#pls someone draw this scene as them pls

[genericpuff]

Scamlords is at it again.

A few nights ago, there was a sudden blow-up in the /r/webtoons server showing a new announcement from Snailords -

For anyone unaware, Death : Rescheduled has been on mid-season hiatus since October. And it's now, and only now, that Snailords has suddenly decided the comic is ending after it returns, but readers can get an extra 20 episodes... if they fork over $1k in merch sales.

Now, this could be a lot worse. They could be threatening not to return to the series at all unless their readers hand over money. But considering it's practically just one degree away from that, it's still pretty nasty. Not to mention, the further they divulged in their reasoning around this "idea", the more confusing it got.

They also even revived their @snailordsrant account on IG which, for those of you who were there and can recall, was the same account they used to put one of their own fans on blast over some very mild criticism.

None of this makes any actual sense, for several reasons:

1.) I literally fail to see how getting $1k in less than 24 hours is worth shoving in an extra mini arc of 10 episodes if you don't even have it planned out. Why do that to your audience or to yourself? Why drag things out just to scrounge up an emergency $1k? Why not just be honest with your audience and run a GoFundMe or just say , "Hey everyone, I've run into some financial troubles, I would really appreciate it if you could FastPass my newest episodes or donate to my Patreon or buy some merch so I can cover the costs". It's really telling that this shithead doesn't have enough confidence in themselves or their audience that practically worships them that they have to resort to this kind of underhanded shit to get the money they need. I wanna make it clear that this is NOT like a Kickstarter stretch goal or anything that incentivizes readers to support their work, they're instead holding the length and future of their series over their audiences' head (which they've done before) for money. That's not an incentive, it's an ultimatum.

2.) Maybe I'm misreading / being stupid (someone pls explain if I'm missing something here) but I literally don't see how their comment about working 50 hours a week explains why they're suddenly getting their fans to pay out $1k worth of merch in less than 24 hours. For anyone who doesn't know, $1k per episode is an example Webtoons uses in its post discussing how they pay out creators (this came after the platform got called out 2 years ago for paying creators too little, there are undoubtedly creators getting paid less). And yet for some reason $1k is apparently the difference between 10 episodes and 20? How does that add up? And is the bit about them wanting to buy boba supposed to be a joke? Where's the punchline here?

3.) They say they have writer's block and they want to use the money to "motivate them", but then just a few slides later they say 10-15 episodes is what would make them the "happiest" so which is it? Do they want to write 10 episodes or do they want people to pay them to write 20 episodes so they can draw the fluff scenes that they apparently want to draw? If you have an ending planned out, why rush it or drag it out depending on how this "fundraiser" goes? Why not just write the ending you want to write that will serve your story best? Why shove in an extra mini arc that you don't even have full confidence in writing and then try to compare it to a "super expensive cake"? What are you doing? Speaking as someone who's had trouble getting motivated in the past, suddenly getting a month's rent worth of money to do it doesn't necessarily solve that, it just turns up the pressure, and if you're not someone who deals with pressure well, then you're more likely to wind up just burning out entirely rather than fulfilling that goal.

4.) The fact that they did, in fact, hit their goal just makes it all the shittier to think about because their audience is mostly made up of teenagers who worship the ground that they walk on. It's horrifying that they keep pulling these stunts with their audience, and getting away with it to boot - and Webtoons, as a company, keeps enabling it by allowing it to happen by hosting and promoting people like this.

Anyways, there's already a lot going on here that's sketchy, but then... they went and deleted their posts. At the time of this happening (as I was there to witness it all play out in real time) I assumed this meant that they had hit their $1k goal - especially as they had been showing their progress on their IG and they were already at $900 after just a couple hours - but it gave me a sinking feeling seeing them delete it because they had also been called out by some brave readers telling them that it wasn't exactly a good look to essentially blackmail their audience through their own content into giving them money.

Snailords deleting it gave me a stronger impression of "burying the evidence", especially now that they had the money. By all accounts, they could do whatever they wanted now.

So what did they decide to do?

. . . Huh?

Okay, take a second to actually think about what Snailords has done here. Because I know some of you will go "oh, it was for charity all along! that was nice of them!" but . . . I don't know about the legalities of collecting donation funds under false pretenses, but morally speaking, it's a really shitty thing to do. They stripped away the choices - limiting them to three - of what their readers could donate to, and what I think their readers don't understand - due to being mostly teenagers - is that they're tax-exempt individuals and they just unknowingly gave Snailords an easy $1k tax write-off. You really, really shouldn't collect donation funds like this without being honest, it's just a shitty thing to do, especially after you've already collected the money. It mostly just comes across as damage control on Snailords' part to make it seem like they were always planning to donate to charity, when in reality, if they wanted to donate to charity, they would have been honest about that at the start. Again, even if they wanted to do that from the start, it goes to show how little confidence they have in themselves or their audience that they have to stoop to methods like these instead of just doing it honestly.

And do you really think Snailords will actually do those extra episodes? Or donate that money? This is the same asshole who has manipulated their readers for money not once but twice, and now seems intent on doing it a third time just for the charm. This is the same person who practically sabotaged their own comic, Freaking Romance, because they apparently didn't like the romance genre and may as well have only done it for clout / views / etc.

What was especially odd - and I found this out from folks who actually read Death : Rescheduled (I do not) - was finding out that it wouldn't make sense for D : R to end in as many as 25 episodes, because apparently, the plot has basically just gotten going.

So it does seem like this is foreshadowing that D : R will wind up just like Freaking Romance, rushed into an ending that wasn't expected. And this, of course, has the people who read their work confused because D : R was supposed to be Snailords' passion project, their magnum opus, the project they wanted to do. So them holding the timing of an ending that shouldn't even be happening yet for ransom contradicts that original intention. Really, it just goes to show that Snailords has no passion, they're just in it purely for the money, to a degree that I can't even cheer them on for being a hustler because it's missing the honesty and integrity.

And of course, every single time Snailords finds a way to backpedal and take his audience for a ride, they hop right in without a single thought for themselves.

And no, none of this is to hate on the readers directly, I hold Snailords entirely responsible for this - they have an audience of impressionable, naive, gullible teenagers, and they know it, and take advantage of it every chance they get. It's why they weren't just honest about wanting to collect money for charity from the start. It's why they resorted to basically holding their own comic's progression for ransom during its midseason hiatus. It's why the deadline was 24 hours and why the posts are now gone.

Thankfully the Internet does what it does - any evidence that Snailords was trying to bury is now all over reddit, and hey, just for good measure, here's a post on Tumblr that's been sitting in my drafts for days now, days after people have already seemingly stopped talking about it. Don't let anyone bury or forget about the stunts Snailords is pulling on their audience, with a platform that they've been consistently given by Webtoons, because that's what they want you to do.

#snailords #webtoon critical

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you post more for conrad fisher?

Request: Snow on the beach for Conrad pls?

Who has watched the first three episodes? I was waiting and refreshing my tv until it was time XD Also, don't forget to get on my taglists to get notified when I post something new! I have a lot of Conrad and Jeremiah in my draft

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Per Susannah’s wish, you all came down to Cousins to celebrate her last thanksgiving. The emotions were heavy, but Susannah wouldn’t allow anyone to be sad — not even for one second. She knew the tears and sorrowful faces would take over very soon, so she wanted to have one last happy celebration with everyone at the beach house. 

Being at the Fishers’ beach house outside of summer felt strange. The pool was a nasty green shade and the sun wasn’t shining all over the back porch. A thicker coat was shielding you from the late November chill, along with a scarf you had crocheted yourself. Steven loved to tease you and call you a grandma for crocheting, but he was always appreciative when you would make something for him. 

After dinner, Conrad and you went down to the beach. Unlike the last time, a pair of boots and a coat replaced your summer attires. 

You’ve always loved the beach — especially this beach.

The beach you grew up running to the water with Jeremiah, Steven, Conrad and Belly every summer, with your mother reminding you to put sunscreen on every few hours so you wouldn’t end up looking like a lobster. The beach Conrad taught you how to surf even if you were terrible at it. The beach you and Jeremiah buried Belly in the sand one summer. The beach you went to at night when you couldn’t sleep or had too much on your mind. The beach you and Conrad shared your first kiss. 

‘’It’s snowing,’’ Conrad pointed out, drawing your attention and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at the evening sky, seeing a spectacle of white flecks of snow coming down with no sound and all around. It was beautiful, yet felt impossible. Just like Conrad wanting you. A smile curled on your lips, marveling at the sight. ‘’It's weird but so beautiful at the same time.’’ 

Conrad came behind you, his arms circling you in his hold. A soft hum of agreement escaped his lips, perfectly attuned to the moment. You leaned back against him, both of you standing in awe of the snowfall. 

To immortalize the moment, you pulled out your phone and Conrad kissed your cheek as you snapped a picture. The snow was only slightly visible on the screen, but you knew it was there. Maybe you’ll add it to your Thanksgiving carousel on Instagram…or maybe you’ll keep it to yourself. 

Despite bundling up in additional layers, the crispness of the air still penetrated through your clothes, reminding you of the chill that accompanied the enchanting scene. You shivered, the night air slowly icing your fingers. Gloves felt too much, but now you were regretting not taking some with you to Cousins.

‘’You cold?’’ Conrad asked, taking your hands in his to warm them. Though his hands were slightly chilled as well, they felt warm over yours. ‘’Here. I’ll warm you up.’’ 

Appreciating his thoughtful gesture, you smiled up at him, the heat transferring from his palms to yours. 

You long felt guilty for taking something — someone — your sister had always wanted, but Belly was not blind. She saw the way Conrad looked at you, the smiles he kept just for you, and all the attention he always gave you. How he made you his priority — always. She wanted someone to love her like that. Someone who was cold-hearted with everybody else, but never with her. Someone who showed his feelings through small gestures and soft spoken confessions instead of going all Patrick Verona during his promposal to Kat.

‘’I love you, Conrad Fisher,’’ you whispered to him, enveloped by the quiet intimacy of the beach. ‘’You're the best thing that's ever been mine.’’ 

As the words left your lips, Conrad's curled into a soft smile. They were rare these days, but there was always one for you, even if it was small.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine

[glitter-alienz]

some fanart i did for @probably-not-a-rutabaga's fic "it just feels inhumane to lose this much" <-(link) its sooo good pls read it yall

TW for gore under the cut + spoilers for the fic

this scene was so fucked up and I didnt expect them to actually kill someone but slay i guess? (literally 💀) i really enjoyed it tho (obviously, i drew something for it as soon as i read that chapter lol I enjoy flesh and blood 🤷🏾‍♂️) and tbh i wasn't sure if i should post thiz like it was sitting in my art folder for a while but fuck it imma post my cartoon gore (tho, ruta if you want me to remove this drawing lemme know /g) bro is gonna be full of guilt!! 😂💯 (rip)

uueghhh aberration donnie is just so relatable man (please don't read into that 🤕) i luv everything about this au RAAHHH biting biting bitin-

anywayz rant over bye

#👽 my art #tmnt aberration #tmnt au #others aus #fanart #tmnt #tmnt iteration #digital art #digital drawing #my art #artists on tumblr #my artwork #tmnt fanart #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #blood #tmnt fan iteration #blood cw

[akutasoda]

Hello!! Can I pls request Cyno , Tignari with a shy artist reader(gn)? The Y/n draws really well and dedicated the picture to them.(reader is very shy to show they creative pictures) (´･ω･`)

masterpieces

synopsis - your a brilliant artist and they want you to be proud and show off your pieces

includes - tighnari, cyno

warnings - gn!reader, artist reader, fluff, slight crack, wc - 697

a/n: this was absolutely adorable!

tighnari ★↷

he would call himself a rather avid sketcher. it was maily of the various plants and wildlife that were located out and around sumeru so he had his fair share in experience with sketching atleast.

but then he met you and not toput himself down, but his work absolutely paled in comparison to yours. he absolutely adored it. it didn't matter what you drew, it could be a portrait of someone, sumeru landscapes or whatever. he loved them all.

so when you two started dating it became a common occurrence for him to offer you to join for sketching. he would always subtly ask for tips to improve his own sketching.

but he knew you disliked showing your work and he never got why. even if you were just naturally shy he still didn't understand but he could somewhat relate in a slightly different way however.

and recently he had notice you had been hiding a particular piece that you always seemed to work on around him. and he knew you probably wouldn't show him unless he asked you directly so he waoted until you seemed to no longer carry it around. but you seemed different about this one.

when he asked to see it you seemed more hesitant about showing him and more embarrassed about it. eventually he convinced you to show him and he immediately recognised what it was. it was the best piece he'd ever seen and it was of him and it was done by his lover! now he may be no fontaine girl but you sure made him compare.

he couldn't be more proud of you for creating such a stunning image and immediately asked to keep it which sent you into a state of embarrassment. but now everytime you visited his residence you would see it, hanging proudly in pristine condition.

now he wasn't self centred or such but he was just so impressed by it that he simply couldn't resist displaying it and proudly telling it's origin should someone ask.

cyno ★↷

cyno wasn't quite the artist. he had tried a few times and had quite a bit of natural talent but he never really honed or practiced much. the most he would ever do so was when he was so bored that it was the only option, but that was a rare case.

so upon hearing your name in the sumeru art scene and then seeing your pieces was so impressive to him. he could see why people compared you to the quality of art that was normally produced in fontaine.

he noticed immediately that you weren't one for attention so when he first met you he didn't want to seem overbearing or practically scare you away. but he was absolutely enamoured that such an artist eventually chose to be with him.

he always took time when he returned from various deals to have a look at your newest pieces, even if they weren't finished. and while you were still shy about showing your art, you had accustomed to cyno's attention.

you wanted to try something and with cyno gobe for long periods of time, it made ot easy for him not to see it prematurely. and you thought that the puece would feel the same as all others but when cyno actually asked to see it you froze.

shyness washed over you and you came up with random reasons why he shouldn't. but eventually he would convince you that he would love it no matter what. and so you practically couldn't even look at him as he picked it up.

and you didn't look at him, face to red, and your embarrassment grew as silence filled the air but then you felt a pair of arms around you. cyno absolutely adored it, he was so flattered you chose to dedicate a piece to him. he released you and immediately started praising it.

you'd never felt so embarrassed but it was from the sheer overwhelment of compliments cyno showed you, even if a few of them included a couple of puns. and if you were okay with it, he'd love to be another inspiration for your pieces.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin cyno #cyno x reader

[xcherryerim]

Intoxicating Admiration

gn!reader vocalist x hard!dom Billy | word count: 2.7k

“Short breathes a whisper, and everythings new. Your still thoughts, cant walk.” — Where The Night Ends by Together Pangea

SMUT ONE SHOT - MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: choking, oral sex (only Billy womp womp) | quicky, unprotected sex (I can’t stress this enough y’all, wear condoms pls) | Penetration (no genitalia specified) | tying up reader’s wrist | porn with plot. | Car sex.

Notes: Wrote this a long time ago and I revised it like 2 times so… sorry for the repeated words and stuff :)

Also, the song reader sings is the one I linked at the beginning! You don’t have to listen to it but yk…

Summary: Running from the police, Billy finds himself hiding in a grunge bar, unsure of what to do next. He decides to stay for a little while longer and as he watches your band's performance, He is instantly drawn to you.

Billy's attempt to rob a gas station had gone wrong. The adrenaline pumping through his body kept him going for a while, but soon his legs gave out and he was forced to stop. On the run, he approached a strange bar that looked grunge and worn-out. But he had nowhere else to go, so he snuck inside to hide from the police and plan his next move.

Billy felt out of place in this dark and messy-looking bar, not used to its laid-back atmosphere compared to typical barn-looking ones. He'd been here for almost an hour and couldn't think of a good reason to stay. Even though the police were probably no longer searching for him, something was telling him to stay.

Everyone was watching him, some checking him out while others judging his cowboy-looking attire, but he didn't care. He was drowning in his regrets. It was all caused because he chose to get involved with those bikers, and now he was living off of stolen money. He hated it, hated his life, his choices, and himself. But it was too late to make things right, he was too deep in it now.

Out of sheer frustration, Billy blurted out "What do you want?" when someone stared at him.

The sudden outburst sent them jumping away, startled. After that, Billy sighed and ordered another scotch. His thoughts were plagued by doubt and uncertainty. He couldn't figure out how he'd get back home, how he'd pay off his debt with the bikers, or what to do with his life. He was overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness and just wanted to forget it all with alcohol.

Billy was too immersed in his thoughts to notice the subtle change in the lighting, or how the other people in the bar were focused on the stage. The loud electric guitars pierced his ears, drawing his attention toward the stage. He turned his face with annoyance and confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. The bar was no longer a casual, laid-back environment, but a scene for a performance.

You started playing your guitar abruptly as the cues for the song came in. Your fingers moved gracefully and fluidly to the beats of your bandmates, weaving an intricate mesh of rhythm and melody. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, filled with equal parts of anxiety and excitement as you knew your turn to sing was just a few moments away. You needed to put on a good performance, for the sake of the band and your reputation.

“Your long stares. You don't care. I know you want to. Short breathes a whisper.”

Billy was unsure how to react. Alternative music wasn't his thing, it was too loud and too chaotic. But there was something about the vocalist that captivated him. He couldn't quite explain it - it was as if the sound of your voice and your presence lured him in, taking control of his senses. The sight was addictive, intoxicating, and beautiful. Billy felt a strange tug inside him, urging him closer and closer, and for some reason, he couldn't resist.

Billy grabbed his scotch and navigated through the crowd, pushing people out of his way in a desperate effort to get as close as possible to the stage. The lure of the vocalist was overpowering and he had to get closer, even if it meant trampling on other people. The scotch was the only thing helping him maintain his composure, but all the alcohol in the world couldn't stop his mind from spinning and his heart from pounding.

As the lights change color and intensity, you suddenly notice an unfamiliar face in the crowd. The man is staring at you with a passionate, adoring look, his gaze fixed on you. You're not sure if it's your actual self or your performance persona, but you decide to wink at the cowboy-looking fella, encouraging the admiration. You keep on singing, your voice echoing through the entire bar, but you can't help but be aware of his presence, the intensity of his stare, and the heat his gaze is bringing.

“I wanna have you. Tell me where the night ends.”

Once you winked at Billy he felt so intoxicated, so much that the rest of the world faded. His vision was clouded, and he could see nothing but you. Every movement was hypnotic, and the vocals were perfect. Your voice was calling him, calling him to get closer, and no matter how much he fought it, it overpowered him.

You saw him, and you loved the reaction he had toward you. You couldn't help but smile and shake your head lightly, trying to dismiss him. However, his presence was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. You took a deep breath and belted out the high note, hoping it would catch his attention. But instead of looking at him, you focused on the performance, giving it your all. Despite wanting to acknowledge his admiration, you couldn't afford to lose focus on your performance.

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted in cheers, their energy and excitement overflowing. You took the microphone and named the band once again, acknowledging the crowd for their support. However, amidst the celebrating and revelry, the mysterious man remained still, his eyes never swaying from you, his gaze fixed and intense.

After the show, you gathered some of your equipment and started cleaning up, but one of your bandmates stopped you in your tracks. "Hey, go get a drink, you deserve it. I'll pay." You wanted to say no, but after the demanding performance and the pressure of trying to impress the cowboy guy, you accepted. Walking to the bar section, your mind wandered back to that man with the intense gaze.

As you turned your head to the right Billy approached you with confidence, settling himself in the seat next to you. His face was full of a sense of determination and conviction as if he'd been waiting for this very moment.

"Hey," he said, as his gaze bore into you, searching for a reaction. "Would you mind if I join you for a drink?"

The way he looked at you instantly sparked a flicker of excitement deep within you. "Sure," you replied with a calm smirk on your face, playing it cool.

“I loved your performance.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it," you added, your eyes never leaving him for a second. In this moment, he was all you could see.

The details of his appearance, from his bruised knuckles to the way his veiny hands played with the rim of the glass, stirred up something inside you. Your head was wondering about the possibility of what those hands could do, and you were overcome with temptation. The intensity of the heat he was radiating made it impossible to stay seated, and your body was beckoning you to be closer to him.

I'm Billy," he introduced, extending his hand towards you. You shook it, your fingers brushing against his, and felt an electric current run through you. You couldn't help but let your eyes linger on his bruised knuckles, wondering about the story behind them.

You introduced yourself back, your voice low and sultry, matching his intensity. You took a sip from your drink and gestured towards your bandmates. "We usually hang out here after the show, care to join us?"

The heat of his breath hit you, bringing a shiver to your spine. He leaned even closer, his face just inches away from yours. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating, and something about the intensity of this encounter was drawing you closer.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding tone. "I'd love to. But I prefer spending some time alone with you if you don't mind…”

The way he leaned in made you catch your breath, and his words just added to the intensity of the situation. Your mind was going a mile a minute, trying to process what his words meant. You played dumb as if you didn't know exactly what he was implying. You sipped your drink for another moment, hoping to calm your nerves and not appear too flustered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, acting innocent as you raised an eyebrow.

His gaze was intense, his words low and seductive, bringing a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours.

"It means that I find you irresistible," he said, his voice rumbling through you. "I want to know more about you without prying eyes." He raised his glass to his lips, taking another sip, but his eyes were never leaving yours.

You felt your heart race at his words, a flush spreading across your cheeks. "You know, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, but you had to be cautious.

He spoke in a soft yet commanding whisper that made you tremble from the intensity. "Let me show you a good time," he murmured, sending shivers through your body. You were powerless in this moment, swept up by the passion and overwhelming attraction you felt for him.

The heat and tension were overwhelming, and the adrenaline rushed through you as everything unfolded quickly. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the backseat of your car, with Billy next to you. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of forbidden desire and overwhelming chemistry, creating a steamy and passionate atmosphere.

Billy spread, comfortable in the backseat of your car as he looked at you. He was relaxed and confident, but something about the atmosphere still felt forbidden and naughty. His words were flirtatious, with a hint of arrogance, but his tone was teasing and playful. "I don't bite,"

“But what if I want you to?” Your teasing response took things to the next level. It was a simple, yet charged statement, making him wonder just how desperate you were for anything he'd do.

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, finally giving in to his desire to kiss you. Your bodies were pressed into each other, skin against skin, as the heat and intensity of the moment swelled and surged between you. His kisses were passionate and demanding, leaving your lips tingling. As he sucked and bit into your lower lip, you could feel the sting mixed with the rush of pleasure coursing through your body.

His rough hands gently grazed your neck, not too tightly but firmly enough to leave a lasting impression. The light choking sensation only added to the intensity of the connection.

"You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat," Billy murmured.

With shaking hands, you tugged at his belt buckle, desperate to feel his heat against your fingertips. As you pulled his pants down, his cock sprung free, twitching in anticipation. It was even bigger and thicker than you imagined, and your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him.

You leaned in closer, taking in his musky scent as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, tasting the mixture of pre-cum and salty skin. With each passing moment, you took more of him into your mouth, savoring the feel of his hardness against your softness.

Your hands roamed over his thighs, up his abdomen, and finally rested on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your palms. His hips bucked forward, pushing his cock deeper into your throat, and you gagged slightly before pulling back to catch your breath.

With a lustful growl, he reached down and gripped your hair, pulling your head back towards his cock. "Suck it," he demanded, his voice rough with need. You complied, taking him deeper into your throat, bobbing your head up and down as you worked him.

You could feel his length throbbing in your mouth, his desire pulsing through you. His hands were in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down, taking him deeper into your throat. You could feel him twitching, and the sensation was overwhelming.

Billy's breath hitched, and he groaned, his hips bucking against your mouth. "Fuck, you're good at this," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "I've never had anyone suck me off like this before."

With a moan of pleasure, you pulled back slightly, your eyes never leaving Billy's. His cock twitched in anticipation as he gripped your wrists tightly with his belt. You couldn't help but grin, the feeling of being restrained only adding to the excitement.

"Please," You whispered around his hardness. "Do it." You begged, your voice shaky with desire. With that, Billy pushed your wrists together even tighter, the leather digging into your skin. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure you felt as he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You sucked harder, taking him as far down your throat as you could. His hips pounded against your face, the slapping sound echoing in the car. Slowly, he pulled your head back, releasing your mouth from him.

Billy’s hand closed around the leather belt that encircled your wrist. With a swift tug, he pulled you closer to him, the rough texture of the belt against your bare skin sending shivers down your spine.

As he sat you on his lap, his hard cock, already leaking precum, rubbed against your entrance. You could feel the heat emanating from it, the anticipation of what was to come almost unbearable.

He spat into his hands, the saliva glistening in the dim light. With rough fingers, he spread the moisture around your entrance, preparing you for his entry. You arched your back instinctively, begging for him to take you.

Finally, he positioned himself, his cockhead teasing. With a forceful thrust, he pushed inside you, filling you up in one swift motion. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, your body adjusting to the sudden intrusion. His hips pounded against your back, driving him deeper with each passing second.

“Your thighs are shaking so much,” Billy added.

You couldn't help but laugh, your body still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. "I can't help it," you panted. "It's been a while since I've been fucked this hard."

Billy's hips pounded harder, his thrusts growing more demanding. Each time he pushed into you, the sensation was overwhelming. You gripped the seat, your nails digging into the rough fabric, as you arched your back, begging for more.

Your breath hitched as you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours. His voice was thick with lust as he groaned, "You feel so good. I'm not going to last much longer."

"Don't stop," you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. "I want you to come inside me."

The words sent a jolt of excitement through him, and he thrust into you harder. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you to the brim. With a primal roar, Billy let himself go, emptying himself inside you.

"Damn, that was good," Billy panted, his breath ragged as he pulled out of you. You could feel the stickiness of his come between your legs, the evidence of your passion.

You grinned, your heart racing. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you said, your voice low and sultry. "But I think it's time for me to go."

“No,” Billy wrapped his arms around you, his body leaning into you as his lips kissed your back. The way he held you was comforting and protective, but there was also a sense of possessive desire in his behavior.

“How about we go back to my place?”

It was clearly what Billy was trying to do. His question brought you back to reality, and the urge to be alone with him for the rest of the night overtook you. You wanted to go with him, to be with him, to be his, at least for the whole night.

“Fine.”

The heat and excitement of the moment had passed, but the passion and desire remained. You quickly changed back into your clothes, adjusting them as best as you could. Billy followed your example, getting himself ready as he sat next to you in the passenger seat.

“Good,” He leaned in again, pressing his lips against yours, taking control of the situation. That single kiss was an indication of what was to come.

“because I’m not done with you.”

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed this 🫶🏻 … Part 2?

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

tag list: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo (If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!)

#billy burn x you #billy burn x gn!reader #billy burn 2019 #billy x reader #billy burn #billy parks #smut writing #mike schimdt smut #josh futturman smut #derek danforth smut #clapton davis smut

[xxfrankiesteinksxx]

small details in the dnpc video no one is mentioning

okay, look, i'm gonna admit it, i'm a game/film theory girly and a whore for lore, so i pick at details i shouldn't be picking at, so here's some things i see in the video that i don't see being mentioned in theories/analyses. also keep in mind my brain consists of a single cell encapsulated in aspic (i know what the actual deeper meaning is this is just a bit of fun for me)

the thing underneath the piano - the camera falls off the piano in one scene and something (i still cant figure out what exactly it might be) is visible, oddly clear-looking for something underneath a broken piano in shoddy lighting (actually looking at it again it might be a corpse, is it possibly phil's old body?)

dan telling phil not to film him drawing the sigils but phil still filming - you might be able to also throw in the part where phil screams "NO" when the camera's on him sitting in the corner; they don't seem to want things to be filmed but it feels like they're obligated to record everything to some extent

phil's very explicit control over dan - this is to the point where he even has to tell dan what and what isn't food, and takes away water privileges for some reason (btw this is your reminder to drink some water) and overall very demanding tone when instructing him

SOFT AND NEAT - there's a lot of reinforcement of this, its clearly a joke but i'm overanalytical and will blatantly ignore this. there's heavy hesitation with any sharp object around them (when dan has to cut his hand, kill phil, take out phil's heart, mentioning razor blades when using the shaving foam)

dan still primarily uses his left hand - people have mentioned how he's been "fixed" but him using his right hand seems to be performative since he pours most things, mixes with his left hand, and even primarily uses his left hand to spread the blood (plus he never sacrificed himself unlike phil who seems to have died in potato stamps and been resurrected with perfect vision) there's also old superstitions that being left-handed means you're somehow cursed by/connected to satan, speaking of which...

dan has a much better connection and the ability to communicate directly with Him - he seems to be a conduit, possibly being used by phil to properly perform anything (which also probably helped with his resurrection and eyesight improvement), he has uncontrollable actions from time to time

the sigils themselves - what do they all mean? what could they mean in a bigger, symbolic context? anyone that understands them pls explain to my aspic brain

the entire place fucking burns down after the ritual is complete and they're embraced by Him - it's clear at least to me that the shed is set on fire at the end of the video, cutting off further possible footage

dan doesn't put blood on phil's forehead during the ritual - might've just been a slipup during filming but we also dont see the blood dan put on his own forehead once he arrives and theyre all standing up in the pentagram

also just a couple fun facts:

the number on the case file when converted to corresponding letters of the alphabet spell out "satan"

what dan says in his reversed clip is just "thanks!", nothing is really said in the reversed clip of phil opening the shed door its juts kinda a random noise someone made

Aaaaand some misc nonsense crackpot theories/ideas/thoughts/brain vomit that my brain keeps me awake at night with (optional reading):

if the demon taking them at the end is actually baphomet and not just some generalized idea of satan, then "mother" could be another way to refer to "him" since baphomet is portrayed as having both female and male characteristics (bobs n pennies)

personally this is scarier/more unnerving than the actual blair witch project for some reason

my bathroom sink is the one sink you cant ship

i want a dapc for those dolls they hung everywhere

is cataloguing all of the ritual setup part of the craft channel's purpose?

what was the reason for summoning him? did they bring him to our plane of existence to just let him absorb these two brink-of-twinks and then use their gay power to torment the straights?

oh that rope is just his belt thing not rope tying dip and pip together

i think this is a good wrap-up idk what they could do in a part 5 to conclude things better

#this is what keeps me up at night #that and the 4 hour long naps i take at 5pm every day #now i wanna start a collector doll brand called brink-of-twink #featuring fun accessories like texts to his sugar daddy and mortgage paperwork #theres more but this is rly fkn long lol #dan and phil #dan and phil crafts #danandphil #daniel howell #dan howell #phil lester #amazingphil #phandom #dnp crafts #dnp

[polariae]

Hi my loves!

So I would like to inform u of some problems about the fanfic Savior i am Co working on and the truth on how my Fanfic Ideas of my OC Izumi x Geto got taken advantage of. And how the tragectory of everything went on. From the start to the reason why I wanted her to stop/delete my FF.

As u know I have had my OC Izumi for some years now as a staple in my artworks and I got so much love and curiosity from yall to know more about her. I ofc had a whole backstory in my mind already fleshed out from the start for Izumi, since i just love to make up stories and backgrounds for OC characters. Its just something that comes naturally and all my maladapive daydream girlies will know exactly what im talkin about 😂 and after so many DMs about wanting to know more about her i was like, a fanfic would be amazing to do!

The problem was, English is not my first or second language and I just didnt had the means to bring my thoughts rightly to paper. I also am really invested in drawing here and that takes up all my freetime already. So i had no time or skills to make this FF work.

Thats how I came across a tumblr user who had open a requests on her page so I dmed her. I liked her other work she made with Geto (even tho it was kinda brutal) i liked her writing style a lot. So I asked her if she would like to write this story with me. We agreed that I would give her my ideas and she would write it. I saw her as a friend and trusted her.

But soon she wanted to add and change things up, she said that thats how it is with co writing and thats just how its gonna be. I was okay with that at first, since the changes were sometimes beneficial and it was fun to brainstorm with her. It was clear that this was my vision and any changes had to get through me. We both agreed on that but I was naïve and let myself get talked into things. I just wanted her to keep writing and was dependent for her collaboration.

For anyone who read the FF: The character Kai was never planned by me, it was a character she wanted to have in it, hes someone who abused Izumi in her captivity. He was like the prisonguard of her. I was like okay fine u can add him but i said from the beginning that I do not want him to touch Izumi in a sexual way.

I shouldve known immediately that things will go south as the writer said she wanted to add sexual abuse in it.

I was very reluctant but I sensed how she spoke that she wouldnt wanna write further so I agreed in just very mild things, which already were awful enough but i tried to make the best out of her wishes. Since she was insisting. And i hoped that if id agree to this mild things that that would be it and hopefully not picked up further in the story and at last forgotten by the readers.

My only thing i always said was: I dont want to have any of this abuse to interfere with Izumis and Getos relationship. That was a big thing since I wanted them to have a romantic and loving relationship further on. The NSFW scenes were planned to be sweet, and sensual especially cuz Geto wouldve been all Izumi knew sexually and her first (and Geto is just peak hotness and perfect for that) Izumi should enjoy her firsts with Geto fully.

Going on she started to change more things.. and it got further and further away from how Izumi and all was. She started to change Izumi and her personality. Shes so far off of what I pictured her to be and what was discussed. But that wasnt the worst thing.

Then the writer just started to take things to new levels, Izumi having to be forced to suck Kai off for food, Kai fingering her to her orgasm against her will etc.

Pls know that she just posted the chapters without informing me, so i always tried to talk her into removing these scenes but to no avail.

Boiling point was now the latest chapters cuz she made Izumi have panic attack and flashbacks. Worst, she made her having one as Geto and Izumi tried to take things further in the bedroom. She made Izumi think of Kai and her sexual abuse. Tormenting Izumi with memories of Kai sexually abusing her when Geto was touching her. Its awful.

And that was what made me just so so sad. Cuz Kai wasnt even supposed to be in the story at all. And now exactly what I didnt wanted happened. At this point i wasnt even invested anymore in the story cuz it just wasnt enjoyable to read about all this mess. Izumi was snappy, her personality is weird and unpleasant and it was just such a weird vibe between Geto and Izumi. The writer always talked her way out by saying thats just how trauma works ect. Without acknowledging my wishes and my OC Izumi. Izumi and Geto just were soo weird together and after this all their whole dynamic was not there anymore. It wasnt loving, it wasnt sweet.

And i would like to add that im a sucker for Angst. Like im not someone who reads fluff. But this was even for me not even Angst anymore, it was just uncomfortable.

Like it was the drop that made it overfloat. What made me not wanting to be associated with it anymore. She wrote on many Autors Notes especially the recent ones, that she does not have the drive to write more on the FF. That she healfheartly literally ended the FF today in 3 chapters. This fanfic just has nothing to do with what I imagined anymore and im sad that i gave away all my ideas away to her tbh. If i had known I wouldve never asked her to write my ideas out. It also became her most read Fanfic. We discussed sooo many cool ideas and scenes for this fanfic till the end chapters like i just dont understand why she just insists in having this sexual abuse in it and tormenting Izumi. And also drag it over so many chapters. So many of you DMed me and said hoe uncomfortable it made u feel reading the latest chapters and how the storyline just didnt seem the same anymore. Which was as u see now absolutely true.

I asked her many times on why she insists on having sexual abuse in it so much? But shes never gave me an answer, no she tries to turn in on me saying "u agreed to it". Which as I discussed with u above was not what happened AT ALL. She says she cant remove it anymore, wether the scenes or Izumis mental torment and trauma. But she COULD.

ITS A FANFIC. U can always make it work.

Its also funny how she tries to say "im doing it for free" to hint that she can do whatever she wants. In that case i just have to say; i also gave all my ideas for free like? Its insane how this is even a conversation.

The gaslighting she is doing in the chat is hard to manage and Im srsly so sad and also annoyed that this had to happen.

I wont engage in this with her more cuz I have to keep my mental health in tact.

You saw how she is turning things around, how she manipulates and changes the context of conversations. I remember vividly how the first times she laughed at how emotionally invested i was in my story and belitteling me. I created Izumi nearly 4 years ago while I was batteling severe anxiety while i was homebound. How she always blackmailed me in saying "ur not paying me so I can do whatever I want" and when I then gave her some payed content for free she is now changing the narrative as if she never asked for money. I was the one who thought we would do this for fun and was always hurt when she talked about this tid for tad mentality.

I tried to build a friendship and let things that she said pass during our "friendship" out of good faith. I was hurt how she treated me and dismissed me and my character requirements and how now that I was the one saying I dont see her as a friend anymore she turns it around to make it seem im the "mean" one for now standing up for myself. I am still shook about this disingenious behavior. I never sent hate to her even tho she tries with all her power to say so. I even insisted to keep things kind and graceful. And after she shit on me and I saw that she wouldnt budge, I stood up for myself. Also; Calling me a bitch and telling me to fuck off is no "quirky" way to talk to people as seen below. Especially in this context.

Shes now deleting every comment that doesnt benefit her on the comment sections. Im not surprised. So be it.

Tbh I do not care anymore. I just made story posts but since she showed the DMs I wanted to post the truth for u to read here as well. Iwont let this negativity from her linger any longer and give her any platform.

As I said in the DM i rather had kept this private but I had to share the truth in this matter since she spread misinformation. You deserve to know how things really went behind the scenes. And im sick and tired that my kindness is always taken advantage of.

I had to speak up for myself, my Ideas and my OC. Thank u for all that messaged me and having my back! Everyone of u sent nothing but love and support my way my heart was bursting out of greatfulness.

I LOVE YOU.

If you've read so far im so so grateful for ur time. And in due time I will tell the real story of Izumi and Geto in a FF worthy of their love.

Latesr DMs she also posted but here with context.

#notice #geto fanfic

[inkdemonapologist]

nobody asked but since I've seen a lil chatter on the DCTL Graphic Novel on tumblr too, here's the thread I posted on twitter, speaking as someone who's done a little freelance work as a comic artist, under the jump:

Main thought about the DCTL graphic novel preview is: yeah, I've made designs like that when I was being paid by the page and expected to just throw in extra design work for free and I have a deadline and no time to scour the source material or really put my heart into the design No shade to the artist; every complaint I have about the pages we've seen is that this looks like someone who was just working (quickly) from a script. The artist is likely not a Big Fan, so they only know the info and descriptions they're given. And the artist's portfolio shows they're capable of the kind of designs and dynamics this comic needed. its possible they phoned it in for no reason, but feels more likely to be "not enough time/not paid enough/not given enough info to give it that level of care." Which, don't get me wrong; an important level of craftsmanship and care is missing and im not gonna blame the artist but i AM gonna be a hater abt it lmao It's not just about designs; the convo with Joey is another good example. It's a literal illustration of the things Joey said and did in that scene, but it's missing the point -- that scene is our introduction to the way Joey throws Buddy off-balance. That energy is missing. And that's the sort of thing that needs the script to convey this purpose well to the artist, that needs the artist to have time & freedom to invest in portraying it, that needs time & investment & knowledge to ask for adjustments at early stages and get the page right one more note: begging batim fans 2 think abt the plot of DCTL and realise why "maybe we will not make the creepy guy who dies at the end a black man in this" is perhaps a reasonable choice. like im a fan of poc norman headcanons too but pls recognise this would be a tough call!! anyway, genuinely cannot wait to see how off sammy is gonna be in this lmao. will he be a mid non-design like norman or will he be conventionally handsome or will he get graphic novel dave miller vibes b/c hes an antagonist? will we get the fabled black hair sammy??? i cant wait

TL;DR I strongly suspect this was an issue of not enough time/not enough money. That design looks nothing like the description of Norman, right? Like, there's hundreds of different AU designs of all shapes, colours and sizes that you could create that would still look like Norman Polk, but somehow they managed to make a character that isnt ANY of them, lmao??? So... how could that happen, unless nobody gave the artist a description of Norman? Or if they did, how did that design make it past anyone else, unless there wasn't time for revisions or a system worked out for revisions, unless whoever was managing the comic project thought it was fine if the designs didn't fit with the descriptions in the book? If everyone is doing their job, then the artist is given the information they need without having to go do unpaid YA novel research before they can start drawing. That's why you have a writer adapting it!!

("they should hire fans, a fan would've done a better job" OK BUT THATS B/C FANS ARE MORE LIKELY TO ALLOW THEMSELVES TO BE EXPLOITED AND DO EXTRA UNPAID WORK B/C THEY CARE!! THATS NOT A SOLUTION!!!! THATS A JOEY DREW STRAT!!!!!!!)

Anyway I could yell about this for 15 years so I'm going to shush for now BUT I JUST FEEL VERY STRONGLY ABOUT IT LMAO.

#genuinely tho now that i dont have to worry abt the possibility that it might be good #i can just relax and be excited to discover how far off it will be #im a hater abt this but everyone be nice to the artist lmao #we all write on the walls #is abby going to be in a suit like she's supposed to be? #how accurate will dot be? #will jacob even be black? #we could do a whole DCTL Comic Discrepancy Bingo i think it would be fun #HOW CLOSE TO GINGER ROGERS IS ALLISON GOING TO LOOK

[sunlightmurdock]

Blow by Blow | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni. Alcohol, sexual content whilst somewhat intoxicated (not drunk but worth mentioning). Fingering, oral (f receiving). Pls pee after sexual activity, this is just fiction, like 5.4k words omg

…

“You have to come out, we’re celebrating!” Jake decides, trademark grin toying on his lips as you duck under his arms and step outside. The evening chill brushes your biceps and instinctively makes you cross your arms over your chest.

“Mm, I can’t,” You answer back, turning to face him and starting to walk backwards to keep up with your friends whilst keeping your eyes on Jake. He lets the door swings shut behind him and carries himself forwards after you. His busted up cheek doesn’t look like much cause for celebration, but the ten thousand dollars that tonight raised for charity certainly is. “I need to go and feed Tank.”

“I can let him out and feed him. Have to drop some papers off at the gym anyway, wouldn’t be a big deal.” Shrugging his jacket closer to his body, Maverick offers from just a few steps behind you. Jake quirks an eyebrow.

“Really, Mav?” Spinning back around so that you’re facing the right way, Bradley glances back and watches the brightness in the way you’re smiling at his uncle. “You would?”

“Of course! — It’s the least I could do for my favourite employee, right?” Maverick grins at you. You throw your head back and laugh at the various gasps and vocal complaints that come from Maverick’s other employees that surround you.

“Bro, why are you saying ‘hey’, you don’t even work with us.” Mickey points out, frowning slightly as he lifts his chin to look up at Rueben. Digging his hands deep into his pockets so that he can flex his aching fists without drawing attention to himself, Rueben shrugs his shoulders.

“I dunno, that was cold, Mav.” Rueben points out playfully.

“She’s the only one who does what I pay her to do, so she’s my favourite. Anyway, I’ve got a dog to go feed. You kids have fun.” Maverick waves them off as he nears the parking lot. Jake catches your shoulders and bumps into your back, squeezing your bare shoulders playfully.

“So you’re in, right, kid?” He checks, leaning over your shoulder to check your face. Protected from the cold finally, you don’t even realize that you’re leaning into his touch until he’s letting go. Something in Rooster’s shoulders tighten, the kind of tension he usually gets seconds before he steps into the ring.

Replacing Jake’s warm hands with your own, you brush your palms up and down your biceps, craning your neck to watch Maverick reach his car safely. Rooster’s bronco is parked right next to it. You shoot a quick look towards him and find him already looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“Okay.” You nod softly, eyes unwavering from the taller man up ahead of you. He looks away first, frowning slightly as Phoenix smacks him for not listening to what she’s saying. “Where are we going?”

A club not far from the downtown strip. Phoenix calls it walking distance but she hikes for fun, and you’re wearing heels that weren’t meant for the San Diego streets. Looping your arm through Mickey’s, you end up walking a little slower than the rest of the group. Rooster periodically checks back. You look happy enough.

He’s sure that it’s not going to be your scene and that you’re going to want to leave fairly quickly. But then, you’re under purple neon lights and being talked into celebratory shots with the winners. Jake and Phoenix can pound tequila like it’s water. They make it a competition every time. You’re no match for either of them.

Jake’s a winner this evening and Phoenix remains undefeated in her weight class; Payback’s only ever lost once. There’s a lot to celebrate and it’s your first time playing this game. Rooster watches you like a ball on a roulette wheel, slamming back whatever liquid Jake hands you. He knows that there are two ways for this to end.

Still, four shots in and a vodka lemonade in your hand, you’re still laughing your head off as you make your way through the bodies to the dance floor. He loses you in the mass of dancing people for a moment. When he sets his sights on you again, you’re laughing so hard that you’re clutching your stomach as Mickey and Bob weave around each other.

The music’s loud enough that he can’t really hear himself think, but he swears he can hear your infectious laugh over it.

“It’s alright that she’s not into you, you know.” It’s a packed nightclub on a weekend and yet, Bradley still flinches when Phoenix appears at his side. He rolls his eyes as she rests her hand on his shoulder and nudges a shot glass filled with clear liquid across the bar to him.

“How would you know that she’s not into me? — You didn’t ask her.”

“Roo, she has barely looked at you all night,” Phoenix points out as she runs her fingers through her hair, scalp still sore from the tight bun that she always has Javy scrape it back into. “The bartender, though, she is into you.”

Bradley takes the shot and knocks it back, dismayed to find that it’s vodka. It makes him shiver, shaking his head as he turns his back on the glass. “Think I’m gonna take my chances with your BFF.”

“Is that… jealousy I hear?” Phoenix taunts, leaning into him so that he’ll be able to hear her over the music.

“We’ve barely hung out since you brought her around — you know that you haven’t been to my place in over a month?” Rooster replies. Phoenix points to the shot glass and holds up two fingers. The gym’s closed tomorrow and she is planning on making the most of her time off.

Leaning her head against his thick shoulder, she smiles softly. She has known Bradley since he was thirteen, and the two of them have been on a course of fucked up adventures together ever since. He gets her, she gets him. Instant best friends.

She has seen the worst of him frequently, and the best of him fleetingly. Adoration is a strong word for a man that she considers assaulting multiple times a week, but Bradley really is the brother that she always wanted. Which is why she is so blunt with him, he can take it, and sometimes it’s the only way to get information through that thick skull of his.

Pounding music and sweaty bodies filling the room, Rooster almost feels alone with Natasha at the bar. Just the two of them and their conversation.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make time,” Phoenix promises, squeezing his shoulder. She grins as two more shots are placed in front of her. “Now stop being so moody and get drunk with me.”

Phoenix is a difficult type of drunk, because there is absolutely nothing ‘gradual’ about the way alcohol hits her. She’s fine, and then she’s not. Years of knowing her and Bradley still sometimes misses her tell.

She’s fine when his attention falters. His gaze finding you in the crowd. Bathed in a neon glow, your grin stretched wide as you dance with your friends. Swaying your hips, trailing your hands up along your body and over your head, eyes closed. Jake catches your waist and spins you to face him.

The rational part of Bradley’s brain reminds him that this is just what Jake does. Even Phoenix dances with him, he’s just that kind of guy. But his arms draped around your waist and that slinky black dress has the larger majority of Bradley’s brain plotting otherwise.

Then, Phoenix stumbles and spills forwards, arms flying out for leverage. Rooster steps forwards and catches her, lifting her off of the ground and setting her back on her feet.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I’m — yeah — completely.” She slurs back as she resigns into his arms, letting her head lull back and her eyes blink heavily. Rooster sighs softly, giving her a small shake before she turns into completely dead weight in his arms.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep right now.” Bradley warns her. He lifts his head and looks towards his friends, trying to make eye contact with any of them. Already looking in that direction, you notice him balancing Phoenix in his arms first. Your friends are quick to corral.

Huddling outside, Bradley has Phoenix tucked in against his chest with Bob’s coat draped around her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. Waiting for five different Ubers to turn up, chilled to the bone and suddenly sobered by the way Bradley isn’t looking at you.

Not in a malicious way. Just like there’s nothing on his mind than keeping Phoenix awake and warm until her car is here. She keeps his head on straight, he keeps her out of danger. It’s not always an equal alliance, but it’s one that’s cherished nonetheless.

You’re considering the platonic nature of their relationship, inspecting the way her arms are wrapped around his waist, holding herself close. You brush your hands up and down along your biceps.

“Hey, kid, I forgot to tell you,” Jake rounds on you, talking so quickly that your intoxicated brain struggles to keep up. You blink a few times and he switches from soft fuzz to defined lines and thick muscles. “I found you a fight. I can manage you, if you’re interested.”

Ears perking up at the conversation, Rooster doesn’t turn his head, but he glances across at the way your face lights up.

“Car’s here. Wake up, Nix.” Mickey nudges Natasha with his elbow as he steps to the edge of the curve to signal the driver. Phoenix groans defeatedly against Bradley’s chest. Something about her little competition with Jake not being over.

“Alright, watch her head.” Bradley passes her off into the capable hands of Bob and Mickey, knowing that they’re content enough to crash at her place because of how close it is to the beach. He swings the car door shut and tugs a hand through his stubborn curls.

The option is there to just call himself a car and go back to his place, but it’s a wordless agreement that he’s coming back with you. Safety and all that. The proximity of his apartment to yours. Whatever. Your car is next, slipping wordlessly into the backseat with Rooster sliding in next to you.

You hate when people stare at you for too long. It makes you squirm and shift under their gaze. And yet, you just can’t help doing it to Bradley. Studying him silently for the drive, thinking of what you just saw, of what you heard earlier.

It’s too complex for your tequila fuelled brain at this moment, to understand how the same man who broke through someone’s eye socket and almost blinded them, could stand on a curb with his best friend being so gentle and tender. How does someone go from one to the other.

You never understood that with Jett. With him, the lines were quick to blur and it was easy to lose sight of where the violence ended and the affection began. With Bradley, it’s like those are two different people, much less two different sides of him.

“Give me the keys, Bambi. I don’t have all night.” Rooster insists, walking around the back of the car as you swing the door on your side shut and stumble towards the door.

“Why? — Got somewhere to be?” You tease playfully, your strides long and confident as you head for the stairs. He’s hot on your tail.

“Well, yeah, I’d kind of like to go to bed at some point tonight.” He replies, keeping up with the quick work you make of the stairs.

“I’m literally not even drunk.” You tell him with a small frown. He watches the three times that you try to slot your key into the lock and miss before he decides to intervene. Pressing his chest into your back, he takes your hand and guides it forwards, fitting the key into the lock and twisting.

It complies instantly and you stumble forwards as it opens. Rooster catches your hips and follows after you, steadying you with his weight and swinging the door shut.

Tank barks and leaps up, pressing his paws into your middle, tail wagging excitedly. You drop to your knees and begin greeting him. Rooster stands in your entryway, listening to the excited baby talk from you and happy whines from Tank.

“Rooster, say hi.” You catch hold of his jeans and tug softly. Your chin turns towards him and he’s floored by the way you look smiling up at him like this. You tug again, “Come on, say hi.”

He sighs softly and kneels to the ground. He smooths his fingers over Tank’s fur, both of them seemingly uninterested in each other and each looking at you instead. You kiss the top of Tank’s head and pull back laughing as he tries to lick your face.

Then, you turn, pushing yourself up onto your knees and kissing Rooster’s cheek. Pressing closer to him, you kiss the corner of his mouth. He almost lets you kiss his lips, then leans back. “Bambi, c’mon. Not tonight.”

“Why not tonight?”

Every other night, he’s more than happy to come in and try to get in your pants. You remain on your knees as he pushes himself to his feet. Tank presses into your side, reminding you to pet him more.

“I should get going, now that you’re home, and stuff.”

“Don’t have to.” You reply quietly, looking up at his through your lashes. You press a gentle kiss to Tank’s ear, smiling softly as he leans into your touch.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not!” You insist. Truthfully, the car ride looking at his pretty face and his shoulders straining against that shirt, and his thighs in those jeans — and knowing what’s in his pants. It was all pretty sobering.

“I’m not going to argue with you, baby. Get some sleep.” Rooster leans down and kisses the top of your head. You catch hold of his wrist and tug yourself to your feet.

“Come on, what do you want me to do? — Say my alphabet backwards? - Walk in a straight line?”

“Actually, I would like to see you try to walk in a straight line right now, yeah.” He rests his hands against the kitchen countertop and calls your bluff. It’s refreshing for him to be in this room when it isn’t spinning. Looking around at the framed pictures, the hanging lights and the cute throw pillows, he likes the way you decorated this place. He likes that it’s not just gathering dust now.

Squinting at him defiantly, you stick your arms out at your sides and turn away from him.

“Don’t try to fool me, kid. I want to see a solid six paces, at least.”

Six paces it is. You count the soft taps of your heels crossing the hardwood floor, arms stretched out at your sides. Rather impressively, you make it to the door and spin on your heel to face him.

Extending one leg forwards, the journey back towards him has a rockier start as you miss the pointed heel and wobble, almost twisting your ankle.

“Alright,” Rooster chuckles as he starts towards you, shaking his head. His hands are on you immediately, holding you in place. “Bedtime, Bambi.”

“I haven’t taken my makeup off yet.” You frown at him, catching hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself as he crouches in front of you. You look down and watch, eyes widening as he lifts your foot and turns his attention to the strap around your ankle.

Large fingers and a teeny-tiny little buckle. Ridiculous manufacturing. Cute, delicate heels — he likes them, but there’s a split second where he really considers just breaking it. You wouldn’t like that. Phoenix’s voice rings in his head reminding him to be respectful of other people’s belongings. He rolls his eyes and squints.

It only works if he moves tentatively slowly, brows knitted together in concentration as he threads the strap out of the loop and free from the buckle. He frees you from the shoes and straightens up, holding onto your waist as you step down from them.

“That was sweet of you,” You comment, now having to tilt your chin slightly to look up at him. “I’m gonna wash my face and brush my teeth.”

“Alright. I’ll leave once you’re in bed.” Rooster decides as you walk by him. He drops down onto your couch and rubs tiredly at his eyes. The rhythmic thrumming of that bass track in the club still pulses in his ears. He’s getting too old for this shit.

Even with that, you make sure that he hears your sound of discontentment from the bathroom. Taking his hand away from the bridge of his nose and resting it against his denim clad thigh, Rooster sighs, “What? You need me to do something else?”

Tank has stolen his spot on the couch already, so that’s not an option. Tank adores fleecy blankets and you just so happened to leave one out earlier. He’s already on his back with his paws stretched out above him, tangled in lilac and white fleece.

“No.” Rooster’s brows knit together once again at your answer. Well, it isn’t the answer that’s the issue. Your tone is. It’s a grumpy little statement, almost like you’re sulking. Pushing himself up from the couch, he walks over the bathroom door and stares at you.

“So why can’t I go?”

“Mm,” Swaying slightly, on the right side of buzzed as you swipe the cotton round over your cheeks, you look up at him dwarfing the bathroom door frame. “You could stay over.”

The micellar water cools the heat from your cheeks, cold porcelain under your other palm. Rooster watches you silently, waiting for further information. He’s not going to say no to another night on your couch, but he’s got a feeling that’s not where you’re going with this. Rather hedonistically, he wants to hear you say it.

“We could cuddle.” You look back up at him with those big doe eyes, bracing yourself against the powder blue sink. His lips quirk softly.

He stretches his arms over his head and rests his hands on the top of the doorframe, his shirt raising up slightly to reveal the sandy hair on his abdomen. “Is that what you want? — You want me to stay?”

Smiling softly at the thought that just popped into your head, Bradley watches as you giggle to yourself and pick up another bottle of something. Squeezing the pipette, leaving two equal drops on each of your cheeks, you smooth the serum into your skin without looking at him. “Like we’re having a sleepover.”

He doesn’t need more information than that. He lets you get ready for bed while he makes sure Tank pees before locking the place up for the night. Then, he takes his clothes off. Laying on your side, facing the closet, your back is to him on purpose.

The metal bed frame creaks slightly, the mattress dipping the tiniest bit as he slips into bed. It’s soft, and your sheets make a real difference. Every time he has slept in this bed before has been a mess of old springs and that uncomfy headboard. He’s glad that you switched out the mattress.

Your leg brushes up against his first. The bottom of your foot presses into his shin as you pull the covers up to your face. “How do you like to cuddle?”

“Just c’mere.” It’s an invitation, but there’s really no need to respond. He’s already looping his arms around your midsection before you’ve even registered the word. He pulls you back against him, your bodies meeting in the middle of the bed. He’s surprised by how warm you are already.

His body heat is still a welcome addition.

“Is this good?” His open palm rests against your stomach, tucked halfway under your t-shirt, his thumb smoothing over the spot just below your bellybutton. His lips press gently your neck.

“Could you, like… squeeze me a little tighter?”

Rooster tightens his hold on you, pushing his leg forwards and slotting it between your thighs. Wrapped in his thick arms, his face tucked into the curve of your neck, you should be feeling lighter already, settling off into unconsciousness. There’s just too much happening for that.

His heart beating steadily against your back, his thumb tucked into your shirt just the tiniest bit, stroking at your stomach, and his meaty thigh slotted between your legs. His lips are pressed right up against the skin of your neck, not doing anything, just resting there.

Rooster feels you shift a little and gives you the room to find the comfort that you need. Then, he feels your hand searching for his through the darkness. Finding the hand that’s on your stomach, your fingers curl between his.

Taking his hand, you slide it upwards, venturing further under the fabric of your oversized sleep shirt. Rooster peeks one eye open as you guide his palm up and over your breast. Catching the hint, Rooster squeezes his palm softly over the supple skin. Brushing the pad of his thumb over your soft nipple, pinching it between his thumb and index, your thighs squeeze together around his.

He closes his eyes once more, settling down like he’s going to sleep, still gently caressing your breast under his warm hand. It’s nice, feeling him touch you, feeling his weight pressing into your back and into the mattress. It’s just not enough.

His thumb swipes over your nipple again, feeling it harden against his digit this time. He traces the pebbled texture of the sensitive skin without opening his eyes. Figuring that it’ll probably be bothering you too much for you to sleep, he settles for just holding your breast in his hand as he tries to direct himself towards unconsciousness. There’s not a chance.

He’s just going to have to wait for you to fall asleep so that he can turn his mind to something other than how bad he wants you.

Swallowing softly, your fingers curl between his once again. Rooster lets you guide his hand away, thinking that he must have been bothering you, quickly realizing that that was not the case.

He slips his hand out of your hold and grabs your hip, tugging you onto your back swiftly. Your breath catches in your throat at how close he is, leaning over you, eyes searching over your face.

“I feel like I never know what’s going through your head.” He admits gently, the swell of his warm palm resting on your stomach, having brushed your sleep shirt up slightly.

Glancing down, you smooth your fingers over the top of his hand, examining the difference in size between the two of you. Rooster swears he almost feels the breath get knocked out of him when you finally look at him again.

“You want to know?” Your voice is so quiet that he wouldn’t be able to hear you if there was any other sound in the apartment right now. He nods back at you, curling his fingers around your waist. You lift your head just a little, your lips are soft and taste of peppermint when you kiss him.

Turning so that he can cover your body with his, Bradley presses his weight into you. His heavy palm cups your jaw as he takes control of the kiss. The way your mouth moves, the pace, he’s keeping it all in check.

“Are you wet right now?” Bradley murmurs against your lips, thumb stroking over the bone at the curve of your jaw. Your skin flushes as he pulls back and waits for his answer. Jett never asked this. Luke Hodge from second period English lit had never asked this.

“Mhm.”

Bradley’s lips quirk upwards. It’s torn between him smirking at you and a real smile. The languid amusement coats his features, but there’s something in those deep brown eyes that tells you he’s happy with your shy, little response.

“Mhm? — That’s all I get?” Rooster’s palm smooths over your stomach and curls around your hip, squeezing the joint softly in his calloused hand. More warmth. Your gaze flitters up and you consider cracking the window behind your bed.

Swallowing softly, it’s unintentional but you’re giving him that deer in headlights look again. Rooster closes the gap between the two of you and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, a soft chuckle slips his lips and he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

Immediate recoil. He feels you tense up under him. The embarrassment floods you like a chill and you move to pull back.

“Baby, baby, no,” Wrapping both of his thick arms around your waist and pulling you into him, you couldn’t leave if you tried. Rooster kisses the corner of your mouth softly. “I’m not laughing at you.”

He slots his thigh between yours and guides you onto your back with little resistance, leaning over you. “I just… Don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” You ask quietly.

“You suck dick like it’s your day job and then, when it’s your turn, you turn into a little church mouse. — What’s with that?” His hand wanders as he speaks, fingers splayed so that he can touch as much of you at once. Trailing your abdomen, your waist, grazing over the soft tissue at the side of your breast without daring to touch is as boldly as you had allowed him to earlier.

It’s never really been your turn. There’s no out loud exchange, but the look on your face tells Bradley what he needs to know. He feels your hips shift, your core grazing his thigh softly as you squirm under his gaze.

“You want me to get you off?” His grip tightens on your hip and he rocks his hips forwards just slightly. Just to let you feel exactly how hard he is at the thought. Glancing down between your body and his, your decision is made whilst the rational side of your brain is still pleading its case.

“Mhm.”

Bradley smirks amusedly. He kisses you softly, hand trailing under your shirt to knead over your breast. Pushing the fabric of your loose fitted t-shirt up and out of his way, his lips attach to your skin. Languid kisses, open-mouthed and tender as his strong palms brace at your hips, keeping you in place for him. His mouth works along your abdomen, nipping softly at the underside of your breath and feeling you careen into him.

“Sit up.” You obey him blindly, sitting up long enough for him to quickly discard your too-big, faded shirt and leave you in a much more vulnerable state. “God, Bambi.”

His hands roam your torso like he can’t possibly touch enough of you at once, walking the line of having a firm touch and a gentle hand. Letting you know his strength and reminding you that you’re at the mercy of it, all while dusting a featherlight touch over the most sensitive parts of your upper body.

As with his hands, his mouth needs to be everywhere at once and it half feels like he has mastered the ability to make that possible. Eyes screwed closed, you deny yourself the sight of him, knowing that it’ll just make your nerves surge, and there’s no way you want to let yourself ruin this.

Four senses remaining. Your hands smooth over the flexing muscles in his shoulders as his tongue trails a circle around your nipple before he commits to taking it into his mouth. Warm, so warm, a flush of adrenaline running through him. The feeling of that under your fingertips.

The peppermint on your tongue, reminding you that you should just be platonically sleeping beside him right now. Your bedtime ritual pales in comparison to this.

The soft groan he makes as his hand paws at your other breast, reverberating in your ears and carrying shockwaves along your synapses. Excitement pooling between your legs at how deep and gravelly he sounds when he moans.

The cologne from before the bar. Inhaling it in the car as you traced the veins on his arm. Intoxicated by it when you had settled between his thighs the other day.

You lift your hips from the mattress and push them down against his thigh. His muscled appendage provides little relief, but you’re still chasing what it gives you. Your underwear presses into your core with each rock, soaked and catching on your excitement.

“All I got was an ‘mhm’,” Bradley muses softly, trailing his nose along the middle of your torso, pressing his lips softly to your navel. His hand slips between your legs without warning and cups your over your underwear. “This fucking soaked, and all I got was a little ‘mhm’.”

Nudging your underwear swiftly to the side, he dips his middle and index finger between your folds and gathers your excitement on the digits. Another deep groan as he looks down at the coating on his fingers.

He palms a hand over the tent in his boxers, kissing your hip bruisingly. “You’re gonna let me taste you, right, baby?”

“Okay.” You breathe out, needing your vision back. Heart pounding as you stare at the ceiling.

“Okay? — Is that all I get?”

“Please.” You whimper softly. Anything to settle the throbbing between your legs, anything to make you feel less restless. Bradley hooks your thigh over his shoulder and presses his mouth hungrily to your thigh. You careen into his kiss as it bruises the sensitive skin, pressing the heel of your foot into his shoulder for leverage.

Grabbing your hips, Bradley manhandles you into place, pressing you into the mattress and keeping you there. He grabs your underwear and tugs it down your legs, pulling back just to get it off your ankles and then settling back into back.

At first, he’s not where you need him at all. Tongue teasing between your folds, pressing tender chaste kisses to your pelvic bone. Ignoring the dripping mess between your legs until he’s satisfied with how your hips buck in desperation for him.

He lifts his gaze, brown eyes on you as he delves his tongue into your soaking core. His fingers press tighter into your hips, keeping you down on the mattress as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices on his tongue. He spreads it upwards and lubricates your clit with a mixture of his spit and your own juices.

“O-Oh, fuck.”

Before this second in time, you were so sure that Jett had made you cum. Orgasms with other people just weren’t as intense because there were so many other things happening. Bradley’s tongue could be tracing some foreign alphabet on the most sensitive part of your body for all you know. All that you do know for certain, is that you can’t let him stop.

Luckily, he has no intention of that. He’s been thinking about this since the day you gave him head and then denied his reciprocation.

Sucking, licking, alternating between pressure and gentle flicks of his tongue, he has your back arching away from the pretty flowers on your sheets. Your fingers slide into his hair without thought, tangling into his curls, keeping his head exactly where you need it the most.

Rooster sinks his middle finger into you first, groaning as he rocks his hips into the mattress in search of relief. Your walls squeeze his finger as he curls it into that spongy part that has you yelping in surprise.

Worked up enough that you can take his index finger with little resistance, Rooster’s brain damn near short circuits at how well you hug the digits. Even with the diminished capacity, his mission never once falters. His deep groans send shocks through your core and each curl his fingers has you rocking your hips against his tongue for more.

“Fuck, stop - Rooster — stop,” You pant out, voice strained, clawing at the sheets for purchase as your other hand tugs at his hair. “Feels… weird.”

“Just cum, it’s alright,” He mouths desperately along your thighs, stopping when you ask him to but not really wanting to pause long enough for your high to ebb away. “Trust me. Just let it happen, relax.”

You try to exhale slowly and do what he says, but then his mouth is on you again and you squeak at the feeling. You tug harshly at his roots and feel him moan, the vibrations and the tickle of his dampened moustache on your clit and his fingers fucking into you, it’s all too much.

The tightness in your stomach winds until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. And then, it does snap. You jolt against him, lips parted, brows furrowed, the sound caught in your throat. His mouth slows, but remains on the same pattern, sending aftershocks through your already trembling system.

“Fuck,” That image is never going to leave his head. He pulls his fingers from you and kisses tenderly across your hip. “How was that?”

Searching for words, any kind of intelligent conversation that you might be able to string together, it’s a lost cause. Panting, a soft sound of whimpered contentment slips your lips. “Mhm.”

He wipes his mouth and lays down against the pillows. “Gonna cuddle you how I like it normally. Alright?”

“Oh - b-but, wait.” You realise, hand trying to find which way is sound in your hazy mind, stumbling across the waistband of his boxers just by chance.

Rooster grabs your hand and pulls you closer, he manhandles you across the mattress so that you’re laying half on his chest. “This is so comfy.”

You hum in agreement, his arms tucked around your naked form, your cheek smushed up against his thick pectoral muscle.

“Should let me do that more often.” He muses quietly. You nod against his chest.

…

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #blow by blow

[ohbo-ohno]

“gets him fucking you harder, saying more and more in your ear about how they're never letting you even look at another person again, never letting you off their property.”

ugh this is just so 🫢 possessive serial killer ghoap and their pretty little innocent reader. They earned you the instant they killed your last friend.

Johnny is always growling in your ear about how you’re never going to look at another person again, constantly reminds you that it’s bad to look at anyone but him or Simon.

And then they use you as bait when they’re bored and want to kill again. As soon as you make eye contact with someone as they’re trying to figure out how to get you out safely (maybe you’re loose in the forest, but have chains between your ankles and wrists and connecting your wrists to your neck) and you’re trying to explain everything to them but it’s too late, johnny and Simon are already shooting, sending the group scattering while you’re left sobbing, begging them not to leave you. Your punishment after the victims are all dead is brutal that night because you don’t get it!! You’re supposed to participate in the game!! And you looked at every single one of those strangers, don’t you remember you’re not allowed to look at anyone but Simon or Johnny?

The next time they use you as bait, you cower and refuse to look anyone in the eye. Johnny praises you and lovingly bathes you that night for being such a good girl and doing as she was told.

🌚 anon (I have so many thoughts about serial killer ghoap and not enough brainpower to verbalize them all)

this is sick and twisted i love it

i also have so many thoughts about serial killer ghoap, it's a disease. will probably end up writing a most dangerous game au and plop some of these scenes/scenarios right in it

they EARNED YOU!!!!!

taking you into town, telling you anyone you look at is fair game for them to kill. makes you keep your head ducked real low, eyes wide and hands trembling as you fight every instinct screaming inside you to look up and beg for help. they tease you with it, too - you'll glance at something on a shelf and ghost will raise an eyebrow, go "him? whatever you say, doll." and it's a guy like 6 feet away who you barely saw in your peripheral. tortures him and turns to you, says "you picked a good one, don't you love the way he screams?" and relishes the way you sob. really helps beat it into your head that looking at anyone else ever is Bad.

sometimes they like to play the game with just you, no other distractions. if you try to avoid running, they'll force you. fuck with your flight instinct until you give into it and let them chase. shoot at the ground right near your feet, bit the air right near your ear, shout right behind you, all the kind of things that force you straight into adrenaline. you know they're making you run because they want to chase, know there's no universe in which you actually get away from them, but the fear drives you and you can't help but run.

being used as bait during the game and not tied up... oh my god

the chains are meant to hobble you, like you said. they're not risking you getting away under and circumstance. and maybe they lock the other prey into kink gear too (a la The Hunt, good movie pls go watch). you have to stay hunched a little bit not to hurt your joints, makes you real cautious and scared of everything like a real prey animal. any time anyone comes to help you you get so distressed, beg them to go and leave you alone. you try to tell them it's a trap, but they're dead/grabbed as soon as you manage to get the words out. get a nasty glare from johnny or simon in response, but they just wander back into the woods and leave you there to draw in more victims for them

"Your punishment after the victims are all dead is brutal that night because you don’t get it!! You’re supposed to participate in the game!! And you looked at every single one of those strangers, don’t you remember you’re not allowed to look at anyone but Simon or Johnny?" do you think it's funny to try and kill me, smirking moon???? you won't be laughing when im found dead from a heart attack after reading this i can tell you that!!!!

johnny in particular gets mad at you. he'll grab you by the shoulders, shake you and shout in your face. why are you being so fucking stupid? don't you get it? if you don't play along, the game isn't nearly as fun. why are you ruining this for them?

but simon gets it, he understands that your heart is near bursting from fear. uses that to his advantage, cows you into doing whatever he wants. it's easier when you're nearly pissing yourself in terror

johnny would be so happy once you finally gave in and played along, and simon would be horribly smug. johnny would be scooping you up with a big grin, telling you how proud he is of you, how glad he is you finally gave in, how hot it was to kill people with you watching. and simon is just right in your ear, purring about how good you are for doing what you're supposed to, for finally giving in to your urges (that you don't have, you don't, you hated seeing those people die, hated hearing their screams, feeling their blood-)

#🌚 anon #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #bo writes #serial killer ghoap x reader

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟒 (𝟏/𝟐)   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   THE DEN, AUGUST 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Leonor relished the daytime emptiness of The Den almost as much as the bustling nights she spent within it. Unlike most of Nakawe’s bars, it didn’t open until the sun went down, and it didn’t close as long as someone with the keys was willing to stick around. The first time Renzo asked her to stop by in the middle of the day, Leonor expected to find the place occupied but robbed of its liveliness. If not catering to the needs of drunks, daytime bars in her imagination were for desperate lunchtime breaks and closing business deals, neither of which Renzo’s private hideaway seemed to welcome. She was surprised to find him lingering on the sidewalk, waiting for her with a cigarette in one hand and a set of keys in the other. He pushed the door open and revealed The Den as she had yet to imagine it: empty, silent, still. 

❧ goes without saying but, if you're not reading the prose, you're missing half the story !!! part two soon ... (i am also proud bc i made many poses, pls clap)

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Renzo laughed at her, breaking the quiet. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” he said, mimicking a voice in perfectly unaccented Simerican that Leonor didn’t recognize. She had been standing, unmoving, while she soaked in the surreality. 

He was going behind the bar, hitting lights as he went, but knew to clarify, “You look like you’re in outer space. New planet. New dimension.” 

That was, in a way, how it felt. The soundproofing was impeccable. She couldn’t hear the boulevard just outside the door. Renzo began messing with bottles and humming to himself, but the few seconds after the door had shut were enough to make an impression. She liked being there during the day. She liked this version of the place, one that looked like a true escape from the world, where she could feel the residual good vibes of the previous night with the perfect clarity of a new day. She liked fanning her work out across the bar or on a couch. She liked pretending to be occupied with it while Renzo sat on the stage with a pencil behind his ear or colored block letters on handmade posters or laid, completely unmoving, on the dirty floor. Sometimes he worked, too. Leonor liked those instances best, and she allowed herself to be distracted by his miming of scenes and murmuring dialogue and tuning guitars across the room. 

“Why is no one else here?” she asked him one day, once this had become something of a once-a-week routine. 

They were curled up together like cats but were each engrossed in their own work. Renzo was reading a script, muttering words silently to himself. Leonor had a stack of policy briefs and a red pen. He took the pen from her after she spoke and began scribbling it against the flesh of her palm, gentle at first but then hard enough to draw out the ink in streaked lines.  

“You keep coming,” he said, enunciating each word. On her palm’s heel, he drew the glyph of his name. It was faint, so he traced and retraced the details. “I keep asking.” Then, looking up, he posed his own question. “Who else do you want here?” 

She shrugged, and he nodded. 

“If you’re worried this means something,” Here, he paused and angled the pen with purpose, tilting one end toward himself before pointing it toward her. “It doesn’t.” 

Renzo continued, sitting up, “Besides, I don’t wanna be around everyone all the time.” He said it as if the mere thought was an affront unable to be stomached. “God. Some of the people who come in here sometimes? Fuck.” 

“Why do you let them?”

Renzo reacted as if it were a question he had never pondered, and Leonor quirked an eyebrow as he sat there considering it. How foolish, she thought, if he hadn’t. She decided it was possible he was a fool, but she also decided that she should wait for his answer to really know—and, even if he was, that she would probably think it was endearing. He was the kind of famous that meant he had to be talented, not wise. Although he preferred providing a stage on which others might perform, she had seen enough to know he had talent. He made use of it. She already knew, too, that he wasn’t wise. She’d seen that when he’d said rude things to cameramen outside the bar or, on a different night, when he’d shoved another so hard he dropped his camera. That was inadvisable. It was even more inadvisable than Leonor having been there, at his side, walking slow to avoid stumbling, when it happened. At the time, she laughed. She could practically hear herself in the memory, giggling while a scuffle threatened to break out. 

Enough time passed for her to wince at the recollection before Renzo spoke. When he did, it was definitive. “I’m cool,” he explained. “I’m a cool guy. I have to be cool. You can’t be yourself if you aren’t cool, you know?”

She did know. That was one of the key distinctions between royalty and celebrity. 

Renzo elaborated further, “I start policing the door, that’s not cool. People make it into a problem. It’s just not the kind of problem you can have—not with people who are, as it were, your peers.” He sneered that word, and Leonor could picture who he meant. If she had come through that door with Kore during any other year of her life, she would have been one of them. “The more famous you are, the more you’re in rooms with fucking assholes. It’s just,” He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes the assholes want to come into your room.” 

He gestured around with a grand flourish, and Leonor snickered. “Gotta let ‘em,” he sighed. 

She nodded, quipping, “You let me.” Immediately, she regretted voicing the thought, but Renzo found it amusing. 

“Not the same,” he responded, shaking his head.

With some success, she played an earnest question off as a tease. “Why not?” 

He shrugged, “You’re not a problem, Leonor. Nice girl, that’s what everyone said. I was, uh, excited you were here.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned, adding, “Squeaky clean and incorruptible—they said that, too. Excitement, anticipation, same thing.” 

“Sure, okay,” Leonor chuckled. “I’m a real good-time girl now, aren’t I?” 

Renzo regarded her thoughtfully, and Leonor resisted the urge to squirm away. Their conversations always teetered on the edge of confessional, whether because Renzo spoke with such bluntness or because his openness encouraged her to respond in kind. Leonor never allowed herself to speak so freely as to admit everything, but she made honest admissions that Renzo accepted without judgment. He wasn’t wise, but he had, in some ways, lived more lives than she had. Usually, he just knew what to say. She took that as solid in some essential way, as a support to lean against. 

“You’re happier that way,” was his ultimate reply. 

Leonor sat with that thesis for a moment, debating whether it was true—or, for that matter, if the veracity of it mattered at all. She wanted it to be true. That had to be enough and, in that moment, it was. 

Now it was August. Months had passed since that conversation, but Leonor still felt the same way. She felt the same way, too, about the quiet of The Den on a weekday afternoon, which is how she found it now. She let herself in through the unlocked front door, knowing she would find Renzo somewhere inside. There were big plans looming. He might be stringing lights, or testing microphones, or standing with his legs wide apart and a hand pensively cupping his chin. On the phone earlier, he had sounded busy. He was instead at the bar, hunched over with a pen in his hand. Whatever he was working on demanded great concentration. Leonor allowed the big, heavy door to close slowly and gave herself a few extra moments. Partly, she wanted to delay the conversation. Another reason was to observe him. If he’d heard her enter, which she doubted, he made no indication. Through the dim lighting, she could see him chewing his lip. He tapped his fingers in a simple rhythm against his thigh.

“Writing?” she called, emerging from the shadowy entryway. The last sliver of sunlight disappeared as the door finally closed, hard but muffled, behind her.

Renzo didn’t look up as he replied, “Wrote. Done now.” 

“Is it for the reading tonight?”

“Did you write anything?”

Leonor wasn’t feeling light enough to laugh, so she made an approximate noise instead. “Why would you ask that?” 

Now, he eyed her with a look of provocation. “You’re an artist, Nora,” he said. “Everyone has their medium, sure—I’ve seen yours, very nice—but I think you should take the written word more seriously. It doesn’t have to be an endpoint, really. Maybe a translation.”

At this bit of persuasion, Leonor scoffed. “I can be creative; I am not an artist. Besides,” She paused, settling in on a stool beside him. “Everything for everyone is not the kind of world I want to live in.”

Renzo scoffed now, but he was smirking as he said, “Well, fuck, if that isn’t the most hereditary monarchist thing I’ve ever heard. Alright, my princess, if you say so.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she protested, but he waved her off. 

Solemn, he admitted, “It’s true. I’m jobless in that world.” Renzo held up his paper and inspected it. “Can’t host private poetry readings with free booze for my friends if I’m as poor as I was in ‘87, that’s for sure.” 

“Wouldn’t know me,” she said, lowering her head. It was meant as a gesture of mock sadness but, in this moment, she did find the notion disquieting. 

“You don’t know any poor people?”

Leonor’s rueful smile faltered as she considered that. “I don’t think so?”

Instead of laughing, Renzo looked at her with an expression that was neither quite amused nor fully bemused. She waited for a joke that never came. Instead, he turned back to looking at his paper. Tension mounted within while he sat there looking focused once more but otherwise relaxed. Finally, as if remembering they were in the middle of a conversation, he said simply, “I’m glad I know you, yeah.”

Leonor shifted on her stool. It was a motion of discomfort, something she could do while she thought of something else to say. In the process, she caught a good look at the words on the page. Her lips parted to pose the question—‘Will you read it to me?’—but she stopped herself. Renzo had gotten caught up in this occupation, it seemed. He must have forgotten why she called. She had half-expected him to be waiting, face toward the door, for her arrival. Usually, he was curious when she indicated she had something to share, not nosy or greedy for insight but possessed with sincere interest. He was a listener. He enjoyed it as much as whatever conversation ensued. Once, she decided to imitate his way of jabbing people with questions—incisive and direct, not pointed. His questions flowed without pretense. They were bare inquiries, genuine as his interest. Her question was just so: did he think himself trustworthy—did he want to be a confidante? 

His answer surprised her, and she had felt a kind of awe as he’d replied, ‘Honestly, no, that would be a bad idea. I know myself, so I don’t stop others from knowing me. User beware.’

Now, she leaned against the bar and heaved a sigh. Renzo looked over at her and let the paper slide unceremoniously back onto the surface. 

“What is it?”

Leonor snapped back to earlier that day. No longer sitting on a barstool beside Renzo, she found herself at a table that abruptly felt too small. Her father sat across from her, his hands folded on top, the thick band of his favorite watch visible under his sleeve’s cuff. It matched his wedding band. It was almost afternoon, and he arrived late to the early lunch he had requested of her. For twenty minutes, she sat at the table with her bare arm pressed against the warm glass window. She could have left at any point. It wouldn’t have been rude; better still, she could have imagined no reason to regret it. Yet, she didn’t. She sat and waited, staring out of the window or across the restaurant’s bustling dining area with an expression so forlorn that it compelled the server to stop by for a check-in several more times than was necessary. Each time, Leonor glanced up at her with a forced smile. ‘No, thank you,’ she would say. ‘It’s fine. I’m waiting.’

“Do you remember, I told you I was meeting with my father today?”

Renzo thought for a moment, then nodded. “Right, yeah, breakfast.”

“Lunch,” she corrected, before laying her head on the bar. It was cool, if sticky, and the embrace of her forearms easily blacked out the low light. “It went awfully.” 

“You said it was going to be weird,” Renzo responded. “Did he tell you what you wanted to hear—I mean, what he said he needed to talk about, was it worth it?”

Leonor closed her eyes. For a moment, she wished she could just drift off into a deep, unbreakable slumber, right then and there. She imagined herself slumped over on the bar as evening began, a curiosity rudely ignoring the raw, vulnerable poetry that a string of performers offered. Someone would try to shake her awake when the night’s end came. ‘Leave her,’ Renzo would say. ‘She’ll be okay here.’ And, she would be. Night after night, day after day, she would rest there. She would become more than just a fixture—she would be a unique decoration, a conversation-starter, really and truly part of the bar’s collection of interesting things. Becoming a thing wouldn’t be so bad. People would tell stories about her even after she had rotted away and crumbled to dust. ‘A sleeping princess sat here,’ they would say. ‘Her prince never came along, I guess.’

That didn’t happen, and Leonor lifted her head. “It was kind of hard to follow, honestly,” she said. “He was late, and he kept trying to rehash—well, he wanted to tell me about it again, you know, what happened?” Leonor sighed. “I wanted to cry. It was so embarrassing. It wasn’t even new information.”

“None of it?” Renzo asked. He had angled himself toward her, leaning against the bar while he gazed at her perturbed face.

Leonor, feeling pitiful, shrugged. “I didn’t really want to listen,” she admitted. “I kept thinking about Mother Beatriz the whole time.” 

Renzo’s heavy-lidded eyes ordinarily conveyed one of two sharply contrasting states. At times, he looked bored out of his mind—entirely removed from whatever was happening, on another planet even when his pupils weren’t giving away a convenient reason why. He had an almost unsettling kind of attentiveness other times. When they first met, Leonor found the way he had looked at her from beneath long, dark eyelashes alluring. She felt looked upon or looked through most of the time; with his heady stare, Renzo looked at her. She hadn’t fully appreciated the distinction until their regular conversations. Now, as she waited for him to respond to her admission, she appreciated it more. 

Finally, Renzo posed another question. “Do you think he was responsible?”

TRANSCRIPT:

LEONOR | Writing? RENZO | Wrote. Done now.

LEONOR | Is it for the reading tonight? RENZO | Did you write anything? LEONOR | Why would you ask that?

RENZO | You're an artist, Nora. Everyone has their medium, sure—I've seen yours, very nice—but I think you shoudl take the written word more seriously. It doesnt' have to be an endpoint, really. Maybe a translation.

LEONOR | I can be creative; I am not an artist.

LEONOR | Besides, everything for everyone is not the kind of world I want to live in. RENZO | Well, fuck, if that isn't the most hereditary monarchist thing I've ever heard. Alright, my princess, if you say so.

LEONOR | I didn't mean it that way. RENZO | It's true. I'm jobless in that world.

RENZO | Can't host private poetry readings with free booze for my friends if I'm as poor as I was in '87, that's for sure. LEONOR | Wouldn't know me … RENZO | You don't know any poor people?

LEONOR | I don't think so?

RENZO | I'm glad I know you, yeah.

[Leonor sighs] RENZO | What is it?

LEONOR | Do you remember, I told you I was meeting with my father today?

RENZO | Right, yeah, breakfast. LEONOR | Lunch. It went awfully. RENZO | You said it was going to be weird. Did he tell you what you wanted to hear—I mean, what he said he needed to talk about, was it worth it?

LEONOR | It was kind of hard to follow, honestly. He was late, and he kept trying to rehash—well, he wanted to tell me about it again, you know, what happened [sighs] I wanted to cry. It was so embarrassing. It wasn't even new information.

RENZO | None of it? LEONOR | I didn't really want to listen. I kept thinking about Mother Beatriz the whole time. RENZO | Do you think he was responsible?

[aifanfictions]

Hey! How would the Baki men react to a half-Succubus fighter?

For the characters can we pls get: Baki, Hanayma, Retsu and Katsumi? Feel free to skip if you don’t feel comfortable with this request!!!

Baki

In the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, a world of underground fighting tournaments concealed itself behind the shimmering façade of the city's neon lights. It was here that the enigmatic Baki Hanma, the undisputed champion of the underground fighting scene, had forged his legend. But little did he know that his life was about to take a turn as he encountered someone truly unique – (Y/N), a half-succubus fighter with extraordinary abilities.

(Y/N) was a fighter like no other, possessing a tantalizing blend of human and succubus traits. Her striking beauty, captivating allure, and the innate power to manipulate desire left her opponents utterly spellbound in the ring. The audience couldn't get enough of her, both fascinated and entranced by her otherworldly charm.

Baki had heard the rumors of this alluring fighter but never paid them much attention. He had his own battles to conquer, his own reputation to uphold. That was until the fateful night when he found himself face-to-face with (Y/N) in the ring. As the crowd roared in anticipation, the two fighters locked eyes, and something electric passed between them.

The fight was fierce, a clash of raw strength and seductive enchantment. Baki's powerful punches met (Y/N)'s seductive sway, neither one giving an inch. But as the battle raged on, Baki realized that there was more to this captivating woman than met the eye. Her prowess in combat was no less awe-inspiring than her seductive powers. The fight was evenly matched, and Baki felt a strange attraction, not just to her appearance, but to the fighter within her.

As the fight reached its climax, (Y/N) could feel the audience's growing fascination, but it was Baki who fascinated her the most. His raw strength and unwavering determination were unlike anything she had ever encountered. Her heart raced with a mixture of desire and admiration, and she couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath his tough exterior.

In a surprising twist, the match ended in a draw, leaving the audience in an uproar. Baki and (Y/N) stood there, breathing heavily, the intensity of the fight still coursing through their veins. Their eyes locked once more, but this time it was different. There was a mutual respect that went beyond the ring.

In the days that followed, Baki and (Y/N) found themselves drawn to each other. They trained together, learning from one another's unique fighting styles, and slowly, their connection deepened. Baki saw the strength in (Y/N) beyond her succubus abilities, and (Y/N) saw the vulnerability in Baki that he rarely revealed to anyone.

One evening, under the city's dazzling lights, they sat together, sharing stories of their past, dreams for the future, and the unspoken attraction that had grown between them. Baki confessed, "You're not like anyone I've ever met. You're not just a fighter, (Y/N). You're a mystery that I can't resist."

(Y/N) smiled, her enchanting aura flickering, but her eyes were warm and genuine. "And you, Baki Hanma, are not just a champion. You're a man with a heart that's as powerful as your fists."

Their lips met in a kiss that ignited a passion that was both fierce and tender, their love story as unique and captivating as the fights they had conquered. Baki and (Y/N) found in each other a love that transcended the boundaries of their worlds, proving that in the midst of battles and desires, the most powerful force of all was the connection between two souls.

Kaoru Hanayama

In the gritty underbelly of Tokyo's underground fighting circuit, Kaoru Hanayama was renowned for his exceptional strength and unbreakable spirit. A towering figure with a reputation as a fierce and unyielding fighter, few dared to cross his path. But when he encountered a fighter like no other, (Y/N), a half-succubus with her own unique powers, his world was turned upside down.

(Y/N) was a mesmerizing blend of human and succubus traits. Her striking beauty, irresistible allure, and the supernatural ability to manipulate desire made her a force to be reckoned with in the ring. She could enthrall and seduce her opponents, leaving them defenseless in her wake.

One fateful night, the two warriors found themselves in the same underground arena. The audience buzzed with anticipation as they stepped into the ring. It was a matchup of power and enchantment, and Hanayama couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity and excitement he hadn't experienced before.

The fight was intense, a clash of raw physical strength against the enchanting sway of (Y/N). Hanayama's punches were relentless, but (Y/N)'s supernatural allure had an almost hypnotic effect on him. It was as if she held a power that he couldn't entirely resist. The audience was enraptured by her seductive charm, and for the first time in his life, Hanayama felt a sense of vulnerability.

As the fight reached its climax, neither warrior could gain the upper hand. (Y/N) felt an unfamiliar attraction, not just to Hanayama's formidable physicality, but to the man within. His sheer determination and resilience fascinated her, and she couldn't help but admire the unyielding spirit he displayed.

In an unexpected turn of events, the match ended in a draw, and they both stood in the center of the ring, breathing heavily. Their eyes locked, and something had changed between them. It was more than just a fight; it was a connection that transcended the boundaries of the arena.

In the following days, Hanayama and (Y/N) found themselves drawn together. They trained side by side, exchanging their fighting techniques, and slowly, a bond formed. Hanayama saw the strength and depth within (Y/N) beyond her supernatural abilities, while (Y/N) saw the unexpected tenderness and complexity within Hanayama's tough exterior.

One evening, they found themselves alone under the starless Tokyo sky. Hanayama, who was known for his stoic nature, looked into (Y/N)'s eyes and said, "You're not like anyone I've ever met. You're not just a fighter; you're a captivating enigma."

(Y/N) smiled, her succubus aura flickering faintly. "And you, Kaoru Hanayama, are not just a brute force. You have a heart that matches the power in your fists."

Their lips met in a kiss that was a mix of fiery passion and unexpected tenderness. In each other, they found a love that defied the expectations of their world, proving that even the fiercest fighters could be captivated by a force more potent than any battle. In the realm of desire and combat, Kaoru Hanayama and (Y/N) discovered that love was the most formidable power of all.

Retsu Kaioh

In the heart of Tokyo's underground fighting scene, Retsu Kaioh was celebrated for his disciplined martial arts prowess. His aura exuded calm and control, standing in stark contrast to the chaos of the clandestine world he dominated. But everything changed the night he met someone entirely unlike any fighter he had ever faced—(Y/N), a half-succubus with enchanting allure and unique abilities.

(Y/N) was a mesmerizing blend of human and succubus, with beauty that could captivate the entire room and the innate power to manipulate desire. In the arena, her opponents often found themselves drawn to her irresistible charms, struggling to fight back the desires that she awakened within them.

One fateful night, Retsu Kaioh stepped into the ring with (Y/N), and the crowd fell silent. The battle that unfolded was one of mesmerizing contrast. Kaioh's disciplined martial arts met (Y/N)'s entrancing allure, and the balance of power seemed to teeter on a fine edge.

As the fight raged on, Kaioh felt an unusual fascination that transcended mere combat. He marveled at (Y/N)'s ability to bewitch her opponents, but there was something more profound within her, something that went beyond the succubus powers. He sensed a fierce determination, a fighter's spirit, hidden behind her enchanting facade.

Similarly, (Y/N) was intrigued by Kaioh. She could feel his unwavering discipline and control, which seemed impenetrable. His inner strength was a magnetic force, and as the fight reached its zenith, she found herself drawn not just to his martial skills but to the man himself.

The match ended in a surprising draw, leaving both fighters in the center of the ring, breathless and transfixed. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. It was not just the attraction of combat, but a recognition of a unique connection.

In the days that followed, Kaioh and (Y/N) found themselves drawn to each other. They trained together, each learning from the other's unique skills, and a bond formed that transcended the arena. Kaioh saw the determination and strength in (Y/N) that went beyond her succubus abilities, and (Y/N) saw the depth of character and honor that resided within Kaioh.

One evening, beneath the neon lights of Tokyo, they sat together, sharing stories and dreams. Kaioh admitted, "You're not like anyone I've ever met. You possess a power beyond anything I've seen, but it's your spirit that truly captivates me."

(Y/N) smiled, her enchanting aura gently flickering. "And you, Retsu Kaioh, are not just a disciplined fighter. You have a heart that is as remarkable as your skills."

Their lips met in a kiss that was a delicate blend of passion and admiration. Together, they found a love that defied the expectations of their world, proving that in the midst of combat and desire, there was a power even more profound—the connection between two souls. Retsu Kaioh and (Y/N) discovered that love was the most extraordinary force, a force that could transform even the most disciplined heart.

Katsumi Orochi

In the heart of the bustling Tokyo underground fighting scene, Katsumi Orochi was a fierce and enigmatic figure. His reputation as a ruthless and relentless fighter preceded him, and his opponents dreaded the moment they would cross paths. However, Katsumi's life took an unexpected turn the day he encountered a fighter unlike any other—(Y/N), a half-succubus with captivating allure and unique abilities.

(Y/N) was a striking blend of human and succubus traits, with an irresistible beauty that left those who faced her in the ring entranced. Her innate power to manipulate desire often led her opponents into a bewildering state of infatuation, making it difficult for them to focus on the fight.

One fateful evening, Katsumi Orochi found himself in the ring with (Y/N). The audience hushed in anticipation, knowing that this battle would be like no other. It was a clash of raw power and seductive charm, a match that would leave an indelible mark on both fighters.

As the fight unfolded, Katsumi was astounded by (Y/N)'s unique abilities. He felt an inexplicable attraction, not just to her physical beauty but to the strength that lay beneath. It was as if she held a power that was unlike any he had ever encountered, and it unnerved him. Her seductive sway made him question the hardened exterior he had built over the years.

Likewise, (Y/N) found herself fascinated by Katsumi Orochi. Beneath his ruthless reputation, she saw a fighter of unyielding determination, a man who was unafraid to embrace his power and face his adversaries head-on. As the fight reached its peak, she couldn't help but admire the strength and depth within him.

In a surprising turn of events, the match ended in a draw, leaving both fighters breathless and standing in the center of the ring. Their eyes locked, and a palpable tension hung in the air. It wasn't just attraction but an unspoken connection that transcended the boundaries of the fight.

In the days that followed, Katsumi and (Y/N) found themselves drawn to one another. They trained together, each learning from the other's unique abilities and skills. An unexpected bond formed, one that went beyond the confines of the arena. Katsumi recognized the strength and resilience in (Y/N) that exceeded her succubus abilities, while (Y/N) saw the vulnerability and complexity within Katsumi that he rarely revealed to others.

One evening, under the Tokyo night sky, they sat together, sharing their stories and dreams. Katsumi confessed, "You're not like anyone I've ever met. Your allure is captivating, but it's your inner strength that truly astonishes me."

(Y/N) smiled, her enchanting aura flickering softly. "And you, Katsumi Orochi, are not just a ruthless fighter. There's a depth to you that is as intriguing as your combat skills."

Their lips met in a kiss that was a blend of fiery passion and unexpected tenderness. In each other, they found a love that defied the expectations of their world, proving that in the midst of battle and desire, there was a force more powerful than any other—the connection between two souls. Katsumi Orochi and (Y/N) discovered that love was the most extraordinary force, capable of melting even the hardest of hearts.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#baki x you #baki x reader #baki hanma x reader #baki x y/n #baki hanma x y/n #baki hanma x you #bakinglove #baki #reader #reader insert #x reader #kaoru hanayama #kaoru hanayama x reader #kauro hanayama x you #kaoru hanayama x y/n #kaoru x reader #kaoru x you #kaoru x y/n #retsu kaioh #retsu #retsu kaioh x reader #retsu kaioh x you #retsu kaioh x y/n #retsu x reader #retsu x you #retsu x y/n #katsumi orochi #katsumi #katsumi orochi x reader #katsumi orochi x you

[evans-heaven]

pretzels ; eddie munson

Writing and posting a fic for the first time in years bc this post about Eddie and his pretzels decided to moderately blow up. Pls note this quickly went from a fic about eating pretzels to a full blown rewrite of the cafeteria scene BUT I hope you enjoy ;)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n or physical descriptions)

Warnings: Like two swear words, disgusting fluff, Eddie being soft only for his gf, said gf being a sucker for her bf, suggestiveness at the end bc why tf not

“The devil...has come....to America,” 

You popped a pretzel into your mouth. It was lunchtime at Hawkins High, and you sat at the Hellfire Club table in your designated seat next to your boyfriend, Eddie. You were listening to him being his theatrical self while reading some bullshit article in Newsweek about Dungeons and Dragons.

“Studies have linked the game to violent behavior, satanic worship, ritual sacrifice....”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Did you play the game? No. Have you sat in on many Hellfire Club meetings simply because you loved your boyfriend and wanted to have at least some knowledge of one of the few things that made him happy? Absolutely. So, with that fact in mind, you were offended on his behalf by this article that was doing entirely too much.

You found some comfort, however, in admiring him as he continued reading. Dramatics aside, your man was just so damn handsome. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had literal hearts in your eyes as you rested your chin in your palm like a Disney Princess and got lost in his features, features you knew like the back of your hand and yet couldn’t get enough of. 

What got you the most? His eyes. They were so big, brown, and expressive. You loved them the most when they gazed upon you in so much admiration it made your entire body tingle. But, you liked the excitement in them when he got fired up, much like at this moment, as well. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Eddie slamming the magazine down. “....and even...MURDER!” he widened those doe eyes and stuck his tongue out for good measure, finishing his little show. 

“Society has to blame something, and we’re an easy target,” was said as Dustin and Mike, the younger members of the Hellfire Club, sat at the table. 

“Exactly,” Eddie agreed, his arms folded. “We’re an easy target, because we like to play a fantasy game,” he said, and despite the theatrics from him a mere minute ago, it was obvious he was annoyed, and maybe even little hurt. 

Jumping into girlfriend mode, you grabbed his forearm, unfolding his arms, and sliding your hand down to tangle it with his. He visibly softened almost instantly, and rested his gaze on you as you smile gently at him. He kissed the back of your hand in gratitude. 

The tender moment, however, was short lived as he softly pulled away. He rested his palms on the table harshly. “BUT!” He shot up, and, before you could stop him, climbed onto the table. “As long as you’re into band, or science, or....parties...” he surveyed the cafeteria from his heightened spot on the table, saying the last interest mockingly with a look of disgust (you just knew, even if you couldn’t see him).

“OR A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDREY BASKETS,” Eddie jeered loudly, directly to the basketball team, hands cupped over his mouth, because standing on the table wasn’t drawing enough attention. And yet, you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

When you dated someone like Eddie Munson, there was no such thing as ‘small’ or ‘subtle’. Despite your more lowkey and reserved nature, you loved how eccentric he was, because it was just his authentic self. He wasn’t trying to act cool like all the other kids at Hawkins High, he knew he stood out and he embraced it, and so did you.

Plus, those basketball playing douchebags deserved to be knocked down a peg, anyway.

“You want something, freak?” the captain, Jason, countered, as though he was in any way intimidating. To people who cared about status in a fucking high school, maybe, but not to Eddie, who simply made a taunting face at him.

“Its forced conformity,” he said as he walked back down the table like it was a damn runway. “Its what’s KILLING THE KIDS,” his voice grew as he hopped down and startled someone, yelling right in her face. You were surprised the contents of her tray didn’t go flying. Then, ever the (somewhat) gentleman, Eddie gestured for two cheerleaders to pass by him. 

“That’s the real monster,” he concluded, sitting back down for a rare moment of calm.

Shaking your head, you clapped lightly to humor him, a smirk tugging at your lips as he looked to you, smiling back. Because you felt especially playful, you took a pretzel from his plastic bag and held it up to his mouth, almost like a reward. He grinned devilishly (no pun intended), and encased his entire mouth around your finger tips, as he took the pretzel from them, pulling away with an exaggerated smacking sound, because he’s Eddie Munson and he’s dramatic.

“Ugh,” you whined jokingly, wiping your damp fingers on his shirt. He batted your hand away lightly before dragging your chair closer so he could rest his arm on the back of it. You leaned into his side and continued feeding him, popping some in your mouth in between. He, of course, did the absolute most when taking them from you, nipping at your fingers constantly and not giving a damn about the blatant PDA in front of his club.

You were teasing Eddie by pulling the pretzel away a little bit before he could take it when the curly haired freshman, Dustin, spoke up. “So, speaking of monsters, Lucas has to do his, uh, balls in laundry baskets game,” he began, chuckling nervously. 

Eddie listened to Dustin as he kept his gaze on you while you continued popping pieces into his mouth. This wasn’t really your concern so you had no qualms continuing the lovey-dovey shit. You almost thought you belonged at the ‘popular’ table since you swore you saw an ‘it’ couple doing this exact same thing once. 

“So he’s not gonna be able to make it to hellfire,” Dustin’s next sentence got Eddie’s attention as he straightened slightly and turned to face him. Uh oh.

Before Dustin could finish stuttering his way through what he obviously wanted to offer as a solution, Mike cut him off. “POSTPONE!” he finished exasperatedly, and the protests began, because postponing? Hellfire club? Were they serious?

“SHUT UP!” Eddie barked over the chaos, and the table went quiet. You subtly bit your lip at the small show of power and you didn’t think anyone would blame you.

“You’re saying Sinclair’s been taken in by the dark side?” Eddie clarified as he sat forward, his arm moving from the back of your chair to the table, and you pouted. 

“Uh, something like that-”

“Something like that?” Eddie mocked, chucking a pretzel in the boys’ direction. “And rather than find a sub for him,” he proposed like it was obvious, “You want...you want to postpone. The cult. Of Vecna?”

As Mike began with the excuses, Eddie shot up, again, and you knew where this was headed. 

“It’s just that, y’know, most of the subs will be at the championship game,” Mike reasoned, but Eddie was having none of it.

“Oh, its the championship game?” he asked tauntingly, then enquired, “Can I level with you?” he began to make his way down the right side of the table, brushing his hand against my neck lightly as he passed. “Jeff graduates this year, Garett’s got, what, a year and a half?” he said, then gestured to himself. “Me, I am army crawling my way toward a D in Miss O’Donnell’s. If I don’t blow her final, I’m gonna walk that stage next month,” he began prancing slightly, and you looked on in amusement, even if you felt sad for him having to endure a final year in this hellhole multiple times. 

“I’m gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I’m gonna flip him the bird,” he gritted as he held up a middle finger to no one in particular, then clenched his other hand in a fist. You couldn't help but admire the bulky silver rings adorning his fingers, they had no reason to look so damn good there. “I’m gonna snatch that diploma, and then me and my girl are gonna run like hell outta here,” he began running in the direction of the exit, adding action to his words to get it to sink in for the club even more. You blushed when he mentioned you two leaving together. He always talked about getting out of Hawkins with you, as there wasn’t really anything keeping him here.

“Didn’t you say that last year?” Jeff spoke up.

“And the year before?” Garret added.

“Yeah, and I was full of shit!” Eddie defended, walking back. “This year, is my year,” he gave the cafeteria a once over, before looking at you and smiling. “Our year,” he corrected. “‘86, baby,” he promised, eyes still on you, soft as ever. 

You’d applied for multiple colleges out of state, letting fate (and pretty decent grades) decide where you would end up. You loved your boyfriend, but you were not putting your education aside for anyone. With that in mind, as well as how “hard” he was working for that barely passing grade, you prayed he really wasn’t full of shit this time. Maybe the two of you being side by side at graduation wasn’t gonna be a crazy dream anymore.

“You know what that means?” he asked Dustin and Mike, coming up behind them and laying heavy hands on their shoulders. “It means you boys, are the future of hellfire,” he said. “I knew it the moment I saw you, sat on that table right over there,” he pointed ahead, still keeping an arm on Mike’s shoulder. “Remember, baby?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“Looking like two little lost sheep,” you grinned, thinking back to when you first saw the two boys, just as awkward looking as they are now. 

“You were wearing a Weird Al T-Shirt,” he said to Dustin, then turned to Mike. “You were wearing whatever shit your mommy got you,”

“From the goddamn Gap,” you added in, enjoying this. You were willing to admit that Eddie sizing these kids up was, for some reason, entertaining. 

He pointed at you in agreement, chuckling, and everyone started laughing, including the two boys. The funny moment didn’t last, however, as Eddie switched it up on them real quick and yanked them up by their collars, effectively ending any amusement they felt as they became visibly tense.

You heard him begin to explain to them that the Hellfire Club gave them a decent high school experience and that there were other little ‘lost sheepies’ who needed that same assistance, then gently advised that they ‘get their Bo-Peeps on’, and go find one, before shoving them away from the table with a new task in their hands.  

Eddie relaxed, then made his way back to his seat, placing his arm back in its original spot on the back of your chair. 

“You think they’ll find someone?” Garett asked.

“They better,” Eddie mumbled. Accepting that, Garett shrugged and entered a conversation with the other members of the club. “Now, where were we?” Eddie asked you, then opened his mouth expectantly, sticking his tongue out. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled, picking up a pretzel and placing it on his waiting tongue. “You know, you should consider eating some real lunch, Ed,” you chastised lightly. “Snacks and weed isn’t really a proper diet,”

His eyes darkened, and he smirked. “Well then,” he mumbled, and brought his head closer to yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“I know exactly what I want to eat,”

And with that, it was your turn to shoot up from your seat as you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the cafeteria, not even caring about the implications. 

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

Nothing like the latest cute white boy from a Netflix show to suddenly make you wanna write again. Hope the Eddie girlies enjoyed💕 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson writing #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader

[enavstars]

*Kicks down door* CAN I WRITE A FIC FOR YOUR LILO & STITCH NINJAGO AU???

Please says yes it's amazing TOT

Of course you can! (Pls tag me I want to read it)

I was going to answer this in the part 2 (I'm working on it) but there's a few people asking so I'll answer now. I'm just making these drawings of scenes from the movie for fun, I won't make an au of this nor do I have more details or will think about it (I'll just draw this 4 characters).

Someone mentioned Jay and Zane being Jumba and Pleakly, but I also thought of Garmadon and Wu being them and I don't know which one is more hilarious xd.

I was also going to say that if someone wanted to do something with this idea (art, fics, etc) they absolutely can :)

Here's another drawing while you wait for part 2:

#art #ninjago #ninjago kai #kai jiang #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #lavashipping #lilo & stitch

[nentofus]

okay to like / reblog / tag / save / whatever!

thought i should pop my personal prompt list for this year's OC-tober here! for ease of reading, the prompt list is as follows:

The Introduction Week 1. Newest OC 2. Your favourite OC 3. OC who gets the most love 4. OC who needs a little more love 5. Show some Pride 🏳️‍🌈 6. Your favourite ship (romantic, platonic, found family, any relationship!) 7. Draw over an IRL picture - Alternate option: OC you'd most want to meet IRL

Appearance Week 8. Extra appendages (like extra limbs, eyes, etc.) 9. New hairstyle / New outfit 10. Gloves or socks? 11. Swimsuit 12. Mascot costume / Cursed outfit 13. Crossdressing 14. Wearing something from your culture!

Aesthetics Week 15. Cyberpunk - Alternate option: Vapourwave 16. Cottagecore - Alternate option: Lolita 17. Galaxy - Alternate option: Ocean / Forest 18. Monochrome / Noir - Alternate option: Light academia / Dark academia 19. Neon / Eyestrain - Alternate option: 2000s scene kid / Hot Topic emo 20. Rockabilly / 50s - Alternate option: Ah Beng / Ah Lian (lol) 21. Your favourite aesthetic - Alternate option: Your least favourite aesthetic

Fun Week 22. Song redraw 23. Collab cafe item 24. Limited palette 25. Family Feud 26. Idol / Band subunit 27. Fake screenshot 28. Barbenheimer

The End Half-Week 29. Your OC with a canon character 30. Your comfort zone / comfort character 31. Halloween costume dressup - Alternate option: Guts & glory / Free day!

I'll be putting the explanations for a couple of these under a read-more so that those who aren't interested can skip the rest of my blathering! Feel free to ask questions if y'all like! My ask box + the replies on this post are always open :D

---

General - I wanted to make another self-indulgent prompt list this year for OC-tober so I did :3 - If you do feel like following along, remember that your health, comfort and motivation come first! Do as much as you want or as little as you want, or feel free to mix up the order or skip the prompts you don't like! - The alternate options were added because 1. I'm indecisive and 2. If a certain prompt doesn't appeal to you, then there's another choice! - I always have OCs on the brain so if you want to mention/tag me in your posts please do! I'll be responding under my main blog @complementary-oxymorons due to the interaction limitations of side blogs + wanting to keep my art blog as my personal art archive.

About the prompts - I understand that some prompts can be a bit confusing so I'll try to preemptively explain some! - Day 7: Draw over an IRL picture - For some ideas, it could be like drawing your OCs on a picture of a beach as if they're there having fun! Or maybe you could draw little chibis of your OCs sitting on your shoulder / messing with your hand while you draw :D (please do be mindful about the risks that come with uploading IRL photos though!). If you're concerned about privacy but still want to involve your "IRL self" in the piece, a possibility is to fully re-draw / trace over the reference photo you took! - Day 10: Gloves or socks - Yeah this is just me finding an excuse to draw my OCs who wear gloves or draw them in some super cute socks / stockings. Which team are you on? - Day 20 alternate: Ah Beng / Ah Lian - I thought it'd be funny because someone put it on Aesthetics Wiki (link). To those who have ah beng in ur neighbourhood just put portable speaker escooter tattoo slipper can liao also if yall know the typical ah beng spotify songs can tell me pls ok xiexie i only know 小幸运 and heng ong huat - Day 22: Song redraw - Some ideas could be redrawing your OCs on album art, or adapting them into the visuals of a song as if they're covering it! (Like how vtubers do hehe) - Day 23: Collab cafe item - Create a food or drink item that represents your OC! Some IPs (anime, games, etc.) collaborate with IRL cafes to create a themed menu which runs for a limited time only. The items on the menu tend to be references to the IP and its characters (e.g. an orange-haired character in the game gets a menu item that's an orange soda with decorative sprinkles, or a character who loves curry gets a menu item that's a special curry dish, something like that). If you're still unsure, google stuff like "collab cafe"! - Day 25: Family Feud - Feel free to redraw your favourite Family Feud clip as your OCs because there are a lot of strong contenders kekdog - Day 28: Barbenheimer - Exactly what it is! Feel free to draw your OCs dressing up to go to either movie or something. - Day 31 alternate: Guts & glory - This one's for those who prefer a more bloody Halloween :D Feel free to gore it up in any way you like. Plush, candy, flower, extra visceral... get those guts some air!!!

#prompts #oc-tober #oc-tober 2023 #little chats

[lyramundana]

Hello! Your request of Bang Chan being jealous/controlling is set to be written in August.

But since we are both a lover of soft smut, can I pls request inexperienced reader with Chan? Just something comforting and sweet.

Thank you :)

I'm incredibly, tremendously sorry for the long waiting. I'm the queen of procrastinating and I had zero ideas of how to proceed with this one, but mostly it was procrastinating. I'm not confident on writing soft smut scenes, but I'll try my best here:

Again, sorry for the waiting, and I hope this turned out decently. It's been on my drafts for a long while, but I never found the headspace to finish it:

When you were first starting to get to know Christopher, it was obvious he was experienced in that field, which made you slightly insecure about your own lack of it and it worried you that he might had find you less desirable.

Surprisingly, not only he was very understanding and sweet about it, but he seemed to want you even more.

He gladly took over everything. If you weren't sure, he guided you through it with his gentle voice and safe hands. Needless to say, your first time with him was mindblowing and better than you could've ever imagined. In fact, you enjoyed it so much that you felt yourself growing addicted to it.

You never thought you could grow so needy and horny for a man, and it made you feel a bit embarrassed sometimes, but he made clear how much he loved it.

You come home after an awful day. Everything seemed to go the opposite way of what you wanted, and added to the sexual frustration you are already carrying, you are beyond stressed. Your boyfriend is there, waiting for you to arrive, and as soon as he notices your mood, he hops you in his arms to comfort you.

-Hey, babygirl. What happened? Do I need to beat up someone? -he caressed your hair, kissing your forehead as he spoke in his gentle, loving voice. You felt yourself melt in his arms and the stress slowly leaving you.

-Just a bad day, that's all. I'm so sick of everything. -you murmur with your face buried in his shirt, and you happened to feel his strong pecks right under it.

Your skin feels hotter and it has nothing to do with the weather.

He rubbed your back, soothingly.

-You know what, baby? How about we take a long, warm bath and you try to relax? And maybe you can tell me about your day -he said as he left a kiss on the top of your head.

You stilted in his arms, lookin up with big doe eyes. A bath sounded great indeed...until you realized he intended to take it with you.

You would die.

And that's how minutes later, you found yourself buried in the warm water that reached your shoulders, with Chris' chest against your back and his arms surrounding your torso. Sometimes, his fingers draw circles on your sides and it drove you mad. How long has it been since your last intimate time together, after all? Weeks? A month?

-Try to relax, baby. I can see the steam coming out of your ears -he spoke against your temple. - You've been tense since I hugged you. Is it something I did?

-No, love. It's not about you. - well, partially yes, but it wasn't the main problem. - Its just..it feels like i'm doomed. No matter how hard I try or how much I improve myself, things go the opposite of how I want them to. I know i'm trying my best, but it doesn't feel enough. -you choked halfway through the words and you sniffed back your tears.

Your boyfriend was in silence for a bit. He pulled you closer to him as he noticed the strain in your voice.

-Oh, baby, it's okay. I understand what it's like, i've been there too. -he laid his head on top of yours, sighing. - It's fucking frustrating, I know, but we have to accept that, sometimes, it doesn't matter how hard we work, some stuff are out of our control and there are things we can't prevent. You're human, love, so you have limits. Don't be so harsh on yourself. -he kissed your neck- for what it's worth, you're more than enough in my eyes. You're perfect.

Your heart was melting as he said that, wanting to cry again but this time out of love. You can't know what you did to deserve for this man to devote himself to you, but you hope it lasts forever.

-I missed being with you like this - you muttered, looking up to him to kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiled and then kissed your lips, sucking your lower lip teasingly. You whined. - Don't do this to me, Christopher, or else..

-Or else what? Tell me, babygirl - he said with an annoyingly sexy grin. His hands descended slowly down to your hips, fingers brushing your inner thighs at times.

You gasped, grabbing his hands to stop them.

-Chris, please..

-What was the last time you had an orgasm, sweet thing? -your grip did nothing to him, as he continued tracing lines inside your thighs, now with his lips brushing your neck.

-I..dont't recall. Last month, I think? I don't know! -you cried as he started to drift closer to your core.

-Oh? You haven't been taking care of yourself, you mean? You know I don't like that, babe -he sounded serious now, pinching your skin to make your squeal.

-I know, it's just...-shit, you couldn't believe you were gonna say it. - I can't...only you can make me feel good. I don't know how do it without you!

His motions stopped suddenly and you whined at the loss. Before you could protest, he turned your whole body until you were facing him, sitting directly in his lap. You felt how hard he was and the words died in your throat.

-Fuck, baby, you can't say that shit to me like it's nothing. - he lunged at your neck and bite the skin harshly, making you moan as he left a mark. -You're so good for me. My good girl, who can't even pleasure herself without my help. You need me, don't you?

You struggled to find your voice with the sudden change of events.

-Y-yes -you gasped when his head brushed your clit. - I don't know-fuck-what to do without you.

His expression softened for a moment, right before acquiring a calculating gaze in his eyes.

-I hate it when you neglect yourself, pretty, but I understand you couldn't help it. I fuck you so good your little hand just can't compare, right? - he closed his eyes as he kept grinding your hips against his. -And you've been busy lately, haven't you? Poor baby must been so stressed. -he took your nipple in his mouth, licking and twirling it in his tongue, making you whimper and grip his shoulders. -You deserve a reward

You gulped. Last time he said you ended up cumming five times in a row, shaking in his sheets and under his mercy.

He raised your hips, lowering you slowly down his raging cock. You sighed at the sensation, throwing your head back. You felt so deliciously full. God, you've missed him so much, missed this. He let out a hiss once he was fully inside you, burying his face in your shoulders and nibbling the skin. When he attempted to roll your hips unto his, you whined and stopped him.

-Shit, Chris, give me a second. You're so big. - you wrapped his neck with your arms and laid your forehead against his, letting him feel your heavy breath.

-My size hasn't changed, baby, but maybe your pussy has forgotten about me. -he chuckled, caressing your cheek. - Guess we'll have to fix that.

You clenched around his lenght with those words and he groaned.

-Please, do. -you begged him, hiding your face in his neck out, flustered. -Fuck the stress away, Daddy. Fuck me until I can't think anymore.

He tensed under you. Holy shit, he was a breath away of wrecking you until you were crying out loud, but had to remind himself this was about you, about making you feel better. He closed his eyes forcefully, taking a deep breath to not fall for his instincts.

-Say less, my love. Let Daddy take care of everything, mm? -his vouce sounded deeper now, tender.

He gripped your hips and began to guide you up and down his lenght. It was a slow, steady pace, but it got you moaning in his chest at the so craved friction. His teeth traced your neck softly, leaving purple marks as he pulled your hair to make more room for his mouth. His hands lowered down to your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he thrusted into you.

You began to bounce unconsciously against him, doing your best to keep up with him. You moaned as his hips shifted and found another angle to hit you deeper, making you tremble in his hold. God, he made you feel so good, your eyes growing glassy.

His movements haltered once he heard you sniff.

-Babygirl? What is it? Want to stop? - you panicked and kept grinding against him.

-No! Don't stop, please - tears flowed your vision. You hugged him tightly, sniffing in his neck. - It's just..you don't know know much I missed this. I haven't stopped aching for you since the last time, but I didn't know how to tell without sounding desesperate and I.. - he silenced with your his lips, swallowing your next words. He bit your lower lip gently and pulled a bit before letting you go.

-My pretty, perfect baby, what did I do to deserve you? -he covered your face in kisses as he fastened his thrusts, making you whimper in surprise and pleasure. - You couldn't ever sound desesperate to me. I'll drop anything to give you what you need, so please, don't refrain yourself like that. -he toyed with your nipples again, making you moan loudly. - I'm here for you, princess. It's my job and biggest joy to give you what you want. -he groaned as you clenched around him again. - Now, let's fuck the stres out of you.

You went on like this for a while, with a quick but gentle pace. Your sounds of pleasure filling the room, for whoever happened to hear them. You needed this more than him, this relief and comfort only he could give you. His words encouraged you to just take what you needed.

The knot started to form in your stomach and you still reacted like the first time, eyes wide open and body tense as you took in the incredible sensation. Like he could feel it, his fingers drifted to your clit and began to rub it expertly, helping you chase your high. He felt his own climax come at him violently as he watched the addicting sight of you cumming with a high-pitched scream for him, because of him.

His other hand pulled your face closer by the neck and smashed your lips together, swallowing your beautiful moans as he kept thrusting his hips up roughly. You clenched again and he had to throw his back at the feeling, a deep moan escaping his lips.

-Fuck fuck FUCK! - he pressed his forehead in the conjucture of your neck. You whimpered as you felt his warm seed filling you, and he grabbed your hips with an iron vice grip, moving you to milk out the last drop of his climax - Take it, babygirl, fucking take it.

You rolled your eyes and let yourself fall entirely unto his hold. With a deep breath, he adjusted his position and laid his head back on the bathub wall. He massaged your back and left you occasional kisses on your face, his softening dick tupped inside you, preventing his cum from leaking out.

You basked in the silence for a few minutes, your breathing eventually going back to normal. Your head felt all mushy and your body completely relaxed. Everything was good, the world set itself right back again.

You stood there until the water grew cold, you growing sleepy with his cuddles and him watching you with a soft smile, pure and raw love sparkling in your eyes.

#this draft has been haunting me for months #i don't know what the fuck is this but i tried my best #tho i won't be surprised if it turned out bad anyway so i apologize in advance #i'll probably never going to read this again #but i'm so fucking glad i finally finished it #bang chan smut #skz smut #my works #requested