#flame of frenzy tag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raphaelsrightarm · 5 months

Text

Watch pt 2

Part 1

Uh ohhhhhh

Words: 1653

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only

Tags: @lovelyladylavie @auggiemty @serpentinefairy @miranexx @drowninghell @monsterroonio

He is a tidal wave.

Moving and moving, sweeping along anything that may get too close.

His hands found your waist without faltering for another second. His fingers twitched as he struggled to keep his grip loose. He wanted to touch you, he’s dreamed of touching you. Now that you’re standing before him with nearly as much need as him he’s worried he’ll do it wrong. That he’ll hurt you.

That he’ll scare you away.

You pressed yourself against him, tracing the pathways of his scales as his breath quickened. You felt the skin of his arms, his shoulders, tracing the border of his plastron. He pressed his lips to your neck as you explored him, the evidence of his want hardening against your stomach.

You moved to meet his gaze. Your face was only inches from his, and you felt any sense leave your brain as you closed the distance. He was stunned for a moment before you felt his arms wrap further around you. Strong hands splaying out on your back, desperate to have you as close to him as he could manage.

He broke away from you only to kiss your neck again, madly inhaling the scent of your skin before releasing a low groan. A grumble coming from his chest followed soon after, your heart raced at the intensity.

You thought back to how he had touched himself just moments ago. The image of him stroking himself slowly, twisting his fist as the head that will now forever be imprinted on your mind. You mimicked him as you wrapped your hand around his cock. He let out a strangled gasp, and you realized how sensitive he must be.

His eyes shut for a moment before returning to meet yours. Deep pools of malachite lit with the fervid flames of his lust. There was something else there that you couldn’t place. He watched you

You figured it would be best to move slowly at first, since he had just cum moments ago. It wasn’t long before you felt his hips buck against you, urging for more friction.

“Needy,”

“You have no idea,” He whispered against your cheek before he kissed you again.

Your hand moved faster, twisting at the tip just as he had done, as his lips traced your shoulder until he was met with the neckline of your shirt.

There was the sound of stretching fabric until you felt your shirt tear completely. You gasped his name as the fabric slipped from your body and you felt him smile against your skin. His hands now roamed along the skin of your back, tracing the shape of your spine, the curve of your hips.

You felt his legs twitch as you began stroking him faster. His restlessness grew with each passing moment of your hands working on him. He wanted more. He has wanted more for so long that it has turned itself into an unforgiving blade wedged into his side.

Touching you, the feeling of you touching him, were the only things that eased it. Even in his frenzied state he was still in awe of you.

So he allowed his hands to roam over your body. He wouldn’t last much longer with your hand working him the way it was, and he didn’t want to cum yet. It would feel too much like a waste.

He felt you gasp again as his hand slid down the front of your leggings, toying with you through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your pace faltered slightly, burying your face into his shoulder as he formed circles over your clit.

“Don’t get shy now,” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of your skin was set ablaze the moment you arrived. But words slipped away everytime you tried to form them, too focused on his hand between your legs and yours between his. How the two of you moved together like you’d done this hundreds of times already.

His free hand moved to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh against his palm. “Now.”

Your heart pounded as desire rolled through you like waves. “It’s so good, Raph, please,” You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, but just after he pushed your panties out of his way, his finger slipping between your folds to continue his work on you, savoring each whimper and moan that he pulled from you.

Your hand left from between his legs and flew to his shoulder in an attempt to steady yourself. Though he ached from the sudden lack of pressure, he was too caught up in your breathy moans and pleas for him to make you cum for him to care.

You were feeling yourself nearing the edge. Your heart pounded like you were running as you ran your hands down his arms, feeling the thick bands of muscle underneath his skin.

He groaned into your hair. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” His voice almost sounded pained, desperate.

You fell.

Effortlessly, he held you against him as your knees buckled. His endless strength was something that had left you stunned a hundred times over by now.

Your hips ground against his hand as you rode out your orgasm, eyes clenched shut, your fingernails no doubt digging into the back of his neck.

He was breathing as hard as you were as you came down. His lips traced the curve of your neck. His hand slipped from between your legs, fingers covered in you.

He inhaled deeply, tasting it off the tip of his finger. The fire inside you sparked back up.

“Raph,” His name had never sounded more beautiful. “I need you, please.”

He was already helping you slide your pants down, your underwear following soon after. With the fabric in his hand he had the sudden impulse to keep them, just so he could breathe you in whenever he missed this. Though there was a bit of guilt, he dropped them behind him, separate from the rest of your clothes.

You were weightless as he lifted you, bringing you to rest your head on his pillow. He kissed you hungrily, settling on his elbows over top of you. You pressed your knees to his sides, spreading for him as far as you were able in an attempt to make your desperation clear.

He entered you slowly, his other hand holding a firm grip on your thigh. He watched closely as your head fell back and eyes shut as you took all of him in.

He knew now that he would never be able to replicate this. His fist would never be able to make him feel the way your cunt is, his body shuddering as he bottomed out.

He couldn’t think straight, his mind melting from the heat of your velvety core. The churring from his chest had gotten deeper, and already he felt his end drawing near.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. His hand slid between the two of you to run circles over your clit. Slowly, he felt you begin to relax around him.

He forced himself to go slow. Every inch of him was begging for another release, to cum inside you and claim you as his. His mind was so clouded with the scent of you and the strength of his own urges

He waited until you began lifting your hips to match his thrusts to start moving a bit more freely.

“You’re fuckin’ tight, I’ll make you feel so good.” He felt like he was floating, lost your scent and your whines. “You’re mine.” His body twitched as you tightened around him. “Say it.”

“I’m all yours, Raph.” You tried saying more, and you would have if it didn’t feel so good. Your brain was empty of all thoughts other than his movements. His hands gripped your thighs with enough force you knew it would bruise and didn’t even care.

Part of you wanted it to.

He watched every movement you made, like he was memorizing you as intensely as you were trying to do to him.

His thrusts picked up, falling out of the rhythm he had created.

“So good,” He breathes out almost to himself. “So fuckin’ good”

He moved faster. The change of pace nearly made you see stars as his hand continued toying with your clit.

He watched as your back arched as you met your second release. You held onto him so tightly as your legs shook against his sides. He could feel you pulsing, clouding his vision.

He breathed you in one last time before his head fell back as he spilled inside of you. He lifted your legs up to his shoulders before he could convince himself not to. He held you there for a minute, kissing your ankles and rubbing your legs, whispering praises of how good you felt before he laid beside you.

You pressed yourself against him, clinging to his body. The feeling of your bare skin pressing against him was something he never wanted to part with.

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, and he couldn’t force himself to care either. He had your breath against his neck, your arm draped over his stomach.

The moon could fall from the sky at this moment, and the only sorrow he would feel would come from him never again being able to see how the light would fall against your skin.

It hit him harder than it ever had before, the realization of how important you had become to him. He thought back to the days before you had entered their lives, and they all felt incomplete.

You nuzzled your face closer into his neck and immediately, almost instinctively, his arm tightened around you. With a light sigh, he accepted that he was absolutely fucked.

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayversetmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt raph 2014 #part 2

532 notes · View notes

hardly-an-escape · 4 months

Text

Stormy Weather, or: Outside, the Wind (Inside, the Light) | Dream/Hob | 1600 words | Rated T

tags: I recently spent an evening without power therefore I must put the blorbos in a Situation, love confessions, first kiss, getting together, power outages, Hob Gadling throughout history, gratuitious use of mildly accurate Middle English

The wind tears around London like a living thing, a wild animal, a predator, intent on the hunt. It chases birds into their nests and people into their homes, moans around corners and rattles shutters, sending piles of leaves whirling into miniature hurricanes and whipping branches into a frenzy, sharpening its claws on roof tiles and telephone poles.

Except in Hob Gadling’s flat.

The New Inn, and the cozy home above it, is in one of those old buildings that’s actually been loved and maintained – thanks in no small part to Hob’s own care and attention. The walls are thick and strong, the roof is solid. The shutters may rattle, but the windows are double-pane; the curtains and carpets are warm and soft, and no drafts encroach on the sanctity of his living room, where Hob and Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, are having a movie night.

It’s part of Hob’s concerted effort to introduce the Prince of Stories to the stories he’d missed during his imprisonment. Tonight it’s Blade Runner – the final cut, of course – which isn’t necessarily one of Hob’s personal favorites, but seemed to fit the stormy, rainy vibes of the weather. They’re installed on the couch, with hot chocolate and wine and snacks, which Dream has deigned to pick at. Harrison Ford is eating noodles and wandering through wet, moodily-lit streets. The wind is howling outside, but they’re safe and warm and surrounded by soft things and life is about as good, Hob thinks, as it ever gets these days.

And then his lights flicker. Once, twice; there is the impression of a sort of electrical last gasp, and the room is plunged into darkness.

The wind whips and the shutters rattle. A volley of rain spits itself against the windows.

“Bugger,” says Hob.

Dream says nothing, merely brings his wineglass – which had already been cradled in one elegant hand – to his lips.

“Hang on,” says Hob. “I’ve got some candles around here somewhere.”

He gropes his way to the kitchen. In one drawer he unearths some beeswax tapers and several tea lights, which he arranges on a plate. He rummages in one of the deeper cabinets and makes a triumphant noise as he discovers his prize behind disused mugs and a fondue set from the 1980s: a pair of old-fashioned brass candlesticks equipped with round reflectors, highly polished to catch the light and bounce it back out into the darkness.

“You are remarkably well-prepared for an event such as this,” says Dream, as Hob lights his various prizes and returns to the living room with his hands full of flickering flames.

“Well, you know,” Hob demurs. “When it comes down to it, I’ve lived a lot more of my life without electricity than with it.” He arranges the tea lights on the coffee table and sets the brass candlesticks on a nearby bookshelf. “You never really get out of the habit of preparing for the worst. Although I will say, these beeswax ones beat the hell out of the old tallow jobbies we had when I was young. Got ‘em from a local bloke who keeps bees not half a mile away, isn’t that cool? A beekeeper in the middle of London. There, now,” he says, and having arranged the lights to his satisfaction he plops himself back down on the sofa.

Outside, the wind wails. The lack of lamps on the empty street below and the gentle candlelight within make the night seem even darker, and turn Hob’s living room into something even softer and cozier than it already is.

Dream’s face, in the flickering candles, seems even more otherworldly than usual; and Hob, for his part, truly looks as though he belongs in another century. The very shape of his face has changed, somehow, into something older; taking on a new appearance in the candlelight the way a man’s tongue might curl differently around the syllables of another language.

“I miss it, sometimes,” he says lowly. “This kind of world. Before the wires and the phones and the cars. It was… quieter.”

“You speak often of your delight in change and progress. Do you truly long for your past lives?” asks Dream.

“Yes and no,” answers Hob. “Some things are better now, no question. Antibiotics, wouldn’t want to live without those again. Vaccines and X-rays and chemotherapy and antidepressants – almost all the medical stuff. Mass transportation. Cars and planes have never been safer. Honestly, I’ve never understood the people who moan about the olden days and oh, life was simpler back then. Don’t they know how many people died? How many kids? Because they caught a cold or fell out of a tree or had a case of the runs that lasted a little too long?”

He leans forward to adjust one of the candles, which is dripping unevenly, and when he sags back into the couch there is just the hint of a frown between his strong brows.

“And yet…” he says, staring into the flames, voice quiet. “Nights like this. I do sometimes think…”

Hob trails off for a long moment.

“There was a rhythm to life, back then,” he says finally. “You counted hours by the church bells and days by the tasks that needed done. And there was so much that needed to be done… cows milked and fields planted and clothes knitted or mended. And it was all so important, so… necessary. Regimented. But in the in between time – Christ! your time wast thine.” As he speaks, his voice has slipped into an older register: his Rs grown rounder, his vowels longer, curling from his mouth to mingle with the candlesmoke hovering over his coffee table. “I remember fair hours as a lad, even into my manhood, of which I spent lyende in th’ fields, watching ants in th’ grass. And later, too, we’d hie us to bed with the sonne, the fire banked in the hearth. An’ it happen that if we awakened before dawn, ’twas a simple thing to pass the time in simple ways, be it in prayer or in pleasure…”

The innuendo in his words is clear, but Hob is not looking at Dream; his eyes are unfocused as he stares into the middle distance, revisiting the past via candlelight. Until one of the wicks lets out a small pop, and flares, and he shakes himself, coming back to the present.

“God, sorry,” he says, voice back in the 21st century. “Woolgathering. I’ll go on for an age, me. More wine?”

But Dream’s eyes have also gone unfocused, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths as he stares – no, gazes – at Hob. He, too, must shake himself into the present moment at Hob’s offer of more wine. He silently holds out his glass.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Dream says.

“Anything. You know that.”

Dream pauses. Sips. Outside, the sound of the wind has not abated; has grown, if anything, even more dramatic. There is the muffled sound of branches scraping against the side of the building.

“Why,” asks Dream finally, “do you pretend to yourself that you do not want me?”

Hob chokes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you pretend thus to me?” Dream pursues. “Who has known you longer than any being on this planet or any other; who can know your innermost dreams?”

“What do you mean, other planets?” Hob demands. And then: “Have you been peeking at my dreams?”

“I need not peek, as you put it, to see the truth of the matter. It is writ plain on your face and in your every word and deed. I merely wonder why this truth has hovered before us for over six hundred years and you have yet to press your suit. Do you doubt, after all this time, my affection for you? Do you find me – unworthy?”

Dream sounds, impossibly, almost uncertain. Even vulnerable. Hob sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“I – God. Dream,” he stammers. “Yes, Christ, I am full of doubts. You stormed away from me when I implied you might be lonely, I… I have never, once, thought I had a suit to press at all. What on earth has brought this on? Now, of all times?”

“I do not know,” Dream murmurs. “Perhaps… this darkness is working on me, as well. Perhaps I am as susceptible to candlelight and nostalgia as the next anthropomorphic personification.”

He smiles, a little quirk of the mouth that contains worlds, and Hob leans over, listing helplessly into Dream’s space as the tapers flicker.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together, turning his head to butt his cheekbone against the sharp line of Dream’s nose. “Art thou rēal? Speak you treue?”

“Aye, my Hob,” answers Dream. “Min herte is treue and bilongeth to you.”

A sob catches in the back of Hob’s throat at the words. “Fuck,” he whispers again, “Dream, I’m yours. I am. I always have been. My Dream, min sweven, my leof. Alwei, allesweis…”

Their mouths find each other, then, finally, lip against lip and breath against breath. They kiss for a long, long moment, desperate and hungry and soft all at once, as outside the wind howls coldly around the corners of the New Inn, and inside the light cast by Hob’s candles bathes their whole little world in a cozy glow.

“Take me to bed,” murmurs Dream against Hob’s mouth. “Make me your lover. Show me how you pass the time by candlelight, and in darkness.”

“Oh, darling. Dearheart,” Hob answers. “Nothing in this world or any world past could make me happier.”

And he suits his actions to his words.

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #a needlessly complicated title for a truly simple little fic #I've already written this basic premise so many times AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN #the archaic English Hob uses in this fic is based on the most cursory googling #just tell yourself it's all over the place because historically English is.... all over the place #my unpopular opinion is that I think Blade Runner is overrated and yes I will project my opinions onto fictional characters #as usual this started in one place and went in another direction entirely #may post on AO3 tomorrow if the spirit so moves me

242 notes · View notes

starrierknight · 6 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3

*this fic is in media res

wc— 6.3k

pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou

cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy

You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.

"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression.

Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!

"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!"

Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.

Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.

Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.

No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.

Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.

It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.

Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.

Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.

Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.

His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask.

His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.

As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.

"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.

It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.

"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.

His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.

“I love you.”

"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.

The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.

"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade.

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.

"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.

The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.

A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.

"Or maybe..."

As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.

A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?

Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.

"Maybe here."

His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.

"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.

You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”

A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.

"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride.

You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.

"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.

"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.

"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.”

"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife.

"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."

His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.

"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.

You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?"

A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.

“How?”

He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.

"Touch me.”

For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.

"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”

In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.

That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.

"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.

The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.

Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.

Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently.

When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.

The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.

"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.

"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.

You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.

Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.

Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.

The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.

Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.

"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."

"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it.

A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.

"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.

"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones.

His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.

"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch.

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"

Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.

"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.

A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."

You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.

In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.

Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.

A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.

A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch.

You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.

"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.

A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.

"P-Please!"

"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.

He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.

"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.

You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?"

Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.

"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do."

A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.

You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.

As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?"

Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”

"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"

His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.

"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"

“Yeah? What is it, darling?”

He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.

As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.

He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.

You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.

A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.

His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.

Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.

Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face.

"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.

As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.

Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.

"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."

You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"

Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.

The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.”

Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.

"Please," he begged, soft and needy.

"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.

His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:

"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth.

His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.

“Tell me you want me."

"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."

His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.

"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..."

Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:

"You feel this?"

The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.

No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.

"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.

"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.

Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:

"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..."

Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”

As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.

Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.

You.

A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip.

"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.

"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.

Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.

"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.

Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.

Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.

"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.

"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"

His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.

"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.

A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.

You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..

As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.

"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.

The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.

Blissful heat.

As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.

“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”

The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.

"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.

The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."

Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.

"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."

Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.

"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.

He felt the cold press of the knife.

a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

311 notes · View notes

eye-of-yelough · 8 months

Text

She frenzy on my flame till i incinerate all that divides and distinguishes

#has this been done before?#your daily dose of idiocy #elden ring #flame of frenzy tag

3 notes · View notes

grapejuicebluesx · 6 months

Text

hi! i'm new but i miss harry so bad rn so here's a sweet little thing Xx.

(p.) harry styles x taylor's!bff

(fc.) phoebe dynevor

FANS VIA TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

liked by gracieabrams, harryflorals and others

yourname taylor i feel blessed to know you and honoured to love you ❤️ cheers to you!

view all 5,282 comments

taylorfan1 bday gang slays as per usual

gracieabrams 🤭❤️

gemmastyles gorgeous :)

taylorfan2 taylor x yourname is all i need

jackantonoff ☀️

liked by yourname, harrylambert, and others

fingermonkey #tb what id give for a night in with you 🍦

view all 54 comments

camillefan1 youre so pretty

yourname je t'aime 🩵

yournamefan1 my FAVES

harryfan1 collecting the exes like pokemon

harryfan2 imagine being friends with taylor and camille

liked by harryfan3, taylorfan3, and others

harryupdates 🚨 harry spotted hugging a friend in LA!

view all 708 comments

harryfan3 wanna know what i love? singlerry 🥲

harryfan4 i missed himmmmmm

harryfan5 OMG WHO IS THIS

harryfan6 WHAT

harryfan3 hand placement

liked by gemmastyles, fingermonkey, and others

yourname ever since new york ive been dying for some cali sunshine 🌞

view all 1,266 comments

harryfan7 omg esny

taylorfan4 GORG!

annetwist ❤️

harryfan2 anne and gemma love this girl

kendalljenner 🥃

liked by devonleecarlson, winnieharlow, and others

kendalljenner happy nights with drink818

view all 6,467 comments

yourname 🫦

harryfan3 collecting harry's exes like infinity stones

yournamefan1 hear me out... building an army

haileybieber my girls

harryfan8 too much is lining up now...... 👀

harryfan9 crossover of the century

BREAKING NEWS

In a surprising turn of events, music sensation Harry Styles was recently spotted enjoying a cozy dinner date with none other than Taylor Swift's best friend, Y/N Y/L/N. The sighting has ignited a frenzy of speculation and excitement among fans, who are eagerly speculating about the potential new romance brewing in Styles' life.

The One Direction heartthrob and A-List actress were seen stepping out together for an intimate dinner at a trendy restaurant in Los Angeles. The duo appeared to be engrossed in each other's company, laughing and sharing animated conversations throughout the evening.

Harry Styles, known for his charismatic personality and magnetic stage presence, has had his fair share of high-profile romances in the past. However, this recent sighting has raised eyebrows due to the association with Taylor Swift, who is not only a global superstar but also an ex-girlfriend of Styles.

The unexpected connection between Styles and Y/L/N has added an intriguing twist to the story, fueling rumors and captivating the attention of fans worldwide. Swift's loyal fanbase has been abuzz with curiosity, wondering about the dynamics between the former flames and the potential impact on their friendship (or future collaborations).

Neither Harry Styles nor Y/N Y/L/N has made any public statements regarding their relationship. It remains to be seen whether this dinner date was merely a friendly outing or the beginning of a romantic journey. Fans and followers will undoubtedly be eagerly watching for any updates or confirmation from the parties involved.

For now, the world can only speculate on the nature of the connection between Harry Styles and Taylor Swift's best friend. As the story continues to unfold, fans will remain captivated by the enigmatic charm of Styles and the fascinating dynamics within this intriguing love triangle.

Stay tuned for more updates on Harry Styles, Taylor Swift, and their entwined personal lives, as the world eagerly anticipates the next chapter in their captivating journey.

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated! Feel free to drop in to say hi and lmk if you want to be tagged in the next one hehe Xx

#harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles instagram #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles instagram concept #grapejuicebluesx

271 notes · View notes

highhhfiveee · 6 months

Text

safety net [p4]

tags: pornstar!mike schmidt, fluff (cute anniversary moments, award show memories, and talks of the future), mentions of smut (videos mike has made, including pegging and glory holes, and suggestiveness at the end), angst (insecurity and awkwardness🫂). proofread, but there are potential errors ofc. i also don't know how award shows really work atm so enjoy this dramatization lmao

part three: 📹

“happy one year, baby.”

the wind whips your hair across your face as mike drops his hand-blindfold from your eyes, and your chest tightens with shock as you track your gaze over the scene in front of you.

you still couldn't believe how thoughtful mike was, even after all this time. you'd told him that you'd wanted to stay in for your anniversary, and he'd accepted your request with open arms; so much so that he'd arranged an entire set-up on his balcony.

you'd thought there would be food and lights at minimum, but you weren't expecting an entire wooden pergola strung with yellow fairy lights above a large dining table, or three dozen white roses being placed in your hands, or the small quintet playing smooth jazz in the corner, bordered by the sizzling glow of nightlife that stretched for miles behind them.

the city, bright and pulsing with energy, from this height isn't a backdrop that you'd ever expected to surrounded with, but nothing up here is anything you'd ever seen in your entire life, at least not all together in one singular place for one purpose. you're staring at everything with blank eyes, but only because the amalgamation of your feelings has you immobilized.

“do you like everything?” mike asks frantically when you don't say anything, rubbing your goose-bumped arms with gentle passion characteristic of his boyish charm. "is it enough? god, wait, let me get you a jacket." mike skitters back inside, leaving you to try and take everything in.

you'd been over twenty-four hours prior, and there was nothing that could've given away what he was up to. he hadn't let anything slip, and you're surprised that he was able to keep something so massive under such tight lock. the fact that he doesn't think it's enough, frenzied and feral for your response, bewilders you further and you're still staring at the pergola, saying to the attendant standing by, "did they put that up this morning?" when you feel fabric cloak your bare shoulders. it's mike's jacket, the same one that he'd put on you the night you met, and knowing him, it's intentional.

you whisper, "thank you", a light soundwave in the air, and mike's throwing a frown your way, walking you over to the dining table. "god, it's not enough, huh?"

there's a solid gold candelabra in the middle of the table, the flames of small candles licking at the skyline. your table settings are fancy, with silverware of different sizes, overly-starched cloth napkins, finely ironed placemats covered by a menu printed on thick cardstock, and crystal glasses that look like they must've cost mike his own arms and legs and those of his first born son.

"mike, you've got to be kidding me," he grabs the flowers from your grasp, setting them on the far side of the table before pulling your chair out for you. you slip your arms into the sleeves of his jacket as you sit. "it's definitely enough and perfect, i just...all this is for us?"

"for us," he confirms with a smirk, settling himself into his own seat. his position adjacent from you allows you to get your first good look at his outfit, considering he'd whisked you inside and shielded your vision as soon as you'd crossed into his foyer. "for me, and for you."

his crisp, sluttily unbuttoned white dress shirt and black jeans clash with your plaid argyle vest and workwear khakis, and you're blushing as you retreat into his jacket.

"no fair, how could you let me come underdressed?" you'd made your way over straight from work per his request, and with everything being so fancy and ornate, you wish that you'd fought against him for a chance to change into something more fitting.

"i didn't want you stressing about something as arbitrary as clothes tonight. you always look beautiful, work attire or not," he patiently reassures, wrangling your clammy hands into his ring-clad ones and kissing at every single one of your knuckles. "it's refreshing, having you like this."

he'd been using that word in reference to you a lot recently, refreshing, and while being mike's breath of fresh air should've filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride, you couldn't deny the strange, acidic aftertaste that it imprinted on your spirit.

you'd only become hyperaware of mike's notoriety in the porn industry in the latter few months of your relationship; sure, he'd been doing it for a decade and had a ton of videos and a slew of awards, but ever since you'd been stopping by the studio and tagging along on some of his work errands (namely holding his hand during testings), you'd started to get the picture on how massive he was in his world.

Ecstasy Sindicate, cleverly named, had been the american production company to watch over the last decade, and mike was their treasure trove, an absolute goldmine of content and charisma.

once, you'd been tasked with going through his piles of fanmail, skimming through (sometimes used) panties and bras and letters, some of them detailing people's parasocial attachments to chase cox ("want him to come in you? get in line", you once mumbled).

he was famous in this sphere; all eyes on him, his next moves, and now you. early on, you would've never believed that you'd have to private all of your social media accounts and deal with internet idiots, but when your mentions started to bubble with comments, questions, and scorn about all things chase cox and y/n, it'd finally dawned on you that you were with someone of status and that you gained some attention simply by association.

one trademark experience of this sudden breakthrough was the award show he'd taken you to a few months ago. the xtc awards were huge in the industry, completely fan-nominated and -voted. it garnered alot of buzz, helped catapult lots of people's careers, and this year, mike had been the most nominated performer.

you'd given him a wooden "yayyyy", squinting your eyes in awkward agony when he cheered, "nominated for eleven awards and get to walk to the carpet with my incredibly sexy plus one. it's gonna be great."

just the title of plus one made you feel like you were out of your league, an additional label of pressure saddled on your shoulders. you weren't just his girlfriend anymore; you were his guest, so you had to look good, and be good, and do proper guest things. you didn't even know what those things were.

mike made the looking good part easy for you, or in his words, "i'm just assisting. you're really doing all the work, beautiful."

you chose your own dress, of course. all mike asked for was permission to sit in on your fitting; an intimate meeting with one of the most sought after stylists in entertainment. you'd gaped at the tags on every single one, gasping and heaving when price figures passed from three to four, then four to five.

"this is two more zeros than i've ever seen on the price of a dress," you rasped, twisting your hips in a navy blue floor-length gown. you'd never worn anything like it; with its price first and foremost, but secondly, with its airy material and deep plunge neckline.

it made you feel confident, attaching to your body in what felt to you like kismet, and though you wanted to keep playing dress-up with all the designer pieces you were surrounded by, you knew that you'd found the one.

"it's yours if you want it, baby," mike insisted, and you made eye contact with him in the mirror, amusedly pursing your lips at his low, sultry gaze. then, you felt like you could be in his world. you could go into the award show on his arm, assimilating to the environment with an ease that wasn't just because of mike. you could belong there just for being dolled up, costumed from head to toe just like everyone else.

"cost a lot to look good, huh?" you hummed, sturdily placing your hands on your hips.

"and look good, you do."

on the ride back to his house, you'd come back down to earth a bit, pouting to him, "can i at least give you $50 for the dress?"

he'd chuckled at you, mumbling, "y/n, my love, no. it's just a rental. got it for a pretty fair price actually..."

he stopped when he caught your grimace, your thin finger poking at his arm in earnest; you genuinely wanted to give him something for it, and who was he to deny you that? you just wanted to be nice, considering what he'd done for you. he loved you for that, for all that you are; he'd weakened into you as he spread his warm hand across your thigh. "but...if you really want to, of course."

he smiled in awe at the way you cheered, eagerly fishing your phone from your bag and sending him an apple cash message; money he'd ended up giving back to you days later when you mentioned a book series you were interested in.

renting you a five figure dress wasn't the only thing he'd had up his sleeve; he'd given you an opportunity to have all your hair and makeup done by some of the best professionals in the industry. you hadn't been overly thrilled with the news, only because you didn't know how you would feel about being poked and prodded for hours. it was another part of dress-up, and while switching clothes every couple of minutes was fun, having to sit very still in a chair while people touched you was not, at least to you.

still, you'd caved, melting at mike's wild rambles about their artistry and expertise. not everyone in life got to have these moments, and there you were, feeling standoffish towards a gateway into a life of exploration.

you gave mike your strongest grin, working to maintain it through your sessions as you sat in between so many perfect people, conversing and planning with their own salaried glam teams. most of them weren't even just pornstars; the hotel you were at had put you in the proximity of some of the most notable musicians, models, and faces in the current pop culture climate, and you felt like an imposter in your own skin.

you hadn't even minded the services anyway. you'd managed some conversation with the artists, asking them about what books they liked and what their favorite cake was. you'd tickled them, and while you'd felt like you'd cracked your way in ever so slightly, you still didn't feel right.

even as your hair was swept into an intricate updo dusted with glitter, and your face primed and painted with items totaling more than your biweekly salary, you hadn't felt like you'd deserved any of it.

your idea of belonging because you looked like everyone else didn't convince you much. you hadn't done anything to be there, unlike some of the massive names you'd seen pass through the glam suite conference room; mike was your entry, and the thought made your skin prickle, as if everyone's eyes were cutting you with contempt.

the being good portion of being a guest came when you'd met mike's assistant/publicist/friend, matilda (manic pixie dream girl sans pixie and dream); she'd barged into the private nail appointment you and mike were having, jolting you both into looking up at her from your perches on the bed. she looked like a mad scientist, wearing a long white jacket with her spiky platinum blonde hair pulled into two sprouts at the top of her head. her wispy bangs skirted her eyebrows, and she raised her right one with a smile and, "oh so glad to see you two all done up, but did i miss the part about a spa day in the schedule?"

she swirled her index finger over the two of you and then jammed it into her clipboard, beginning a jovial back and forth with mike. "i wanted to plan a surprise for y/n. you know, it's my schedule and i have access to it."

"yes, but you have to tell me when you make changes, mike! we've been doing this for years, what happened to the synergy?"

you'd loved mike's act of defiance; once, you'd sleepily mumbled about how cute it would be to have matching nails as you observed his hands while you cuddled in bed, and now, he'd made that one-off moment a memory for the both of you.

"----well, you're done, yeah? we've gotta get to the venue now. they want to run a long dress rehearsals and even thinking about it is stressing me the fuck out. the bosses haven't even shown up yet!"

you were fascinated by the ability of such an event to be organized and chaotic at the same time. though mike had his security detail and team with him to keep him on schedule, there was always some instance of disarray (a missing tie, another talent going over their appointment time) where matilda had to ferociously bark into her headset, giving the people on the other end a lashing that would make anyone forfeit a career in entertainment forever.

"move, move, move!" she chants as she fans both you and mike into the backseat of a black truck, keeping her eyes on a weighty clipboard stacked with memos and call-sheets as she takes a seat herself.

"mike tells me it's your first time at something like this," she'd said during the ride, nodding towards the neurotic hand wringing you'd been doing. you blushed, moving to sit on your hands. mike chuckled at you softly, and you opened your mouth to answer matilda. you'd noticed that she'd trained her focus elsewhere, pointing her pen towards a list on paper, and then at tangible things strewn around the truck. you stayed silent until she prompted, "well?"

"um, yes. i...um, live on the south side and work in an office," you replied. "sorry, you just weren't...looking at me so i didn't know you still wanted an answer---"

matilda sucked her teeth, leering at you with an almost animated longing. "god, you're lucky. how i wish i could be normal again. assisting is multitasking hell. a lot of the time i'm not looking while i do something else, so don't take it personally. busy busy busy mind up here," she tapped a manicured index finger on her forehead, baring her frazzled, ice blue eyes at you. "busy busy."

she unsettled you, deeply, but you'd been more concerned with how you were lucky in all this. on monday, you'd be back in your cubicle, sucking down a cold brew with oat milk on an empty stomach, and she'd be surrounded by stars galore. it didn't seem like you were the winner in this situation, or at least the person living the more charmed life.

things had ramped up by a thousand degrees once you'd made it to the venue, matilda's barking happening more often than times you'd blinked.

"we have not a minute to spare, people! time is money and we waste neither!" by that mantra, you and mike were dressed from head to toe in what felt like a blink. he was being whisked away for rehearsals soon after, leaving you alone in the green room with your phone and a tower of fancy sparkling waters contained behind a gigantic clear fridge door.

you'd cracked one open, bringing it to your lips when matilda, who should've been with mike, poked her head into the room and glared you down. "use a straw, and hold it away from your dress. you want that deposit back, don't you?"

you'd entertained yourself for the last hour by trying every flavor of sparkling water you'd seen and ranking them on a tier list; you were on cranberry limeade when mike and maltida strolled in, breathing out, "some of these flavors are unnecessary," with a small burp at the end.

your silly little moment had distracted you from what was actually happening, and the pit in your stomach, created by the imposter syndrome brewing within you, began to expand again as matilda guided you and mike to the auditorium breezeway for the red carpet.

matilda swiped at your flyaways, fine tuning you for getty images before moving onto mike. she adjusted his rings and pins before pulling out a small tin of product to touch up his hair; he griped at her, hissing, "no thank you. there's already enough shit in it."

"i know you love the tousled look, but this is your first red carpet with your laaadyyyyy," matilda sang, rubbing some pomade between her palms and reaching up to comb it through mike's strands, forgoing his pout. "best if you don't look like you've just come right from the passion set."

you were provided with the rundown while you waited for your turn to walk the carpet. "okay, it's not that much of a deal. it's all about angles, so i hope you know yours. don't worry too much about what the photogs are screaming at you either. they're here for you, not the other way around. make sure to smile, but not too much; if you can, smize and keep all your emotion above the nose like this----"

matilda demonstrated for you, a dramatic motion that you genuinely attempted to follow, but mike held out his hand in exasperation, prematurely halting the antics. "just follow me, baby. you'll be fine," he kissed at your forehead, taking your hand in his as he led you from the shadowy hall. "you look damn amazing."

besides his nails, he'd coordinated with you in the sweetest ways; colored accents on his suit, opting for a handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, your initials embroidered into the fabric in navy blue, and gold cuff links to pair with your jewelry. it comforted you to know that he was flaunting himself as your counterpart, feeling dignity at the fact that you were his other half. you nuzzled into him, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his palm. "you don't look half bad yourself."

though you'd never let go of mike's hand throughout the stop and go, you'd still been overwhelmed with it as a whole; every flashbulb, "chase, chase! over here!", "tell us about the special lady!", and abrupt movement down the line, commandeered by a suddenly militant matilda, was unfamiliar to you. you were sure that mike felt the tension erupting throughout you, and you tried to find solace in the feeling of his touch, whether it was on the small of your back or waist or hand. he never left your side, and you were grateful for his chivalry, though it couldn't overpower the overstimulation you felt.

your overactive brain had stiffened you, causing you to transform into a sentient two by four, and you'd gripped for mike's shoulder, turning into his body as the harsh lights burned the skin of your exposed back. it was embarrassing, cowering like that. you'd heard matilda calling, "face out! face out!" from the end of the stop and repeat, but it felt almost impossible; you couldn't think of any angles, the yelling photographers made your head hurt, and how the fuck did you smize?

mike had turned to his side, wrapping his arms around you and showering you with kisses. he'd managed to loosen you up enough for a candid smile and laugh, and you worked to throw your face towards the lights again, closing your eyes and giving them your best grin. you'd caught matilda giving you both two zealous thumbs up when your eyes opened, while she exaggeratedly squealed, "love it!"

you were just starting to have fun, mike dipping you for an "oh, so romantic!" photo-op, when your upside down vision locked on amelie, beginning her own walkthrough a dozen or so feet from you.

you understood why she was the most popular girl on Ecstasy Sindicate's website; she played femme fatale on and off screen, and in such an effortless way, using her eyes and ever-glossy pout in her favor. she oozed sex appeal monday through sunday, and besides her striking beauty, it almost felt like a crime to you that she was more enticing with her clothes on.

the sheath silhouette and queen anne neckline of her black dress sculpted her body perfectly, a tear-drop crystal-adorned shawl draped so delicately over her narrow shoulders trailing past her long legs as she strolled. her dark hair had been flattened pin-straight, held back with silver bobby pins to showcase the gigantic diamond earrings that dangled from her lobes, shimmering in the light as opposed to her low, dramatic smize.

that's how you did it.

the demands from the media shifted, ringing around you as you gawked at her from mike's arms, right side up now. "the money maker!" "turn for us, show it all!".

"give us chase and michaela together!"

mike looked to you like he was asking permission, and it made you feel icky. asking you for permission meant that he'd been clued in to your feelings, and you couldn't handle the thought of him knowing that you were genuinely envious of his coworker.

"yeah, go, go. you don't have to ask."

he'd handed you off to matilda at the end of the carpet, placing a soft kiss on your lips before marching over to amelie and pulling her into his side by her waist. you tried to maintain your calm, reminding yourself that this was work for them, but it was almost impossible to look past their effortless connection; it was disgusting the way they fawned over each other, complimenting clothing and hair and body parts with steady glances and bubbly laughs.

"makes your shoulders look very broad, is that what you were going for?" amelie's hands grazed over his shoulders and down his arms with a lazy appreciation.

"well it's not working since you have your legs out. i mean, c'mon they overshadow everything."

you'd been close to combustion watching amelie rest her hand against mike's pec, covering the personalization on his handkerchief as the cameras flashed at an inhuman tempo for the two of them. she slid into an easy pose, melting into mike as he tightened his grip on her hip. "over here! over here!" "looking good as always you two!"

"god, they're hot together," matilda confessed, biting at the cap of her pen. with a quick cut of the eyes to you, she jumped, face-palming and erratically musing, "sorry, they're just our most popular pairing and whew, we can all see why. so she's a bit taller than him? they both ooze insane sex appeal, and the chemistry! that's what attracts the people. height doesn't equal hotness, attitude does. remember that, y/n."

they were hot together, and while a part of your brain imagined your body pressed between the two of them, it took everything in the physical you not to cause a scene, shoving your way between them and ruining all their shots with middle fingers and boob shots, nipples and all. you were willing to fight back, but you could only think about how bad it would look on mike for your insecurity to impede on his night.

inside, you were sat at a table with mike and a few of his other coworkers. amelie sat across from you; she'd almost looked bored, mouthing a few tired phrases to those around her while you openly observed her being. matilda had encouraged mike to network with some insiders before the show started, and you'd used that time to stare, trying to uncover what made her so...her.

you'd tried to be more covert with your reconnaissance when mike returned to his seat, placing his hand on your thigh with a kiss to your cheek as the ceremony began, but she'd caught you every time, tossing you a flirty wink when you lingered for a moment too long.

mike had won so many awards that night; it was a clean sweep on all of the major categories---choice male performer, performer of the year, video of the year, production company of the year---and you'd thanked god for it; the frequent announcement of his name allowed you moments where you didn't have to focus on the woman across from you ogling him like he was a piece of meat. you were able to hug and kiss him in such a possessive fashion, maintaining amelie's surveil of you each time you pulled away.

mike included you in all of his speeches--"and to my beautiful girlfriend, who's been by my side through this entire year". the camera panned to you a handful of times, and you smiled shyly, giving a bashful giggle here and a dismissive wave there.

you'd gloated in it, wondering what you'd do during the next cuts to you, but they never ended up happening again. mike had skipped over his gratitude for you and your support during his last win... choice pairing with amelie.

they gave each other a tight hug at the table, dashing up to the stage hand in hand, and the sheer amount of people standing and clapping for them had you withdrawing into your seat. this is what millions of views, wicked sex appeal, and allurement got you, you'd inferred.

"and finally, i have to thank michaela here. really, we have to thank each other. i wouldn't be standing here accepting this award with her if it wasn't for her and all of our loyal fans out there, so thank you, thank you, thank you."

amelie took the award from him, leaning down to the microphone with her tongue skating over her teeth. she bit into her lip, stating, "chase basically took my speech and switched the names so, everything he said, thank you, thank you, thank you."

they laughed along with the audience, holding onto each other's arms as they kissed each other's cheeks, and while it's a friendly gesture, you noticed how amelie casually lifted her hand to his face, stroking at his freshly shaven jaw with a coy smirk.

you pushed past the agony you felt inside, rubbing mike's arm and offering him a tight smile as he settled back beside you, buzzing with adrenaline from his eventful night. "seven awards tonight, baby. fucking crazy, huh?"

you nodded, cutting your eyes to amelie as she snidely added, "all well deserved. we'd all know." the entire table erupted into amicable laughter, everyone congratulating mike with a personal quip of some sort. these people were a close knit unit, a chosen family in their world of adult entertainment, and though you were happy that mike was surrounded by so much love and support, you'd briefly wished that you two had been in some living room, watching trashy reality game shows and complaining about working your 9-5s the next day.

you'd opted to zone out for the rest of the night, mindlessly allowing for yourself to be subjected to many undoings of fabricated gaudiness. mike had noticed your exhaustion, and gave you time to yourself so you could clean up and decompress on your own terms, which you were thankful for. you loved him, but you needed time alone to cleanse yourself of the night you'd had.

you didn't leave the bathroom until your skin was rubbed raw and you were feeling a bit lighter, ready for the return to your world when you stumbled upon a cracked dressing room door.

low volume drum and bass music mingled into the hallway air, and you'd caught the back of amelie's relaxed silhouette moving from left to right over a dusty-looking vanity counter. she turned after a bit, whispering, "want some?" matilda appeared from somewhere, reaching out for something in front of amelie and tapping it on the table over and over until she leaned down herself, sniffling harshly against the laminate. amelie watched, a wicked smile etched onto her face as matilda coughed lightly.

"fucking shit."

you'd been stuck in place, glued to watching them snort another line of whatever was in the little baggie amelie pulled from her personal bag, and you were stupid enough to stay where you were as she turned, peering at you with a languid smirk as she wiped at her nostrils, pulling on them with her index finger and thumb.

"welcome to our world, girlie. wanna try?" you were sure you looked like a scared little kid as you shook your head frantically, your voice cracking as you said, "i don't know where you got it from, so no."

"oh, don't worry, my stuff's safe. mike's done plenty," she winked at you again, beginning to stroll over to you, but you'd moved on without an answer, heading to the venue exit where mike waited for you, cradling you in his arms as you ventured into the parking lot.

"so," he prodded, stroking at your hair as you laid across his lap in the backseat of the chauffeured car. his voice was tired, and while the lilt usually broke up anything ailing your mind, you'd been too focused on your interaction with amelie. "what did you think of your first award show?"

"it was fun," you lied, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your fingers. it'd been fun until your self-doubt took over, suffocating you with obstructive thoughts and a deep-rooted feeling of dread. "never thought i'd get to experience something like that. amelie even offered me coke."

he didn't say anything to that, and you'd adjusted yourself so you could see his face, the deep grimace upon his features and clenched jaw shrouded in moonlight. "did you do any of it?"

"no, but she said you'd done plenty." you didn't mean for your displeasure to come through so intensely; you hadn't minded that mike had done coke, only that amelie had been testament to it. what other compromising, intimate positions had she seen him in, and would she always hold them over your head? why hadn't he told you about it?

"that was a long time ago," mike cautiously stated, flipping you over in his lap so your face was level with his abdomen. you were poised to ask him for an elaboration when he traced hearts over your lips with his smooth fingertip, grinning, "you don't have to worry about me and that stuff, okay? i'm just glad you said no. it's refreshing."

there it was. he always said it when you were experiencing something from a world different than your own, and it made you feel like you were something to be ogled; something on a pedestal that had been recently unearthed when all you were was...you.

he felt so lucky to have you; a girlfriend that was normal after so long of being with people who knew the industry like him, the ins and outs of it like the back of his hand. he loved that you didn't have your days planned out months in advance, and that you didn't need a daily hair and makeup appointment just to sit in the house; he especially loved that you were turned off by amelie's reckless offer, but you hated it. you hated that it made you feel like a nobody, and felt odd at the way that he was so beguiled by your normalcy, entertained by the fact that this was all foreign to you.

"this sounds like self-sabotage," your therapist had said, eyeing you with careful consideration. "mike loves that you're 'normal', doesn't he?"

"yes, but..."

"but? isn't being 'normal' being 'yourself'?" you didn't mention amelie like you'd intended to. it felt pathetic to admit that you wanted her stature, the label of someone or at least someone on the same level as mike.

it didn't feel good being normal next to...not normal, and it felt hopeless to you that you couldn't change it. you could, maybe even becoming mike's new partner, but the thought of putting yourself wholeheartedly on display like mike and amelie didn't inspire possibility in you. it wasn't what you wanted to do, and the small sliver of attention you'd gotten from people who wanted to fuck your boyfriend was enough for you on any given day. you knew any more attention would tip you overboard, but was normalcy really your destiny?

it gnaws at your insides, and you're defeated, wondering why couldn't you be happy with anything.

"baby," the sensation of mike gripping your chin brings you back to his balcony. you blink your eyes, flustered at the fact that you'd dissociated during your anniversary dinner. the attendant is standing with wine bottle in hand, and both her and mike are staring at you, puzzled. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm sorry. had a rough day at work and my brain's just a bit...blah," you nervously giggle, reaching to move your wine glass towards the neck of the uncorked bottle. the music playing ambiently around you is almost comical in this moment, and you scrunch your face into an strained smile. "fill 'er up."

get it together, you scream at yourself. mike had put this whole thing together for you two, and here you were, letting your mind wander to places that it didn't need to be. you were here with mike, celebrating the fact that you two had been together for an entire year.

claire had cheered when you called and told her, squealing, "your longest relationship!! congratulations, my sweet, deserving friend, and thank you for telling me this time."

it was the longest you'd ever been with someone. taking the risk, once again falling for someone on a whim, had panned out better than you'd hoped. all of those times of lost love had led you to the greatest one you'd ever known, and here you were, pitifully ruminating over the way that amelie had touched mike during their acceptance speech and the fact that you were saturated with so many complex feelings.

you take a sip of your wine, more like a gulp, and mike chuckles at you, nodding towards the bottle. you follow his motion, leaning in to read the label. it was a shiraz that you'd babbled on and on about, one that was nearly $1500 and almost impossible to get if you didn't know someone who knew someone who knew someone.

"mike..."

"aht aht, that's not even the part i'm most excited about," he boasts, flicking at the corner of the cardstock on your placemat. you lift it to eye level while you take more moderate drinks of your wine, piecing together the five courses of...your favorite foods.

"elevated versions of your favorite foods," mike corrects giddily, and you hadn't realized you'd said anything out loud. he's smiling so wide at you like he always does, and you're speechless, all of your words caught in the middle of your throat. "this three-star michelin chef---"

"mike, i'm sorry to interrupt but, this feels very...me centric. it's our anniversary." you didn't deserve any of this. if he'd been able to take a peek inside your head, he wouldn't be doing all of this for you. he'd realize that even a love like this couldn't remedy the trauma you'd collected in your brain, existing and newly sprouted. not a year in, at least.

"fair, but i want to celebrate you," it's like a movie, the way the quintet shifts their performance into a warm, romantic melody and how mike takes your hands again, squeezing them periodically. you squirm under his scrutiny, fluttering your eyes to your lap. "you've changed my life, y/n, and i'm not exaggerating. every date, every night we've spent here or at your place, every call, every text; everyday i get with you, i realize i am so fucking lucky."

you're not really a sentimental crier either, but mike's words and the turmoil inside of you have tears splashing down your cheeks. "i love you. i will never stop telling you i love you."

you chuckle stuffily, a blubbering, sobbing mess as you say, "i love you, mike. thank you for all of this, and uh...i'm really sorry for calling you a nice guy when we first met. i don't deserve you." he joins you with a deep belly laugh that rumbles through the both of you, and it helps you breathe some tension away. "water under the bridge, baby, i promise. you deserve everything."

the first course, brioche rolls with truffle oil-infused butter, is presented to the two of you, and you forgo all of your concerns, murmuring a mildly perky, "oooooh" as two are piled atop a fancy plate in front of you.

mike encourages you to stuff your face, and you do so with no question as you two coast through your decadent and mouthwatering favorites, washing down the best flavors money could buy with a wine you'd only ever gotten to drink in your dreams until tonight.

you and mike carry conversation over your meal; goofily moaning at the tastes dancing over your tongues and you giving mike the usual scoop about your day at the office. he listens intently and laughs at your tales of inexperienced clerks getting papers stuck in copiers and messy, HR-avoidant affairs between bosses and subordinates, and you try not to lose yourself in the moment again. you've managed to stay with him through four courses, enjoying his immense generosity and engrossing gossip, and you want to keep it that way. you'd already let your mind wander once, and you wouldn't let it happen again. not tonight.

unfortunately, your plan unravels when your sauce-smeared plate of seafood alfredo is removed from before you, replaced with a clean, simply presented slice of chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

you'd always told that the preference was silly, and no matter how hard you fought to explain that chocolate cake was more moist, no one listened to you.

your mom made you chocolate cakes with chocolate icing, or vanilla with vanilla, but never chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

mike reaches under the table to settle his hand over your thigh, rubbing at your skin through your pants. his face, painted orange by the candlelight, softens at the way you gaze down at your plate, shadowing the cake slice in a strange mix of melancholy and joy.

"made sure there were no questions about it. my baby likes chocolate cake with vanilla icing, so that's what she's gonna get."

you feel tears stinging at your eyes again, and you're using the backs of your hands to wipe at them, shrinking away from mike. "i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm crying. it's just a stupid piece of cake."

"no, it's not," mike murmurs, leaning into the table so he's able to talk to you closely and bring his hand to your left cheek, thumbing at the wetness there and sliding his caress to your jaw. his rings are cold, but you still melt into his touch, bringing your own hand up to grasp at his wrist. he touches you like this often, but tonight, it's the perfect antidote for every adverse feeling that's run its course through you. he is wholly yours like this, and there's nothing in your head that can tell you that this isn't your destiny. "that 'stupid piece of cake' had me thinking about some things."

"mmmm, what kind of thoughts could my cake preference have inspired in you?"

"settling down," mike answers matter-of-factly, maintaining his strong gaze on you as your entire body burns through your clothing. you swallow hard. "the cake is you. it's something you like, and when i...put it on the menu as our dessert, i couldn't stop thinking about how i wanted to eat chocolate cake with vanilla icing with you for the rest of my life."

you give mike an intimate laugh of cynicysm, primed to say, "yeah right," when he interrupts you.

"listen. i hadn't said anything about it yet, but...the company's physically expanding, internationally. the bosses wanted to have consistent yearly growth here in the states before even thinking about taking it overseas, and after almost fifteen years in business, we've met all of our goals and we're in the process of penning a partnership deal with a production mammoth. they've got offices in london, paris, tokyo, and sydney, and there are gonna be Ecstacy Sindicate divisions in all of them."

"oh, baby, that's amazing!" you applaud, throwing yourself from your chair to embrace mike, climbing into his lap and squeezing him so tight, he's sure he'll explode. he chuckles, tingling with electricity from your elation, and he scoops you into a cradle, meeting you with his boxy, enthusiastic smile. "mikeeeee, that's huge."

"i know, right? this is going to change everything, and i..." mike pauses, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he absorbs the feeling of you against him, your arms wrapped around his neck while you stare at him with curious, twinkling eyes. "i want you to be by my side through all of it. i want to take everything i get from this, every cent, every ounce of fame, everything; i want to take it and invest it into us, and our future. you have dreams and goals and aspirations, and i want to see every single one of them come true. i will help every single one of them come true, no matter what. i want the world to be ours."

you can't believe that mike is saying these things to you right now, hiding away in his neck as you try to comprehend what he's telling you. he wants to be with you, and have a future with you; one where all the benefits and rewards he reaps from his career also shower upon you, one where you never have to worry about a thing ever again in your life. he wants you to know love, care, and support for the rest of your life, in every way, shape, and form, and this opportunity will guarantee that.

you're happy for him, of course. he'd shown you so many things, but you knew that that kind of access didn't come easily. he'd truly worked for everything he'd had, and you wanted him to keep on an incline, working his way to the zenith. you'd be with him every step of the way, you promised. you loved mike, and you always wanted him to win. this was winning, and to be a part of it with him gave you hope.

"as silly as it may sound, you saved me, y/n." mike is extra serious now, and you're opening yourself back up to him when you feel his finger skim the underside of your chin. "i was headed down a dark path before you divinely intervened, and i intend to spend every single one of my remaining waking moments showing you how grateful i am for that."

"oh, mike..." you dissolve his sugary musings with a long, heated kiss, punctuated with soft moans and sharp inhales of feverish air. your three cups of wine have finally hit you, and the alcohol-induced buzz in tandem with mike's words have you itching to ask him to finally fuck you on the table after everyone's been dismissed. "i love you so much. what's the timeframe for the expansion?"

"if everything keeps going smoothly, li and i leave in four months."

your stomach gurgles with nausea at the nickname; you hate how easily it rolls off of his tongue, and hearing it has you pulling away from him in distaste. you lift yourself from your perch on his lap, awkwardly settling yourself back in your own chair. "are there any more drinks?"

"y/n," mike presses dispiritedly, gazing at your profile with somber eyes. you keep your stare towards the attendant, who rushes over with a opened bottle of champagne you couldn't even begin to pronounce. she makes moves to pour it into your empty glass, but you withdraw the bottle from her hands, thanking her as you take a long, ill-mannered, anxiety-ridden gulp from the opening.

champagne is pretty fucking gross, you think, but you're not doing this for the taste. her image had disintegrated from your mind, but it haunts you again now; how could she, of all people, really get to fuck your boyfriend domestically and internationally?

mike snatches the bottle from you after a moment, eyebrows set into a deep furrow as he observes you sloppily wipe at your wet lips with your fingers. "did i say something wrong?"

"you just seem to love working with amelie," you bark, instantly sighing at your testiness. things are doubling in your vision from your foolish attempt to chug champagne in order to feel anything other than inferiority, but it's no excuse to self-sabotage what you've been given. after pouring out his entire heart to you, promising you a future of possibility and ease, you're internally strangling yourself for being so rude. "i'm sorry. i know it's not like that, i just---"

"baby, we're the whole reason why ES is even getting this opportunity. they were nearly bankrupt before li and i got there, and over this last decade, we've worked so hard to build it to what it is now. we get millions of views, bring thousands of subs daily, and make them so much mone---

"okay, yeah, but there are just so many other people for you to work with," you pout, and you hate the pity that swims in mike's eyes as he peers at you. you feel like a baby, not a mid-twenty-something merely wrestling with feelings of inadequacy because of your boyfriend's (beautiful, seductive, cunning) coworker, though these feel equivalent in your swampy mind. "what about that girl who pegged you in that one video you know i like, or that person from the glory hole video? people lovedddd you two together."

"y/n," mike's firm tone ceases your whining, and you want to cry all over again for being you. "we are celebrating one year together tonight. right now is no time for you to be thinking about li, okay? she's my coworker and she's my friend, nothing more. you trust me, don't you?"

even though mike's persistent use of her nickname chips at your heart like marble, you work to use logic and fact to calm yourself down.

he'd made so many videos since you'd been officially committed, and none of them, even the ones he filmed with amelie, had stopped him from sweeping you up in affection-heavy hugs, complete with annoyingly romantic squeals and soft kisses peppered all over your face and neck every time he saw you after production. mike was yours, yet the thought was often overridden with thoughts of him being ripped away from you, amelie paying you a deft wink as she took him to worlds that they'd created together; worlds that you had no idea about, considering their decade-long friendship.

what was up with you?

"y/n," you jolt as you feel mike's hand softly come down on your cheek, causing your eyes to cut back to him. you burn in embarrassment for the billionth time in your life, sighing. "use your words. do you trust me?"

"yes, mike," you mutter, forcing the words out. you did trust him. you always had, and you knew you could. he'd never given you any firm reason not to, and you had to trust that he never would. "i trust you wholeheartedly."

he pats your face now, pairing his smirk with a lustful gleam in his eyes that you catch immediately. "good girl. you have nothing to worry about, i promise. now," he holds his hand out for you, coming in close to graze his lips over your ear. "how about we go to the room and unwind, hm?"

you're nodding without a second thought, sheepishly thanking the musicians and attendant for all of their hard work as they pack up and mike helps you to your feet.

he's blowing out the candles and hitting a switch to turn off the pergola lights when you squeak, "wait mike, the cake! we didn't get to eat it because of me."

you frown, and mike tugs you into his body, pressing his lips against your forehead and murmuring, "it's okay. there's plenty left," his mouth coasts against your neck, light kisses fluttering against your jaw as he propositions, "we'll eat some in bed after i eat you, yeah?"

for once, you and your mind are on the same page.

cutiessss but also uh oh, uh oh trouble in paradise? i guess we'll just have to wait and see, hm? let me know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt angst #faire says #the tides are changing #everyone has secrets 🤫

235 notes · View notes

3-dsimp · 2 years

Text

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

Monster rule 101: Don’t play with fire around your Mothman!

Mothman! Dabi x monster hunter! Fem reader

Cw: Black coded, Humiliation, asphrodiasic, slight mind break, degradation, praise, NFSW, monsterfuxking, overstimulation, breeding, impregnation, usage of cunt

🔞 MDNI/ NO AGELESS BLOGS🔞

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

Tag list: @walkerofclouds @lyra-lore27 @geniusso @genshin-impacts-me

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

You were on a mission.

A very dangerous mission that was a code gold also known as Legendary. Meaning that the monstrous threat was equivalent to a whole country being wiped off the map. However, due to certain circumstances only one solider could be dispatched to deal with the golden threat.

The reason for that being because of how hyper sensitive the Mothman is to overcrowding within its territory. The team dispatch leader decided to proceed with the utmost caution lest they trigger its frenzy mode. Which would ultimately result in the loss of lives country wide, burning underneath the raging pure blue flames of the otherworldly demon.

<< Have you located the Mothman? Over >>

“Yes I’ve got eyes on the area sir, permission to proceed?”

<< Permission granted. Over >>

You were chosen out of a select few individuals for being the cream of the crop, to carry out this dire mission to save all of mankind. If you could succeed then you’d be set for life! Having the fame and the riches that come along with it, all in exchange for exterminating the deadliest bug humanoid in existence. You’d say that’s a fair trade, since it was high risk high reward type situation.

But as you approached the abandoned cave you could feel a sense of dread wash over your entire being.

You were being watched.

You could feel the sweat accumulate upon your lush brown skin littered in goosebumps. Then you heard a sharp chuff that echoed off the walls, seemingly the Mothman enjoyed watching you squirm from his focused attention.

Venturing even deeper into the unknown you tightly grasped at your equipment, a tool of reassurance you could say. That happened to be a flamethrower. Yes, out of all the weapons you chose a hazardous contraption that resembled a dragons breath.

Why? Mostly because you thought it’d be cool to go out in a blaze of glory should you happen to fail in your conquest to get the target in check. But it was also strategic in a way, since moths were attracted to light. You’ve had to find some kind of way to draw them out.

Too bad you didn’t get the chance to use it before you’re snatched into furry arms that secured you to the monsters chest. Which vibrated from his snarky greeting.

“You took too long enough for my liking doll, now shall we get down to business already? “

You could feel his bulge press up against the your ass, rubbing between your cheeks.

“I’m feeling a bit pent up”

He rasped impatiently into your ear, boy did his voice do wonders as it spiked your arousal. But you had a job to do, unfortunately. Gathering your composure you asserted yourself to the monster.

“You already know why I’m here right? Mr. Mothman.”

You could feel him chuckle darkly against your neck, highly amused by your sense of professionalism. Even while having his dick steadily grind against your back, covering you in clear fluids. Making your thighs shake in excitement.

“Obviously, but just call me Dabi, dollface. You’re gonna wear it out in a few moments might as well get a lil practice in ya?”

You were dumbfounded. Could he be implying what you’re thinking—

“Judging from the look on your pretty face, I’m guessing your little agency didn’t fill ya in on our little inside deal huh?”

He purred

You could feel his loosened grip completely leave your body. Allowing you to be able to face the Mothman hunched over in all of his 7ft glory. He had tuffs of black fur covering his toned ripped chest, arms, and legs. His overall body type was lean and slender. The dark colored wings sprouting at large from behind, before being folded back neatly into place. To avoid you from seeing his jagged scars littered across them.

“All I can say is that you’re in for one hell of a ride once I get my hands on you Baby. So Outta the kindness of my heart I’ll give you a 5 minute head start—”

He paused, as you gave him an warm embrace of your own. Grinding against his bulge that continued to grow even further against you. He looked down at you in disbelief, but it wasn’t before long until he connected the dots.

“ Don’t tell me, You’re one of those monster fanatics aren’t ya?”

To be quite frank yes. You were an absolute fan of monsters, you fantasized about getting close and becoming friends with one. But now you were gonna be the mate of a code legendary?? You couldn’t believe your luck. Plus it was the mission you were given, so as the loyal solider that you are. You gratefully accepted your fate with no questions asked.

The Mothman merely laughed in the irony of it all, a monster hunter wanting to be fucked by a monster it was so priceless. A devious smirk planted on his face As he bended over down to your height charred lips barely touching the shell of your ear only to whisper darkly of a precautionary warning of what you’re getting into.

“ You do realize that I’m in heat right doll?”

He reached his hand down running his tempered claws down the fat of your thick ass giving it a tight squeeze before hooking your leg up to leave some room for him to freely press his huge twitching bulge against your moist mound.

“I’m barely hanging on by a thread, so Don’t hold anything against me if I lose control got it?”

It wasn’t long until you were on the brink of being fucked to death by the Mothman of your dreams. face pushed down into the cocoon like nest he prepared in advance as his extended feeler limbs sprouted out from his sides, to grasp at you from behind hooking onto your waist. Keeping you grounded on his intrusive dick. While his primary arms wrapped around you tightly to play with your breasts that jigged violently from his ruthless thrusts from behind.

“You’re sucha pretty lil thing for me aren’t ya?”

The strong pheromones that wafted off from his wings made you feel so vulnerable and helpless within his smoldering embrace. You couldn’t keep count of how many times you’ve came alone from him just penetrating your cervix. It was as if you were on cloud nine enjoying the way his cum covered cock kept digging even deeper inside your snug snatch trying to ensure that you’d get pregnant with his brood.

“Your slutty pussy just can’t seem to get enough of my dick, don’t worry doll I’ll make you take all of it”

He murmured eyes staring down dangerously at the way your pliant body bended to his ministrations. He payed close attention to the way his dick continued to be devoured by your juicy cunt. That sucked and messaged his thick cock inside the hot mesh of your inner walls determined to be flooded with his baby batter.

“ Mmh D-Dabi please I can’t—!”

You babbled dumbly with drool hanging down from the corners of your fucked out plump lips. As the intensity of his rapid heavy thrusts began to increase its assault against your quivering quim.

You tried to crawl away from yet another approaching high that was dead set on crashing down on your senses. But his firm grip on your neck yanked you back into reality.

“ Aye Dollface don’t ever try to fuckin crawl away from me again, you’re mine you got that?”

Dabi hissed, giving you a sharp tug on your butterfly locs and a harsh bite on your shoulder as a fair warning.

The cave was emitting loud strange sounds from the inside, alerting to anyone from around the area to vacate the premises immediately. In case the Mothman were to come out of his home and start wrecking chaos. But little did they know that Stowed away deep inside the cave for a whole week did you lay beneath the Mothman in all your naked glory.

Freshly fucked all the way to Sunday during his still ongoing heat cycle. Where the only thing covering you was his semen that painted your caramel skin from your breasts down to your overused cunt stuffed to the brim with his cum that trickled out from your puffy pussylips. Only to be pushed back in by his long veiny dick just to ensure that the next of his kin would live on inside your womb.

Hey At least you prevented a worldwide tragedy, right?

1K notes · View notes

mermaidgirl30 · 2 months

Text

✨Tear You Apart: Engulf Me In Flames✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here’s a little drabble of my favorite duo because I can’t stop writing about them and their little angsty love story 🥹 This drabble was heavily influenced by the song “Together” by The XX and I love this little piece so much! I hope you enjoy 🩵

Word Count: 894

Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Chapter Summary: It was all a game until it wasn’t anymore. Bodies burning for each other, fire pulling one another to dance in the flames together.

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Sexual tension, dancing/circling each other, outbreak au, dark! Joel vibes, no explicit smut, symbolism of Joel being the big bad wolf, so much pining, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You circle each other, hands brushing against one another as your eyes lock in heated flames. His calloused fingertips graze against yours with every turn his body makes in the covered barn that’s lit dimly with hanging lanterns. His eyes look like fire. Hot, intense, glazed over with dark desire that drives your instincts to continue on.

You dance slowly, intimately with heated stares burning into the other like a flaming sphere. His brown eyes slide down your body and end staring right into the pits of your eyes. Hungry. He’s starving for you, for just a taste. A taste he wants so badly but can’t seem to let himself have.

He’s been watching you for weeks, always staring when you walk into a room, ever since that first night he had you tied to a chair and decided to cut you free. He knows he shouldn’t tempt the flames, yet here he is enticing you to slip into the furnace with him once again. And so you turn in slow motion, arms grazing tanned skin, fingertips skimming the other’s again and again and again with no end in sight. It’s like clockwork, a ticking time bomb that’s about to erupt, simmer into nothing but pleasure, desire, fate. So you continue circling along until one of you breaks. A tainted dance that’ll surely end in nothing but chaos filled with beauty that slips against your bones, turning you to nothing but dust as soon as he takes full control of you.

Your breath is heavy, eyes wide as he narrows his own, slipping down your body as it tells you exactly what you need to know. He wants you, now. His brows furrow, jaw clenches as he flexes his fingertips into a tight fist at the side of his large body. He wants it, wants you, needs you. But he won’t break because that’d make him weak. But he is weak. Weak for you.

He just needs a taste, a lick of your skin, so he brushes the back of his hand over yours once more which ignites sparks low in your belly. Your eyes darken, desire tearing at the seams as you swallow and continue circling, carefully brushing your palm against the side of his button-up flannel that clings to strong arms. His breath catches, but he continues to keep his composure, repeating the cycle all over as you tease each other with just your eyes, your hands, your fingertips.

You watch the way the lines on his forehead move each time he narrows his honey glazed eyes, watch the way strands of greying hair fall into his eyes, watch the faded scar above his right eyes that burns into your vision, watch the way his chest rises and falls in waves every time he circles you. Slow, composed. A repeated cycle that continues until someone breaks and ends up pinning the other to the ground in a frenzy of desire.

It’s a vicious cycle, a dance of wolves that slowly spirals into turmoil. One that can only end with the other covered in nothing but the other person, tumbling against one another as the night takes you away into hot pulses of desire.

Seconds go by, minutes, maybe hours. You lose track as you get lost in the haze of it all. But then he reaches out slowly and grazes your jawline, calloused fingers brushing against your glistening skin as you suck in a deep breath and breathe air filled with whiskey, charcoal, and mahogany scents swirling all around you. His touch is distant, careful, cautious as he slips slowly down your skin. His eyes grow dark chocolate, eyes that want to devour you whole as he slides his other hand around your waist and carefully crushes you against his broad chest.

“What do you say, little lamb? Wanna dance? Get a taste of the flames and danger with the big bad wolf?”he smirks, voice deep and gravelly as he grazes calloused fingers against the side of your neck. All you can do is nod, entranced with the way he moves, his massive form towering over you as he comes in for the kill.

He cups your chin, thick fingers digging into your skin as he slowly, slowly leans down and brushes his lips against your red tinted mouth. He swallows you, igniting flames through your entire body as he licks into your mouth, tongue dancing circles along yours as his hands explore your body ravenously. He thinks you taste so good, thinks you’re exactly the thing he needs to break away from his curse of darkness. So he’ll keep you, devour you till you see nothing but him in the shadows of the night, claw your skin till your veins bleed streaks of him. He’ll take you, night after night, teeth against skin, bodies entwined so tight that you can never escape. You’re his now, his to keep, his to take. He’ll have you until your blood runs dry, until your bodies combine into shades of scarlet red. Claimed. He claimed you.

So you’ll dance, continue the motions as the night fades to black. And you’ll burn. Let him pull you under the flames as you continue dancing with the lonely wolf.

And just like that you belong to the flames. And with him you burn.

Tags: @amyispxnk @littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @survivingandenduring @msjarvis @vivian-pascal @jasminedragoon @lotusbxtch @pedrostories @untamedheart81 @bbyanarchist @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments or asks 🥰

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller pedro pascal #outbreak!joel #post outbreak joel #jackson!joel #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller au #joel fanfic #little red riding hood au #joel the last of us

76 notes · View notes

justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Text

“Messy,” {r.z}

A/n: and the second installment of the dialogue prompts, this time featuring our beefy mosshead ;) this is only the second part, I’ve got 10 more to make, and I’m already having the time of my life. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, irrumatio, rough!zoro, lots of bodily fluids (spit, cum, juices, sweat, etc), deepthroating, dirty talk, explicit language, cock worship, d/s undertones, slight dumbification, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, Zoro really likes to pull hair, 100 follower NSFW dialogue prompt special

Genre: smut

Pairing: Zoro x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt: “Don’t make a mess, baby.” (#2 on the list)

“You’re so fuckin’ messy.”

Zoro’s statement from above you was punctuated by a stinging in your scalp when he used his grip in your hair as leverage to repeatedly fuck his cock deeper into your throat, spreading open the walls of your esophagus as if he didn’t care that you were on the brink of blacking out from poor oxygen intake. The chill of the evening air slightly cooled your heated skin, but it did nothing to douse the flame of arousal burning hot in your gut, and the fresh air didn’t clear the fog from your head either — it was impossible to think clearly or feel anything other than fiery arousal when Zoro was using you like this.

You moaned around his thick cock, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head from the heady taste of salt in your mouth. Your nose was clogged with the scent of Zoro, so much so that the minute breaths you could pull through it were saturated with the scent of sweat and sword oil, a mixture that you had come to define as unique to the swordsman, and it was so mouthwatering, almost as much as the cock in your throat.

“You’re fuckin’ droolin’ all over my cock. You like it when I fuck your little throat like this?”

Zoro’s hips snapped at a rapid pace, the weight of his balls slapping against your chin as each rough thrust landed him buried to the hilt in your throat. The velocity of his thrusts left little room for recovery in between, your head already light and floaty from the deprivation of oxygen, so you barely even registered the fact that spittle and drool was currently being fucked out of your mouth and plopping down onto the deck. But Zoro noticed, and that visual combined with your glazed over eyes looking up at him as if his cock was the best thing you’d ever tasted, as well as the wet glide the copious amounts of liquid granted, sent him into a near-feral frenzy.

Zoro knew you couldn’t answer him, but his filthy questions never stopped, lips dropping a litany of abrasive verbal abuses as his pace never faltered, cock drilling into your mouth almost painfully.

“You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock down your fuckin’ throat.”

“Fuckin’ look at you. All fucked out just from this. I bet you’d love this cock in your pussy right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuckin’ take it, baby.”

Every single word rumbled by that deep voice sent heat flaring straight down to your core, your clit throbbing in time with your rapid heartbeat as your pussy clenched around nothing — Zoro’s comment about you wanting his thick cock in your pussy wasn’t too far off the mark. No matter how many times he fucked your holes they never truly adjusted to the stretch of his massive cock, the slight discomfort of it offering you a euphoria that previous partners had never managed to touch. Of course you’d love to have Zoro’s cock in your pussy… but this right now, the smooth glide of his cock across your tongue and the intrusion of his length in your throat… there was nothing that could beat that at the moment.

Zoro’s hips stuttered and his cock twitched on a particularly rough thrust, momentarily hardening even further within your mouth. Excitement and anticipation clawed up your spine, because you knew what that meant — Zoro was close, and soon enough he would be rewarding you with a stream of hot, salty cum straight down your throat.

“Fuck, your mouth is gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Fuckin’ touch yourself, baby. Rub that pretty pussy while I fuck your face.”

Your hand dropped down immediately to comply with Zoro's order, your pussy more than welcoming the touch when you shoved your fingers past the confines of your panties and promptly shoved two of your fingers inside. They slid in without any resistance, your walls wet and mushy from arousal, and you set a rapid pace to match with Zoro’s. It wasn’t the same as Zoro’s cock, but the stimulation of your mouth and cunt being filled cinched your gut with hot arousal, and with just a few well timed curls that familiar coil formed.

The deck became home to a symphony of muffled moans, grunts, squelching and filthy curses, orchestrated by the act Zoro and yourself were partaking in — there was a risk that came with this, one that would be hard to recover from, as anyone could walk out at any point to find Zoro’s cock buried in your throat. But somehow, that risk only made the coil wind tighter, the edge of danger adding an enticing amount of lewdness to everything.

Zoro’s words faded into mere grunts and groans, and his thrusts became even faster, sloppier, his hand in your hair tightening and moving your head in a contrasting rhythm than that of his hips — he was close, his cock throbbing and twitching with every rough thrust into your throat, and you pulled your fingers out of your cunt to harshly rub your clit with as much velocity as you could muster within the confines of your pants and underwear. You wanted to cum when Zoro did, so you could feel that euphoria of an orgasm at the same time.

“Fuck, fuck, here it comes. Don’t make a mess, baby; swallow every fuckin’ drop.” Zoro growled, hips reaching a peak speed before slowing to a near stop, your nose pressed into the pubic hair just above Zoro’s cock as he buried himself as deep as possible.

Your throat constricted around his cock as you gagged, your brain screaming at you to pull back as your ability to breathe was stolen from you, but Zoro held your head in place with a firm hand as his cock twitched once, twice, then throbbed heavily as ropes of cum splashed against the walls of your throat.

“Shit,” Zoro breathed, the curse being dragged out and completely drenched with pleasure. “Fuckin’ — yes, fuck, take it all.”

Zoro’s hips moved in small thrusts as he rode out the rest of his orgasm, saltiness bursting over your tongue as droplets of his spent smeared over it with each little buck. You drank down the remnants fervently, sore throat constricting pleasantly with every swallow, and when Zoro pulled his cock out and demanded you to open so he could make sure you swallowed everything, you did so without hesitation.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl. Did you cum, baby?” Zoro ground out, his dick beginning to soften slightly in the aftermath of his orgasm.

With a start you realized that no, you hadn’t. You’d been so wrapped up in the sensation of Zoro’s come sliding down your throat that your fingers had completely stopped moving. You gave a small shake of your head. Zoro reached a hand down and stroked his thumb over your lips, his own quirking up into a devilish smirk.

“We’ll have to fix that baby. You did so good, and you deserve a reward. Get on your fuckin’ hands and knees and let me fuck you ‘til you can’t take it anymore.”

I probably should have clarified this in the first installment of the series, but these prompts won’t be written/posted in numerical order. My brain does really have the focus to do it that way, so whichever prompt offers me the most motivation is the one I’m going to write. I hope you all enjoyed this one, because I sure did ;))

#opla #opla x reader #one piece live action #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader

100 notes · View notes

dutiful-wildcraft · 6 months

Text

Pack 141 - Vampire!Ghost Headcanons

Tags: mentions of blood and scars, mostly just HCs of Ghost as a vampire, some very light ghostprice, even lighter poly 141, if ya squint

Ghost who's change had been partially undergone in a shallow grave in a southern countryside.

Price had been the one to find him, bringing him home and helping him through the rest of his change. Taking on the role of his new sire. He had known Riley prior, a strong and bright soldier. And while Price should have taken appropriate action and put him out of his misery…he had other plans in mind.

Unsired vampires generally don't survive, and the ones that do often become feral or have very significant behavioral problems. Due this arrangement, Price and Ghost share a very intimate bond.

Simon hadn't been aware of the monstrous world around him prior to the events around his changing. And upon learning of Price's lycanthropy he felt a bit betrayed for some time. He would eventually come to understand, but he was definitely salty about it.

This being said Simon was not socialized as a vampire. All his information came from Price and what official reports they had on his kind in general. He isn't totally out of his depth, but there are some pieces missing.

By vampiric standards Simon is still a fledgling, though only other vampires would clock him on that.

Through diligent training Price helped Simon through any frenzy instincts, though it isn't completely gone Simon has exceptional control around the copious amounts of blood that come with his profession. Not to mention the mask helps muffle the scent.

What Price finds most amusing, is that after most of the wrinkles are ironed out, Simon is largely indifferent to the change. He carries trauma certainly, but the new found power and diet appears to have not phased him fuck all.

Simon still stubbornly takes his tea at the same time, after having gone through some trial and error. He found he can still drink his tea albeit a little altered. Blood with 3 sugars please.

Though Simon had eaten his mess hall gruel without complaint for years, he did miss the routine. He still slinks off to his room to eat his own meal on the same schedule.

While he doesnt burst into flames with the sun touching his flesh he is significantly weaker. He was already prone to burning red like a lobster in his human life. The change didn't make things to terribly different. The mask and layers of clothes prevent most of the issue.

Due to certain traumas around his change. Simon is very particular about feeding. And besides emergencies or very specific exceptions. Simon does not feed from the source. He often just drinks from a canteen/bottle with a blood/water mixture. To human onlookers it would honestly just look like he was using the flavored water enhancers. Which also brings Simon a certain kind of amusement.

As is common, Simon has enhanced strength and senses. He now possesses a red pearly tapetum lucidum or “eyeshine”. He suffers through the ‘sunglasses at night’ jokes to avoid any questions or accidental detection on night ops.

The change did not make Simon ethereally beautiful. He looks mostly the same besides paler skin, red tinted eyes and new shiny fangs. He still maintains all his scars/marks and tattoos from before. And while his healing factor prevents most scars, significant wounds may still scar lightly or the scar may take decades to fully fade away.

Simon doesn't feel cold to the touch per se, but he does run cooler than the average human due to his altered metabolism.

If available, he does prefer to at least long ‘nap’ during the day. While it's possible for him to carry on normally during daylight hours it does take more out of him.

Generally speaking most normally socialized vampires forgo sleeping regularly all together. Price however, insisted upon resting during Simon's changing. “Good for your mind” he'd stated gruffly. And Simon had kept up with it ever since. While he does legitimately sleep, this happens less often. His naps being more meditative in nature.

Similarly to Price, Simon does have brood instincts which occasionally become a point of contention between the two. Price's alpha wolf mixed with Simon's brood nature have them butting heads possessively over other members of the task force on occasion.

They are both smart enough to know the common goal of ultimately ensuring safety and care over their brood/pack mates. And most of the time they behave…but sometimes…

#back on my bullshit #i defo have a story for Simon's change and our dear captain coming to the rescue #i definitely view vampirsim less like an undead #more like a kind of disease? virus?#ghostprice #simon riley x john price #poly 141 #if you squint but there is more to come #simon ghost riley #captain john price #monster au #pack 141 au #call of duty #vampire simon riley #vampire ghost #werewolf john price #modern warfare

140 notes · View notes

star1117-archives · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬

➵ Pairing : OT8 x Fem!Y/N

➵ Genre : Fluff + Suggestive

➵ W.C : 2369

➵ Warnings : Insinuated sex, Swearing, Sexual tension, Jealousy, Kissing, Dirty talk.

➵ Network : @cacaokpop-fics

𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚 - His Jewellery

“Y/N?! Where’s my chain?!”

Seonghwa was rifling through his jewellery box in a hectic frenzy, trying to find his favourite chain. It was a gift from the boys, all of them pooling their money together to get him an expensive one he’d been ogling once on a shopping trip. It was a thin chain with dog tags, the small metal plates reading ATEEZ and their debut date. It was definitely valuable to him, so the thought that he might’ve misplaced it, or even lost it, shook him to his core.

“Right here, Hwa!”

Sighing in relief, Seonghwa went into the living room, guessing that’s where you were. It was there he was met with a jaw-dropping sight, finding his chain nestled between your breasts, only exposed due to your low-cut top. His eyes almost seemed to bulge out of his skull, while you looked away in embarrassment. He seemed pretty mad at you.

“I didn’t take it, I swear! I-I found it between the couch cushions and wanted to t-try it on..”

You didn’t dare to look Seonghwa in the eye, your feet suddenly very interesting as he approached you. When his fingers toyed with the dog tags however, you looked up at him in confusion. This was how you missed Seonghwa looping the chain around his finger before he pulled you forward, a smirk decorating his lips.

“It suits you, you should wear it more often.”

And with that, he let you go, turning away with a small chuckle while you stayed frozen in place. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you knew that even a cold shower might not extinguish the flames.

“Fuck, I should take his shit more often.”

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 - His Jacket

It was date night, and as usual you had not come prepared. Your revealing outfit had been fine in the restaurant, but while on a walk Hongjoong had suggested to digest your food, you cursed at your past self for ditching a jacket since it would ‘ruin the fit’. All you wanted right now however was your big ugly puffer jacket, fuck the fit. It was cold, and it was windy, and every man you passed practically craned his neck to look at you, most likely since your nipples felt painfully erect. It was fucking horrible. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by Hongjoong’s laugh however, scowling at him as you fought the urge to shiver and chatter your teeth. The last thing you wanted to hear right now was ‘I told you so’.

“The fuck’s so funny?”

Rolling his eyes, Hongjoong shrugged his blazer off, offering it to you. When you sullenly turned your head the other way, he scoffed before draping it over your shoulders, wrapping his arm around you afterwards so you could share body heat. You begrudgingly cuddled closer into him, goosebumps still evident on your skin as Hongjoong triumphantly smirked at you.

“Oh fuck off, I didn’t ask for this.”

Hongjoong just pressed a kiss to your temple, rubbing his hand on your outer arm to create friction.

“I never said anything.”

Your voice turned whiny as you replied, burying your face into Hongjoong.

“You’re doing your ‘I told you so’ eyes!”

Stopping abruptly, Hongjoong turned to you, something in his expression changing to an emotion much darker.

“Really? I thought I was giving you my ‘You wear this dress in public again and I’m gonna fuck you in it’ eyes.”

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 - His Shirt

When Yunho woke up to an empty bed, he sleepily groped your side of it, confused as to why he was alone. It was a little annoying, especially since all he wanted right now was to snuggle you in the secure warmth of the bedsheets, but nevertheless he dragged himself out in search of you. He trudged through the rented apartment, eventually perking up however when he found you cooking breakfast in his shirt from last night.

You hadn’t noticed his presence yet, back turned to him as the delicious aroma of your food attacked Yunho’s senses. His stomach rumbled, but all he could think about was you. He quickly closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your exposed shoulder when you jumped.

“Sorry baby, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Humming, you continued what you were doing, albeit a little slower now that you had Yunho clinging to you. His face nuzzled your neck, breath tickling your baby hairs as he pressed kissed all over your neck and shoulders. When you had to move however, you pulled his face away by his chin and pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away. You plated up the food while Yunho poured the two of you some drinks before sitting down. He had a dopey smile on his face as he watched you garnish the food before bringing it to him and sitting down too.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking…”

You let out a little ‘mhm’ as you ate a spoonful of food, your full concentration on Yunho. He squirmed a bit under your gaze, ears and cheeks tinting as he struggled to articulate himself.

“And y’know, we’ve been together a while now… Seeing Seonghwa get married just… it really got me thinking.”

You couldn’t help the beaming smile that overtook your expression, eyes watering.

“You-… You wanna…?”

“Y/F/N, I wanna wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life. I wanna go to sleep holding you in my arms. So I’m gonna work my ass off to get you the most beautiful ring I can find, and then I’m gonna marry your ass.”

𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 - His Jeans

He found it adorable when you strutted out of your room with his jeans from last week, the waist belted with a stylish belt with a heart buckle. His lips curled up into a smile, standing up and adjusting the semi-formal shirt he was wearing, holding out a hand to you.

“Give us a twirl, baby.”

Nodding with a giggle, you spun around on the spot before taking his hand, a warm smile on your face. You let him pull you closer, his hand now resting on the small of your back as his forehead connected with yours.

“You like it?“

Yeosang pressed a quick kiss to your lips, his hands now falling to your waist as he left fleeting kisses up to your ear. His breath tickled your baby hairs as he spoke, the smirk on his face evident in his tone.

“I fucking love it, baby.”

You fought the urge to shiver from the sultry sound of his voice, your mouth drying as he squeezed your sides. He then turned you around, resting you against the sofa he’d been leaning on as his hands ventured dangerously high. When he let himself rest against you, closing the distance between your bodies, you felt a hard reminder of the reason you and Yeosang usually got to the party a little too late to be fashionable.

“I’m sure the others won’t mind if we get… stuck in traffic again.”

𝐒𝐚𝐧 - His Lip balm

Sitting next to you on the sofa, San had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, his finger drawing small circles on your arm. The movie you were watching wasn’t necessarily bad, but his concentration on it was fleeting at best. He just wanted an excuse to hold you in all honesty, not that he needed one. When you noticed his attention was elsewhere, you turned to him with mild concern. Usually San would be engrossed in films like these.

“You okay?”

San turned to you in surprise, nodding with a smile. His gaze strayed from your eyes to your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Stroking a hair out of your face, San let his hand fall to the side of your neck, supporting it as if he wanted you to anticipate his next move.

“Have I reminded you today that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met?”

You shook your head with a smile, your arms wrapping around San’s neck as you edged closer.

“No you didn’t, it hurt me a little bit..”

Fake pouting at San, he chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear, whispering into it.

“Why don’t I show you just how beautiful you are then, Hm?”

Crashing his lips onto yours, San smiled into the embrace when his tongue traced your bottom lip, the remnants igniting his taste buds. Strawberry cheesecake, his favourite lip balm. Almost as if he was egged on by this revelation, San’s hands traversed your body, the kiss becoming disorganised and needy, your teeth clashing. He sank his teeth into your lower lip, hungrily pulling at them while you gasped into his mouth. Smirking, San pulled away, panting as he spoke.

“Your lips taste so nice, almost as nice as how swollen they look, baby.”

Before you could even retort, he had laid you down onto the sofa, his hands pulling at your waistband.

“Fuck, I just can’t help myself. You’re addictive, Y/N.”

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢 - His Cologne

It was a pleasant surprise when Mingi breathed in the scent of his cologne as he entered your shared bedroom. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, smiling before approaching you. His hands snaked around your waist before he pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your neck while whispering onto your perfumed skin. Your gazes connected in the mirror.

“You smell good. What, you want everyone to know you’re mine?”

Chuckling, you stroked his head as he left little butterfly kisses over your neck and exposed shoulder. Your free hand fell to his ones situated on your midriff, interlocking fingers with him.

“Perhaps, or maybe I just wanted to drive you crazy.”

Chuckling, Mingi turned you around and pressed a few kisses to your lips, thumb stroking your cheek. He couldn’t help but take another deep breath before he replied, his hands toying at your clothing.

“Well, mission accomplished. I gotta go call Hongjoong.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this, the question on the tip of your tongue when Mingi answered it for you with a mischievous smirk.

“Forget the club, tonight’s about you n’ me. Let’s open some wine and have a little… body party, hm?”

𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 - His Boxers

Wrapping a towel around your body, you chuckled when you caught Wooyoung blatantly staring, a pervy smile on his face. However, when your eyes connected, he simply looked away with a huff before you could call him out, getting his own towel and drying off. You left him in the bathroom to grab your underwear, picking up your bra only to notice that your panties were ripped. A hot fire struck your cheeks as you remembered how Wooyoung had gotten a little too impatient with the flimsy material, opting to rip it off of your lower half instead.

“Woo! You fucked up my underwear!”

Wooyoung instantly hit back, tone teasing as he called out to you.

“Wear none then, I definitely won’t mind!”

Rolling your eyes, you hunted for Wooyoung’s underwear drawer, cursing yourself for forgetting to bring a change of clothes. Eventually you found it, slipping on a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers, about to clip your bra into place. It was then Wooyoung came out, a smirk overtaking his features as he shamelessly looked you up and down.

“Need help?”

You shook your head and turned away, unintentionally giving Wooyoung a clear view of the curve of your ass. His eyes didn’t stray from your body for one second.

“Nah thanks, I wanna put my clothes on, not off.”

When you turned your head and saw that Wooyoung was still staring, your voice lost some of its teasing tone.

“You don’t mind that I’m using your boxers, right? It’ll only be this once, I promise I’ll bring a change of clothes next time.”

Coming up behind you, Wooyoung held your hair out of the way, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck before clipping your bra into place for you. It surprised you, such softness out of character for him. His next sentence however reassured you that there was nothing wrong with your boyfriend, and that moment was just a one-off.

“Don’t, my clothes suit you better. Only problem is, I’ll constantly wanna rip them off you.”

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨 - His Hoodie

When you nervously came out of Jongho’s bathroom in his jumper, he swore his heart melted. It looked good on you, the colour suited you well. He smiled warmly at you when you sat on the edge of the bed, cheeks heated as you avoided eye contact. The distance between the two of you confused him a little bit, but nonetheless he spoke up.

“You look really pretty in that. It’s like that jumper is made for you.”

All you could manage was a small ‘thank you’, now toying with your fingertips and concentrating on them. Jongho noticed how you gulped however, about to question the awkward atmosphere when you finally spoke.

“I know you want to take things slow, Jjong… and I know three months is a bit early..”

When you paused and finally looked up at him, Jongho’s gaze was reassuring as he gave you a slight nod, showing you that he was paying full attention. He scooted closer to you, grabbing your hand as he rubbed his thumb soothingly on the back of it just like you liked it. This small action was all it took for you to open up, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

“I.. would really like it… if you moved in with me.”

Jongho couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips, pressing a kiss to your lips before you could negatively interpret his laughter. His hand cupped your cheek, the other falling to your waist, toying with the material before pulling away, his face mere centimetres from yours.

“I’d really like to, on one condition.”

You hummed inquisitively, waiting for Jongho’s answer as he smiled sheepishly, cheeks tinting slightly.

“You gotta steal my stuff every once in a while, my clothes suit you better than me.”

ೄྀ࿐ SFW Taglist !! ˊˎ-

@agustd-essert @hyuckilstan @a-soft-hornytiny @nyghtwolff-1117 @artemis-in-your-area @violetwinters @katelynnsqueendom @galaxybambam @yunhobabygurl @lee--felix @multidreams-and-desires @starlightracha @b1zcx5 @deja-vux @itbecina @kun-flower @anpanseok @yunhosprettyhand @mingitheii @vilavixg @mrcarrots @the-answer-is-love-yrself @effulgentfireflies @serialee @taehyunscaramelfrappe @imwhoever @ateezbabysitters @meowmeowminnie @soft-teddybear @hwarora @a1sh1teruu @fantasy2wonderland @xuxibelle @dazzlingligth @simeonswhore @neocuddlytechnology @greenymar @xye-weirdo @jwnghyuns

Apply for the taglists here -> ꕥ༉‧₊˚.

1K notes · View notes