#//can he shut up about skull for ONE FUCKING SECOND

[biibini]

GIRL. can you do some Modern Mizu headcanons when shes on her period??? I JUST WANT TO HUG HER😭💔

grumpy girlfriend ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

modern!mizu headcanons on her period

tags: fluff, taigen being an ass, sweet mizu, snuggle bug modern mizu, mood swings, competitive mizu bc taigen wont shut up, cuddling, taigen hunger games fan confirmed???

a/n: im suffering on mine while starting my quarter and my teachers alreadyyyy be pmo!! cant wait for s2 to come already (and so will i).

modern!mizu would have light periods

with the exception of the second day.

ive stated this in my reader gets periods hc post BUT

just bc theyre light doesn’t mean she’s off the hook

all she rlly needs to buy is the pink ones (iykyk)

basically she needs the thin ones most of the time

(idk what the colors are outside the US sorry international readers)

however…

modern!mizu ‘s second day: hell. on. earth.

if she’s raising hell in the show, she’s going thru that hell in this modern!AU

the worst lower back pains when she wakes up

i fear her stomach will do a whole somersault and multiple olympic level flips throughout the second day

the amount of fatigue hits her one day and then is completely manageable afterwards

and yes she will bitch and moan ab this when she wakes up

You feel Mizu stir awake beside you, her eyebrows furrowing into the pillow.

“Good morning”, you whisper close to her ear, gently kissing down from her cheek to her neck.

“Mmfm… morning…”, Mizu groans, stretching awake, her eyes fluttering open to a brand new day.

You look up to meet her eyes as the morning sun peaked through the curtains.

“You feel okay?”

She shook her head no, grumbling about sleeping in more. She attempts to stretch her back. However, you find her face twist into discomfort and fatigue, groaning once again from the shooting pains in her back.

“Fucking hell”, she mumbles, “I’m going to kill my back.”

“I think that would kill you first.”, you answer back. “I’ll go get tea and aspirin for you, wait here.”

modern!mizu’s mood is usually stable, except that calm she tries to maintain slips away on her period

she gets more competitive than irritated on her bad days

taigen pisses her off a little bit A LOT MORE more than usual

one time he wanted to play a match of archery against mizu

mind you, both of them had little to no experience with a bow and arrow

taigen thought it would be fun for shits and giggle because he saw katniss everdeen do it and thought she was sick asf

yes hes watched the whole hunger games series bc he whole heartedly believes he can win the 74th games… i’d love to see him try to survive too.

(anyways side lore over)

and guess who ends up getting wrapped up in it… our girl mizu

“Taigen, for the last time, I’m not playing make believe Hunger Games with you.”, Mizu grumbled, continuing to solve her homework.

“It’s not make believe, it’s archery. Just because it was in Hunger Games doesn’t mean its not real.”, Taigen claimed. “Can you get that through your thick skull or do I have to stick an arrow in your head first?”

Mizu’s head lifted up, her eyes squinting in annoyance. In her head, an imaginary arrow struck him at the very moment.

“You think you’re so good at everything, huh.”, Mizu scoffs, placing down her pencil.

“I just know you’ll be an easy target.”, Taigen declares, his face smug with confidence.

Mizu challenges him. “And I know you’ll be an even easier one.”

they both end up bothering akemi, begging her to borrow her bows and arrows for this competition

of course, she complies with one request: allowing an audience (you, her, and ringo) to watch and fairly judge each one’s skills

all judged fairly, with taigen as the winner by one point ahead

and mizu demanding a rematch

to this day, she’s still bitter ab that competition

modern!mizu enjoys getting a little special treatment from time to time

yes she does spoil you quite a lot with her actions

but small things such as prepping the snacks before binge watching or making the tea for her or letting her be a small spoon when cuddling warms her heart

acts of service warms her heart

“Nooo, don’t leave yet.”, Mizu grudges, playfully pulling at your arm as you escape her grasp.

“Then you’re not getting your tea.”, you jest.

You walk to the counter, pouring the hot water into your mugs. Coming back to the couch with herbal teas in hand, you smile and hand one to Mizu first.

“See, I’m back. And I have a surprise for you too.”

You come close to Mizu, planting a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. Mizu, now delighted by the tea, thanks you with another sweet kiss, grinning from ear to ear.

when it’s only you and modern!mizu, she becomes a snuggle bug

when you’re watching a show or before falling asleep, she will steathily and silently find herself much closer to you

sneaking an arm around you

and find yourself wrapped up in her arms while she enjoys the labors of her fruit

(sorry i don’t make the rules i just follow them)

she lovessss to wrap her arms around you at night and be a big spoon so she can hug you all night

or be a little spoon with your palms facing her lower stomach, totally not providing her with a makeshift heating pad

You wake up in the middle of the night, finding Mizu on her side, her arms away from you reaching out to the darkness. You shift over, wrapping her closer to yours with gentle pull. A small hum erupts from the sleeping Mizu, as her arm reaches behind, lazily tugging your arm.

“Yes?”, you ask, wondering what her next move was.

She drops your arm over her stomach. A tug pulls your wrist under her baggy shirt, your palm making contact with her lower stomach. You hear a delighted sigh, as Mizu let go of your wrist.

You patiently waited what would follow this move. But all you felt was the slight rise and fall of her breath.

In the morning, you question if she recalled what she did.

“Hey baby?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up at her.

“Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night?”

Mizu shook her head no.

“Did something happen?”, she asked, slightly concerned.

“No, not really.”, you lied.

The cuddling was cute already. Her doing it unknowingly? Even cuter.

“I just thought I heard something.”

“Ok schizo.”, she teased, smiling before taking another sip of her morning tea.

“Hey!”

if you thought she was competitive on her own, ohhhh goodness her mood swings make her more merciless

modern!mizu would get irritated over the littlest things, especially if they build up throughout the day and there’s no time to release that pent up energy

you end up with a grumpy mizu

the best remedy for this? telling her she’ll get surprise if she does something for you

it takes her mind off of her worries/complaints from the day

and even if the surprise was a big ol’ hug and loving kisses, it would relieve some of the stress mizu was holding onto

“Welcome back.”, you greet her, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for getting the ingredients.”

Mizu placed the grocery bags on the counter.

“So what was my surprise?”, she questioned, curious of what’s to come.

“Just this.”, you answer, wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her close for a loving kiss.

As you pull away, you see her eyes light up, a much different set than her annoyed, gloomy self before going on a grocery trip. Her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close once again.

“Just that?”, she says, mimicking the sweetness in your voice before going in for another kiss.

“Besides dinner, it would also be a few more kisses.”

You answer, smiling before going in for another.

“I like the sound of that.”

[nylon-vintage]

fair enough. feel a similar way with deep cut. i don’t dislike them but i don’t really like em.

i do like marie though she’s my favourite idol :)

"That's...cool."

"..He liked Marie too."

[kamitv]

Thinking about Choso who…

Loves any and all sorts of attention from you, even when you’re upset with him.

He’d love the way you frown at him or how your brows tense, finding you nothing more than cute— especially if you’re shorter than him, that just makes it even more amusing to him.

And if you happen to be taller than he’s lowkey ready to get down on his knees and apologize by putting his head in between your legs, even if you’re the one in the wrong.

Enjoys being seen out in public with you.

PDA is probably one of his favorite things, especially when he notices someone looking at you too long.

There’d be a time where a little boy or girl compliments you and suddenly he’s jealous even though it’s just a harmless child that’s admiring you.

If you had an ex that won’t leave you alone, would make it his mission to send him (consented) videos of you cumming on his cock.

Nine times out of ten, you’re on top of him, riding him til’ his eyes are to the back of his skull and he can’t stop himself from groaning. Asking you things like, “You’ ever ride your ex this fuckin’ good?” To which you’d respond with a quiet whine of no.

And next he’s got you bent over for him, hips snapping forward into you, heavy balls smacking against you with his ever thrust, and thick cock filling you up perfectly. All as he’s still mocking your ex, “He never fucked you this good, huh?” “Probably not, right?” “Oh shit, you can’t talk too well, can ya’?” “That feel good baby? Hm? Go ahead ‘nd tell the camera who’s fuckin’ you to tears.”

Loves showering you in compliments.

“You look so pretty in that, kinda like a princess.”

“I love your eyes, never stop lookin’ at me please.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, aren’t I?”

“You’re so cute, baby.”

Could get off on your smell alone.

It’s perverted, yes, but sometimes he gets really needy for you. He’d shove his face into your pillow, smelling a mixture of your perfume and last used soap and using that to get off— fisting his cock desperately as each whiff of your scent makes his thoughts blur together and his body twitch.

Would do anything you ask of him.

He doesn’t care what it is, as soon as you have that requesting tone in your voice, the word yes is rolling off of his tongue without second thought.

Who’s not the richest man in the world but works hard just to spoil you.

Choso loves giving you gifts. The way your eyes light up and a beautiful smile plasters across your face, it makes his heart throb in desire and he can’t help but have the urge to give you more and more.

He’d give you the world if he could.

Shuts you up by telling you to get down on your knees.

He doesn’t get mad at you often but when the argument gets to a certain point and he can tell you’re being a brat on purpose, he’s punishing you by fucking your throat.

His cock would be stretching your throat open too, filling your mouth up with cum after a few minutes because he still can’t always last too long with you— you’re still as pretty as ever on your knees with tears running down your face and a mouth full of his cock, the sight makes him fold every time and suddenly he can’t even remember what he was upset with you for.

Apologies to you by drowning in between your legs for hours.

Literal hours too. He doesn’t care if you told him you forgive him a thousand times already, once he’s down there it’s hard for him to get up. His jaw could lock while he’s nose deep into your pussy and he wouldn’t care, your taste is too addicting.

Then there’s the way you moan and whine out his name, begging him to give you a break— yet it only makes him more eager to get you off. Even if you squirt on his face, he won’t care, if anything he’s begging you to do it again. Groaning a simple, “Gimme another one, princess. Please?”

Blushes when you compliment him.

He’s not used to it so whenever you call him handsome, his ears are turning red and he’s mumbling out a cute thank you in response.

You once praised him and called him a good boy and he moaned, begging you to call him that again and again. It made his cock so unbelievably hard that he was aroused for practically the rest of the night.

Another time you said you were proud of him and he started showering you in kisses and telling you that he’s only doing good because he has you.

Brags & yaps about you whenever you’re the topic of conversation.

The second your name is said by someone nearby, his mouth is on auto-response. He’ll tell people how hard working snd perfect you are, how he doesn’t really deserve you but he’s so happy to have you as his lover.

Calls you specific pet names.

Baby, princess, love— they all slip out of his mouth before he even realizes he’s saying it.

If you told him you liked being called “mama, mamas, or ma” he’d settle on calling you ma.

Sometimes he just calls you his. His girlfriend, his partner, his wife. His anything and or everything.

In the rare case that he’s degrading you because you’ve asked him to— he’s calling you a slut. His slut, a dirty slut, pretty slut, his good slut, doesn’t matter.

Loves you more than he loves himself.

He’d cherish you like no other. Every kiss from his is filled with love and every time his eyes meet your face, his pupils dilate.

A/N: In honor of my lover Choso. Please come home, the kids miss you baby. :( Gege Akutami when I get my goddamn hands on you its a wrap.

[saksukei]

subtle things simon ‘ghost’ riley does for you

masterlist | simon has a crush on you | captain john price version

everybody on the base is aware of one thing. first – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant. second – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant’s favorite. it's clear that simon has taken a liking to you, but he disguises it well enough for it to sweep under your radar.

just knowing eye stares. god. he's such a sucker for just staring at you, be it when you guys are training, when there's a meeting going on, in the barracks, when somebody says something stupid. he looks to you as a form of reassurance, giving you a slight nod most of the time. this is his way to communicate. he's thankful for his mask because he knows damn well he's blushing underneath when his eyes meet yours and you give him a big grin.

speaking of eye contact, if any time ghost says something sarcastic under his breath and you hear it despite being across the room, he will absolutely wink at you. it's disguised so so well omg. especially if you mention something that's a known joke between the two of you, god he’ll just lean back, give you a wink and continue listening to the briefing. (he also subtly checks you out by the way)

has a habit of just messing your hair. he knows it irritates you, but that's just his way of showing affection. the first time he reached out his gloved hand to mess your hair, price just grinned. he knew simon was smitten.

he lets you ramble on and on about things you like, dislike, philosophical debates, anything really, with him occasionally adding quips. soap is so shocked at simon’s change of attitude because when he talks for a minute, the lieutenant just asks him to shut up.

he secretly makes things easy for you. like you gotta carry big boxes to the warehouse? they’ll be done before you know it. a report is holding you up? it's already stapled and on your desk. “what else?” he asks. he's terribly intuitive as well, so he knows when something is bothering you.

has a habit of just standing behind you. that's his way of looking out for you. and if he senses any danger, you best believe he's gonna be on his A game. be it a sniper or be it some new private that made a suggestive remark, he’ll put them straight.

he's your biggest supporter except he's constipated in actually supporting. you did pretty well on a mission? most you’re getting out of him is “you did good, yeah?” but that's it.

he's also so so smug with his remarks. i’m talking constant shit eating grins, smirks, fucking irritating cocky behavior but he’s so hot with it. “you think you can take on me?” even with his mask on, u can just tell!! “oh yeah? c'mere and prove me wrong”

fucking simp enjoys training with you soooo much like especially the ‘first one to get pinned loses’ he puts you down so easily. but then he coaches you as well “c’mon you can fight better than this” as he points out other techniques to use. “atta girl” (i’m gonna kms). always the person to challenge you and push you to your limits because he's not taking a risk when it comes to your life.

[hoshifighting]

“you know what else is pink?”

WARNINGS: roomate!jihoon, smut, ...pink cock, blowjob/handjob, penetrative sex, squirt, overstimulation.

WC: 2.7K

[got inspiration from this tiktok]

jihoon’s got this routine down, locked in. you hear the clatter of keys in the door at exactly 9:17 PM, every night without fail. he comes in smelling like roasted coffee beans and vanilla syrup, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and—of course—that little paper cup in hand as he kicked the door shut behind him with that little flick of his heel.

“got your poison,” he says, tossing the pink monstrosity onto the table in front of you. It lands with a soft thunk, condensation already forming on the sides, and the sight alone is enough to make you grin like a damn idiot.

“thanks, hoon,” you say, grabbing it immediately and taking a sip like you haven’t had this exact drink every day for months. it’s sweet as hell, tastes like summer and cavities, but you can’t help it. you’re obsessed.

jihoon just shrugs like it’s nothing—like he didn’t go out of his way to snag this for you, again.

he chuckles, already moving toward the bathroom while shrugging off his jacket. “you know what else is pink?”

your brain short-circuits. immediately. you blink up at him like he’s just asked you to solve the riddle of the sphinx.

“h-hm?”

he pauses, halfway out of his jacket, and tilts his head back to look at you. a mischievous little smirk stretches across his face, his pearly-ass veneers catching the shitty overhead lighting.

“huh?” jihoon mirrored you, raising his eyebrows all innocent.

you’re left thinking about his elbows now, how they’re faintly pink at the joints, a soft flush that spreads to his cheeks when it’s too hot in the apartment. his knees, the curve of them when he sits cross-legged on the couch watching anime. the way his nipples—god, why are you thinking about his nipples—stand out when he’s shirtless, all pale skin and rosy peaks.

and yeah, okay. you know exactly what he meant.

the “pink drink” sat in your hand, cold and totally innocent, unlike the mental image now burning in your skull.

[...]

the sound of him moving around in the bedroom after his shower is, like, a damn magnet pulling you in. you’ve been pacing the kitchen like a lunatic, the pink frappuccino now safely tucked away in the fridge because there’s no way in hell you’re gonna stomach all that milk with what you’re about to do. your heart’s doing that stupid fast thing, but you’re already walking down the hallway, bare feet quiet against the floor.

the bedroom door is cracked open, and you catch him just as he’s hanging his towel up. his back’s to you, but even from here, you can see how his shoulders move when he stretches, pale skin almost glowing under the shitty warm light of the bedroom. and those shorts are barely covering anything, and his legs look even paler against the fabric.

he runs both hands through his wet hair, brushing it back in that way that makes it stick up all messy, and for a second, you just stand there leaning against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, watching him like a creep. your bottom lip tugs between your teeth as you try to psych yourself up, but nah, fuck it, you’re already moving. you push off the wall and walk straight up to him. he doesn’t even have time to turn around fully before your hands are on him, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbles backward.

“yo—” he starts, but his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he sits down with a soft oof, bracing himself on his elbows.

his eyes snap up to meet yours, wide. “what’s this about?”

you step closer, standing between his knees, grabbing his chin with your fingers to tilt his head up.

“oh?” he breathes out, his smirk faltering just a bit when your thumb brushes over his bottom lip.

“yeah. oh,” you shoot back, your voice sharper than the shaky confidence you’re working with. you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands trailing down his torso, the little bodyhairs raising up to meet your palm, fingers dragging over that pale skin. his breath catches, and he shifts, spreading his legs just enough for you to settle between them.

you tug at the waistband of those godforsaken shorts, sliding them down. and there it is, the very thing he hinted at earlier—exactly like you knew he’d be, flushed and already half-hard, the head its almost the same shade of your drink, but more human-skin-like, and fuck, you're probably going to think about it everytime he hands you the drink. his breath hitches again when your hand wraps around him.

“what’s wrong?” you tease, tilting your head, your thumb swiping over the tip to smear the bead of wetness there.

“ah-ah-shit—” he mutters, his voice strained. you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, then lower, leaving a trail of warmth as your lips move closer.

he lets out this shaky little laugh, but it breaks off into a hiss when you lean in, your lips brushing over the tip, like you're about to taste it, before wrapping around him completely. his lungs get full of air before moaning all way in while he exhales and you swear you’ve never felt more smug in your life.

his hand comes up to cover his mouth, like he’s trying to muffle the sounds spilling out of him, but it’s useless. the little gasps, the way his voice breaks on your name—it’s making you swallow him in.

your hand moves in partnership with your mouth, stroking him in time with the way your tongue works over every inch of him. when you glance up, his head is tipped back, eyes half-closed, lips parted, and he looks like he is winning a bliss.

“you’re so fucking—good” he stammers, his voice cracking halfway through. “holy shit, keep—keep going.”

you don’t stop, not even when his thighs start trembling under your hands, not even when he’s biting down on his knuckles to keep himself from being too loud.

you hollow your cheeks as you pull back, dragging your lips over him until you reach the tip with a wet, obscene pop.

“jesus fucking—” he chokes out, but his words cut off when you lower your head, tongue dragging along the sensitive seam of his sack like you’re savoring it. you can feel the way his thighs tense on your sides, trembling like he’s caught between pulling away and leaning into you.

your hand is still wrapped around him, firm that his cockhead gets red, keeping that steady rhythm while your tongue works over the delicate skin below.

he lifts his head to look down at you, his lips parted in disbelief, sweat glistening on his forehead. “you—what the fuck are you doing?”

“what’s it look like?” you quip back, grinning up at him before wrapping your lips around his balls again, taking one side into your mouth gently. his reaction is instant—his hips roll under your mouth, and his eyes, roll back.

“this is—holy shit—this is fucked up.”

you hum around him, taking your time, switching to the other side, your tongue lavishing the sensitive skin as you work him over. “fucked up?” you echo between breaths, lips brushing against him. “sounds like youre enjoying it.”

his hand flies up to cover his face, fingers digging into his own hair. he groans, his hips betraying him, twitching toward your mouth like he’s chasing the feeling.

you lean back in, your mouth hot and wet against his cock again, taking him deeper this time, your tongue tracing patterns as you move.

“fuck—fuck—you’re gonna—” his eyes squeeze shut as he lets grits his teeth, failing to hold his whimpers, spilling over himself and inside your mouth.

you don’t stop until you’re sure he’s ridden it out completely, pulling back slowly, your lips slick and swollen, jaw aching, as you wipe your mouth with your thumb.

“you okay there?”

“i don’t think okay covers it...” he grimaces.

“guess i’ll take that as a compliment.”

“you should.” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest smile.

he tilts his head back, his eyes hooded and his lips curling into a lazy smirk as he lifts his hand, tapping his thigh in that slow, cocky way he knows you can’t resist. “c’mere”

you hesitate, for a second, before standing and moving toward him. his gaze stays locked on you, and you feel the weight of it like a physical thing. as you straddle his lap, your dress rides up, pooling around your hips, and his hands are already on you, one gripping your waist while the other skims up your thigh.

he pulls you closer, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. when his tongue drags along your bottom lip, tasting the faint saltiness of himself there, he lets out an obscene groan.

“you taste like me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your mouth before he licks along your lip again, slower this time. his teeth catch the tender skin, biting just enough to sting before he pulls back, tugging your lip between his teeth with a smirk.

your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself as his hand slides lower, over the curve of your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. “been waiting all night to do this,” he mutters, as his fingers dip under the hem of your dress.

before you can process what’s happening, he hooks a finger under the side of your panties, tugging sharply until the fabric tears with a quiet rip. you feel the ruined cloth hanging loosely against your skin as his fingers brush over the now-bare flesh.

you open your mouth to protest—something about him owing you a new pair—but the words die in your throat when you see him lift his hand to his mouth, his tongue dragging along the length of his fingers.

the sight alone has your breath hitching, your thighs twitching around his. he catches the movement, his smirk widening as he pulls his fingers from his mouth, his free hand squeezing your waist as his other hand trails back down.

when his fingers meet your drenched cunt, he spreads the wetness, the wet noise that follows making your cheeks flush even as your body leans into his touch. he circles sensitive hole at your center, and he chuckles low in his throat when you let out a shaky breath.

“you’re already so wet.”

he shifts under you, leaning back as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly to see if his cock hardens again. his jaw tightens, a sharp exhale slipping past his lips as his head tips back. “shit,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they snap open to find you, perched right there on his thighs, looking like a fucking fever dream. “of course, it’s you. of course it works.”

and yeah, you don’t really get what he means by that, because he’s brushing himself against you now, dragging just the tip along where you’re already sdripping

“fuck,” he hisses, wincing as his hips buck up just a little. “so sensitive—” his words cut off with a low groan when you shift, your hands steadying yourself on his shoulders as you sink down.

“oh my god,” you choke out, the sensation swamping the second you take him in. “oh my god, hoon—holy shit—this is so good.”

he lets out this strangled laugh, “yeah?” he rasps, his voice breaking a little at the end. “feels good?”

“so fucking good,” you breathe, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, your hips rolling against him in these desperate little motions. you’re not even trying to play it cool—you’re too far gone for that, babbling about how full he feels, how perfect, how you’ve never felt anything like this.

and he’s just watching you, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, looking dazed and a little wrecked, but there’s this smug glint in his eyes, like he is so fucking proub about how horny he made you.

his hands slide up your thighs, gripping tight like he’s trying to slow you down, but you don’t let him. you’re too caught up in the feeling, too desperate for more, and the way he whimpers when you move faster makes you coat him even wetter,

“slow down,” he tries, his voice cracking as his head falls back. “s-slow—ngh!”

but you don’t slow down. you go harder, grinding down on him like you’re trying to burn the feeling into your skin. “n-no,” you whine, your hands bracing against his chest. “you started this, hoon. you wanted to tease me? then t-ake it.”

his laugh is sharp and breathy, but it cuts off with a low, throaty groan when you move just right, your hips snapping against his in this perfect rhythm that has his head spinning.

“fuck, okay,” he chokes out, but it dosent last a second, his hands flying to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks as he tries to slow you down. “okay, okay, just—fuck—slow—a little, babe, please, i’m—”

you don’t listen. too far gone to register anything beyond the way he feels inside you, the way his body tenses under yours, the way his voice gets high pitch with every ragged breath.

“gonna kill me,” he groans, his hands trembling as they guide your hips into a slower rhythm, even though you can tell he’s fighting himself just as much as he’s fighting you.

he grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he finally, finally uses his strength to slow you down, forcing you to move at his pace. it’s infuriating and perfect all at once because the shift makes his tip angle just right.

when it brushes against that spot inside you, your whole body jerks. your mouth falls open in a silent scream, no sound coming out except for a broken gasp, and your hips stutter helplessly in his hands, trying to chase the feeling even as he keeps you firmly in place.

he lets out a low, relieved laugh, his voice rough but still so maddeningly smug as he leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. “see?” he murmurs, his tone soft and cooing, like he’s teasing and praising you all at once. “isn’t that good? like this? hm?”

before you can even respond—hell, before you can even think—he does it again, using his arms to guide your hips, rolling them slowly, to make him hit that same spot. and this time, the moan that tears from your throat is loud, followed by another and another, until you’re shaking so hard you’re not even sure you’re in control of your body anymore.

“fuck,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he keeps you moving, steady and devastating. “so pretty like this. so perfect.”

you barely hear him, too lost in the way he’s making you feel, your moans spilling out one after another as the pressure inside you builds higher and higher, until it’s too much. your body seizes, your walls clenching around him so hard that he hiccups. and then it happens—a sudden, blinding orgasm that has you gasping, a liquid warmth spilling out of you in an uncontrollable squirt.

“holy shit,” he mutters as he feels it, the slickness making him slip out of you as you convulse in his lap.

he doesn’t even have time to react properly before the sight of you trembling and moaning in his arms—is enough to make him cum. his hand flies to the swollen cock, stroking once, twice, before he’s coming hard, spilling onto the floor. whining and rolling his hips onto his hand.

for a long moment, the both of you cant move, both of you too fucked and out of breath to do anything but sit there.

eventually, your gaze drifts downward, and your eyes land on him—still hard, still twitching slightly, the entire length of him glistening and… pink. ridiculously pink, especially at the head where it’s darker, flushed from how tight you’d been squeezing him.

you blink, your brain still foggy, and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind: “you weren’t kidding about the pink thing.”

he snorts, now shyly, his head tipping forward to rest against your shoulder as he laughs. “told you... thank god pink’s kind of your thing.”

[mywritersmind]

SIX TIMES TOO MANY (OR JUST ENOUGH?) - LN4

summary : in which the universe can’t seem to stop bugging you. six times when people thought of you and lando as more than childhood friends.

listen up : no warnings!! childhood friends! sometimes genuis just strikes🤷🏻‍♀️ requests for kimi franco and lando are open!!

word count : 820

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time it happened, you had laughed it off in a drunken haze of excitement.

“You and Lando!” Your best friend squealed, “You two hooked up, didn’t you!?” she hit your arm playfully, the biggest grin on her face as yours mirrored the opposite.

“Lando and I? No way!” You shook your head rapidly just as he danced up to the two of you, a drink in hand.

He spun you around and laughed in your ear and slurring his words as your friend gave a curious look.

The second time was an older woman complimenting you and Lando on the street, saying how lovely of a couple you were. Lando had laughed it off with ease.

The third time was far more embarrassing, a young fan had asked Lando to sign his cap and as he did, the kid grinned at you and whispered, “Don’t worry! I won’t tell anyone you’re in love!” He had skipped away after making your jaw drop.

Why did everyone think you were a couple? It was ridiculous and out of reach. You and Lando had been best friends since childhood, besides your first kiss, nothing had ever happened.

You weren’t blind, he was attractive. You just chose to ignore the way he mindlessly changed in front of you and how his curls fell in his face. You chose to not think about him winning a race, sweaty and exhausted, falling right into your arms as he whispered his thanks to you for just being there.

The fourth time someone mentioned it, it was your own bloody mother. She had liked a photo you sent of your group on vacation, replying with “Oh! You and Lando are just the sweetest. Open your eyes, love.”

It was mortifying, especially in public. It made things odd with Lando, after someone would mention it, he started to act squirmy.

He almost always had some sort of girlfriend, though he claimed he didn’t date.

The fifth time was by far the worst.

“I get it!” Your boyfriend had scoffed in your face, “I’ll always come second to him!” You had such a headache from trying to break things off with him that his last statement might as well have split your skull open.

“Him?”

“Norris! Just admit you’re ending things with me to be with him!” He stood up, paced the room, “I’m such an idiot.”

“What- That’s not the reason!”

“Sure! God Y/n you’ve always been drooling for him!” What the hell?

It was your turn to scoff, “Fuck you! I’m sorry you can’t imagine why anyone would break up with your dumbass but we’re done because I don’t fancy you like you do me! Don’t blame my friend.”

“Sure. ‘Friend’. Go cry to him.”

The sixth was the one to change everything.

“I never realized!” Max Fewtrell laughed with you, drinks in hand and leaning against the bar.

“Realized what?” You raised a brow, sipping your drink.

“Lando’s in love with you!” you almost spit out your drink, “I mean- I always figured he had a hard on for you but shit… he’s totally whipped!”

He’s drunk, you reminded yourself.

“Shut up Max.” It wasn’t funny anymore.

“I’m serious, Y/n!” He shook his head, turning towards Lando who was looking bored with a girl next to him, “He hasn’t gotten with anyone for months! That’s saying something! He talks about you all the time and fuck have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”

The way he looks at you? How could you not notice?

He does it just then, turning his head to face you two but keeping those magnetic eyes on you. His previous bored expression was gone instantly, a smirk gracing his face as his eyes stayed on yours. It practically made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh.” Is all you can manage before Lando looks back to the girl.

“I’m just saying… maybe all those times you complain about- when people think you’re a couple or would be perfect together, maybe they’re a sign.” Max gives you one last knowing look before his spot is replaced with Lando.

He leans against the bar in a lazy fashion, looking tired yet all his energy is focused on you, “Having a good night?” His voice- fuck that voice.

His voice which haunted your nightmares and fuled your fantasies.

“A weird one, definitely.” you laugh but it’s not really funny, Lando gives you a concerned look.

“You wanna leave?” and when he says it, you know he’d come with. You know he’d go anywhere for you.

“No.” You shake your head, looking up at the brunette and feeling your breath ragged and unfocused. You swallow, then smile, “Let’s dance.”

A grin breaks out on his face as you slip your hand in his, “Anything you want, Y/n.”

[anantaru]

ENTANGLEMENTS — ALHAITHAM

alhaitham hates working more than he has to but atleast he's got you to help him in a special way. wc. 600

・✶ ｡ warnings — cockwarming, office sex, petnames: princess, slightly dom alhaitham ??, fem! reader

"ugh, what a mess, this will take me hours to finish," alhaitham hisses lowly, gritting his teeth as his hands grab your hips to keep you in place— most importantly so you won't suddenly lose balance and fall off his lap as his cock throbs and twists in you, "—cannot wait to finish this and go home, princess,"

in natural response to his sugarlike spelling, your lips move close to his ear as you pant out a breathy moan of his name— crowded by his erection when his cock pushes against one particular searing spot, grazing against your sensitivity as his dick molds along your walls and stretches your hole good enough that you were hardly capable to think straight.

"now, what's that?" alhaitham chuckles— well, it sounded more like a strained snicker. although his eyes were sharp, nothing special, calculative and the scribe didn't miss your eyes rolling back into your skull now that your pussy grew accustomed to such fullness, your body eager awaiting to have him move himself in and out.

he averts his eyes from the piece of paper on his desk before roughly squeezing the flesh of your ass, making it jiggle under his large palms and adding in a subtle smack.

"keep quiet, remember there's people outside." you can only nod at him, both hands squeezing his strong shoulders before you force yourself to focus on the inviting sight of your boyfriend— his tight shirt lazily draped up, resting right under his chest and exposing his defined abs glistening with sweat, or his large hands pushing your hips down while not daring to drag himself out even once.

"you can take it, no?" he hums, "would be quite the shame if you didn't, don't you think? considering everything, in this moment you couldn't choose between what you found worse— the aching stretch of his thick shaft splitting you in half, although not moving, or the way how alhaitham was seemingly so unfazed by all of it, nonchalant as he rotates between toying with the plump flesh of your ass and focusing back on the important document resting on the table.

it was infuriating— but that's how the scribe was, and he always counted on your sweet pussy to wrap around him like second skin whenever he found himself borderline bored by his work.

your forehead falls flat to dig into his shoulder as you flutter awfully hard around his shaft, suddenly catching him inattentive as you triumph over your boyfriend just this once— his cheeks now flushing in the prettiest shade of pink when he notices the clench of your sore cunt, his eyes snapping shut and his lips parting flawlessly, his throat exposing an unplanned moan.

a blissed-out countenance accentuates his handsome face, tears stinging the corners of his soft lashes before he leans his head back.

"hah—," you chuckle breathlessly, your mind entirely clouded by just how amazing his cock felt in you, "you can take it, no?" you mimic his previous taunting, adding a slightly higher pitch as to get your point across, "would be quite— ah, fuck, fuck!" your jaw drops in awe as he snaps his hips upwards to fuck into you, chuckling as he gave your ass a light slap.

your toes curl when he pushes at a deep spot, satisfying stuns of lust surging throughout your abdomen and straight to your quivering pussy as alhaitham brings one hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to focus on his own famished glare.

"—easy now, what have i always told you about acting out like that? or disturbing my work, hm?"

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[sinofwriting]

Horny Teenagers - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,189 Summary: If Max and her were only allowed to say one thing that people described them as, it would be horny teenagers. They disagree with that entirely, after all what’s wrong with having a healthy sex life? Note(s): Suggestive Themes, Slightly NSFW

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Max, how do you feel about the most recent interview your team principal did?”

Max raises an eyebrow, not understanding the question from Olav.

“He described you and your girlfriend as horny teenagers.”

“I mean, I don’t see how we are. I think of it as us having a healthy sex life.” The words slip off his tongue before he can stop them and he can see Y/N just a few feet away cover her mouth at the Dutch words and he worries for a second but then sees her shoulders shaking with laughter.

—

“Red Bull is going to kill us.” She pants, her hand fisting the hair at the back of Max’s skull, his lips sucking a bruise into her neck.

“Like they’ve been threatening for two years?” He smirks, squeezing at her leg that’s wrapped around his waist and really he’s lucky she wore this dress, such easy access to everything he wants.

Her laugh turns into a moan as he grinds his hips into hers, eyes slipping shut.

“I just won my fourth championship. I think they can forgive this.”

Her free hand pulls at the waistband of his pants, fingers grazing over his bulge that’s pushing at his zipper. “You say that like we ever need an excuse to fuck in a club.”

“No, but it certainly helps.”

She hums, eyes opening and she can spot more than a few phones pointed at them and it’s really lucky that Max is so broad. They more than take risks, but Max would never let anyone see any part of her, always sure to press her face into his neck, hiding everything he can so he can greedily have it all for himself.

“Take me back to the hotel? I can’t congratulate you properly here.”

“Whatever you want, schat. Whatever you want.”

—

“You did amazing.” Her voice is nearly a shout and Max’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the edges and his arms are wrapping around her waist, their lips pressing together.

Her hands immediately go to his face, feeling the flush of his cheeks, the slight sweat dripping from his brow. And she giggles against his lips as one of his hands moves to her ass, grabbing and pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip in revenge, breath hitching at the near growl he gives.

“You're getting it later.” He warns.

“Promise?”

He kisses her again. “As soon as I’m done with media.”

She watches him walk back over to where Charles and Oscar are, both shaking their heads at him, and she can see the resigned looks of most of the Red Bull team.

“Twenty seven and still playing grab ass.”

“Max is twenty-seven.” She corrects, smiling at GP and his amused expression.

“Oh yes, sorry, you're how old again?”

She shakes her head, nudging him slightly as they both watch Max step up to give his interview.

She sighs, continuing to watch him. “Winning looks so good on him.”

“I don’t need to hear that.”

“None of us do.” Rupert murmurs.

“Really starting to think you guys hate when I speak.”

“We do.”

GP nods, “Would really rather you didn’t. Don’t think I need to hear anymore about Max.”

“Your loss.” She sings, blowing Max a kiss as he looks over at her one last time before leaving for the cooldown room.

—

“Actually, before everyone goes, I wanted to let you all know some exciting news before we all see each other next time for preseason testing.”

Everyone in the room shares glances at Max’s words, the driver practically beaming.

“Y/N and I are expecting a baby.”

The room erupts in congratulations. People getting up and swarming the driver and he laughs, accepting the pats on the backs and hugs.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s doing great. No morning sickness or anything, she’s thirteen weeks along, so we finally started telling people.”

“That’s amazing, really, Max. When is her due date?”

“August 17th. A bit fortunate with the new calendar, but babies have their own schedule, the doctor told us.”

“Thirteen weeks, huh?” GP asks.

Max nods and they can see his hand twitching to his wallet and they just know that he’s got an ultrasound or two in there.

“Vegas must have been a really nice celebration.”

Max laughs, a slight pink to his cheeks. “Well, the club was nice, but the hotel was much better.”

Groans escape from everyone in the room at the reminder of all the pictures and videos that had flooded social media from that night, but they all can’t help exchange looks, more than happy for the driver but also finally, finally it would mean a break from the nightmare that was Max and Y/N together and their constant horniness.

—

Rupert looks in horror at Max’s back.

“What happened?”

Max looks over his shoulder at him, bending to get a shirt before sliding it on. “What do you mean?”

“Your back is shredded.”

“You say that like it’s the first time.”

He splutters, running a hand over his face. “No, but Y/N’s pregnant.”

“And?”

“You two are still having sex.”

Max laughs, slapping him on the back. “You do know that doctors actually encourage that right? It’s good, apparently. And what you thought that just because she was pregnant we’d stop? It’d take more than that.”

Rupert watches Max leave in horror.

—

“Max,” At the sound of his name, he looks away from Charles’ phone that displayed a picture of Leo. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations on the news of you and Y/N expecting a baby and was wondering if you could stamp out a rumor of sorts.”

“Thank you and a rumor? We are talking about rumors again? So early in the season.”

A few reporters laugh.

“It is quite early. This has to do with a report that apparently last weekend your hotel room in Bahrain was vandalized. Broken mirror, torn pillows and such.”

Max coughs, trying not to laugh as he sees actual concern on the reporter's face. “No, nothing like that happened. Just, uh, a little overexcited so to speak.”

Charles lets out a laugh that he quickly turns into a cough when feeling his press officer glare at him.

“Mate.” He murmurs.

Max smiles, dropping the microphone back in his lap as Tom changes the subject, asking Jack something. “Well if I said any more I’d get fined.”

“I can imagine.” And Charles’ gaze softens. “I know I’ve said it already but congratulations. You and Y/N will make excellent parents.”

Max’s smile widens. Charles had been the first driver to text him to offer his congratulations, and his repetitiveness of offering them was nice. It was good being so close with Charles after their rocky karting years. “Thank you, Charles. I’m starting to think you want to be in the running for godfather.”

“Oh, absolutely. If not, I better be known as uncle Charles. I’m offering piano, Italian, and karting lessons.”

“Fucker.” Max mumbles at the last one with an amused look and small nod before turning his attention back to Tom.

[emmyrosee]

hi emmy i really like your writings ✨🎠❣️ can i please request sukuna with a clumsy reader that seems to be accident-prone. and one time she denies his help and says she can take care of her own well being and then the next second she just get injured like pretty bad she just cries on sukuna because it hurts and embarrassing for her. thank youuu so muchh if you really write this request ✨🙏🎠🤍

I LOVE CLUMSY READERS ☹️🫶🏻

—

“You’re going to fall.”

Sukuna watches from a respectful distance as you step from the chair onto the countertop, the griddle up there seemingly farther away every time he puts it there. “Please, for the love of all things unholy, let me help you.”

“No, no,” you say dramatically. “You always tease me for falling, always make fun of me for needing help, don’t act high and mighty now that you think I might need help.”

“Can you not use your thinking skills to figure out that I’m teasing you when I say stuff like that?” He says, watching as your body sways softly from the height. “Oh my god, please get down.”

“Sukuna im fine,” you laugh. Your hands reach up to grab the door handle, and when you can’t open it to full capacity, you try to take a step back to open it, only to forget exactly how high up you were, and you slip.

He moves like a bullet to catch you, but your knee slams into the countertop that originally held you, and you sink your teeth into your lip as Sukuna awkwardly cradles your body against his chest, save for your now throbbing knee which dangles helplessly. Tears well in your eyes as searing pain blooms from your bone, and you can’t look up at him, no, because you’ll cry. You’ll burst into tears right now and sob in pain and embarrassment, from him being right and holy shit did you fracture your knee what the hell-

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you expectantly. His voice is unusually low, probably to try and keep you comforted, but all it does is make you screw your eyes shut and try to fight off the line of tears that bubble and slip down your cheeks. “Shit, baby, let me-“

“I’m fine!” You hiss, struggling in his grasp. The minute you move your leg, however, the shooting daggers of pain make you whimper in agony. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No,” he snaps. “You’re fucking hurt. Don’t be fucking stubborn.”

He hulks your body up and onto the countertop, the action having you choke out a sob from the pain and shame coursing through you. He gingerly takes your leg in his hands, testing the way it bends and how your cries pitch in distress as he handles it one way or another. With a click of his tongue he spins on his heel to make his way to the freezer and grab a bag of frozen veggies.

“You don’t listen to me,” he snarls. “What, you think because I tease you, you’ve gotta go risk your fucking life to prove a point?” He presses the bag of vegetables on your knee, the pressure making you wheeze and the chill shocking your nerves. Despite his words, he shushes you softly at your distress and uses his free arm to pull you against his chest.

“You stand on chairs all the time,” you whimper, and you hear him scoff.

“Yeah, because I don’t give a fuck if I fall. You just got seriously hurt, don’t you know how scary that was? For both of us? For fucks sake, what if you cracked your skull!”

You sniffle against him and shrug at his worries, and he clicks his tongue with a sigh. “I care about you, baby. Don’t do stupid shit like that, okay?” When you nod against him, he chuckles softly, “my stupid, clumsy brat.”

“Shut up.”

[amourrs]

ellie who’s been slowly fixing up an old bike to keep on the straight and narrow, working on it piece by piece with she hands until it slowly comes to life. it’s been a form of therapy, turning a piece of shit back into something functional, something that works, and she almost feels like it’s sort of a metaphor for life- not that she would ever be caught saying something so stupid out loud lest joel quits being her sponsor then and there and laughs her out of america and his shop for good. you’ve been there as ellie works, your long term job at the shop keeping you busy around an equal amount as your contempt for ellie. it’s not like there’s anything specifically deeply wrong with her, but she never shuts the fuck up about sex. it’s so irritating that you consider taking a wrench and crushing into your skull to get away from her. do you really have to constantly hear about the fact she can’t get her dick wet? well— not dick, but the point still stands. you’re so sick of her shit, the awkward attempts she’s made at flirting with you being shut down instantly as you shutter your face and stalk past her without a second glance. you overhear the mutter of “shit, what did i do?” to joel as he laughs heartily, hand clapping ellie’s shoulder with a rueful grin. “i would give up with that one, if i were you. she nearly put abby in the hospital last spring.” ellie looks over at the muscular blonde joel points out incredulously, noting the way she passes you tools almost deferentially as the two of you work on the same bike. “well, shit.” after that, she steers clear of flirting with you, but the sex talk doesn’t stop. it’s a month later after a particularly irritating story about how she tried to pick up a girl who turned out to be married that you snap, waiting until joel’s out of the room before you slam your spanner down on the table and beckon ellie towards you. “you. this way. now.” she’s confused but follows you anyway, walking up the stairs and through the door you hold open for her before slamming it behind you and turning the key in the lock. “pants off.” ellie’s eyes widen. “whoa, hey, what?” she chuckles nervously. “pants off,” you repeat, eyebrow skating up your head. “what, are you stupid or something?” she stumbles over her words a little as she replies. “what exactly are we—” her hands splay out awkwardly. “well, i figure if we fuck, you can shut the fuck up about your fucking dry spell— which, by the way, nobody gives a fuck about.” the auburnette’s mouth curls into a little smirk as she pulls her belt off and starts tugging her jeans down her ankles, boxers along with them as she kicks them off her legs. “fine by me.” you roll your eyes at her. “good. still wish you were dead, by the way.” ellie hums a little in acknowledgment before your knuckles brush her clit and her eyes roll back in her head, fingers clutching around your wrist as she lets out a breathy moan and sinks her teeth into your shoulder to stifle the noise. well. this should be quick enough.

fully inspired by a midnight thought about the storyline in shameless where brad sponsors lip and he becomes a mechanic in his shop but with ellie so! if you see the similarity it’s intended…

[chamomiletealeaf]

having absolutely desperate floor sex with one of the 141 men after him being over protective at the bar and pawing at you in the bar and in the car all night

who said that???

THIS IS SO SIMON OMG

The thought of rough floor sex with him is just 🥴🥴🥴

Warnings: afab! fem reader, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), floor sex, prone bone, doggy, dom! Simon, kinda jealous and possessive Simon if you squint a bit

Imagine you’re out with him and the team, wearing that dress he loves so much and other men seem to love too. The bartender keeps flirting with you and Simon grips your hip or thigh harder and harder every time he does and gives him the death stare.

God is this bartender ever gonna learn when to shut it?

You notice Simon getting irritated and announce you want to dance. You grab Simon’s hands and drag him along knowing he’s gonna hate it, but at least it gives you a chance to show him you’re his.

He follows you to the dance floor, not wanting you out of his sight. You start swaying your hips to the music and Simon just stands and watches you with hungry eyes, his hands in yours still.

Although his skull mask hides everything but his eyes up, you can tell he’s desperate for you. It’s in his eyes.

So you turn around and press your ass to his front, grabbing his hands and moving them to your hips, still swaying your hips to the music right on his hard on starting to form and he grips your hips like you would run away if he didn’t.

He leans his face down to your ear and whispers:

“Quit doin’ that or I’ll fuck you right here on this dance floor.”

And you, being the tease you are, press your ass even harder into him with a smirk and he growls in your ear.

“Let’s go.” He grumbles and pulls you by the waist flush against him through the crowd and the rest of the team sees you two as you walk by.

Simon doesn’t look at them but you quickly say goodbye while Simon is practically dragging you out of there and Johnny and Gaz look at each other and laugh, knowing what’s about to happen.

Simon doesn’t say a word the whole way to the car and you giggle to yourself, liking the effect you’re having on him. He doesn’t say a word on the car ride home but he drags his hand up and down your inner thigh, giving you a pinch every time you make some snarky remark about how some innocent flirting from the bartender got him so worked up.

Then at each red light he drags his hand all the way up to your pussy covered by a thin, baby blue thong and he rubs you through it, making you spread your legs for him even further, but he never puts his fingers in, teasing you as much as you did him.

When you two finally get back home he pulls you out the passenger seat. And the second you get inside, his lips are on yours immediately. He kisses you roughly, his tongue licking at yours and he walks, making you walk backwards to wherever he’s leading you.

He leads you into the bedroom but before you get to the bed he stops you.

“Bend over the vanity. Lemme see these little panties you got on.” He demands, saying the first words he’s said since the bar. And you bend over the black vanity he built for you right by the bed.

Simon hikes your dress up and hums in appreciation when he sees your baby blue thong with a cute pink bow on the front and he gives your ass a smack, making you jump and whine.

“Well fuck me. You had these on this whole time? Hm? Around the guys as well? Fuckin’ minx.” He says, and he presses his full hard on against your ass with a death grip on your hips while he leans over your back to grunt in your ear.

“Gonna eat this sweet little pussy out.” He says almost to himself as he drops to his knees so he’s eye level with your pussy.

“Fuck lovie, look at that wet spot. You like riling me up like this hm?” He says and you nod biting your lip, and he presses his face into your clothed pussy from behind making you whimper.

Simon moans into you and licks you through your panties a few times before dragging his hands down from your hips to pull your panties off.

You step out of them and kick them to the side and he grabs your thighs.

“Get your legs up on my shoulders.” He says, and when you don’t because your brain is too hazy from only thinking about his tongue on your clit, he manhandles you and pulls them up himself so your upper body is pressed against the vanity and your knees are bent on his shoulders while he holds you up. It’s uncomfortable, but fuck does it feel good.

Simon wraps his arms under your thighs and rests his hands on your lower back while he eats you out from behind.

“Fuck Simon right there, just like that.” You moan, wanting to reach back to grab his hair but if you do, you’re afraid you’ll fall, but Simon has you locked in place on his face.

He eats you out like he hasn’t eaten anything in days, shaking his head to push himself deeper, his tongue lapping at your hole and moving down to play with your clit.

As he continues to hold you up and eat you out, you feel your orgasm hit you hard and you shake and can’t hold yourself up anymore, letting your face press into the vanity, eyes rolled back.

“Fuck Simon I- I’m cumming oh my god-“

You say while cumming on his face.

Simon licks you up clean and moans at your taste and the pulse of your pussy on his tongue.

He doesn’t give you a second to adjust before pushing your knees off his shoulders so you stand again, and he pulls you up off the vanity, pushing you onto the ground next to the bed.

He’s so pent up he can’t even wait to get you both on the bed.

So he’s gonna fuck you on the hardwood floor right next to it.

He throws you on the floor face down, palms by your chest to catch yourself and you feel him kneel behind you.

“Arse up.” He says. “Just a little. Arch your back for me.”

You do as you’re told and lift your ass up just a little bit, knees together so Simon can fuck you in a prone bone.

“Fuck look at that.” He says, taking in the sight of your ass and glistening pussy in front of him.

He straddles the back of your legs and lays his weight on your back. He reaches one arm down to wrap around your hips so he can keep your hips up and rub at your clit, and the other arm is wrapped around your throat.

He slides in easily making you both moan and he wastes no time getting to pounding you.

“Been thinkin’ o’ this the whole night. Watching that dumb bloke behind the bar flirt with you. Almost lifted this pretty little dress and fucked you on the bar right in front of him.” He says panting into your ear as he pounds into your pussy, making squelching noises as he does so.

You feel tears form in your eyes from the pleasure of feeling Simon’s full weight on you, his thick arm around your neck, the cold floor pressed against your cheek and the sweet stretch of his cock thrusting deep into you.

“Doin’ so well for me bunny, fuck. Keepin’ that back nice and arched up for me.” He says and you whine in response, trying to keep your arch while he places all his weight on you, using your toes as leverage.

“Ah- f- fuck me Simon yeah-“ you moan out pathetically through tears and he laughs darkly in your ear at your desperation.

“Aww poor bunny. Can barely take it hm? Feel too good?” He mocks, and starts to rub your clit making you gasp, and you nod with a sob.

“Feels so good.” You mewl, and every sob you let out causes your pussy to clench around him which makes his hips stutter and his breath hitch.

You loved when Simon was rough with you, but he’s never just thrown you on the floor and fucked you like this and you were fucking loving it.

Then Simon changes positions.

He releases him arm from around your throat and from under your hips and he sits back on his knees which pushes your legs further apart.

“C’mon bunny on your knees.” He commands.

You tremble as you push your ass up even more so you’re on your knees then you bring your knees back together. Your face is still pressed down on the wooden floor which starts to warm up from your bodies.

Simon leans over your back again, pushing your upper body down and places a hand on the side of your face to keep your cheek pressed to the floor, and his other arm wraps back under your hips while he fucks you in doggy.

The new position makes you squeal once he starts fucking you again and you can’t help but kick your legs out from the pleasure.

“Uh-uh, keep your legs together. Thaaat’s it. What a good little bunny. Taking my cock so well.”

Tears start forming again in your eyes and when Simon starts to rub your clit again that’s when you start to full on sob.

“Gonna cum for me sweets hm? Gonna cum around my cock? Do it. C’mon you can do it. Show me how good I make you feel.”

And with a few more rough and fast circles on your clit and a few more thrusts of Simon’s hips you’re cumming hard with a high pitched whine, pussy clenching him so hard while you throb you nearly push him out every time it pulses with your orgasm.

Your pulsing and squeezing around him causes Simon to cum and he cums deep inside you, filling you up.

“Fuck bunny- yeah that’s it, milk me with that sweet little pussy- fuck- pounding around me so good-“ he says right before he cums in you with a grunt, and you beneath him, eyes half lidded with tears running down your cheeks and your mouth open drooling on the floor.

You two stay like that for a minute before Simon picks you up and finally places you on the bed.

“How you feelin’ sweetheart?” He asks.

“S- so good.” You say, still in a daze from the orgasm he just gave you.

“Maybe I should let the bartenders flirt with me more often if this is how it ends.” You say with a smirk and he laughs.

“Oh sweets, you know all you have to do is ask.” He says with a smirk before kissing your forehead and lips. “And don’t joke about that.” He says more sternly this time before he goes to get a towel to clean you up, making you laugh.

Simon was the only one for you, and you both knew it.

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost rushes to your aid, only this time, it's to help with a pickle jar.

———————————————————————

“C’mere.” He orders, motioning with his hand.

You roll your eyes at him, although a slight grin forms on your lips.

“No!” you retort as you turn your back to him.

He sighs, leans back into the kitchen chair, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Although he still wears his skull mask, you can imagine a smug expression on his face as he observes your failed attempts at opening that pickle jar.

You wipe your hand on your trousers, then grasp the lid, using your other hand to stabilise the jar. You take a deep breath and hold it in as you squeeze and twist with all your might. But the darn thing doesn’t budge—an oddity since you opened that jar fairly easily yesterday.

“You look like you’re about to fart.”

“Shut up, Ghost.” You snap through gritted teeth.

“What you do clearly doesn’t work,” he states firmly. “Just give me the fucking jar.”

You exhale, relax your grip and shoot him a threatening look.

“No,” you snap again, pointing at him with the jar. “I got this.”

He lifts the fingers that are resting on his bicep and shakes his head.

“It’s too tight, love.”

“It’s not tight,” You reply and knock on the jar’s lid twice. “It’s stuck.”

“Knocking on the bloody lid?” He chuckles softly. “What’s next? Asking the pickles to open up from the inside?”

“Stop making fun of me!”

“I’m not,” he replies softly. “It just needs...”

“-a knife.” You interject.

He follows you with his eyes as you march over to the utensil drawer. You slide it open and pull a knife out.

“That’s a bread knife.” He states.

“So what?” You say, waving the knife, “Bread knives are still knives.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he replies. “There are other ways to open that jar.”

“I’ve tried other ways.”

“You haven’t tried mine.” He murmurs, seemingly unmoved, brushing lint from his thigh.

You roll your eyes again and place the jar on the kitchen counter. Ghost leans further back in his chair to get a better visual of what you’re about to do.

“You’re going to get hurt.” He warns you.

You brush his statement off and focus on the jar. You stabilise it with one hand and put the bread knife between the glass and the lid with the other. You pull on the knife, trying to pry open a small opening. However, the knife loses grip and comes flying dangerously close to your ear.

Ghost pushes the chair with the back of his legs and mutters a sharp “fuckin’ hell” as he rushes towards you.

“You alright?” He asks and grasps your wrist.

“I’m fine,” You reply, defeated.

His hand lets go of your wrist and travels up to your neck. He inspects your ear, making sure you’re not hurt, then grasps your shoulder.

“Why won’t you let me try?” He asks softly.

You sigh, grasp the jar, and slam it on the counter.

“Because you’ll make fun of me just like the others,” you murmur.

“They make fun of you,” He says, pointing at the jar, “for this?”

“For my strength!” You elaborate. “Why do you think this jar is so tight? They’re doing it on purpose, so I ask for their help.”

He chuckles and tightens the grip on your shoulder.

“Nobody is doing that to the lids.” He comforts you. “The refrigerator cools the container and makes the lid shrink.”

You shoot him a threatening side-eye.

“Don’t gaslight me, Lieutenant.”

He throws his head back and sighs.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, “even if they’re purposely tightening the lids, there’s always a better way to unscrew it than hurting yourself.”

“Let me guess,” you sneer, “the solution is to ask you to do it for me instead?”

“No,” he replies, turning the faucet to the hot water. “If you don’t have the muscle—”

“Hey!”

“If you don’t have the grip,” he corrects himself, “you should use your brain instead. As a matter of fact, you should always use your brain first.”

He removes his glove and puts his hand under the faucet. He takes the jar and places the lid under the tap, allowing the water to run on it for a few seconds. Finally, he turns the faucet off, wipes the cap with a towel, and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “try now.”

You take the jar and place your hand on the warm lid. You twist it, and it pops right open. You look at the loosened cap and throw it on the counter.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“No need to thank me,” he replies softly. “You did it.”

You study his eyes behind his mask; they’re smiling. You extend that pickle jar to him.

“Want a pickle?” You ask and shrug one of your shoulders.

He shakes his head. “You can have ’em,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I need to start the induction for the recruits.”

You nod as you watch him gather his belongings. He is one of the most ruthless operators on base, and you’ve experienced the violence he is capable of causing on the battlefield. Yet, here he is, offering gentle guidance, advising you to ‘use your brain’ instead of brute force. Not only that, but once he managed to work his way into the jar—clearly twisting the cap with that towel and loosening it—he praised your ‘efforts’, claiming that ‘you did it.’

You take a pickle from the container and put it in your mouth.

How many times has he assisted you behind the scenes, making things easier for you and rushing to your aid, only to later praise your work and efforts, even though he was the orchestrator behind it all? Is that the reason the other soldiers make fun of you?

You take another pickle from the jar and drive it to your mouth, only to stop midway.

The question you’re trying to answer is not how often he acted chivalrous towards you, but...

“Why?” You shout as he walks towards the door, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He stops and turns to you, gripping the door frame. His eyes still smile, but another emotion is lingering behind them this time. He lifts his hand and points to the side of his head.

“Use your brain,” he replies before returning to the door and leaving the kitchen.

———————————————————————

[liveyun]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 | MYG (m)

title. predator

summary. “Do you realize how dangerous this is? You're tempting me— you're tempting yourself to start something we both possibly don't want to know the consequences of.”

pairing(s). yoongi x female reader (oc)

genre. gangster au, smut

warnings. kidnäpping but not much of its descriptions, corruption and weapons, double thoughts, an..gst? , explicit warnings under the cut :)

wc. 7.8k+

a/n 1 : if you feel like some parts feel familiar to you, it's because this was previously posted in my old blog around a year ago which was inspired by ‘that that’. but this is a newly written and re-edited one :)))

taglist | main masterlist

smut warnings : masturbation(f), voyeurism and mentions of exhibitionism, fantasizing, dirty talk , slight humiliation, pet names teasing, chains and gloves 😗 , so much of teasing dear lord, bondage 🫣 , gagging with panties, bondage, oral (f. and allusions to m.) and fingering (f), finger sucking and squirting :D

“ f..fuck..”

Your eyes screw shut just the moment you feel your fingers working against the fabric of your clothed cunt, your wetness increasing with each flick of your fingers to your throbbing clit. You draw in a sharp breath, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as your moments get a bit faster, feeling your slick pool around your entrance. It's your fingers who are working, but in your mind, those ring clad fingers are the ones touching you. Pleasing you.

The feeling of your panties being the barrier is very much uncomfortable, you need to take that off to feel yourself completely.

You harshly pull your panties down your legs, feeling the cool air hitting your slick heat, making you shudder as you hiss in anticipation. You can't deal with this anymore, you need to do something. Or else you'd completely go insane thinking about that man.

It just happened like a daydream. A few days ago, you can guess, flying away like hours.

You wake up to a strong headache with your vision being blurred and watery. A pair of black Jordan shoes tapping the floor, in slow motions, comes to your sight, as if waiting for something to come is all that you could see at that moment with dots growing in your vision. The moment you feel a bit more awake, your whole body aches so bad, it feels as if you've been trashed up.

Your whole body feels as wobbly as jelly all over. Whimpering, you try to move slightly, but fail with a broken sigh. That's when you feel a strong arm wrapping around your figure, hauling you up swiftly, and you let out a small gasp at the action. Your head spins at the sudden movement as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your breathing was strained as your chest heaves up and down, trying to gulp as much oxygen as you could. You realize that you're no longer lying on the floor, but rather. . .a firm, clothed chest, which rose and fell with each breath, as you felt the thrum of heartbeats resonating in your own eardrums with each second that ticked by. Your eyes fly open at the simple realization that you were being hugged by someone, and that someone smelled like the subtle notes of lavender with a delicate undertone of citrus.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize how attractive you find this and how much your tired body seeks for the comfort his warm body provides you in the simple embrace. You want this small moment of comfort to last a bit longer, as you try to snuggle in, but the guy seems to have different plans. He yanks your fragile body away from his own, snatching away the small warmth you had, a whine building up in your throat in exhaustion.

You don't dare to open your eyes which feel as if they're burning with hot tears, but you do feel the strong gaze piercing into your skull as you feel yourself still being in his embrace, him still holding you with a single strong arm wrapped around your waist.

His unrelenting embrace felt sensitive on your skin as your muscles feel tight and sore, and you try to wriggle around a bit. Your limbs protest with pain the longer you stand on both of them, knees close to be giving up. You struggle to stay awake and not surrender to the lull of pain and tiredness which wants you to.

You don't know where you are, or how you came here, but you surely know, you can surely feel that the room, or wherever you stand is freezing cold. Suddenly, the oppressive and eerie silence was shattered by a sudden and chilling sensation.

A cold, metallic object pressed against your chin, and your eyes once again flew open with your heart racing,realizing that it was the barrel of a gun.

Your eyes can only pass away the unshed tears which had accumulated, soon finding yourself so close to a mass of silky but messy black hair, and you realize that you've been pulled back to your kidnapper’s embrace.

It felt suffocating how his alluring scent still clouded your senses, now sending them to a hayware as you take in the close proximity. You feel his grip on you tightening, his malevolent breath hot on your ear. A sinister, deep whisper slithered into your consciousness,

“Don't even think about it.”

As if you could.

Your fingers flick lightly against your heat, right above the protective skin of the sensitive pearl. Sharp gasps leave your mouth, feeling the pleasure build in your lower stomach the more you work on your delicate parts.

You were sure you were trembling on the table you were seated with your legs spread wide open, your viscous arousal dripping down to the table and making a mess on it. Would he love that it's all because of him?

Gods, if anyone enters the room without any notice of your position, the first thing they'd capture is your bare, pulsing cunt. But you were way too turned on to think straight or think about the possible consequences. Or did it rather turn you on? You didn't know.

A thin layer of sweat covers your almost nude body, your breasts heaving out with each breath and nipples begging to be touched, pebbled by the cool air and pleasure. But you're way too desperate to do that yourself- your mind screamed his name, physically unable to make any noises. Him, him, him.

“Ask no questions and be good. No harm would be done to you if you cooperate.”

His voice was laced with nonchalance, yet emerging as a sultry whisper with a slight rasp. He puts down your worn out figure to a black, slightly worn out couch, which seemed hard and dull with the appearance, yet it was more comfortable than the hard floor you had been lying on for what your spine told were hours.

You nervously squirm under his strong and unrelenting gaze, thinking that he’s implying your desire to escape from here. But much to your horror, or even delight, you are already craving the gush of the odd warmth he provided you, even if that was for a second. You gulp down your saliva, feeling your almost cracked throat ache in the process.

Your stomach churns at how wrong yet right this feels with your morals flying off the horizon, yet, a part of you asks if the ‘morals’ you were taught were actually morals, or were just ideals.

He passes you a bottle of water, sliding it towards you on the table as he keeps down the shotgun, followed by a small ‘click’ at the metal touching the wood. Your heart nearly pops up at the sight of how worn out it looks, the metal shining under the room's lighting almost looks dangerous.

The luster it holds reminds you that something as used and small could be just as dangerous regardless of how worn out it could be.

“But if you don't cooperate, this gun won't, too.”

You ought to be shivering at the tone he uses, and a part of you does. Despite the blood chilling threat, an unexpected thrill course through your exhausted veins, finding your kidnapper's dark charisma strangely alluring.

Your pupils fix on his right hand which still holds the gun. To make sure the gun wouldn't accidentally fire, he gently pushed the safety switch on the side of the gun to the "on" position.

It was a small, reassuring click that meant the gun couldn't shoot, even if he accidentally squeezed the trigger. You, or anyone else would be surprised at your knowledge about the parts of a gun but you'd rather think about your father’s ignorance of the specific part your kidnapper was cautious enough to push at the specific moment.

You were too exhausted to think that you were only eight when you first saw a similar gun lying on the coffee table, left open by no one but your father.

Your breathing is back to somewhat normal now. What actually clouds your senses is how you're obliged to agree that a man so beautiful like him, you had seldom encountered any in your limited time you were given access to freedom, back home. Yet, it surprises you that he's not some affluent multi-millionaire but a gangster or rather, a predator.

His fingers are pale and slender, with rings full on display. Following the veins of his wrist were shiny black bracelets and shell bands on top. You'd think that the color contrasts his beautiful pale skin so dramatically, if you'd stare at it enough it's gonna feel like a painting to you. Your eyes never quit checking him out silently as he sternly tells you that if you tried escaping, it won't be good for you.

From head to toe, you try to be subtle, but you cannot deny now when you'd hear your friends talk about what power the attraction towards a man holds. A small part of you wished if he could catch you checking him up, if he'd know your yearning for him.

How good would his fingers feel inside you ?

The thought alone makes your pussy gush out more arousal, your free hand toying with your hardened nipples as you moan quietly, or you try to.

You know that he would be around nearby, just to make sure you're not escaping..but you had no plans for that. You are already familiar that he's not idle enough to be camping by the cabin the whole day, and you're straight up delusional to think that the nightly visits (?) are for you.

You silently hope and pray that no one comes to rescue you sooner, because going back meant you could no longer be around him, and you'll no longer be free as you are now, as ironic that seems.

The irony intensifies because you trust him more than you trust your own father who was however on the verge to sell you off for his own benefit, for money. At times you'd wish to normally see Yoongi, not as some hostage and your abductor. So far, his men have been good, providing you food and water, and even some drinks to keep you going. You could be even proud of yourself to befriend one of them, or well, to have the goon talk to you if that is considered as befriending. They're all bark and no bite, you think, because they try a bit too hard to play even at times when you ask them for a silly stroll outside.

And if that was all, you'd happily agree to live with Yoongi. the man who seemed ice cold at the touch of eyes, but you knew he had much more for you to explore. You already know that a calm man like him gets enraged at the push of his extremes, and that leaves you pondering.

What would he actually be when his inner self is leashed out, as he pins you to the wall, hot bodies pressed against each other?

Would he bend you over the same table you're fucking yourself on?

Shit. It feels so wrong, but why does it feel so good? You're tormenting your enlarged clitoris in tight circles, feeling more and more slick drip down your hole. You cry out a silent plea, feeling the coil in your lower tummy twist harder with every flick, every touch to your delicate heat.

“Ahn..” you whimper pathetically, suddenly picturing his slender fingers working on your cunt instead of yours. His tongue which often he struck out to wet his lips..would lick your cunt lik—

Before you know it, your eyes roll back to your head, the coil in your tummy snapping into two. A loud moan of Yoongi leaves your throat, feeling your clitoris throb even harder with your orgasm. You shut your eyes close as pure waves of pleasure hit you in the form of white, pleasure so intense that you're seeing dots in your vision. You've never come so hard before like this, feeling your hole clench helplessly around nothing.

You cease your moments when you feel yourself jerk with overstimulation at a certain flick and you know it's time to stop.

Shame washes over you as you straighten up your back to a better position.

Fuck.

Yoongi was confused.

Or a bit concerned, even. It was nearly midnight when he was passing beside your cabin, already sure of you being well looked after. It was a small whimper which caught his notice and in the very first place it took him aback. He wondered what happened.

Though he had the most trusted men working under him, no one could ever know anything until something really happened. You can't risk anything. Worry itching in his veins, he advanced forward to the closed window of your cabin and listened closely. A string of profanities was all that he could hear, causing him to furrow his brows. Were you in pain ?

You weren't the target looked out for, merely just a bait. He did not want you to suffer, even if he knows that his men couldn't understand it at first when they bought you here. Even if he knows that he can’t explain it to you, he silently hopes that his further behavior could do that.

This was the reason why he immediately opened the door and the sight in front of him made his throat dry.

His eyes widened so slightly to see you spread out nude like an eagle on the table, your small hand pinching your erect nipples. Your head was lolled back and mouth hung open, occasionally the sweetest moans leaving your parted lips. his pupils shook violently to avoid travelling south and what he should absolutely not see. You were so desperately trying to get off, and he knew he should exit right away.

Fuck. He was definitely not a creep. Heat creeped up to his neck and cheeks at the realization and he turned back to leave.

Yoongi.

His name. You moaned his name and that upon reaching his ears, he needed to think. twice, thrice. With his head. the one on his neck, not with the one inside his pants, which twitched awake to life. He felt his heartbeat resonating in his own ears, and that left him feeling a single thing. Needy. He gulped, feeling his stomach churn with arousal and at the same time a gut feeling of this being wrong, and he couldn't think straight.

You let out a high pitched screech of his name with a strong of fuckfuckfuck, and he knew that you had already reached your orgasm. His cock now strained hard against the material of his pants, and Yoongi has to fight back a guttural groan from breaking free.

“You’re a lot more flexible than I thought.”

You freeze, your breathing labored as you recognise the voice. Fucking fuck. Blood reaches upto your cheeks as you peer up slightly with shock and embarrassment, shame doubling over inside you. You see him, Yoongi manspreading on the old couch opposite to you with a nasty smirk painted on his handsome features.

Had he been watching you?

You blink, feeling your whole body burn with embarrassment. You'd realize that if he did, he heard you doing sinful things to yourself while moaning his name. You were supposed to be scared of him, he even once held you at gunpoint, but you're not even a tad bit scared of him.

You feel oddly safe with him, around him, even if you're sitting naked and vulnerable infront of him. Maybe it's a bad idea to be so comfortable. He's not as crazy as you. How embarrassing, you consciously and immediately shut your legs close, shrinking under his strong gaze, cheeks warm and throat dry.

You gulp in nervousness, his expressions remain stoic but his eyes shine with amusement. You feel a bit too self conscious now, hoping to find your shirt where you last left it. But your eyes betray you, vision trailing down to his hands, clad with fingerless gloves which rests at his meaty, thick thighs clad with black leather pants. His manspreading has you gazing directly on his crotch area, and fucking hell.

He's girthy.

His hard-on does tell you that maybe he's been looking at you for quite a long time..

Your face heats up more if possible as your eyes succumb up to his face, an open mouthed, cocky smirk evident in his features. He cocks a brow at you, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I’ll take it that you like what you see.”

Fuck. Fuck.

You did. You really did, and much to your horror you feel your clit throb with arousal once again.

“What if it was someone else other than me who heard you? Did you really like putting up a show like that ? ”

a deep chuckle left his throat, his voice much deeper than you've heard it to be. Or maybe you're just hallucinating.

“ tsk, tsk tsk. moaning my name so loudly in the middle of the night. Are you so okay with your moans waking everyone up, kitten?”

Fuck. Your hole pulses with arousal at his words and you're unable to answer him. Kitten. The nickname makes your insides go jelly, heart thumping loudly in your chest.

Yet, just sitting up properly and lowering your head is all that you can do, biting down on your bottom lip. You're inappropriately horny for him, and the shameless arousal which spikes inside you knowing that he's just as aroused like you makes you dizzy. If you're being honest, you can't care about anyone else when he's around. You blame it on the bubbling lust inside you.

He can be intimidating, he is intimidating, but for sure no one has made you feel this safer than he does, ironically being your kidnapper. You feel cozy inside a cabin rather than the luxurious bungalow you've spent your whole life till now in.

You're crazy, because maybe a wrong move from your side and you'll lie lifeless on this same floor with no one to give a fuck. That's how it usually works.

Yet, you want to take the risk. You do want to fall prey to the predator.

Suddenly, you feel a harsh tug at your chin, your cheeks squished together and your lips painfully rounded to a pout. You feel the leather of the glove of his palm directly in contact with your chin, cradling your face. Your shaking eyes meet his own, calm but burning eyes, and he almost lets out a growl. a guttural growl that almost has you feeling fresh arousal heat up your pussy.

“Speak when you're being spoken to. "

His face is so close to your own that it almost feels heaven to see him this close. His black hair is no longer slicked back, but now open and it parts beautifully on his forehead, long enough to reach his nape. His thick eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and wooden brown eyes were darker than you'd have seen them. They're blown out, the dim lighting of the room merging the brown of his iris to the black of his pupil into a whole dark mass.

You're so close that if you could, you could count the number of pores on his flawless, pale skin, which always seemed like no expensive skincare could afford such a glow. Even in a situation like this, it almost makes you feel as if you're bound under his spell, a spell which has your body going lax and sanity leaving you in an instant.

His grip on you is firm, but not harsh. He makes sure it's not too much. but however it makes him feel slightly different, slightly more confused to see nothing but admiration in your own blown out eyes and it makes him frown.

Why would you look at him with such a gaze? He's not dumb. He knows that look. With his free hand he brings his fingers close to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose, frowning with his lips sealed tightly. Almost hiding a groan inside his throat, he chastises,

“I don't think you understand that I can kill you anytime with the same hands which you seem to be very fond of.”

It's a subtle warning he tries to jeer. He knew as much as he wanted this, you wanted this more. But after this would be done, things maybe won't be the same.

He got no response back, which silently pissed him more. He wanted you to speak. He wanted you to confirm that it's not a delusion. He wanted you to say it out loud. He didn't know if feeling this way towards your hostage could be rational, but lust can make you feel a lot— and he didn't know if this was right.

Squeezing your cheeks a bit more harsher this time, his right hand traveled down slowly, tracing an invisible path on your skin, leaving sparks of desire behind its wake. You feel your pussy ache with need, nipples pebble up and you nearly stifle a whimper.

His hand reaches for your knee, in such a soothing manner, prying it open that so are your legs. But it doesn't advance any further. It just rests on your heated, damp flesh, almost as if hesitant to move forward.

Your face heats up when you feel his touch ignite a passion in you and you feel a gush of your arousal trickle down your thighs. Fuck, you honestly did not expect that the touch of the cool leather could burn your skin to hell. Given that the hand belongs to Yoongi, you’re nearly gone. You're forced to look at him directly as he's still holding your face and his gaze is no longer icy.

They hold a certain glint you assume as softness, the ridges of his eyebrows no longer tight. Yet his feline gaze remains so firm that it has you feeling your heart course a foreign sensation that you could grasp as....shyness. Slowly, you feel just his fingertips on your knee run forward to the flesh of your inner thighs, testing you. Teasing you.

You're going to go insane.

“Pweash..” a whine escapes your puckered lips even before you know it. He only seems subtly pleased, opting to gently stroke the flesh of your inner thighs. Gods, the touch of leather. Did he really have to do this? Your hole clenches helplessly, having him toy with you so close to where you need him the most.

“What was that?” he lets go of his hand cradling your face, and suddenly snakes his arm to your nude waist and pulls you close. So close that you'd look at him, your noses will touch. Close enough to feel his breath fanning on your cheeks, close enough to have his fingers toying with your thighs dance near the skin of your dripping heat. Close enough to have your bare chest press against his own clothed one.

You huff slightly, both in slight ache in your cheek muscles and frustration of how smug he is.

“ Please, Yoongi.. ”

The smugness in his face disappears and the arm on your waist tightens. Yet, he makes no move to inch forward towards your aching center, and you're really lured to push your hips down to his hands, for anything. To relieve the ache. You don't know what he's thinking right now, but the seriousness on his face— laced with that deep voice of his — is a huge turn on for you, and you're shameless to admit it.

“Do you realize how dangerous this is?You're tempting me— you're tempting yourself to start something we both possibly don't want to know the consequences of,” his voice is oddly cold as his gaze remains fixed on your own. His voice sounds. . . uncertain, somehow, but not hesitant.

“Do you not want this?” you ask him, your voice small as you suddenly realize that the cabin is beginning to get colder and colder. His head drops down, his hold on you slightly wavering, but nevertheless still there— and he shakes his head. Almost as if he's trying to convince himself about his own inner questions. As if he's denying them all.

“I don't fuck around with people I'm not supposed to fuck around with.” his voice is laced with a questioning tone, you notice, and his fingers resting on your inner thighs twitch. “You. . . you're just being used as bait.”

“I know.” you ache to cradle his face in your hands, but then you realize that it maybe is a bit more intimate than you'd think. He looks dejected at you knowing the information, about the possibility that maybe your own father won't spare your life. Now or later, it's perhaps inevitable that he'd suspect you being not liable enough about his family business secrets, and he'd get a way out. To have you removed from his path.

“Why. . .?”

His expressions morph to one of despair, and his eyebrows furrow. He was so fucking confused that why'd he be so affected by something as common as that. He knows it's not something odd for patriarchal leaders killing members of their own families just for the sake of their business— he has seen a lot of them through the course of years. And what hit him in the chest was how casual you were about it— almost as if you were aware of your family’s intention all along.

He did not know why whatever he felt inside his chest for you was oddly soft, something he strictly banished himself to feel. He could not. He had no room for softness inside him. no fucking way. He tried ignoring it, but as days turned to weeks, he knew that he subconsciously broke his own rule.

“What why?” you tilt your head in confusion.

“Why are you so cool about it?”

“It is what it is.”

“You don't reali—”

“I fucking do. I fucking want you, Min Yoongi. I fucking want to stay with you. Please.” his eyes widen and you see his pupils shake and the gears inside his brain rotate.

“I do realize that you've never ever taken the responsibility of a person on your own shoulders. Your team is capable enough to take care of themselves, and you perhaps are thinking that I,” He sighs at your words, shaking his head and pressing his lips to a straight line in a grimace.

He's considering everything, not because of you or him, but for both of you. For the future.

Your thumb caressed the subtle hints of a stubble on his chin, no longer feeling the pull to stay quiet. Not when you've finally got the chance to be. “...that I possibly can't do that,”

“Even if you do, you must know that there's no going back. No looking bac—”

“No looking back, Yoongi. I got it.”

You bring forward your hands to cup his warm cheeks within your palms. His eyes widen and his mouth parts slightly, and you'd almost think it to be impossible for a dangerous, intimidating gangster like him to be so adorable. Your hands travel to his nape, where the silver jewelry rests, carefully running your fingers on the edgy metal patterns.

Your face falls at the silence and the stoic countenance you're met with.

The way his heart thumped inside his chest at your words was enough of an evidence to him, but he knew it could be just another dangerous game. He has never been with any woman he's kept hostage over the years— and he'd thought it wouldn't be his first time.

He wants to believe you— he wants to believe the honesty and innocence reflected in your eyes, but there's that part of his brain which has learnt the harder way. Yoongi knows that a single mistake and his whole group would be hustled to the blazes of the vermillion.

“Why are you doing this?” his eyes bore into your own, two pools of endless obsidian, threatening to shallow you in the mysterious depths of them.

His hand near your thigh caresses further your neglected heat, and you jolt at the sudden touch. His face inches closer to you, once again, so daringly close that once again you can make out how fierce his eyes seem right now. His warm breath falls on your now sweat dried skin near your cheeks, and there's a spike in your heartbeat.

He expects an answer, you know that he's not going to say that out loud, and the leather of his glove on the skin of your thigh feels rather soft. Your gulp down a mouthful of air, preparing to say something out loud which you haven't ever.

“It's because I. . . I want to live. I want to be set free.”

“Hnngh!!”

Some few moments ago, you were almost lured into thinking that you'll call it a night.

You felt like the gangster mode was switched off after your conversation, but he'd warned you that the conversation wasn't over yet. You'd breathed down a sigh of half relief and half wonder, pondering over how an act like. . .such, escalated to something you'd craved for. Embarrassment to confession.

But when his gloved pointer brushed the innermost skin of your thigh, your eyes widened as wide as saucers, looking up to him, who already had an open mouthed smirk painted on his face, almost as if he's amused.

“So how do you want me to fuck you?”

His crude words had a fresh wave of arousal pulsing out of you, and you'd gasped silently, accidentally batting your lashes at him. He'd groaned out loud, once again grabbing your face and pulling you close till his soft lips brushed over your own parted ones.

“Wasn’t that what you actually wanted, princess? Me to fuck you dumb?” you should've known that he indeed had a dirty mouth, but estimating how much it made your cunt throb and gush, you'd known that you didn't want him to stop. You'd moaned at his words, silently nodding furiously like a pathetic bitch.

“Did I or did I not tell you to speak when you're spoken to?” he'd growled right at your face, an arm snaking around your waist once again. His eyes had trailed down to your exposed breasts, and the hand on your waist had trailed closer to the swell of your boob. He'd licked his lips at the sight, but made no further move which had you squirming for his touch.

“Please Yoongi, please touch me. .”

A pleased smile had taken over his features at your pleas.

“Flashing these tits right on my face and then asking me nicely. Who am I to deny? Whatever princess wants, princess gets.”

And with that, he'd dipped down to your breasts, your back immediately arching up to his greedy mouth where he'd toyed with your hard nips till your breasts were spotted with blooming purple marks.

But right now, your throat already feels dry crying out his name repeatedly as you can only see the dark mass of raven hair peeking in between your thighs, tickling you over and over as his skilled mouth brings you closer and closer to a blinding climax.

Your eyes are glossy and your nipples hurt as how erect they are, but you cannot do anything about it. Your arms are restrained with the leather of Yoongi’s belt digging into your flesh, and the slight pain intensifies the sparks of pleasure traveling up your body from down your cunt.

You squirm with a muffled whine, eyes burning with tears at how many times your already sensitive cunt was brought closer to a teeth clashing orgasm, only to have it denied by him. He'd raise his head to look up at you, his lips shiny with spit and your arousal, absolutely smug about how his tongue alone has you fucked up completely. His gloved hands would stroke the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, gently bringing them closer to your sensitive clitoris.

His thumb would gently circle around the protective skin covering your nub and you'd muffle a needy moan, unable to speak because you'd riled him up so bad, he had to shove your panties down your mouth with a growl and a promise that when he's done with you, you won't be even able to hobble well.

Fuck, you were shameless to admit that him being in charge and asking you each time whether the belt hurt you, or did you really like that, made your pussy gush out more and more for him to devour it all up.

His tongue flicks right on the top of your clit, and your back arches like the nth time off the table at how light headed the pleasure is making you feel. You feel like combusting , but also, not quite yet with how his touches are intense but gentle. You're now on the edge to burst out to the sea of such a delicious torture of bliss— and you'd do anything for him to do it for you.

You grind your hips right on his face as his tongue laps down your arousal, sucking gently on your soaked folds as you feel your thighs shake with the little leeway he gives you. His nose nudges your clit and you shiver. His nose bumps against your flesh again, he's doing it exactly on purpose to have you writhing underneath him.

His face is flushed— hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and how dark his pupils are, you know that he's just as fucked as you are.

“This cunt is,” a lick to your soaked folds, the wet muscle nudging them open to dive in further, “fucking divine.” and he fucks his tongue right in, the vibration of his voice quivering through your body.

With a broken whine, you try to gyrate your hips to chase the immense euphoria he's bringing you, feeling your walls clench around his wet muscle. He fucks his tongue in a vicious manner, curling it up to touch the tips of your walls and fucking it back out; all whilst the plane of his nose rubs against your poor, tender clit with each commotion.

His tongue stills after he feels you grind against his face with a rough fervor and your velvety walls pulsate around his tongue. You whine at the loss of momentum, already having your peak being snatched away from you, once again.

His lips suck around your nether ones for a last, long caress and then parts away ; licking up his lips coated in your arousal and his spit, some of which dribbles down his chin. He's quick to collect them all using his fingers and hover over your figure; some of his dainty chains are long enough to brush over your bare clavicles, dangling over you.

His black shirt sticks to his body and you can almost figure out the planes of his body. It's completely unfair, you being completely naked and him being completely clothed. He seems to like the way you wiggle your hips underneath him, looking up at him with eyes you think you weren't capable of batting much.

Because he smirks at your fucked up, desparate expression and pushes away the long, sweaty strands of raven falling from his head to the side with his clean hands, and brings his soiled fingers to your lips.

“Taste yourself,” his voice has a rasp and you comply, opening up, only to have him push two of his fingers inside your warm cavern, having your panties dragged out. The material of the smooth leather with the viscous arousal wrapped around his slender fingers sits heavy on your tastebuds, and you immediately swirl your tongue to savor it more.

He groans, and immediately withdraws his fingers, now clean. His breathing is erratic as he leans down to steal a quick kiss from you, and you whine when you feel him pull away. He says nothing, but just whispers words of praise in your ears, mindful of your restraints. Your arms feel numb to move by the time he gently unbuckles the belt around your wrist, and he catches you off guard once again when he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue sneaking in between your gasps and tangling with yours.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest when he parts away from you, resting his forehead against yours.

“Gonna finger you now,” his voice is brisk with a pant at the end. His neck is flushed red, glistening with sweat with a slight pant. “Princess deserves the best of the night. Not just some fondling.”

Your face feels warm as you catch onto what he's referring to.

Once again, you find yourself laying down with a throb in your cunt, and him kneeling in between your spread legs to pepper soft kisses on the now dried, slightly damp thighs. When his tongue flickers on the sensitive skin, you jolt and struggle to get up on your elbows, because as much as you're enjoying this, it's a torture that he did not allow you to come at all.

Your cunt pulses and aches for him, but he seems to take his sweet time; softly passing his hands to stroke your flesh and mark them.

When a singular finger strokes the length of your soaked slit, your mouth falls open in a gasp. The leather of his gloves add to the friction as he drags his fingers in an up and down motion, spreading your arousal around. Yoongi is so keen on observing your cunt closely, and there's a desire inside you to tuck away the long, stray strand of his hair back. You're already inching your hand forward when his dark eyes snap up to yours, stopping you in your moments.

You don't even have the time to withdraw your hands when a pair of strong arms curl on the underside of your thighs and pull you forward, licking a stripe right above where his fingers are nested; and in no time you feel the plane of his tongue attacking your poor nub with kitten licks.

“God,” you gasp out loud, trashing your arms around to find any leverage as you fall flat on the table. Your fingers can only claw the edge of the table as his tongue passes over the slick of your skit with each lick, and the air is punched out of lungs the moment you feel two of his digits enter your slit with ease.

You feel his chuckle vibrate against you which goes straight to your clit. “No God will hear you out, doll.”

Fuck. Fuck. You can only arch your back in a broken moan of his name when you feel his fingers move inside of you, not yet thrusting, but curling up. It burns a bit, but the heady bliss is already making your head spin with the added slight pain. He raises his head up to see how fucked you already look, and he knows that all the edging has brought you so close already that he can feel your tight walls tighten impossibly tight around his fingers.

He feels his cock twitch in his pants, begging for attention when he notices your slick trickling down the material of his glove, right in between the joints of his fingers as he stays still.

“M-move, you can move..” the end of your sentence ends up in a whine as his fingers curl forward in full force, immediately finding the spongy area which has lights bursting behind your eyelids. He soons picks up the pace, his fingers thrusting in and out your cunt in a swift motion which has you gasping for his name.

The soft jagged edges of his glove brushes the walls of your pussy with each pump, and you've never ever felt so good during fingering without any clitoris stimulation. You'd tried that a few times, only to have you grumbling because of your much smaller digits and a need to have something more. And he's right there. Yoongi’s fingers, much thicker and longer than your own ones, feel delirious inside you.

“You’re so tight, princess,” Yoongi groans when he feels you tighten around him with each thrust, pushing you down to your impending orgasm with each pump, with each caress.

Your veins feel like they're on fire, your nipples aching to be touched, and so you do. Pulling them taut between your nimble fingers, your back bows off the table when Yoongi lunches down to close his pretty lips around your neglected clit. Oh fuck. . . ! That feels so fucking amazing, and you're sure you feel his fingers abuse that spot inside of you simultaneously, all while giving his attention to your burning flesh. You're so fucking close that you can taste your orgasm, and there's a slight rush thinking if he'd egde you this time too.

Your eyes shut close the moment his fingers go knuckles inside for a thrust and curls, and at once his lips suction around your clit, hard.

You're seeing Heaven.

You scream out when your orgasm washes over you, intensified with each you were denied off. Your back feels like it flew off the table as your orgasm dawn's down on you like an avalanche, sliding off all around your body in red hot euphoria as Yoongi’s speedy ministrations don't cease. You miss how audibly he moans out loud when a particular thrust inside your cunt has a gush of clear liquid squirting out, his mouth never leaving your now fully erect clit.

His tongue swirls around and sucks, while his fingers stroke the spot inside you. And this time when your hips gyrate up in full force to his face and he hears another scream of his name and a choking resistance to his fingers inside you, he knows that he's fulfilled his goal.

Your orgasm seems to hit you over and over, and over. Your abdominal muscles are dense by the time you feel yourself twitch with the aftershocks of your release, and dear fucking god. You've never come this hard in your life before, and you do know that the man between your legs is the reason.

You hoist yourself up to yourself up to your elbows to look at him who's half hovering over you, but oh god.

He's drenched.

His lower face glistens with moisture and his t-shirt looks like someone just shot him with a water gun, the damp material forming quite a big wet spot right below his collar. He's wide eyed, smirking with a breathy laugh which makes you want to curl up. Fucking hell. No wonder why your orgasm felt so blinding, and you can still feel his warm hands on your thighs, gently stroking your thighs with soft passes.

Oh god, you just squirted.

Yoongi made you squirt. Was that way too much? You don't even know! But for Yoongi, he's smiling as everything to him is riveting, of course.

You're about to hide your face in your palms when Yoongi stops you. His gloves felt damp on your skin, and when you peel your eyes open, he's so dangerously close. So close which makes your head spin and heart race, once again.

“That’s what a real orgasm is, princess. Don't be ashamed.” He helps you get up the table, your legs feeling like fresh pudding and thighs burning. He can only snort in amusement, when you pout at him. What's so funny?

“It was hot as fuck.”

“What?” face warm, you try to cover yourself to which Yoongi lazily raises a brow. He just points a finger to your parted legs. He. . .!

“You. Squirting. It was hot as fuck. Plus the screams were like cherry on the top,” he shrugs, almost as if he didn't fucking wreck you with just his skilled tongue and fingers. Your face burns up at how casually he says that, and before you can think, you blurt out, “You think so?”

“Mm.”

It's your turn to raise a brow. You don't feel scared of him anymore, not even when the post nut clarity is hitting you. You know what you two did, and there's no going back. You feel rather at ease with how he holds one of your palms and slings an arm around your waist to haul you down the table, and you know that this is your chance.

You drop down to your knees.

And now it's him who's wide eyed. His clothed erection stands right in front of your face, almost as if struggling to get out of the hard confines of his jeans. The dent looks promising in size, and you nearly poke out your tongue to give it a lick, but you refrain. You hear him inhale a sharp breath, his hand already coming down to your shoulder to hoist you up, but you swat his hands away.

“What. . .what are you doing?” his voice comes out in a slightly surprised tone, the rasp of it already making you impatient. How could he not pay attention to himself when he's himself so fucking hard? Your hands slowly grab his meaty thighs over his denims which tense under your touch. You lick your lips, purposefully batting your eyelashes when you peer up at him, trying to look as small as you can.

Trying to make him as good as he made you feel, but you doubt your inexperienced ass could do that.

“Can’t you see? Returning your favor.”

He looks torn. The crease in between his eyebrows tell that he's hesitant for this, and he doesn't like that bratty tone you'd just used. But the parted lips imparting short breaths tell otherwise. His reply comes rather quickly, “You don't have to.”

You were sure to be hallucinating, but you could see a small twitch to his length, and you immediately felt your nether gates flooding. Oh god. You must return the favour, then.

“I want to, Yoongi, would you let me, please?”

Completely naked, batting eyelashes, pretty face and tempting view of boobs. Nimble fingers tracing the pathway of his thighs, dangerously close to his aching cock. He did want you, but. . . fuck. . ! And not to deny the image he gets of you kneeling down in front of him, your toes facing outwards and ass purposefully wiggling out, Yoongi knows he's about to bust a nut. And that too, very soon.

Who the fuck is he to deny, then.

“Since you begged for it,” his hands reach to tuck a stray hair out of your beautiful face, feeling his abdominal muscles clench when your fingers brush against his length, he smiles with a shaky exhale.

“Go ahead and take what's yours.”

a/n : soo~ what do we think? 🤒

—|→ if you enjoyed reading, don't forget to drop a reblog and/or a feedback if you'd like to~ it helps a lot with reach and motivation! <33

—|→ or iff not, don't forget to drop by my askbox through anonymous asks :D

[bitchimasnake-sss]

im sorry for this one guys (may god help me repent for my sins)

stepbro! luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader

in which you'e living out a fucked-up fantasy

warnings: very taboo subject, porn without plot, please dont read if uncomfortable!!!, the guys are lowkey toxic (sorry again), penetration, doin' it raw (use protection plz), oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), derogatory, literally uses porn logic im sorry; MDNI (this is for the best i promise)

luffy:

"lu-luffy" the gasp turns into a choked moan as the man in front of you drills into you harder, his fingers digging into your cheek absentmindedly. his words are a whisper, as if he gives two shits about getting caught. liar, if he cared about getting caught fucking you, he wouldn't have walked into your room at 2 in the morning when your parents are one room down the hall, and practically kissed you till you were pulling his pants down and begging him to fuck you. "what's wrong?" he pants, laughing out a bit. almost mocking you, "gon' cum on my dick again, yn? am i doing that good huh?" your words are an incohorent jamble, just a rough selection of pretty moans, groans and broken cries of his pretty name. "j-just like that. ngh, fuck. fuckin' take it" he thrusts, his cock stretching your cunt as he slams hard against you again and again. your eyes are closing fast, teeth sinking down on your bottom lip as you feel your body convulse, being flooded by the oncoming orgasm. "eyes on me" he flashes you a cocky delirious smile as his cock buries deeper within your cunt, filling every inch of your pussy with himself. and then he's moving faster, more erratically as if he's losing sanity by the second. "please, yn. please, please, pl-ease" he mumbles, "let me cum— inside."

zoro:

all of your concerns of your parents walking into the living room in the middle of the night and seeing you and your older step-brother tangled together had flew out the second you felt him against your cunt.

and then, with another particularly harsh kiss against the bundle on nerves, you came. thighs shaking, eyes closed and back arching off his mattress. you came hard.

your hands pulled at the familiar green locks, tugging and tugging as you feel kitten licks against your overstimulated clit. his tongue played with your core with practiced ease; going up and down, sideways and in circles till your hips were bucking up wildly and your hand was pushing him down harder against your cunt. "zo-zoro, zoro fuck, imsofuc- fucking close" as if on cue, his actions became harsher. he alternated cruelly between sucking and softly kissing. one moment being merciful before torturing your ravaged cunt. his hums and moans against your cunt deepened the coil in your stomach till it was all you can feel— in your blood-stream, against your skin, in the back of your skull.

all you knew and felt was roronoa zoro.

sanji:

but his tongue was still lapping up against your folds, unyielding. stroking the nub up and down, tongue slipping into your leaking entrance swiftly, humming as you squirm and force his face away.

your fingers were pulling deftly against his scalp, tugging till it pained him enough to stop. but instead, as retaliation, he curled his biceps against your thigh, burying his face harder against your aching cunt. "zo-zoro, no please please, no" you whined, arching into his touch as he continued his assault against your core, "it's too sen-sitive, please." his head lifted for just a moment, lips drenched in your essence and a cocky grin plastered onto every inch of his face. his bottom lip jut out, "aww too much?" you nod frantically and he smirked, a self satisfying smile of some sorts.

"too bad im having the time of my life." one of his arms reached upwards, putting two fingers in your mouth, "how bout you shut up and take it?"

"yn, love" he whines when your hands skim over his pants for the millionth time this evening, "we're supposed to do laundry, quit teasin'." you were supposed to be doing laundry and he was supposed to be helping you out. but somehow, cramped inside that small room, behind those closed doors your lips had come to ghost over his and his hands fleetingly touched your waist. "what?" you giggled, teasing him through his sweats again, "i thought i could repay you for the favor last night." "really?" he corks up an eyebrow, his fingers finding peace against your cheeks, "get down on your knees then" "but what if your mom walked in-" "as if a whore like you fucking cares. knees, now." you flashed him a light smile, getting down till you were face to face with his erection. your fingers swiftly pulled his sweats down and you looked up at him doe-eyed when his cock hit against your lips with a salty, lingering taste. his large palm against the back of your head guided you till you were taking in his dick, sucking intently on every inch. "fuck, darlin', just like that. yn fuu-fuck", he moaned as you swirled your tongue on his tip, then tracing over the light vein imprints. when he bucked his hips into your mouth harder and pushed you in deeper, you hummed against him, choking at the sudden intrusion. continuing your movements till you felt your jaw go slack, you heard his ragged breathing before he whispered a faint, "fuck i'm gunna cum, sh-shit" with a bit of his essence dripping off your chin, you look up at your step-brother. his gaze intertwined with lust, he gives you a smirk, "good fuckin' girl"

a/n: supposed to be on hiatus but who cares at this point, hope you like it

[vin-taege]

Can I request a chishiya fluff? can you do reader taking caring of sick chishiya? we see chishiya taking care of reader but never a reader taking care of chishiya so i wanted to see! Thank you if you do!!

Stubborn

Summary: Who knew the worst patient on earth would be a doctor? Alternatively, the one where Chishiya is being stubborn and whiny because he ALLEGEDLY never gets sick.

Genre: fluff, normal!au, slight ooc chishiya

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 1k

“___… ___… where’s my briefcase?”

You could hear him groaning from your room, undoubtedly prying himself up on the dresser again in the attempt to prove that he is totally not sick. With a fond sigh, you set the hot soup down on the tray, which also had a cup of warm tea and migraine medication.

Maneuvering past your boyfriend’s hunched-over form, you set the tray down on the bedside table before walking over to him and lightly taking his hands into yours. His polo shirt was buttoned asymmetrically, his hair tangled and tied into a messy bun. His eyes were half-closed from the headache and he sniffled every few seconds, but he was trying his best to stand up straight and look normal. Before you could open your mouth, he cut you off.

“I’m not sick. I never get sick.” His voice came out small and groggy, like shrapnel shredded his throat.

“Yes honey, sure you don’t,” you gave him a patient smile. Begrudgingly, he followed you back to the bed, never once letting go of your hand. You tucked him back in, suppressing a chuckle upon seeing a permanent grimace on his face, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “I need you to finish the soup so your stomach is full enough for the meds.”

“I know that. I’m a doctor, ___, for fuck’s sake. I’m not sick,” he rolled his eyes, turning his face away from the spoon you held up. Hesitantly, his eyes darted back to meet yours. Upon seeing the pout on your face, he let out a long sigh, followed by a painful groan. He held his head in his hands, leaning over before he fully fell back into the headboard. “You hid my briefcase, I know you did.”

“Chishiya, I didn’t do anything to your briefcase. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling you to rest and drink your medicine,” you punctured the sentence with a light jab of the spoon.

He huffed before finally accepting your offer. “There is no god.”

“But there is a flu and right now your head sounds like it’s about to pop off. Don’t get all philosophical with me, doctor. If you be any more difficult, I’ll have to strap you to this bed,” you teased half-heartedly.

In all honesty, you were worried. Chishiya was right in saying that he never gets sick—which is exactly why it’s such a big deal when he does. When his immune system finally crashes down because of all the late nights and missed meals, it fully implodes. You were well aware of his tendency to be cocky and stubborn—though never towards you—but being sick definitely amplifies it. Why else would he be in an unpressed polo shirt looking for a briefcase all the while his skull felt like it was getting jackhammered?

Halfway through the bowl, you set the spoon down and pressed the back of your hand on his forehead. You gently swiped at the beads of sweat, frowning at how hot his skin had become. He had his eyes fully shut, barely containing a whimper.

“___, I’m dying.”

A laugh escaped your lips before you knew it. He opened his eyes slightly only to squint at you. “You’re laughing. I feel like I’m dying and you’re laughing.”

“You are not dying. You’re in the care of Dr. ___!”

“Which is exactly why I’m dying.”

“Hey!” you squeezed his arm lightly. To your relief, he was well enough to let out a small laugh. After that, he thankfully allowed you to keep feeding him without much resistance. When he finished all the soup, you gave his cheek a small poke.

“You’re starting to become the patients you hate the most,” you teased.

“I was born into the world to annoy you, actually,” he grinned, peering up at you with his honeyed eyes.

“You’re thankful you have a smart mouth and a cute ass,” you stuck your tongue out at him. Picking up the meds, you showed him the label to get his confirmation—which he gave to you with a worldless nod, his lips turning into a smirk.

“You love my mouth.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Your own cheeks burned, bringing a hand up to smack his arm lightly. He groaned again, this time more exaggeratedly. “That’s medical malpractice!”

“I’ll cheer you up once I get the sponge bath running,” you purr into his ear. His eyes lit up despite the pain in his head.

“Will you actually—”

“No, you’re sick. I’ll give you a special treat once you get better and only if you’ll be a nice patient for me.” You pressed the pill into his lips, letting it slip inside his mouth gently. Taking the glass of water, you carefully tilted it towards him and waited for him to finish drinking.

“Yes ma’am,” he beamed. You mirrored his smile, pressing a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He covered it with his own, fingers automatically weaving with yours. 

“Rest, okay? I mean it. Go take a nap and I’ll wake you up when the bath’s ready” You leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. Feigning innocence, he turned his cheek towards you as well. With a playful eye roll, you pressed a kiss against it as well.

He rolled over, burying his head in the pillows and duvet. “I love you,” he murmured into the sheets. You almost didn’t catch it on the way to the bathroom.

“I love you too,” you called out to him. You opened the cabinet under the sink first before taking out his suitcase. Snickering to yourself a little, you tucked it back in. Right now, your main focus was to get the water temperature right. Beyond the water running, you could hear Chishiya’s snoring muffled by the duvet. Who knew he could be so dramatic?

[loveinhawkins]

The squeak of Dustin’s sneakers fades away as he heads back to the hospital parking lot, where his mom’s waiting for him.

Eddie watches the door to his room swing shut—the movement as boisterous as Dustin’s entrance had been; for the whole visit, he’d acted almost as if nothing had ever happened.

“You know,” he says once the door’s fully closed, “I kinda thought he hated me.”

He tries to make it come out like a joke—maybe then, it won’t hurt quite as much. He should’ve known that Steve would see straight through it.

“That’s not fair,” Steve says quietly, from where he sits in the corner of the room—arms folded, eyes sharp.

The silence feels damning. Eddie doesn’t dare break it: just sits there and lets it sting.

But then—

“That’s not fair,” Steve repeats, a little softer, “to him or to you.”

Eddie can’t look him in the eye. If he does, he’s going to say something that’s true but hurtful nonetheless—and God knows, he’s done more than enough damage already.

Steve sighs. Eddie can’t work out how to read him.

Maybe if he just keeps staring at the clock on the wall, Steve will give up and leave, and Eddie can keep it together until he knows that he’s alone.

“When are you going to stop?” Steve says and, damn it, Eddie’s resolve breaks in an instant; his head turns, but now Steve’s the one who’s not looking, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like he’s trying to memorise it.

(Fourteen hairline cracks on the tiles. Eddie’s counted.)

“Stop what, Steve?” Eddie says shortly. Maybe this will work instead: if he manages to hold that awful, flat tone for long enough—

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself?” Steve says. His eyes flicker across the ceiling tiles.

Eddie swallows. Forces out, hoarse, “That’s not—”

“Not what?” Steve interrupts. “Not what you’re doing?” He shakes his head a little, and his voice lowers. “You’re acting like they’re right.”

Eddie grits his teeth; he asks even though he already knows. “Like who—”

“You do know you didn’t kill anyone, right?” Steve says bluntly.

For a horrible moment, Eddie can’t breathe. “I—yes,” he says; it’s wrenched out of him like an involuntary reflex, the thought playing in his head over and over at the boathouse, then at Skull Rock—I didn’t do it, I didn’t, please, please—until it sounded less and less like the truth, and more like desperation.

“Then what?” Steve says. His head tilts down—he looks right at Eddie, eyes blazing like a challenge. “What is it? What is so fucking terrible, Eddie, that you’d—”

“What d’you want me to say, man?” Eddie says, exhausted. “I—I hurt—”

His voice cracks; he can’t get through it, can only think about what he wasn’t meant to have seen: a nurse opening his door too wide, and in that split second, catching a glimpse of Dustin frozen in the hallway, Steve crouched down in front of him, speaking too softly to hear; how Dustin’s shoulders shook; you did this, you—

“You don’t think I wish I could take it back?” Steve says.

The words pull Eddie right out of his head. Cautiously, he asks, “What?”

“Because I would,” Steve continues, like Eddie hasn’t said anything. “I’d take it back in a second.” There’s a harsh scraping sound: the chair legs dragging against the floor as Steve stands, like he suddenly can’t bear being still. “I think about it every day. If I hadn’t—” He stops abruptly, like the words have got stuck somewhere painful. His jaw works once, twice. “If I hadn’t left you to—”

“Don’t,” Eddie gets out, pleading. His hand twitches on the bedsheets uselessly; he’s too far away to…

In so many ways, he wishes he was stronger.

“Steve, you—you can’t do that to your—”

“Right,” Steve cuts across with a humourless laugh, “yeah, exactly,” and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s walked right into a trap without realising. “So you don’t get to, either.”

”Steve—”

“No! No, I’m not gonna just watch you fucking hate yourself for—for what? For being scared? For doing the best you could to—” Steve shakes his head again. “Dustin, he—he knows you were… I would’ve done the same thing.”

Eddie can hardly argue the point. He can hear from the strain in Steve’s voice just how much he means it.

And then Steve scoffs slightly, glancing up at the ceiling again—a fragile smile, like it’s only there to keep himself from crying.

“There’s—there’s so much—God.” He drags a hand down his face. “So much blame, Eddie. All the time.” He gets that awful, distant look to his eyes, the one that reminds Eddie that he was thrown into a story in its last horrific chapter; there are things he doesn’t know, but when Steve looks at him, he can feel an echo of the pain in his chest. “And I’m so sick of it.”

“I’m—”

But Steve interrupts before Eddie can voice it: a weak laugh then, “Jesus Christ, haven’t you been listening? Don’t apologise. It’s enough that—that you’re alive.” Steve swallows, steps back. Jerks his head to the door, “Dustin—he’ll be okay, I swear, just give it time. Before you—it kinda, uh. It was awful?” His voice goes up, but not in question, not really: more like he’s the one trying to joke around it, now—because anything else is too much.

It’s another story Eddie isn’t privy to. But he can read it in the way Steve’s eyes trace the ceiling. In soft words exchanged just before a hospital room.

The guilt doesn’t fade, not yet. But its grip eases around his heart. Makes room for…

“Hey,” Steve says shakily, like he’s crying, too. “Eddie, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Hands are on Eddie’s face, and maybe it should be overwhelming—but all Eddie can feel is something like forgiveness.

“It’s enough,” Steve whispers. “Eddie, I promise you. Please. Please let it be enough.”

Eddie can’t speak. But he gathers Steve’s shirt in his fist; and you, he means, and you.

And maybe Steve hears it, because he sighs like he’s finally let go of something—like he, too, has been cleansed.