online of blind people demonstrating how they use their phones.

As you may be able to guess, images are not exactly going to be accessible for text to speech software. Blindness screen readers are getting better and better at incorporating OCR (optical character recognition) software to help pick up text in images, and rudimentary AI driven Image descriptions, but they are still nowhere near enough for us to get an accurate understanding of what is in an image the majority of the time without a human made description.

Now I’m not exactly a programmer so the terminology I use might get kind of wonky here, but when you use the alt text feature, the text you write as an image description effectively gets sort of embedded onto the image itself. That way, when a screen reader lands on that image, Instead of having to employ artificial intelligences to make mediocre guesses, it will read out exactly the text you wrote in the alt text section.

Not only that, but the majority of blind people are not completely blind, and usually still have at least some amount of residual vision. So there are many blind people who may not have access to a screen reader, but who may struggle to visually interpret what is in an image without being able to click the alt text button and read a description. Plus, it benefits folks with visual processing disorders as well, where their visual acuity might be fine, but their brain’s ability to interpret what they are seeing is not. Being able to click the alt text icon in the corner of an image and read a text description Can help that person better interpret what they are seeing in the image, too.

Granted, in most cases, typing out an image description in the body of the post instead of in the alt text section often works just as well, so that is also an option. But there are many other posts in my image descriptions tag that go over the pros and cons of that, so I won’t digress into it here.

Utilizing alt text or any kind of image description on all of your social media posts that contain images is single-handedly one of the simplest and most effective things you can do to directly help blind people, even if you don’t know any blind people, and even if you think no blind people would be following you. There are more of us than you might think, and we have just as many varied interests and hobbies and beliefs as everyone else, so where there are people, there will also be blind people. We don’t only hang out in spaces to talk exclusively about blindness, we also hang out in fashion Facebook groups and tech subreddits and political Twitter hashtags and gaming related discord servers and on and on and on. Even if you don’t think a blind person would follow you, You can’t know that for sure, and adding image descriptions is one of the most effective ways to accommodate us even if you don’t know we’re there.

I hope this helps give you a clearer understanding of just how important alt text and image descriptions as a whole are for blind accessibility, and how we make use of those tools when they are available.

#image descriptions #alt text #accessibility #a11y #screen readers

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #lyney #basically reader IS the creator but since the statues of you were built on vague descriptions its a bit off from your actual appearence #so everyone jsut thinks ur like #blessed or smth #anyway can u tell i love fontaine. #furina isn't here bc pt 2 of my prev fic somehow turned into focalors only and i need 2 save my brain power fr That #anyway enjoy these drabbles i wrote in like 5 minutes gn zzzzzzzzzzz #i just needed a breather from that long fic bc im DYING over here lord

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes. #* #this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

[adastra121]

You know what. I’m gonna ramble about the Touchstarved LIs favourite places to kiss (based on the polls from @cacaobean760) — the most popular results — because I have thoughts!

Leander’s is the hands, because. He likes to be the special person, the only one who can actually touch MC’s hands without being affected, kissing them on the hand is a possessive thing. But also, even without the curse, he strikes me as someone who likes to kiss people on the hand in that classic romantic, gentlemanly fashion. He’s a performer, of course he’d go for that classic romantic gesture, raising your hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles. Kissing the inside of your wrist, your pulse point, he likes the amount of trust you place in him. And apparently he’s ticklish, so. Tickling under his jaw, he laughs and then he holds your hand there, and kisses your palm.

Ais likes the forehead or anywhere on the head, because he likes your mind the most, having lived in the Groupmind for so long, I don’t think he wants you to lose it and everything that makes you you. He strikes me as someone who really likes people’s minds, judging from the way he likes to listen to Kuras ramble about alchemy, judging from the questions he asks MC in the demo. He just seems the type to be genuinely curious and interested in what’s going on in your head. Kissing you on the forehead or temple whenever you’re lost in thought in those comfortable, quiet moments with him just to bring you back like: “Where’d you fly off to just now, sparrow?” Also he’s tall, so he can reach your forehead more easily.

Vere likes the intimacy, sensuality and power behind neck kisses. He likes the warmth, how your scent is stronger there. He likes how he can hear and feel your pulse under his lips. Gently tracing his sharp teeth along your pulse point, your carotid artery. With just enough pressure to make you hyper aware of his every movement. It would just take one bite. One quick slice of his fang, a spray of red and you’d bleed out in his arms. He thinks you’d taste heavenly. It doesn’t mean that he wants to kill you, he just likes that he can, he likes the amount of power he has over you — and maybe that you trusted him enough to give that to him.

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved leander #touchstarved ais #touchstarved vere #touchstarved headcanons #headcanon #leander x reader #ais x reader #vere x reader #Leander gave us a bouquet of flowers when we met I think he’d love all the classic romantic tropes #vere’s description is the edgiest but it boils down to ‘I can kill you and you know this’ #’but you still offer me this power over you like you actually trust me and I appreciate it.’ #’also I like the reminder that you’re alive and you smell nice.’ #sorry I turn everything into fluff

[neocentral]

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: noncon, haechan x reader

you were playing him and he knew it. it was clear in your shifty eyes and perked ears each time your hand crept up his leg and towards the button of his pants, the boredom as you quickly pumped his erect cock, the clear distaste when haechan's tongue eagerly licked into your mouth, teeth bumping yours as he breathed deeply through his nose, and the relief when you were finally able to inch away, hurriedly wiping pearly cum off your hands and onto his pants. you didn't like haechan. but he liked you so, so much.

his hands always itched to graze the skin of your thighs every time you went to touch him. he wished he could feel the heat of your core around his calloused fingers as he curiously explored your sensitive pussy, feel you soaking his palm as he did so. but you never let him, slapping his hand away with a grimace you were quick to hide, instead leaning towards him, whispering that it's all about him. i just want to make you feel good, you breathe.

he always relented, but haechan was determined to make today different.

haechan grunts lowly, gripping the stiff fabric of the cheap couch, feeling the strain begin in his fingertips before moving to his palms, then up his arms. his toes curl in his shoes, thighs flexing and hips aching to thrust into your tight fist. he feels like he's burning, intense heat bubbling under his skin, painting his tan skin with a red hue. he was sticky all over, a layer of sweat coating his figure as he fought to control himself.

haechan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, watching as your blurry face became clear. a whimper caught in his throat as his eyes flickered across it, taking in your lashes fanning your disinterested expression. you met his eyes, making him twitch in your palm at a simple glance. fog crept up his lenses, obscuring his view but he still saw the raise of your eyebrows.

shaky fingers reached for the thick, black temples of his glasses, pants falling from his lips as he wipes them clean before messily sliding them back onto his face. he could sense the way they sat lopsided but his brain didn't allow him to feel embarrassed. he pushed himself towards you, lips puckered.

"haechan," you said, thumb playing with his swollen tip.

"what?" he slurred, pout extended.

"i said no more kissing."

he shut his eyes, scrunching his nose to attempt to raise his glasses. "just a little... please..."

you shook your head, the nails of your spare hand lightly clawing at his base. he shivers, pressing a sloppy kiss to your nose. you recoil, “gross, haechan.”

“just c’mere,” he whispers, a finger slithering beneath your skirt, “i can make you feel good, too. promise.”

“no,” you snap, moving away, “don’t touch me.”

haechan’s long dark bangs slide over his forehead, gliding over his lashes, tickling his ears as he shakes his head, shoulders pushing against yours. his cock jumps, the precum leaking from his top smearing over the hem of his white t-shirt. it brushes your thigh, making you squirm beneath him but he paid your intention to get away from him no mind. instead, he focused on how easily your skirt rode up your thighs and how soft your skin felt, how thin and flimsy your panties are.

he pushes them aside, sparing a quick look at your cunt, groaning at the sight of it. you attempt to cover it, placing your hand atop your pussy. haechan bristles, displeased. grabbing your hand, he brings it to his lips, his pink pout, laying a kiss on the surface as he lines his cock up to your entrance.

his eyes flutter shut as he pushes inside. the heat, the grip, even the slight effort he needed to push himself into you. he collects saliva, letting a stream trickle down to where your bodies met. he is scared to move, fully aware of how embarrassingly quickly he will cum. he already feels like he might, being still inside your tight walls, feeling the tightening of you unprepared walls around him making his stomach feel heavy.

the sound he makes when he involuntarily begins desperate and shallow thrusts into you is almost animalistic, your protests falling on deaf ears as haechan became more and more lost on the sensation. the feeling is euphoric, unfamiliar and so much better than your fist. haechan’s cheeks burn as he feels his climax approaching not even a minute later. he wonders what you’re thinking. he pants, scorching breath hitting your faces as he tucks his lip between his teeth, cum shooting from his tip in long spurts.

“fuck,” haechan moans, brown eyes hidden with a layer of fog coating the lenses of his glasses. he thrusts into you again, shallowly this time, too sensitive to do much else. he can feel his release seeping out of you, the sticky substance dripping onto his thighs. “sorry. i didn’t mean to cum so fast.”

“let me go again.” haechan shakes his head again, “need to show you how good i can make you feel.”

based mostly on this and this but any pic of hyuck in thick glasses will do because I had a dream about him and now I want him so deep my guts it comes out of my mouth

#tw noncon #I just wanted to write descriptions of hyuck and his pathetic nerd glasses #that’s all #starring... haechan ! #screenplay… #[NEO] play… #[bookmark…] #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct smut #nct hard hours #nct imagine #nct scenarios #haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.

#gn reader #tw: noncon #tw: dehumanization #tw: degradation #tw: abuse #tw: physical violence #tw: manipulation #tw: overstimulation #tw: dacryphilia #yandere valentino x reader #yandere valentino #valentino x reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #dddne #dead dove do not eat #image description in alt #described #mdni #mal.mine

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #xue yang #a-qing #The scenes with XY and A-Qing are so delightfully tense and anxiety inducing #They are both so deep in the mind games with each other. Convinced they have the leg up when in reality they do not know the full scope #Also is is just me or do XY and A-Qing give off the vibe of internet nemeses? #A-Qing coming in hard with 'Oh you think blind people cant do XYZ? Get canceled idiot' #Meanwhile XY is the kind to purposefully use leet speak in descriptive text to antagonize the screen reader population. #a teen girl and a 4-channer who found his way to tumblr would be awful to watch fight irl but the vibes are equivalent. #Meanwhile XXC is going on a nice little walk to pick grass. I love him so much actually. #through writing these notes I have also gone down the rabbit hole of trying to pinpoint Xue Yang's age. Hello? Is it actually not known? #The best resources I could find put him as 1-3 years younger then xxc and song lan #So? early twenties? late teens? Someone who has absorbed more mdzs knowledge...Please help #Oh no I'm even deeper in the rabbit hole now. What do you mean the ages are mostly just relative? #What do you mean cultivators can age differently (usually slower in xianxia) #Oh no oh no wwx doesn't have a golden core. I was too accurate in my homestuck AU re: lifespans. I want to go back. #(I love angst and am now marinating this thought in my little thinking chamber)