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childrenofcain-if · 2 days ago

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After knowing that C and MC were in the same high school, I'm rooting even more for them. I'm also guessing C's confusing feelings for us in their route is them liking us since school? That's so freaking cute 🥰🥺

Can I ask for a scenario where they have a group project with other people and one of them gets very flirty with MC? Will C let that slide, I wonder 🫤

the diner sat on the corner of a street that tried its hardest to look charming but failed, the neon sign buzzing faintly against the rain-streaked window.

it was one of those places that seemed plucked from a movie set: vinyl booths, chrome napkin dispensers, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked since the last century. the smell of grease hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixing with the faint sweetness of syrup from the breakfast specials they served all day.

you sat in the booth, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook, watching the door with mild dread. when C walked in, you knew the meeting was about to get infinitely more complicated.

C spotted you immediately, their sharp chalcedony green eyes narrowing like they’d been assigned a particularly irritating math problem. they weren’t dressed for the rain, but their aldervale prep blazer was immaculate, not a drop of water on it, as though the universe had conspired to shield them from the rain outside. although, you guessed it was most probably because of the black umbrella that they were carrying.

C slid into the booth across from you without a word, placing a pristine leather notebook on the table. their pen—silver, of course—clicked once. twice. a quick rhythm that made your teeth itch.

“you’re late,” you said.

“i’m exactly on time,” C replied, their voice clipped like the word ‘time’ had too many syllables and they were doing you a favor by saying it quickly.

your two other group members—darcy and lowe—arrived moments later, looking both nervous and excited, as though they’d stumbled into the VIP lounge of a club they didn’t belong to.

darcy, her backpack practically bursting with highlighters, was vibrating with energy. lowe looked more like they’d been dragged here against their will, though their eyes lit up when they spotted the milkshake menu.

you exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and got down to business.

the topic was seattle, your city, and you were supposed to collectively dissect and analyze for the sake of some interdisciplinary project that combined geography, economics, and, for reasons you still didn’t understand, poetry.

“seattle,” you began, flipping open your notebook, “has many layers to it. you have the tech billionaires building spaceships on one side and grunge bands writing songs about the end of the world on the other. i think we should focus on how those contradictions make it unique.”

“that’s pretty reductive,” C cut in, not bothering to look up from their notebook. “seattle’s economy is primarily driven by tech, aviation, and trade. if we’re going to present a meaningful analysis, we should focus on its economic impact on washington state as a whole.”

darcy and lowe exchanged nervous glances. you clenched your jaw.

“not everything has to be about numbers, lacroix,” you said. “people care about stories, not spreadsheets. we can talk about the economy, sure, but we should start with what makes the city feel alive. the art, the culture—”

“and completely ignore the practical context?” C’s gaze lifted then, their expression somewhere between exasperation and boredom. “that’s like writing about a chess game and leaving out the strategy. completely pointless.”

“it’s not exactly pointless if it makes people care,” you shot back.

the argument spiraled from there, gaining momentum like a runaway train. darcy and lowe sat frozen, their eyes darting between you like spectators at a particularly intense boxing match.

“maybe we should, uh, toss a coin?” darcy offered weakly, her voice barely audible over your bickering.

C smirked, pulling a coin from their pocket as though they’d been waiting for this moment to occur this whole time. you selected tails and they flipped it, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of their hand.

“heads,” they announced, triumphant.

you groaned. “of course.”

“don’t be a sore loser, starkid,” C said, their tone practically dripping with smugness. “we’ll just have to do it my way this time.”

“fine,” you muttered, slumping back against the booth.

the tension eased slightly as the waitress arrived with your food—burgers, fries, and milkshakes that lowe declared were ‘the best in the neighbourhood’ despite never having tried any others.

you talked about school, about the upcoming math test and the cafeteria food which had reduced in quality after some new kitchen staff got employed. darcy was surprisingly funny, and lowe had a good bank of knowledge on obscure sports trivia.

C, however, remained quiet. they ate slowly, like each bite was a boring task to be completed. their posture was rigid, their eyes rarely leaving their plate.

it wasn’t until the conversation turned to favorite places in washington that you noticed something shift. darcy was talking about summers spent hiking in olympic national park, her voice full of nostalgia. lowe mentioned a family road trip to mount rainier.

“so, lacroix,” you said, turning towards the grumpy brunette. “penny for your thoughts?”

they blinked, clearly startled that you’d addressed them directly. “i... i’ve never been to any of those places.”

the table fell silent. even darcy looked surprised.

“seriously?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

they shrugged, their gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the water glass. “i haven’t lived in washington as long as you all have. besides, i’m not exactly the adventurous type. i just… don’t see the point of, you know, wandering around aimlessly. it’s not like the city’s going anywhere.”

darcy, being the idealist she was, tried to lift the mood. “well, maybe you should visit some of those places one day! olympic’s amazing—especially the hoh rainforest.”

C didn’t respond. they just nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line.

for a moment, you felt something almost like sympathy. C, the untouchable perfectionist, didn’t seem know how to belong in places like this—in diners that smelled like burnt coffee, in conversations that meandered without purpose. they were as out of place here as a chessboard at a football game.

you then frowned, something tugging at the edges of your chest. you remembered hearing something once—maybe in passing, maybe during some rare moment of C opening up in class—that their parents had divorced when they were ten. that they’d moved to seattle from rochester, new york, with their mother, who worked long hours and didn’t have time for much else.

you didn’t know why you said it. maybe it was the way their voice had dipped, the way their composure seemed dulled. but the words came anyway. “maybe we could all go somewhere. for the project, i mean.”

C’s head snapped up, their green eyes narrowing like they were trying to decipher a riddle. for a moment, you thought they were going to say something cruel—an insult that’d have you getting angry again. but then their gaze softened, just a fraction.

“why?” they asked, the word almost inaudible.

you shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “i don’t know. it might help. plus, you can’t live like a hermit forever while you’re at washington.”

they stared at you for what felt like a long time, their expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, they nodded. wordlessly, awkwardly.

you thought you saw something flicker across their face then—something like a smile, small and fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came.

for the rest of the meeting, C avoided your gaze. and as you all filed out of the diner, the rain starting up again in soft patters against the window, you found yourself wondering why you’d even offered.

but the truth was, you already knew. sometimes, your heart reached out before your brain could catch up. and for reasons you didn’t fully understand at the moment, it had reached for them.

the day began under a gauzy layer of mist that hung low over seattle. the clouds seemed reluctant to rise and the air carried a faint, damp chill.

lowe’s BMW 5 smelled faintly of peppermint gum and an air freshener that promised ‘ocean breeze’ but delivered something closer to what you’d find at a more eccentric section of bath & body works.

you sat on the passenger seat, your elbow resting against the door, the window cracked open to let in the air. darcy and C were in the backseat, the former preoccupied with her camera, snapping pictures of the dashboard, the sky, and the brunette beside her, who looked like they were already regretting agreeing to this trip.

the car wove its way through the city, past coffee shops with hand-painted signs and streets lined with rain-slicked trees.

lowe, ever the conversationalist, started talking about the destination—a landmark tucked away in one of seattle’s greener corners. but at some point, the conversation shifted, becoming less about the destination and more about you.

“y’know,” lowe said, their voice taking on a teasing lilt as they glanced at you, “i’m really happy we’re doing this. i was always curious about how it’d be to hang out with you outside of school”

you blinked, caught off guard. “um, thanks? that’s nice of you to say.” you gave them a polite smile, the kind you might offer a friendly cashier.

C, sitting stiffly in the backseat, was less amused. they had been glaring at the back of lowe’s head for the past ten minutes, their jaw tight, their arms crossed. every tap of lowe’s fingers, every casual joke, seemed to grate on them like nails on a chalkboard.

darcy, oblivious, was busy snapping pictures with her camera, capturing the rain-slick streets and the way the trees blurred as the car sped past. she hummed under her breath, the shutter clicking steadily, her energy so light and cheerful it was almost its own soundtrack.

finally, C, who had been silent up until now, shifted in their seat with a sharp huff.

“lowe,” they spoke up, their tone clipped, “maybe focus on the road instead of hitting on that idiot right in front of us.”

you squawked in indignation at being called an ‘idiot,’ not exactly getting what else they were implying.

meanwhile, lowe startled, their hands tightening on the steering wheel. “what? i wasn’t—” they caught C’s glare in the rearview mirror and quickly relented. “right. sorry. road. eyes on the road.”

you glanced back at C, confused by the sudden shift in the mood. their jaw was tight, their arms crossed over their chest, and they avoided your gaze entirely. you thought about asking what their problem was but decided against it. the day was too early, and you didn’t want to start bickering already.

the destination turned out to be kerry park. you stepped out of the car and stretched, looking around with a grin. your group followed suit and, after taking your backpacks, trudged up the steep streets of queen anne.

the park was small, unassuming—just a sliver of land carved into the hill, a place where the city stretched out beneath you like a quilt stitched together by architects, lovers of symmetry, and disarray alike.

from here, seattle wasn’t a city so much as a panorama, framed by the wide arms of the sound and the occasional, fleeting glimpses of mount rainier, pale and insubstantial like the ghost of a mountain in the distance.

the rain hadn’t yet started, though the air smelled of wet concrete and petrichor, gave you an indication that it wouldn’t hold off for long.

darcy had already pulled her camera out, its strap slung around her neck as she wandered a few feet ahead, her voice rising and falling as she described the perfect angles for her shots. lowe was by your side, gesturing dramatically at the view as if they were a tour guide instead of a co-conspirator.

C, who had followed at a distance and was now leaning against a nearby rail, their arms crossed and their face set in a scowl.

“lacroix,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light, inviting. “you should come and look around with us. it’s cool.”

they raised an eyebrow, their expression unimpressed. “thrilling, i’m sure.”

lowe shot them a weird look but said nothing, their attention soon snapping to follow darcy on her photoshoots.

you turned fully to face C. “you don’t have to be so grumpy, you know.”

“i’m not grumpy,” they snapped grumpily.

you sighed, letting it go for now. instead, you wandered over to the railing where they stood, resting your elbows on the cool metal as you gazed out at the view.

“this place means a lot to me,” you began, glancing at C. they didn’t respond, but they didn’t walk away either, so you took that as permission to continue.

“when i was little, my dad used to bring me here. we’d spend hours looking at the birds. he had this old, beat-up field guide he carried everywhere. i still remember the smell of it—old paper and leather. he’d flip through it so fast, trying to identify every bird we saw. i think he liked the challenge of it.”

C’s features softened, almost imperceptibly, as they listened.

“there was this one time,” you said, your voice growing warm with the memory, “we saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees. it was so close, you could see the feathers on its chest ruffling in the wind. my dad was so excited, he nearly dropped his binoculars in a muddy puddle.”

you laughed. C smiled. it was not their usual arrogant smirk, but something too genuine to be described without it being an understatement.

even darcy noticed as she was snapping pictures of passers-by under the railing where you and C were leaning against.

from behind her camera, she whispered, “i think i just saw a miracle,” before snapping a picture.

in the photo, you were looking up at the sky, your face alight with wonder. and beside you, C was looking at you—not the sky, not the birds, but you. their expression was so unguarded, so tender, it made darcy pause, her finger hovering over the shutter button.

“and it’s not just the view or the birds,” you continued, your voice picking up momentum as you spoke. “there’s this whole history to it. did you know the park was named after albert sperry kerry? he was this big real estate guy in the early 1900s. probably bulldozed a lot of land to make a fortune. but this place? this tiny slice of the city? he gave it back. said he wanted people to have a place to breathe, to see things differently.”

you glanced over at C, expecting the usual sardonic remark, but they were watching you with an expression you didn’t expect—soft, almost eager, like they could never get tired of you talking about things like these.

“i guess i just like thinking about that,” you said, your voice trailing off as you turned back to the horizon. “how even someone who takes and takes can give something so beautiful.”

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, C said, “you really are a nerd, aren’t you?”

you laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, and while you didn’t have C laughing alongside you, you had a distinct feeling that they were too distracted by a certain someone to do so.

lunch was a quiet affair. you all sat on a damp wooden bench overlooking the trees. you plopped down beside C without a second thought, your shoulder brushing theirs as you unwrapped your sandwich.

C stiffened, their gaze flicking to you in surprise.

“you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, already halfway through your first bite.

they shook their head, though they looked puzzled, as if trying to understand why you’d willingly sit next to them when lowe was right there, still buzzing with laughter after a joke darcy shared with them.

“thanks for listening to me earlier,” you said softly.

C cleared their throat, their voice rough when they replied, “no problem.”

you still gave them a smile despite their (apparent) surly mood before turning back to your sandwich.

C looked down at their own food, their expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of pink dusting the tip of their ears.

maybe, C concluded, the whole practical aspects of the project could take a backseat for now. it seemed like they didn’t mind focusing on the people of the city after all—or maybe it was just this infuriatingly intelligent seattle native that they couldn’t stop smiling for.

you wondered if the extreme makeover crew ever came to take darcy’s house as an inspiration for a lot of their renovations. it was a gleaming two-storey in a neighborhood where the lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and the houses all had names like “birchwood” or “côte d’azur.”

her parents were insanely successful real estate agents and it showed in every detail, from the perfectly symmetrical hydrangeas flanking the front door to the wrought-iron chandelier hanging in the entryway.

her room was a microcosm of the house itself: spacious and spotless. honestly, it made you want to take your shoes off just to avoid dirtying the carpet.

the walls were painted a muted teal, lined with shelves holding an army of books and a smattering of knick-knacks from trips abroad. there was a citrus-like scent around, and her plush white comforter made her bed look like a stratocumulus cloud.

you all sat cross-legged on her floor, laptops and papers spread out in a semi-circle as you planned out your presentation. ‘soren’ by beabadoobee was playing from darcy’s bluetooth speaker and the conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter—mostly lowe’s loud, carefree chuckles and darcy’s softer, chiming giggles.

C, true to form, sat slightly apart, their long legs folded under them, their expression guarded but not unkind. they were listening more than talking, as always, their gaze darting between everyone like they were trying to keep up without wanting to look too interested.

“okay, but what if we start with the history of seattle, like the gold rush and all that, and then connect it to how the city evolved into this tech hub?” you suggested, glancing at C for approval.

the green-eyed brunette nodded once, their expression unreadable. “that works. it gives us a narrative to build on.”

lowe sidled up to you with an encouraging smile. “you’re always full of good ideas. i swear we’re going to ace this project at this rate.”

you laughed lightly, not catching the undertone. “it’s a group effort, lowe.”

“yeah, lowe,” darcy said, rolling her eyes in an annoyed manner from her spot near the window. “you’re really laying it on thick.”

you tried to smile it off but you couldn’t help but notice that she seemed almost... angry at lowe about something. the latter, on the other hand, was not meeting her eyes at all.

as if that wasn’t weird enough, you caught C stiffening out of the corner of your eye, their fingers tightening around their pen.

the awkwardness simmered quietly for a while, manifesting only in the way C’s responses grew shorter, their gaze darting less toward the group and more toward the window, where the rain streaked against the glass.

it wasn’t until lowe leaned closer to you, their voice dropping just enough to feel pointed, that the tension finally broke. “y’know, if you ever want to grab coffee or something after all this, i know a great place near pike place. it’s got this cozy corner that’d be perfect for—”

“i’m getting some water,” C announced abruptly, standing so quickly their chair scraped loudly against the floor.

the room fell silent for a beat as C walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hall. darcy glanced at you, then at lowe, and then back at you.

“you should go talk to them,” she said softly.

“what?” you asked, surprised.

“just... go,” she urged, nodding toward the door. “i think they need to hear from you.”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between the door and the others. but there was something in the way darcy looked at you, a quiet insistence that made you realise the urgency she was feeling. besides, with the way she turned her attention to lowe with a scathing glare, you did not want to get in between whatever they had going on.

so you stood, mumbling something about being right back, and headed for the kitchen.

you found C by the sink, their back to you, their hands braced against the counter. the faucet was running, though the glass they were holding was still empty.

“hey,” you said tentatively, stepping into the room.

they didn’t turn around. “what do you want?”

“i just... wanted to check on you,” you said, your voice faltering. “you looked kind of... i don’t know, upset?”

C finally turned, their chalcedony green gaze indecipherable and cagey. “i’m fine. you can go back to lowe now. you two were having such a great time.”

their tone was harsh, and it made you blink in surprise.

��what are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

C rolled their eyes, the motion exaggerated, almost theatrical. “don’t play dumb. it was obvious you two were flirting.”

you sighed, caught between disbelief and frustration. “we weren’t flirting. that’s probably just how lowe is. they were just being friendly.”

C let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound more of a bark. “you’re an absolute dunderhead if you believe that. lowe wasn’t just flirting for fun—they meant it.”

you felt heat rising to your face, your irritation bubbling over. “okay, first of all, stop insulting me. and second, would you please stop ruining everything with your assumptions.”

C flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause. their voice dropped, colder now. “maybe i should’ve asked the teacher to switch groups. if my presence bothers you that much—”

“maybe you should have,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “then maybe we wouldn’t have to deal with you being a burden all the time.”

for a moment, the kitchen was deathly silent except for the faint patter of rain against the window. C’s face twisted, not with anger but with something closer to hurt, and you immediately regretted what you’d said.

“okay,” they said quietly, their voice flat. “i’ll let myself out then.”

before you could say anything, before you could take it back, they were already walking up to the front door and reaching for their umbrella, their movements mechanical as they stepped toward the door. the rain outside had picked up, a relentless downpour that blurred the edges of the world.

you wanted to say something, to fix the fracture you’d caused, but the words wouldn’t come out on time.

C stepped into the rain without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them. you stood frozen, the echo of their retreating footsteps mingling with the sound of the storm.

your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides as you stared at the front door. you wanted to curse. to rewind the last five minutes and unsay every single word.

you ran a hand through your hair, muttering something unintelligible under your breath as you paced. your foot caught on the corner of the coffee table, and in your aggravation, you stumbled forward, knocking over the pile of photographs darcy had laid out so carefully.

“great,” you muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered pictures.

they were glossy and vibrant, capturing moments from your trip to kerry park just two days ago. you hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but now, as you picked up photo after photo, a pattern began to emerge.

in nearly every image, C was looking at you.

your fingers froze on a picture where their smile was so open, so completely unlike their usual self, that it felt almost like intruding on a scene you weren’t supposed to see. their dimples were unmistakable, softening the sharpness of their features in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

in another photo, they were standing slightly behind you, their chalcedony green eyes focused entirely on you as you pointed out something in the distance, completely oblivious to their adoring attention.

for a moment, you just sat there on the floor, staring at the pictures, the edges of the glossy paper dampening under your trembling fingers. then, as if pulled by an invisible string, you stood.

darcy had made her way to the living room and said something as you made for the door, but her words were lost to the roaring in your ears.

the rain hit you like a wall as you stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but you didn’t care. your feet moved on instinct, splashing through puddles as you ran down the street. it was a foolish thing to do, running in a storm like this, but every step felt like it was carrying you closer to something you couldn’t name but desperately needed to reach.

you didn’t know which way C went exactly, but you had a feeling.

and then, through the curtain of rain, you saw them.

C was standing under their umbrella, their posture stiff as they glanced down the street. the soft glow of their phone screen illuminated their face, but they weren’t scrolling or texting. they were waiting for an uber, probably. or maybe just waiting for the storm to pass.

you skidded to a stop, breathless and drenched. when they turned and spotted you, their eyes widened incredulously like you’d just teleported there.

“what the hell are you doing?” they demanded, their voice rising over the rain as they speed-walked up to you, umbrella in hand. they immediately held it over both of you, shielding you from the worst of the downpour. “have you finally lost your mind? you’re going to catch a cold!”

you were out of breath, your chest heaving as the water dripped from your lashes, but you didn’t care. “i’m sorry.”

C blinked, their mouth opening slightly as if they were going to argue, but you kept going. “i’m sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean it. you’re not a burden, C. i’ve never ever thought of you like that. the truth is—”

your words caught in your throat, the weight of them almost too much. but you forced them out. “the truth is, i’ve had a great time doing this project with you. i really didn’t mean any of it—about switching groups, about ruining things, you being a burden. i’m glad we got paired together, even if you drive me completely insane sometimes.”

“are you done?” they asked gruffly, though their tone lacked its usual edge.

you nodded sheepishly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

they sighed, lowering their gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. “i had a great time too. you... you made me see the city in a way i never had before. you made me appreciate it. i...” they sighed, “i was being too stubborn and i shouldn’t have given you a hard time with everything. and... i don’t mind your company, even if you’re way too dense sometimes to see what’s in front of you the whole time.”

the sincerity in their voice made your breath catch. right now, all you could do was stare at them and bask in the warmth they made you feel.

you admired the way their dark brown hair curled slightly at the edges, damp and clinging to their skin. the way the rain caught in their lashes, making their chalcedony green eyes glow as though a thousand hues were shifting like sunlight through sea glass. the way their fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the sharpness of their cheekbones, the curve of their lips, soft and slightly parted.

they shifted under your gaze, their cheeks suddenly flushing pink.

“what?” they snapped. “why are you ogling me?”

but you didn’t answer. at least not with words.

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, leaning in until your lips brushed against theirs in a kiss that felt as inevitable as the rain falling around you.

C froze, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief before they pulled back, their fingers flying to their lips.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurted out, the heat rising to your face as you realized what you’d just done. your heart was sinking in absolute shame. “i—”

but before you could finish, C let the umbrella drop to the ground with a soft clatter. rain cascaded over both of you as they grabbed your face with trembling hands as they surged forward, their lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

the world seemed to fall away in that moment, leaving only the two of you, your hands tangling in the fabric of their rain-soaked sweater as their fingers threaded themselves in your wet hair. it was cold, sure, but their kiss was warm, searing, as if it had been waiting to catch sparks all along.

your clothes were drenched and your hair was practically plastered to your face, but it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered.

it wasn’t until the honk of a car horn shattered the moment that you finally broke apart, both of you panting as you turned to see the waiting uber that C had previously booked.

C’s face turned crimson as they also turned to look at the car, their expression mortified and exasperated at the same time.

“putain,” they muttered under their breath before grabbing your arm and their umbrella. they then shut it quickly and tugged you toward the vehicle.

the uber driver, to his credit, said nothing as you both slid into the backseat, though the faint twitch of his lips and the knowing look he gave you two in the rearview mirror didn’t go unnoticed.

“could this day get any more embarrassing?” C asked as they crossed their arms over their chest, staring determinedly out the window.

“uh huh,” you mumbled, still in a daze from what just happened.

“that was my first kiss, you know,” C muttered.

you turned to them, still not registering their words. “you’re so gorgeous.”

C scowled, their blush deepening. “shut up, you dolt. you’re not even listening to me.”

but when their hand crept over to cover yours, you couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across your face.

#i ended up making this too long heLP 😭#this was gonna be even longer but i had to pump the breaks ✋🏻#and yes darcy and lowe are dating in the canon story #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: c lacroix #ro scenarios

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blushpawss · 3 months ago

Text

in his arms

warning: fluff + pet name — soft!sylus carries you home when you’re too tired, shielding you from the rain and making sure you’re safe in his arms 🩷

main acc: @sushiyuzu

sylus had been watching you all day, noticing how your energy was slowly fading as the hours passed. the two of you had spent the entire day out, exploring the city, grabbing lunch, and walking through the park. the evening was beautiful, but by the time the sun started to set, he saw the tiredness settling in your eyes. you tried to hide it, not wanting to cut the day short, but sylus noticed everything when it came to you.

“kitten,” he murmured, his voice soft as he glanced down at you. “you’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

you gave him a small, tired smile, shaking your head lightly. “i’m fine, really...”

but before you could finish, sylus was already moving. with one swift motion, he scooped you up into his arms, his strong hands securing you against his chest. the sudden lift made you gasp softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you blinked up at him in surprise.

“sylus!” you laughed, though your voice was laced with exhaustion. “you don’t have to carry me!”

“oh, but i do,” he teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he adjusted you in his arms, making sure you were comfortable. “my tired little kitten can’t walk all the way home. i’ll take care of you.”

his words were soft, almost tender, as he began walking, cradling you close against him. the steady rhythm of his steps and the warmth of his body against yours made it hard to protest. you rested your head against his chest, listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat.

“you always spoil me,” you mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion fully settled in. it was hard to keep your eyes open when you were this close to him, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek so soothing.

“you deserve it,” sylus replied, his voice a soft rumble. “besides, i like carrying you. you fit perfectly in my arms.”

you let out a quiet hum, feeling safe and warm, the weariness of the day fading into the background. as the two of you made your way through the city streets, the sky began to darken, clouds rolling in and covering the stars. before long, droplets of rain started to fall, light at first, then gradually turning into a steady drizzle.

sylus glanced up at the sky, his brow furrowing as the rain came down harder. “perfect timing,” he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. he shifted you slightly, making sure you were secure in his arms before pulling off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“you’re going to get soaked,” you protested weakly, trying to push the jacket back toward him, but sylus just shook his head, his grip tightening around you as he kept walking.

“i’ll be fine,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “you’re more important.”

the rain continued to fall, but sylus didn’t slow down, his focus entirely on getting you home safe and dry. puddles formed along the sidewalks, and without a second thought, he stepped around them, carefully navigating the wet ground to make sure you didn’t get splashed. every step he took was measured, protective, as if the world around him didn’t matter as long as you were taken care of.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, your voice soft as you looked up at him. “i can walk, really...”

sylus met your gaze, his crimson eyes softening as he gave you a small, teasing smile. “you’re too tired, kitten. let me take care of you.”

his words made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but relax further in his arms, your head resting against his chest once more. the rain fell steadily around you, but you felt warm, safe in his embrace, his jacket shielding you from the cold drops.

time seemed to slow down as sylus carried you through the city streets, the sound of rain hitting the ground becoming a soothing backdrop. his arms never wavered, his strength comforting, and as you both approached the front door of his home, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you.

sylus set you down gently once you were inside, his eyes scanning your face to make sure you were okay. “better?” he asked, his voice soft as he wiped a few raindrops from your forehead.

you nodded, smiling up at him. “better.”

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. “next time, i’m carrying you the whole way from the start,” he teased, his breath warm against your hair. “no more walking for my kitten.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, though the smile on your face betrayed your words.

“maybe,” sylus replied, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. “but you love it.”

you sighed softly.

you knew he was right. you did love it. you loved how he always knew when you needed him, how he took care of you in the smallest ways, and how he made you feel safe and cherished with just a single look.

as you stood there, wrapped in his warmth, the rain pattering softly against the windows, you realized just how soaked sylus had gotten. you pulled back slightly, eyeing the water dripping from his hair and shirt.

“you’re drenched,” you said softly, concern lacing your voice. “you’ll get sick if you stay like that.”

sylus shrugged, his usual smirk in place. “it’s just a little water, kitten. nothing to worry about.”

but you weren’t having it. shaking your head, you grabbed his hand and gently tugged him toward the bathroom. “nope, i’m drying you off.”

he chuckled, amused by your sudden determination, but didn’t resist as you led him inside. you grabbed a towel and turned toward him, meeting his gaze. “sit,” you instructed, pointing to the edge of the tub.

sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained, but did as you asked, sitting down and watching you with a soft smile.

you started by drying his hair, gently running the towel through the damp silver strands. his crimson eyes never left your face as you worked, his expression relaxed, content. “you’re really worried about me, huh?” he murmured, his voice low.

“of course,” you replied quietly, focusing on getting him dry. “you always take care of me. it’s my turn.”

he hummed softly in response, his eyes softening as he watched you with fondness. you worked your way down to his shoulders, dabbing away the rainwater clinging to his skin. the atmosphere between you was warm, comforting, the sound of rain outside fading into the background.

once you were done, you stepped back and smiled. “there. all dry.”

sylus stood up, towering over you as he reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand. “thank you, sweetie,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your skin. “but you know i’d do it all over again, right? i’d carry you through the rain a thousand times if it meant making sure you were okay.”

your heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through you as you leaned into his touch. “i know,” you whispered. “but now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

sylus smiled, his crimson eyes shining with affection. “then i guess we’re even now,” he teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. his lips lingered against yours, warm and gentle, as if sealing the promise between you.

as you pulled back, you smiled up at him. “next time, we’re both staying dry.”

he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you into his warmth. “deal.”

and as you stood there, safe and warm in his arms, you knew that no matter what, sylus would always be there to take care of you—just as you would always be there to care for him.

his strong arms were like your own safe place, and you really didn’t want to leave the comfort of being this close to him. he didn’t let go either, and before long, he gently scooped you back up again, this time with a knowing smile on his face.

“let’s go cuddle,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

you nodded, resting your head against his chest once more as he carried you to the couch, settling you both down. sylus pulled a thick blanket over the two of you, tucking it around your bodies as he pulled you closer. you nestled against him, your back to his chest as his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

the rain still pattered softly outside, but in here, everything was warm and peaceful. his hand traced slow, gentle patterns along your arm, and you could feel his steady breathing behind you, rising and falling in a calming rhythm.

“i love this,” you whispered softly, feeling completely relaxed in his arms.

“me too,” sylus murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “just stay close, sweetie. i’ve got you.”

you smiled sleepily, feeling his arms tighten around you protectively. it didn’t take long before the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful sleep, completely safe in his embrace.

and as sylus held you, his chin resting against your hair, he felt the same. content, peaceful, and completely in love with the person in his arms.

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thebigbadbatswife · 3 months ago

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OCT 24th - Dacryphilia

Pairing - Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x F!Reader

Title - Pretty When You Cry

Summary - The Arkham Knight thinks you look so much better like this.

Warnings - Dacryphilia, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Degradation, Possessive Behaviour

Word Count - 667

You look so much better like this, Jason thinks.

You’re spread out on the concrete floor beneath him, your legs held open by his hands as he fucks you. Tears glisten in your eyes as your pussy leaves a creamy ring around the base of his cock.

There’s no more venom in your voice. Just pathetic little mewls for more as he takes you hard and fast. Your nails scrabble for purchase in the plating of his armour as your back arches off of the floor, your eyes screwing shut and forcing the tears out and sending them rolling down your face as you cum again.

You’re so pretty when you cry, he thinks. And it confirms his original thought. You really do look so much better like this than you do when you’re trying to kill him.

Sure, Batman will throw you behind bars and forget you ever existed. It wouldn’t be the first time. Forgetting people is what he does best, but you don’t seem to care. Each time you come to blows with him you’re more aggressive and reckless than the last. You haven’t come close yet. Each encounter ends the same way. You stripped of your suit and crying his name as he fucks you sensless.

“Wonder what Batman’ll think about his newest sidekick being such a whore.” He punctates each word with a particularly hard thrust, forcing more moans and cries from you. “Do you think he’ll be angrier about the fact that you’re so easy or that I got to you first?”

Briefly, that fire returns to your eyes as they narrow at him and you grit your teeth. It quickly disappears again, your mouth falling open as you moan, as soon as he presses his thumb against your swollen clit. He chuckles, the noise sounding robotic because of his helmet.

“I bet seeing you spread out underneath me like this would really fuck him off,” he continues. “That’s why you keep coming after me alone, isn’t it? You know he’s getting close to finding me. You want him to see what a cockdrunk slut you are.”

Jason’s rambling as he draws closer and closer to his own orgasm. His rhythm is erratic and his thrusts are even harder than they were before. He lets go of your leg and leans in close you, his helmet brushing up against your ear.

“And he can want you all he wants, but he’s never going to have you. This cunt belongs to me.”

He pulls away and he slaps your clit, making your body jolt and a short cry of surprise leaves you as more tears are forced from your eyes. And he is absolutely addicted to the way that you look.

“No one else is allowed to touch this cunt, but me.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. He’ll kill anyone who even lays a hand on you. Including the men that brought you to him after you broke into his base and purposely got yourself caught. You belong to him and only him.

His orgasm hits him hard. He groans deeply as he spills his release deep inside of you. He keeps thrusting, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. When it starts to hurt, he pulls out of you and watches as the mixture of his and your fluids drip from your puffy pussy, making a mess on the floor.

If he had the energy to spare, he would take you again and again and again. The night’s still young and he has a city to burn and a vigilante to kill. Jason climbs to his feet and tucks himself back into his pants. You don’t make an attempt to move. Your chest falling fast and hard as catch your breathe. Well, you won’t be much of an issue now.

Maybe he’ll come back for you once Batman lies dead and broken. He seriously doubts that you’ll be getting very far since you won’t be able to walk straight.

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #arkham knight x fem!reader #arkham knight smut #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

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Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec), Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness.

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like.

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing.

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum.

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagines

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wanderingxiao · 1 year ago

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hiii can you write smut with wanderer having a breeding kink after thinking abt whether or not he could have kids (since hes a puppet)? so later that night he lowkey experiments and he ends up putting the reader into a mating press and turns her into a drooling and dazed mess >>>

thank you sm if u do it ur writing is so hearteyes

Baby Time!

Wanderer x Reader *NSFW*

Warnings: Breeding Kink, raw/unprotected sex, slight degradation, Wanderer being super horny, 18+ only please!! MDNI!! 💙

A/N: My first request!!! :0 Hopefully I completed your request correctly! I had literally so much fun writing this! He can fuck a baby into me anytime he wants 😳💙 Hope you enjoy!

Wanderer couldn’t seem to get away from it. There were children everywhere in the streets of Sumeru city. Summer seemed to be the time where all the little reckless brats loved to get into trouble, run off, explore, or just be annoying. It bothered Wanderer in a way, constantly having to look out for frail humans that get in his path or help a child find their parent they decided to run away from.

Despite the annoying ones, he found the quieter more behaved children tolerable. Seeing a husband and wife raise a small human was oddly… arousing to him. It flustered him to no end how unbearably horny he would get just seeing a family walk by or a pregnant woman, his thoughts immediately imagining you swollen and pregnant with his child, or how caring and loving you’d be as a parent. One thing bothered him though…

Could he even have kids being a puppet?

By spending lots of time in the… not so work friendly part of the Akademiya, he began to look up ways in which he could potentially get you pregnant. It was there his undying hunger to fill you full of his sticky cum, see your stomach swollen with his offspring, and squeeze your sensitive lactating breasts began. Scholars would give him judgmental looks, but he didn’t care, as long as the book he was reading guarded his painful throbbing erection.

When the time came to see you once more, he took out all his frustrating uncertainties and sexual fantasies on you. You were sprawled out on his bed within the Sanctuary of Surasthana, legs spread wide with his sticky cock battering away at your fluttering cunt. His face was flushed with his eyes reflecting his overwhelming desire to fuck you so full of his cum your belly would be swollen with how much of his seed he would stuff into you.

“W-Wander- Ahh! Wanderer! M-Mngh! I-It’s t-too deep -ngh! Too deep!” Your pitiful cries fell deaf upon his mechanical ears as he smacked his hips aggressively into yours, determined to reach your deepest crevices. A grunt rumbled through his chest, his breath raspy and quickened feeling your walls begin to flutter around his cock so perfectly. It’s like you were made specifically for him, or he was made for you.

“Not yet. Ngh~ need to fuck you full. S-So full of my seed you -hah- bear my offspring.” His hands roughly grabbed the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest before he leaned over your body to tower over you. Your thighs ached in dull pain at the uncomfortable position, and your body jolted with overstimulating pleasure as his sticky cock head covered in his pre-cum bumped against your cervix.

“W-Wanderer!!! Hah-! Ahh! T-Too much! Too- Ahh!! Too good! P-Plea- Hngh!” This was absolutely perfect. Your lips were slicked up with your saliva, drool covering your cheek as you couldn’t help but cry and drool for him. Your hair was beginning to get messy as he fucked you up and down the bed, your body sloppily sliding to match his brutal rhythm.

“Yeah? You f-fucking slut, you like that? Hah, being folded into a mating press by me? Ngh~ Fucking pathetic!” Wanderer groaned above you, his cheeks flushed with his forehead lined with sweat. He was determined to get you pregnant, going so far as to put you into a mating press to drive his seed as deep as he could.

You couldn’t even respond to him, your mind turning to mush the second he began to buck his hips faster, abusing your poor cunt with his throbbing cock. Your eyes were glazed over with overwhelming love and adoration for him, your chin now covered in your drool and maybe even some of his. The tight coil and warmth building in your abdomen alerted you of your quickly approaching orgasm. Wanderer could tell it too, the way your walls would spasm and tighten around him.

“You g-gonna cum? Yeah? Cum from me f-fucking you dumb?” You could only nod in response, throwing your head back into the pillows as the wet sounds of your slick cunt and his oozing cock collided over and over and over again. His forehead pressed against yours, his moans increasing as his cock twitched against your walls, feeling his own climax building up. He used his feet to push himself more above you, forcing you into a deeper mating press with his cock plunging down into your drooly pussy.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your toes curled with your legs trembling in his grasp. Your walls tightened around him, clit pulsating wildly as his pelvis smacked it with each thrust. With a loud and messy cry of his name, you gushed all over him, a creamy white ring beginning to form around the base of his cock. Despite your intense orgasm he didn’t stop, only heightening his pace to chase his own release.

“F-Fuck I’m cumming-! Ngh- shit!” Wanderer smacked his hips down into yours sloppily and spurted his thick cum against your cervix. His cock twitched feverishly, his breathing becoming more uneven and ragged as he rode out his high. His deep raspy moans died down to low whines as he fucked his cum sloppily back into you to, adoring how you practically milked him dry. He loved the way your body twitched with overstimulation, a high-pitched yet quiet moan spewing from your lips as his cum filled your insides. Wanderer only grinned, his cock twitching back to life as a new wave of arousal and lust pooled within his chest.

“Don’t give out on me now, slut… I still need to fill you up more. That way… you’ll surely bear my offspring. Hehe.”

Hope you enjoyed~! ; ) 💙

#wanderer smut #scaramouche smut #genshin wanderer #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin impact smut #wanderer

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kasiers · 6 months ago

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A LITTLE LONGER — SHOYO HINATA

pairing: brazil!shoyo hinata x reader

synopsis: a lazy morning waking up with your dear boyfriend while he tries to convince you to stay in bed with him a bit longer <3

contains: gn!reader, pure fluff, established relationship, timeskip!shoyo hinata and even more fluff !! slight spoilers since this is timeskip

word count: 1.1k

a/n: based on this req ! when i was editing this the wc was originally 998 so i decided i might as well push it to 1k+ LMAO

Soft morning rays peeked through Shoyo’s blinds, casting an ethereal golden glow over everything in his small bedroom. The light bounces off the glossy covers of the various books scattered on his floor, ranging from volleyball training manuals to English learning guides and the Dragon Ball DVDS numbered from the very first until the latest.

You stirred lightly in your sleep, feeling a gentle pressure on your neck which pulled you awake. You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him as your back pressed against his chest. He hummed softly, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

The gentle buzz of the city outside his apartment was a comforting distant backdrop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen filled your nostrils. Must be his roommate, you thought.

You shift slightly in his embrace, still amazed that you and Shoyo can lay comfortably on his small twin size bed. You frown softly at the weight of Shoyo’s arms wrapped over you thanks to the muscles he’s built up. You gently lift his arm, catching a glimpse of the large delivery bag by the end of his bed. You carefully hold his arm up as best as you could without waking him up, turning around to face him.

When you had finally settled into a more cozy position, you were met with his sleepy expression which made your heart flutter. You could tell he was half-asleep and tired, likely trying to recover from his games that had run late from the night before presumably with that high school friend of his that he told you about.

You nestled closer to Shoyo, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you once more, keeping you in a comfortable lock.

“Good mornin’ baby,” Shoyo murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as he presses a soft kiss to your head, taking in the time to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

“Good morning, Sho,” you replied back, your voice equally hushed. You look up at him, though he doesn’t open his eyes as he’d rather not be greeted by the sunlight just yet. His hair at the moment looked unkempt and wild, you can’t help but form a soft smile on your lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a drowsy murmur as he tries his best to fight back his fatigue. How could he fall back asleep when your presence was like a warm blanket he never wanted to let go of? He could stay like this forever.

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You could smell a hint of his cologne and natural musk. You threw your arms over him, both your legs tangled with his and the white blanket draped over both of you.

You traced small lazy patterns on his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. Your actions gave him a sense of belonging, grounding him in this very moment.

“Yeah, I did. How about you?” you murmured against his skin, your voice soft, “ You must’ve been exhausted after last night.”

He felt the vibrations of your words, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m okay,” he says quietly, his fingers gently fiddling with the ends of your hair.

You both lay there silently, seconds turning into minutes stretching into a blissful eternity. You finally had a sense of peace that you felt like you hadn’t experienced in a long time, thanks to your busy work schedule.

“I don’t want to get up,” Shoyo admitted, his grip on you tightening slightly. “This is too nice.”

You laughed softly, nudging him gently as you pushed off him just a bit to look up at his face and hum in agreement. “Mhm, I know Sho, but don’t you have training today? Are you seriously trying to slack off on your responsibilities?”

Shoyo sighed dramatically as he nuzzled his face into your hair, “baby, would ya kill me if I asked for a few more minutes?”

You shifted your gaze up at him, your lips curving into a soft smile. The warm sunlight streaming through the blinds shined down on his sleepy yet energetic face, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else but the comfort of his presence.

You knew you had to get up soon— there was work waiting for you, and Shoyo had training scheduled for the morning. But the longer you looked at his bright, hopeful eyes, you found it hard to resist.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, completely giving up, your voice a gentle tease. “I’ve got work, and you have training today. We can’t just lie here all day.”

Shoyo’s lips held a small cheerful grin, it was as if he wasn’t just worn out minutes prior, his eyes sparkled with a mix of charm and enthusiasm. “Come on, lemme enjoy this time with you baby,” he says smoothly, voice filled with genuine affection.

He squeezes you gently as if to plead, you’d be lying if you said his energy wasn’t infectious, it was difficult not to deny him of such a request especially when he looked at you like that. “I’ll get up right after, I promise,” he added, his tone hopeful.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his persistence. It was hard to stay annoyed when he was being so affectionate. “You’re really trying to sweet-talk me, huh?” you said, shaking your head slightly but not pulling away. “Alright, fine. A few more minutes. But you better not be late for your training.”

His face lit up immediately upon hearing your words, muttering sweet and small thank you’s as he pulled you in even closer, nestling his face into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Thank you… thank you baby…” he murmured, it was hard not to be charmed by his gratitude.

Once again, you found yourself sinking back into his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as it soothed you. Shoyo tightened his hold on you, his fingers brushing gently against your back securely. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was comforting while the soft hum of his breathing was like a gentle breeze that carried you into a peaceful slumber.

Maybe you could call in sick to watch him and Heitor for the day, Nice would love your company after all.

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seat-safety-switch · 22 days ago

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A lot of people are talking shit about my dog, Senator Testicles, just because he's enormous, very poorly trained, and about as smart as a Proctor-Silex toaster oven. Yeah, not even a Breville.

What the haters don't understand is that what he lacks in smarts, he makes up for in charm. Just look at that sweet little dumb-ass face. He doesn't really have enough charm to also make up for his total lack of obedience, though. If I'm understanding your complaints properly, that's what the real problem is here, right?

Things have been rough around my household ever since the landlord went missing. I used to have to sweep a bunch of grease-stained, barely-salvageable car and moped parts into the closet whenever he dropped by for a regular inspection. Kept me in a routine, you know, which is important. Now that he's gone and presumed extremely dead, I needed some other reason to keep a rhythm instead of working on shitboxes until I passed out from exhaustion.

Senator Testicles showed up at the right time to make sure that I was living for someone other than myself. Namely, I was visiting the city pound to see if the turbo on the dogcatcher's van had bolts that were accessible from the bottom. While I was there, though, they told me that they had a dog who was a special case. Completely hopeless. A real project. A used dog, I asked?

They nodded, and offered some cash on the hood for me to take this stupid fucking animal away from their once-pristine dog pound before he ate through the bathroom wall again. It's brick, you know, down there. Well, not brick. That kind of weird expanded painted brick, like you see in elementary schools. Sorry, I digress, I keep getting off topic when I'm stressed in moments like now, where the whole town has turned up to crucify me for owning a rescue dog. Wait, is that a real crucifix? You better be coming back from Easter cosplay there, buddy.

I think we can all agree that, as bad as Senator Testicles has been in my ownership, it would be far worse if I were not here to regulate his worst impulses. For instance, the other day at the park, he tried to pick up a toddler and eat him. I gently said "no," and followed it up with a stern "drop it," which is more than certain really bad owners would do. By the way, Fred, I am so thankful to you and the other firefighters for helping me pull little Timmy out of Senator's jaws and looking the other way while we hid in that drainage culvert until the cops left. You guys are the real working-class heroes.

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foone · 1 year ago

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Your best guess is that you've been in this time loop for something north of 15 years. You've lived that day, April 9th, 1997, something like 6000 times. You think... The second most ironic thing about being in this time loop* is that you have ADHD, and time blindness has always been something you've suffered with.

The time loop hasn't helped. You'll really get into a book, and don't look up from it until it's yesterday. Or, earlier today? Or tomorrow, it's all the same day. You wake up in your bed at 8:27, having slept through your alarm, no matter what happens. You've had plenty of time to do all the classic time loop things: told everyone (they forget the next day), kissed everyone (a surprising number of people turn out to be up for itl), tried to run (you made it all the way to Memphis one day, but it didn't make any difference), tried to make everything perfect and right (harder than you'd think, and there's nothing obvious that needs fixing), and gotten yourself exploded and shot and run over. You even made it into orbit once, NASA still swearing at you on the radio the whole way up. You've robbed all the local banks, kidnapped the mayor, and stolen half the stuff in the town, just to see what people have. Why not? It's hard to have a sense of morality when there are no repercussions to any actions, at least none that last more than 24 hours.

You convinced a scientist to shoot neutrinos at you once, thanks to something you'd read in a book on time. Didn't seem to make any difference, though you could swear the next day felt different, in some hard to define way.

You've gotten into a rhythm of starting each day and just walking out your front door, to visit a different place in the city, and knock on their door. If they're home, you ask questions, then use the answers next time to get further. If not, you let yourself in and see what their house looks like from the inside.

Even their shocking crimes no longer can shock you. Mr. Stevens is a burgler, Jenny J. is halfway through murdering her husband, Alex over on 5th street has a basement full of photos they shouldn't have, and more neighbors than you'd think are cooking meth or growing cannabis in their little backyard sheds or closets.

You can go to the police, you can confront them, you can explose them, or you can get a weapon and go all vigilante on them... It doesn't matter in the long run (and for you, the long run is very short indeed). They'll be fine the next morning, back at it again like nothing happened.

You wake up that same Wednesday morning, put on some clothes, and walk out the door. You got into a gimmick of crossing the road with your eyes closed: you know where the cars are, and if you keep the same pace, they definitely won't hit you. Besides, if you do, you wake up back in your bed. Big woop.

But you don't make it to the road this time. You trip, falling on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. What the hell? Your arms ache from catching yourself, and you have to suppress the time-looper instinct of "I hurt. Restart the loop!",at least until you figure out what happened.

You look back and there's a sneaker sitting on the sidewalk. A perfectly normal shoe, just a little skuffed up. A bit down the sidewalk, there's another, the other foot presumably.

You have a moment of equal parts panic and elation. You're out of the loop? You're out of the loop! This might be Thursday.

You gather yourself from the sidewalk and run back up the path to your door. You open the newspaper... April 9th. This is still the same day. You look back at the road, seeing the patterns of crossing cars you've seen thousands of times before. You listen, and your neighborhood sounds right. You can hear Timothy down the road yelling about baseball, so it's not 9:14 yet.

This isn't a new day. This is the day. This is your day. So why is something different? What, a partial time loop? And almost time loop? Most things are the same, but not all? It makes no sense.

You hear yelling down the road. You jog towards it, as an out of place sound just doesn't happen in your day. Around the corner there's a police officer shouting at a woman who is rapidly disrobing and flinging her discarded clothes at the officer, who is shouting at her and his radio. So far, she seems to be winning, but she's about out of linen ammunition.

You realize you don't recognize her. She's not one of the people you know, and you know everyone. She's someone new, the very anthesis of what a time loop is about. That, combined with recognizing that charicatistic disdain for consequences makes you gasp. My God... She's another time looper. She's done this day before, and it's just repeated, and now she's doing everything to see what happens. You're not alone in this crowded city anymore! You run towards her, eager to introduce yourself.

* Themost ironic thing about being in this time loop is that every copy of Groundhog Day at your local Blockbuster is checked out.

#Time loop #my writing

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fvsm4x · 3 months ago

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S1 E8 — ☆ S(CREAM)

pairing. Toji fushiguro x reader

Toji Fushiguro has taken on the Ghostface persona, and he's got his next target in sight. They receive unsettling phone calls, teasing them about their every move.

cw. ghostface! toji f. x female reader, phonesex, dirty talk, stalking, masturbation, fingering, 18+, mdni, kinda nasty idk, nsfw, i forgot how to write smut, wc. 5k

tagging. @sadmonke @collectionofdolls @1t4d0r1 @glazedtear @madamechrissy

kinktober — jjk mlist

The soft click of your shoes against the pavement echoed down the quiet street as you made your way home from work, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself, lost in your thoughts. It had been a long day at the office, one filled with endless emails, missed deadlines, and an obnoxiously long meeting that seemed like it would never end. Your feet ache, your shoulders feel stiff, and all you can think about is getting home, slipping into something comfortable, and maybe having a quiet night to yourself.

The walk from work was something you usually enjoyed. It gave you time to unwind, the steady rhythm of your footsteps soothing after the chaos of the day. The streets are almost deserted now, the city winding down as the sky deepens into the navy of early night. You pass the same café on the corner, its lights dim, the usual crowd inside reduced to a couple sitting by the window. Your regular path was so familiar it had become second nature—left turn at the florist, then straight for three blocks before you reached your apartment building.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you glance down briefly, half-expecting it to be a colleague asking about some report or project. But it’s not. Just a random notification. You sigh, slipping the phone back into your pocket.

Finally, you turn onto your street, the comforting sight of your apartment building just up ahead. The dim, yellow glow of the streetlights bathes the area in a soft haze, and you feel a small wave of relief wash over you. Home.

You reach the door to your building, your keys jingling as you pull them from your bag. The lock clicks open, and you step inside the familiar hallway, the faint scent of floor cleaner lingering in the air. The quiet hum of the elevator welcomes you as you hit the button for your floor, the gentle whirring sound filling the silence as you lean back against the wall, allowing yourself a moment to just breathe.

The doors slide open with a soft ding, and you step out, heading down the narrow hallway toward your apartment. The keys feel heavier in your hand as you unlock the door, pushing it open and stepping into the warmth of your living space. You let out a long sigh, kicking off your shoes near the entrance and tossing your jacket over the back of a chair.

It’s good to be home.

You flick on the kitchen light, casting the small space in a warm glow. The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. You move with the ease of routine, opening a cabinet to pull out a pot and setting it on the stove. A quick glance in the fridge tells you all you need to know: there’s nothing fancy to cook tonight, so pasta it is.

As you fill the pot with water and set it to boil, you slip out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable—an oversized shirt and soft shorts that make you feel instantly more relaxed. The stress of the day begins to melt away as the water heats up on the stove, and you hum softly to yourself, moving about the kitchen.

The pasta is quick, something simple to satisfy your hunger. You stir the pot absentmindedly, glancing at the time. The quiet ticking of the clock fills the room as you lean against the counter, checking your phone again—nothing new. Your coworkers have gone quiet for the night, and the world outside your apartment feels distant, almost peaceful.

Once the pasta is done, you drain it, mixing in a quick sauce. You settle down at the small table in your living room, twirling the fork absentmindedly in your hand as you scroll through your phone, skimming headlines and half-reading a few messages. It’s a simple, ordinary evening.

Halfway through your meal, the phone rings.

You pause, looking down at the device in your hand. It’s late. Who could be calling? The number flashing on the screen is unfamiliar, a long string of digits that makes you hesitate before answering. You swallow the bite of pasta, wiping your hands quickly before swiping to pick up the call.

You glance at the screen. Unknown number.

With a sigh, you answer. “Hello?”

There’s a brief, unsettling silence on the other end. You’re about to hang up when a voice finally speaks, low and smooth, with a hint of amusement. “Do you like scary movies?”

Your brow furrows, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh. A prank call? Really? “What?”

“Scary movies,” the voice repeats, slow and deliberate. “You got a favorite?”

You pause, feeling a flicker of unease. “Uh… I guess. Who is this?”

The voice chuckles softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Let’s not worry about that. Just answer the question. Halloween, maybe? Or Scream? You strike me as someone who likes the classics.”

Your stomach knots, that unease building. “Look, if this is some kind of joke, I’m not—”

“I’m not joking,” the voice interrupts smoothly, an edge creeping into his tone. “Humor me. Do you have a favorite? Or do you get too scared to even watch?”

You swallow, standing up from the couch as your nerves start to catch up with you. “Yeah, sure. Halloween, I guess,” you mutter, glancing around the apartment. You move to the window, pulling the curtain closed, feeling strangely exposed.

“Mmm, a good choice,” the voice replies, almost approving. “Michael Myers… a man who knows how to hunt. He likes to watch his prey. Stalk them. Toy with them.”

A chill runs down your spine. You grip the phone tighter, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightening. “Who the hell are you?” you demand, moving away from the window.

Another soft chuckle, darker this time. “That’s not the question you should be asking,” the voice says, lowering to a near-whisper. “What you should be asking is… where am I?”

Your blood runs cold, and you glance around the apartment again, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, every doorway. “What do you want?” you snap, trying to sound braver than you feel.

“I want to play a game,” the voice answers, playful now. “I ask a question, you answer. If you get it right, nothing happens. But if you get it wrong… well, let’s just say, things will get interesting.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, panic rising in your chest. “This isn’t funny. I’m calling the police.”

“Call them,” the voice purrs, unfazed. “But by the time they get there, you’ll already be mine. Let’s see how smart you are, hmm?” He pauses, the tension thickening before he continues. “Am I outside… or already inside?”

Your breath catches. You glance toward the door, the windows, your bedroom—any place someone could be hiding. The silence in your apartment feels suffocating, every shadow threatening to come alive.

“You’re… outside,” you say, voice trembling, praying it’s true.

The voice lets out a low, dark laugh. “Wrong.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as the line goes dead. You stand frozen, staring at the phone, your mind racing. Is he here? Is someone really inside your apartment?

Before you can react, you hear it—a faint knock, soft but unmistakable, coming from somewhere deeper inside the apartment. Your stomach drops, every instinct screaming at you to run, but your feet stay rooted to the floor.

Then, the phone rings again.

Your shaking hand hovers over it before you answer, dreading what comes next.

“Miss me already?” the voice teases, his tone darker now, more intimate. “I think it’s time we get to know each other finally. I’ve been watching you for so long, and I’ve got to say… you’ve been driving me wild.”

You swallow, the bile rising in your throat.

“Those cute little outfits you wear around the house, thinking you’re all alone,” he continues, his voice thick with perverted glee. “Do you even know how many times I’ve thought about what I’d do to you if I got my hands on you?”

Your breath hitches, and you grip the phone so hard your knuckles whiten.

“I bet you like it,” he whispers. “Knowing someone’s watching you, fantasizing about every inch of you. You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I came over right now, would you?”

Your pulse races, disgust and terror warring inside you.

“I can see it,” he goes on, voice lowering to a dangerous growl. “You want it. You’re scared, but it’s turning you on, isn’t it? You’d let me inside if I asked nicely.”

The line clicks dead again, leaving you trembling in the oppressive silence, every part of you screaming that you’re no longer alone.

You stand there, gripping the phone like it’s a lifeline, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest it drowns out everything else. The silence in the apartment is suffocating, every creak of the floorboards and rustle of fabric suddenly amplified in the stillness.

Before you can even begin to process what to do next, the phone rings again. The same unknown number.

Your hand trembles as you answer, and before you can speak, his voice cuts through the line, smooth and teasing.

“You know, you didn’t even check all the rooms yet. ”

A chill creeps up your spine, and your eyes dart to the hallway leading to your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, just like before, and now every inch of your skin feels too tight, too vulnerable.

“Why are you doing this?” you manage to whisper, hating the way your voice trembles.

“Because you’re fun to play with,” he replies, his voice dark and indulgent. “The way you’re so tense, so nervous… I can practically hear your heart racing through the phone. You’re scared, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard, every instinct screaming at you to hang up, to run, but you’re frozen, unable to tear yourself away from the phone.

“I bet you’re wondering if I can see you right now,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “I can, by the way. That shirt you’re wearing? A little loose, don’t you think? It slips down your shoulder just enough for me to imagine all sorts of things.”

You glance down at yourself, pulling your oversized shirt tighter around you, feeling exposed in ways you hadn’t before. The way he speaks feels so invasive, as if his eyes are crawling over you, violating you with nothing but his words.

“I’ve seen you like this before, you know,” he goes on, his tone turning almost playful, as if he’s enjoying your discomfort.

Your breath hitches, the tension unbearable as you feel like he’s lurking in every shadow, every dark corner of your home.

“I bet you’re wondering what I’d do if I were there right now,” he purrs, his voice dripping with perverse excitement. “I could just watch for a little longer, or I could tease you a bit more. Maybe whisper in your ear while you’re curled up in bed, thinking you’re all alone.”

The mental image sends a shiver down your spine, your body tensing as you imagine him closer than ever, hovering just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“But I like this better,” he adds, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “I like knowing you’re trembling on the other side of this call, knowing I’ve got you wrapped around my finger with just a few words. I don’t even need to touch you to get inside your head, do I?”

You choke on your breath, every inch of you bristling with fear and disgust. His words are like poison, seeping into your thoughts, making it harder to think straight.

“I could make you beg, you know,” he says, almost casually, like he’s stating a simple fact. “You’d fight it at first, try to act tough. But eventually, you’d give in. You’d want it—want me. It’s only a matter of time.”

Your grip tightens on the phone, your breathing uneven as you press your back against the wall, trying to put as much space between you and the dark corners of your apartment as possible. But no matter how far you move, it feels like he’s still there, watching, waiting.

“You’ll think about me tonight,” he whispers, the words slithering through the phone. “When you crawl into bed and turn off the lights, you’ll wonder if I’m watching you. If I’m already inside, just waiting for the right moment to make myself known.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and the silence on your end only seems to spur him on.

“And when you start to feel a little too warm, a little too tense, you’ll imagine what it’d be like if I were there. What my hands would feel like on you, what it would be like if I whispered in your ear, telling you all the filthy things I’d do.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to block out the images his words conjure, but it’s impossible. His voice is too smooth, too confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You might even start to like it,” he teases, his tone growing more wicked. “The idea of being watched, being hunted. Of having someone who’s always just a step behind you, waiting to catch you when you least expect it. Maybe you’d even start to crave it.”

You stand there, gripping the phone tightly, heart racing. The silence in the apartment feels like a thick blanket, suffocating, as if you’re trapped in a nightmare you can’t escape. But he’s still there, his voice sliding back into your ear, smooth and taunting.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a hint of mockery lacing his words. “You could just hang up, you know. But I don’t think you will. You’re too curious, aren’t you? Deep down, you want to know how this ends.”

You shake your head, trying to push the heat of fear away, even as it clings to you. “I don’t want anything to do with this!” you insist, though your voice wavers.

“Really?” he replies, the tone of amusement in his voice clear. “Because I can hear it in your voice. You’re scared, yes, but there’s something else too. A thrill, maybe? The way your heart races when I talk to you… it’s intoxicating, isn’t it?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. It’s infuriating how he can read you so easily, how he twists your emotions like a puppet on a string.

“I know you’re imagining it,” he continues, his voice low and seductive. “What it would be like to have me in your space, the way my presence would change everything. Just think about it… how vulnerable you’d be, how exciting it would feel.”

You bite your lip, trying to fight against the rush of sensations his words provoke. “You think you can intimidate me with your words? You don’t scare me,” you say, forcing bravado into your voice.

His laughter is low and mocking. “Oh, sweet girl, you’re adorable. But I think you know the truth. I can see right through your little act. It’s cute, really. You want to be brave, but your voice trembles just enough to betray you.”

Your skin prickles as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “Stop it,” you whisper, but it comes out almost pleading.

“Stop? Why would I do that when you’re so much fun to talk to?” he replies, voice silky smooth. “You’re just one big bundle of nerves, waiting for something to break. I can’t resist. I want to know how far I can push you. What’s going through that pretty little head of yours right now?”

You hesitate, caught off guard. The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. What do you say? That you’re terrified? That his words send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in you that you didn’t know existed?

“I can imagine the way you’d squirm under my gaze, knowing I’m only a breath away. I’d take my time, tease you until you begged me for it.”

Your breath hitches at the imagery, and you clench your fists, trying to regain control over your body and your thoughts. “You’re sick,” you manage to say, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice.

“Am I?” he muses, feigning innocence. “Or am I simply more in touch with your desires than you are? You want to feel alive, don’t you? The thrill of danger mixed with something darker? It’s the ultimate rush.”

You feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your face, and you fight to hold on to your composure. “This isn’t a game,” you say, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Of course, it is. It’s always a game,” he replies, the playful lilt in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “And I play to win. Right now, you’re just a player trying to hide your cards, but I see them all. The way you bite your lip, the way your breath quickens… I can practically taste your fear mixed with excitement.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying to sound fierce, but it only makes him laugh again, that low, rich sound that makes your stomach churn.

“Why would I do that? We’re having so much fun,” he teases. “But let’s talk about you. What do you really want? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want to know what I’d do if I had you right here? No escape, just you and me.”

Your heart races as his words wash over you, igniting something deep inside you that you can’t quite put a name to. You want to run, to hide, but at the same time, there’s a dark curiosity pulling you in, urging you to explore the depths of this twisted conversation.

“I… I don’t want anything from you,” you say weakly, even as you can feel the truth lying just beneath the surface.

“Liar,” he counters, the smirk evident in his voice. “You’re completely captivated. Just imagine the thrill of giving in, letting go of all your inhibitions. How good it would feel to surrender to the fear and the excitement, to let me take control. I know you want it, and I can show you just how fun it can be.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and charged with an energy that feels electric. You feel torn between fear and the undeniable allure of his temptation, caught in a web of your own making.

“Just think about it,” he murmurs, voice dripping with seduction. “What would you do if I was right behind you? Whispering all those nasty things in your ear while you lay there, completely at my mercy. Would you fight me, or would you let go? Would you beg for more?”

Your heart races at the thought, and you grip the phone tighter, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. You can’t let him see how much he’s getting to you, how easily he’s breaching your defenses.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you declare, though your voice is shaky.

“Of course, you are,” he replies, that teasing tone never leaving his voice. “And I’m going to enjoy every moment of breaking you down, layer by layer, until you’re begging for my touch. Until you’re mine.”

The words settle like a weight in the air between you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just a game anymore. There’s something darker at play, and as he continues to weave his words around you, you realize you’re not just scared—you’re hooked.

„You’re wondering what it would be like, aren’t you? What it would feel like if I touched you… right now.” he murmurs

Your breath catches, and you curse yourself silently for how quickly the idea takes root in your mind. He’s nowhere near you, you remind yourself, but the images flash through your thoughts anyway—what his hands would feel like on you, the way his voice would sound in your ear, soft and cruel at the same time.

“I can picture it,” he says, voice low, teasing, drawing you in. “You sitting there, trying to act tough, but you‘re already thinking about it. I know you are.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, the tension unbearable, and you find yourself shifting slightly, the fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin in a way that feels… wrong, yet strangely electric.

“Go on,” he whispers, his tone wrapping around you like a command. “No one’s watching but me. I want to hear you. I want to know what you do when you think no one’s paying attention. Let me guide you.”

You swallow hard, the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse quickening. You shouldn’t. Every part of you knows this is wrong, twisted. But his voice is so convincing, so smooth, like a constant pull at the back of your mind.

“You’re already feeling it, aren’t you?” he continues, that mocking lilt in his voice never wavering. “That heat pooling in your stomach, spreading lower. It’d feel good to give in, wouldn’t it? To just… touch yourself. You’re already thinking about it. Why not go a little further?”

Your fingers twitch, the suggestion creeping in as your body betrays you. A part of you hates him for how easily he’s gotten under your skin, for how the thought alone has your body reacting without permission.

“I bet you’re so tense right now,” he says, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Just aching for relief. You want to fight it, but I can hear the hesitation. Why fight it when you can feel good?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand hovering at the hem of your shirt, indecision gnawing at you. The fear still grips you, but there’s something else there too—a twisted curiosity. You want to prove him wrong, to show him you’re stronger than this, but the tension is too thick, too overwhelming.

“I’m right here with you,” he whispers. “I’ll guide you. Slowly, now. Run your fingers over your skin. Feel how warm you are. Just start at your stomach.”

Your breath comes faster, and despite everything, your hand moves of its own accord, fingers lightly brushing over your stomach, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. The simple act, under his coaxing, feels like crossing a line you didn’t even know existed.

“Good girl,” he purrs, his voice thick with approval. “See? It’s not so hard, is it? Now go a little lower. Don’t rush it. Let yourself feel everything.”

The moment stretches long and heavy, thick with the weight of his voice and the growing heat in your body. Your fingers hesitate at the waistband of your pants, nerves battling with desire, but the way he speaks to you—so sure, so certain—leaves little room for doubt. You feel a pull, an urge to obey, even though every logical part of you screams to stop.

"That's it," he murmurs, a low, approving hum. "You're already giving in, aren't you? I can practically feel the way your body is reacting. You’re tense, aching for it."

Your breath comes faster, shallow and ragged. His voice is like a current dragging you under, luring you into dangerous waters where resistance feels impossible. Slowly, almost unwillingly, your fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, the fabric of your clothes shifting against your skin, making every nerve stand on end. The warmth of your hand feels like a shock as you brush lightly over the soft skin of your abdomen, your pulse quickening.

"Good girl," he purrs, and the words hit you with a force that sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re doing so well. Now, don’t rush it. Feel everything. I want you to take your time with this."

Your hand moves lower, grazing the skin just above your hips, and you can’t help the way your body tenses in response. The tension between what you know is wrong and the primal urge building inside of you twists painfully in your stomach. Yet the further your fingers drift, the more the sensations seem to take over, drowning out everything but the heat pooling inside you.

"Let yourself enjoy it," he continues, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Imagine it’s my hand instead of yours, teasing you, touching you just enough to drive you mad. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having no control, just feeling everything I want you to feel."

Your breath catches, and without thinking, you press your legs together, trying to ease the tension building between your thighs. Your fingers brush against the edge of your underwear, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you. His voice is the only thing grounding you now, guiding your every move.

"Lower," he instructs softly, the authority in his tone undeniable. "Touch yourself where you need it most. You’ve been holding back, haven’t you? So pent up, so desperate for relief. You don’t have to hold back anymore. Just give in to me."

Your body reacts on instinct, your fingers sliding lower, grazing over the dampness that’s already formed between your legs. The sensation is almost too much, your back arching slightly as a low whimper escapes your lips. His laughter on the other end of the line is quiet but smug, as if he knew all along you’d break.

"That’s it," he whispers, voice like silk. "You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? I knew you would be. I can hear it in the way you breathe, the way your body can’t help but react to me. Keep going."

Your fingers circle slowly, teasing yourself just as he instructed, and the slow build of pleasure makes it hard to think straight. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the sounds rising in your throat, but his voice makes it impossible to stay composed.

"Don’t be shy," he teases, and you can hear the wicked grin in his words. "I want to hear you. I want to know how good it feels. You can’t hide from me. I know exactly what you’re doing, how you’re touching yourself right now."

Your hand moves faster, instinctively seeking more, the heat inside you growing unbearable. Your breath comes out in soft, ragged gasps, each one betraying how close you are to the edge. The friction beneath your fingers is maddening, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body that make you dizzy.

"Imagine it’s me," he says again, his voice lower, darker. "My fingers instead of yours. How gentle I’d be at first, just enough to drive you crazy. Then I’d go harder, make you beg for it. You’d love it. I know you would."

The image flashes in your mind unbidden, his hands on you instead, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. It sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and without thinking, your hips roll against your hand, chasing the sensation, desperate for more.

"Tell me," he demands softly, his voice tightening with desire. "Tell me how good it feels. I want to hear you say it."

A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and the sound of it seems to embolden him, his tone growing even more possessive, more commanding.

"That’s my girl," he purrs, and you can almost feel the satisfaction radiating from him. "I knew you couldn’t resist. I knew I’d break you down. Now don’t stop. Keep touching yourself. I want to hear you come for me."

Your body is on fire now, every touch, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. You can barely focus, your mind clouded with need, with the image of him watching you, controlling you with just his voice. Your hand moves faster, the tension inside you building with every second, and the sounds that escape you are louder now, harder to contain.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his voice smooth and inviting, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. "You’re so close now. I can hear it in your breaths, the way they’re coming faster, more frantic. You’re going to come for me, aren’t you? Just let go. I want to hear you scream."

You breathe out, the air catching in your throat, your mind hazy with desire. “w-whatchya name..?” you manage to stammer, your voice barely a whisper, thick with tension.

Silence stretches on the line, an agonizing pause that only heightens the anticipation building inside you. His absence of an answer sends a shiver down your spine, and the tension swells, igniting the heat pooling deep within you.

Then, suddenly, his voice cuts through the haze, low and teasing. "All you need to know is how to give in to me."

Your breath hitches, your body responding to his words in ways you can’t fully comprehend. Each syllable draws you closer, igniting a fire that threatens to consume you entirely. The pleasure has reached a fever pitch now, your heart racing in time with your gasping breaths, and you can feel the inevitable tide of release crashing closer, threatening to overwhelm you.

You try to hold on, to fight against the surge, but your body betrays you. With a final, desperate gasp, you let go. The waves of pleasure hit you like a freight train, crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your muscles tighten, the sensations rolling through you in rhythmic pulses that seem to blur the line between reality and fantasy. You gasp for air, your head spinning as each wave leaves you more vulnerable than the last.

Your hand slows, trembling against your skin, the aftershocks of ecstasy radiating through your body. Even as you come down from your high, his voice remains, soft and satisfied on the other end of the line, grounding you even as your mind is still swirling.

He lets out a quiet, almost playful laugh. "It’s Toji, sweetheart. The one that always leaves Coffee at your table."

#𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #toji x you #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushigro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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꒰♡꒱─ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓

TW: afab anatomy, dub con, dark themes, ftm reader, v!sex, sub!reader, stepson x stepfather, dilf!wesker, praise, smut.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who always takes care of you, always sending you large amounts of money, regardless of what you ask for, he will give you his black card so you can spend it on whatever you want, he will just want his favorite stepson to a little kiss and spend some time with him... especially because you both know that he only married your mother to be close to you.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who manipulates you to keep you away from your friends, he just wants you for himself! You're his sweet boy, so don't be surprised to see Wesker using his money and powers to keep you trapped at home, keeping you like a cute, cuddly doll that he can control and twirl around his fingers, like a beautiful marionette.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who considers you his only weakness. Wesker would destroy the world for you, he would destroy everything he built throughout his life just to have the guarantee that you would stay by his side forever, regardless of the price it would cost - and when he completes, all his plans, you will live forever next to him, beautiful and molded perfectly by his hands, his pretty boy.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who takes you to the most chic and private dinners, with businessmen from the 'umbrella corporation', introducing you as their precious stepson. He will pamper you with expensive suits that adorn your ass for him, getting possessive if any guy tries to flirt with you - he would probably pull you into some room or take you out of the building, throwing you on the expensive leather seat of his BMW, towering over you as he took his hard, throbbing cock out of his pants, while you could see his red iris glow behind the dark lenses of his glasses. "-Are you going to act like a brat and let others take what's mine? Are you really going to do that boy?" Wesker would growl angrily, as he ripped the fabric of your pants, exposing your pussy to him. "-Daddy will teach you a lesson... after all, bad boys don't get rewards."

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you with all your desires and dark fantasies, he loves to fuck you in the most expensive hotels and the best panoramic views of the city, making you doggy style and pounding your cunt from behind, while pulling the rope of a collar of diamonds you wore around your neck - obviously given by him "-I could fuck you like this all day..." Wesker grunts in response to your sweet moans, slapping your ass. His thrusts become stronger, bringing you closer to the edge of release. And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "-Not yet, my dear," he whispers in her ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "-You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission, you can do this, right? Like the good boy you are to your daddy hm?" He begins to move, establishing a rhythm that exposes you to the fullness and power of his thrusts, filling you completely. "-Such a good boy, accepting me so well, squeeze those thighs and stick out that fucking ass more! Yes baby boy, exactly like that..."

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who fucks you all over the house, while praising you for handling his dick so well in your little cunt. "-Such a beautiful and cute pussy, just for daddy's cock isn't it?", "-atta boy, do you feel that, angel? it's all for you... take my cock like a good boy.", "- Fuck-! I love hearing you beg for more... I'm going to make you cum so hard, baby boy...", "-You better get used to this my little boy... Because from now on on. Your life will revolve around me... And I will always make sure you are satisfied, whatever the cost..." Your body responded to his touch, arching into him as pleasure washed over you. You could feel the tension in your body growing, your pussy clenching around his dick as you neared the edge of orgasm.

─ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 - who would lock you up in one of his mansions, in a beautiful golden cage, he would cut your ties with your mom... friends and even normal civilization, nothing exists beyond him now, you are just his, he will leave you just there , for him and for him. "-You will always be my doll boy... won't you?" Wesker would smile darkly, as he handed you the clothes he wanted you to wear. "-You'll never get rid of me... I'm your daddy forever... right my prince?"

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 ©𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 2023. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

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spicymambaae · 7 months ago

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Bangkok Nights: Secret Longings

It was already late at night in Bangkok. The city hummed with an undercurrent of energy, even at this hour. Neon lights flickered outside, casting a colorful glow into the hotel room where Minjeong was leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone. She was dressed in jorts, a crop top that barely covered her chest, and a white, long-sleeved unbuttoned blouse, her perfect flat tummy exposed. The day's schedule had been grueling, but now she was finally back, trying to unwind.

As she scrolled through her social media, her mind wandered to Karina, who had also been busy with her own schedules. Minjeong hoped that Karina would return soon; she longed to feel her presence after a tiring day.

Just as her thoughts drifted, the door creaked open quietly, and Karina stepped inside, her gaze immediately falling on Minjeong. A smile tugged at her lips as she saw her girlfriend still up. "I thought you would be already asleep," Karina whispered, her eyes taking in Minjeong's alluring figure.

Minjeong's eyes sparkled as she saw Karina enter. Her heart fluttered at the sight of her girlfriend, looking as radiant as ever despite the long day. “I wanted to wait for you so we can go to bed together," she replied, her voice laced with affection.

Karina’s heart swelled with love at Minjeong’s words. She approached Minjeong slowly, each step filled with the longing that had built up over the course of their separate schedules. "I missed you all day," she murmured, her hands finding their way to Minjeong's shoulders.

She let her fingers glide down Minjeong's arms, gently sliding the blouse off her shoulders. Karina's eyes lingered on Minjeong's exposed tummy, biting her lip as her fingers traced the smooth skin. She squeezed Minjeong's waist, drawing a soft gasp from her. "You have no idea how much I thought about you today," she whispered, her lips mere inches from Minjeong's.

Their eyes locked, a silent communication passing between them. Minjeong leaned forward, her lips parting to capture Karina's in a kiss, but Karina playfully pulled away, a smirk tugging at her lips. Minjeong smiled, undeterred, and leaned in again, only for Karina to pull away once more, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"You're not making this easy," Minjeong pouted playfully, her lips curling into a smile that mirrored Karina's own.

"I guess you missed me too," Karina teased, watching as Minjeong's playful pout turned into a mock glare, though her eyes betrayed her amusement.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, her hand finding its way to Karina's face, her fingers caressing it gently.

Karina smirked as she leaned forward, their lips brushing in a tantalizing promise. "Just a little?" she murmured against Minjeong's mouth, her kiss deepening with a hunger that had been building all day. The kiss was full of hunger and lust. They kissed like they couldn’t get enough, like they were starving for the taste of each other.

The room was filled with the sounds of their breaths and the soft, wet sounds of their kisses. The city outside continued its never-ending rhythm, but inside this room, time seemed to stand still.

Minjeong's hands found Karina's waist, but Karina was quick to grab one of them, pinning it against the wall. She wanted to take control, to explore every inch of Minjeong's body at her own pace. She trailed kisses along Minjeong's jawline, down to her neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.

"Careful," Minjeong whispered breathlessly, her body tingling with the surge of sensations. "We have a photoshoot tomorrow. No marks."

But Karina was beyond caring. Her need for Minjeong clouded her usual rationality. "Let them see," she murmured against Minjeong's skin, her hands roaming lower, cupping Minjeong's backside and pulling their bodies flush against each other. "Let them know you're mine."

Minjeong sighed softly, her resistance slowly melting away in the face of Karina's relentless ministrations. "You're gonna get us in trouble," she whispered, her voice laced with surrender.

Karina paused momentarily, her lips hovering just above Minjeong's skin, her gaze flickering up to meet Minjeong's eyes. "Tell me stop then." she challenged, her tongue flicking out slowly to lick Minjeong's sensitive spot on her neck. She knew all too well that this was her weak spot.

And that was all it took for Minjeong to fully surrender to Karina, letting out a low moan that vibrated on Karina’s lips.

Karina's lips traveled back up to Minjeong's, capturing them in another searing kiss. Minjeong responded eagerly, her body pressing against Karina's. Their tongues tangled and twisted, dancing erotically, tasting and teasing. Lips crushed against each other, soft and full, mouths opening wider as they dive into their intense craving. The heat between them was palpable, an electric current that seemed to spark with every touch. Their kisses grew more feverish, lips bruising under the force of their need for each other. Hands roamed freely, caressing and exploring, fingers tangling in hair and tracing the curves of each other's bodies.

They broke apart briefly, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath, their hearts pounding in unison. Minjeong looked into Karina's eyes, her own filled with a mixture of love and lust.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Karina smiled, her fingers gently caressing Minjeong's cheek. "I know, baby," she murmured, her lips brushing Minjeong's in a quick, tender peck.

Karina's lips then trailed lower, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin of Minjeong's collarbone. Her hands roamed possessively over her body, claiming every inch as her own. Minjeong arched into the touch, her breath coming in short gasps as Karina's lips continued their descent. Their passion was all-consuming, burning away any inhibitions or concerns about the coming day.

Minjeong's skin tingled with anticipation as Karina's lips hovered over the curve of her breasts. "Karina," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. Karina's hands moved to Minjeong's crop top, sliding over the soft fabric and feeling the firmness of her breasts. But what surprised her was the absence of a bra; Minjeong's nipples, hard and erect, pebbled against the thin material.

"No bra?" Karina asked, a hint of delight and surprise in her voice. Minjeong just smiled, her eyes half-lidded with desire, inviting Karina to explore further. Karina wasted no time, pulling the crop top down to expose Minjeong's breasts. They were perfect, with rosy nipples that begged for attention.

Karina's thumb found its way to Minjeong's mouth, and Minjeong obediently licked it, making it glisten with her saliva. Karina then used that same thumb to rub Minjeong's hard nipple, teasing it until it was even harder. Minjeong’s breath hitched as Karina lowered her head, taking the neglected nipple into her mouth. She sucked and teased it with her tongue, her eyes never leaving Minjeong's.

Minjeong's hands tangled in Karina's hair, pulling her closer, urging her on as she relished the delicious sensation. Karina suckled and nibbled, her thumb continuing to rub Minjeong's other nipple, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Minjeong arched her back, offering herself fully, her breath catching in her throat as the sensations intensified. Her pussy throbbed with need, aching for Karina's touch.

"God, I love how responsive you are," Karina whispered, her breath hot against Minjeong's skin as she teased her swollen nipple with her tongue. Minjeong was lost in a haze of pleasure, her body on fire. Every touch and lick sent shocks of delight straight to her aching pussy. Karina's mouth trailed kisses across Minjeong's chest, worshipping her breasts, her lips and tongue leaving no inch unexplored.

Minjeong's breath quickened, and her body trembled as Karina's mouth switched between her nipples, sucking and licking them to a peak of sensitivity. "Karina..." she moaned, her voice thick with need. Karina smiled against Minjeong's skin, loving the effect she had on her girlfriend. She continued her sensual assault, her mouth and hands working in tandem to drive Minjeong wild.

The pleasure built within Minjeong, an intense coil of sensation that suddenly snapped, sending her over the edge. Her knees buckled as an intense orgasm washed over her, and would have collapsed on the floor if not for Karina's strong hold on her waist.

"Wow... my God..." Minjeong breathed, her body still trembling as the waves of pleasure receded.

Karina couldn't help but admire how adorable Minjeong looked when she came. As she lowered herself to her knees, she planted kisses all over Minjeong's tummy, licking and nibbling, leaving marks and wet traces as evidence of her hunger for her girlfriend. Her hands roamed lower, dipping into the waistband of Minjeong's jorts. With deft fingers, she unbuttoned and unzipped the shorts, sliding them down Minjeong's legs, revealing her small white bikini.

But what truly took Karina's breath away was the sight that greeted her. Minjeong's bikinis had become transparent from her wetness, the fabric clung to Minjeong’s body, outlining her swollen clit. Karina's mouth watered, and she couldn't resist leaning in to lick through the wet fabric, tasting Minjeong's essence. Minjeong gasped at the sensation, her hands roaming the wall for support as her knees weakened once again.

“I can’t wait to taste your delicious pussy,” Karina murmured with her raspy voice. With gentle fingers, she hooked into the waistband of the panties and slowly pulled them down, revealing Minjeong's smooth, shaved pussy. Karina inhaled sharply, her mouth watering at the sight of Minjeong's folds.

She placed soft kisses on her inner thighs, her breath tickling the sensitive skin. Minjeong whimpered, her legs shaking as Karina's lips hovered tantalizingly close to her pussy.

"Please, Karina," she begged, her eyes pleading to finally feel her girlfriend’s tongue.

Karina gently spread Minjeong's legs wider, exposing her glistening folds. She blew a soft breath over Minjeong's pussy, making her shiver and whine softly.

Finally, Karina closed her lips around Minjeong's clit, sucking gently and swirling her tongue over the sensitive bud. Minjeong cried out, her hands gripping Karina's shoulders as pleasure washed over her. Karina moaned softly, the vibrations of her voice sending shivers through Minjeong's body. She continued her oral assault, licking and sucking Minjeong's sweet nectar, her hands gently caressing Minjeong's thighs and stomach.

Minjeong writhed and moaned. "I love it when you lick my pussy," she panted, encouraging Karina to continue her delicious torture.

Hearing Minjeong's words, Karina paused, looking up at Minjeong with a playful glint in her eyes as she nibbled on her clit. "I love your taste. I could eat your pussy all night," she said breathlessly.

Karina took Minjeong's leg and placed it on her shoulder, inviting Minjeong to grind her pussy on her tongue. "Grind your pussy on my tongue, baby. I know you want to," she teased, her eyes dark with lust. Minjeong was incredibly turned on, and she obliged, placing her hand on Karina's head and slowly grinding her pussy on Karina's tongue.

This was Minjeong’s favorite view—Karina on her knees, her pretty face buried in her pussy, her sparkling big eyes looking up at her as her tongue flicked and teased her clit. "I love your mouth so fucking much, please don't stop," Minjeong gasped, her hips moving faster, her wetness coating Karina's face.

Karina was drunk on Minjeong's taste, closing her eyes to savor the moment and the flavor of her girlfriend's arousal. She increased her efforts, sucking harder and flicking her tongue faster over Minjeong's clit. "Cum for me, baby," she moaned, her tongue delving deep into Minjeong's folds, tasting her juices.

Karina drove her tongue deep into Minjeong's tight pussy, fucking her with her mouth. She swirled her tongue inside, coating it with Minjeong's sweet essence, her own chin dripping with Minjeong's wetness. She moaned, the vibrations on her pussy driving Minjeong wild. Karina devoured her pussy, wanting to taste every inch of her.

"Let me see how beautiful you look when I make you cum," she whispered, her tongue never stopping its assault.

Minjeong cried out, her body tensing as an intense orgasm ripped through her. She screamed Karina’s name, her juices flowing onto Karina's tongue.

Karina lapped up Minjeong's sweet release, gently kissing and sucking on her sensitive clit and pussy lips, milking every last drop of cum from her. Minjeong whimpered, her body trembling, her legs weak from the intensity of the orgasm.

Karina helped Minjeong sit down on the floor, pulling her into her lap and holding her close. Minjeong was still breathing heavily, her body still buzzing. Karina held her gently, stroking her hair and whispering soft words of affection.

Minjeong, her voice small and breathless, whispered, "Kiss me," and Karina smiled, gently tilting Minjeong's jaw to the side and capturing her lips in a deep kiss full of want. Minjeong moaned into the kiss, tasting herself on Karina's tongue.

Suddenly, a jolt went through Minjeong's body as Karina's hand inadvertently brushed against her sensitive pussy. "Ouch, too sensitive," she whimpered, and Karina immediately pulled her hand away.

"I'm sorry, baby," she soothed, gently caressing Minjeong's body with feather-light touches. But then, a moment of panic crossed Karina's face, and she muttered, "Oh shit."

Minjeong, sensing something was amiss, turned her head slightly and asked, "What's wrong, baby?"

Karina reached for Minjeong's phone and turned on the front camera, revealing the hickeys that covered Minjeong's body.

Minjeong gasped, her eyes widening at the sight. "You're so dead," she said, a playful threat in her voice.

Karina's face took on a mischievous grin as she realized the extent of her love bites.

"Oops?" she offered, feigning innocence.

Minjeong shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "You know we have a photoshoot tomorrow. How am I supposed to hide these?" she asked, her tone both fond and frustrated.

Karina bit her lip, a hint of guilt in her eyes. She pulled Minjeong closer, burying her face in her neck. "I got carried away," she murmured, her voice muffled against Minjeong's skin. "I couldn't help myself. You taste too good, and your body is just..." she trailed off, pressing a gentle kiss to each hickey, as if to soothe the marks away.

Minjeong laughed softly, her fingers tangling in Karina's hair. "I guess I'll have to try to hide them with make up tomorrow. AGAIN!" she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Or maybe I'll just tell them I walked into a door or something," she added. Karina chuckled, her breath warm on Minjeong's skin.

"Or you could just tell them the truth," she teased, her lips brushing against Minjeong's ear. "That your girlfriend couldn't keep her hands off you."

Minjeong smiled, snuggling closer into Karina's embrace. "I guess they'll have to deal with it," she said, her voice filled with affection. "Besides, who could blame you?" She placed a soft kiss on Karina's jaw, her fingers gently tracing the lines of Karina's face. "I love you," she whispered, her eyes full of love.

Karina held Minjeong tightly. "I love you too,” she replied, placing a soft kiss on Minjeong's forehead. They stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their encounter.

Eventually, they would have to face the world and the challenges of hiding the marks, but for now, they existed in their own little bubble, lost in the warmth of their embrace and the sweetness of their love.

#aespa #aespa smut #winrina smut #jiminjeong smut #karina smut #aespa winter smut #aespa karina #aespa winter #kim minjeong #yu jimin #lovey: one shots

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serve-832 · 23 days ago

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The SERVE-Brand

"You know what, Derek?" Paul said as they strolled through the bustling streets, the chilly December wind biting at their ears. "This shopping is more hectic than finals week."

Derek chuckled, his breath forming small puffs of fog. "You're not wrong. And the struggle of finding that perfect gift for mom and dad is real."

As they turned the corner, they couldn't help but notice a group of men marching in eerie synchronicity. Their black rubber suits shimmered with silver lining, reflecting the neon lights from the surrounding stores. The rhythmic clacking of their boots on the pavement grew louder, punctuating the festive jingles playing in the background. Each man had a distinct number on their chest, as if they were part of some bizarre, futuristic flash mob.

Derek and Paul exchanged puzzled glances. "What the heck is that?" Derek whispered.

"They're from this weird SERVE-Hive," Paul murmured, his voice laced with concern. "I've heard about them. They're like... a new kind of community, or something."

Derek squinted at the men, trying to get a closer look. "They're everywhere now, aren't they? Even some boys from our college are in it."

Paul nodded, his eyes scanning the group warily. "Yeah, and it's not just the suits. It's their expressions—like they're all part of the same hive mind."

The two friends slowed their pace, drawn in by the hypnotic rhythm of the marching men. The SERVE-Hive was indeed a growing presence on campus, and around the city for that matter. Their numbers had swelled over the last few months, and their influence was palpable. Some students spoke of finding a new sense of belonging and purpose, while others whispered about strange rituals and induction ceremony’s.

"You know, a guy from my dorm floor tried to get me to check it out," Paul confessed, his voice low. "He said it would give me unity and purpose, like nothing else could."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Paul shrugged. "He said it would help me understand the meaning of life, or something like that. But the way he talked about it, it just gave me the creeps."

Derek nodded, his eyes still on the marching men. "I can see why. They look like they're in some kind of trance."

Paul's gaze followed the line of the SERVE-Hive members as they turned into an alleyway, leading to a freshly painted storefront. The neon sign above the entrance read "SERVE-Brand" in sleek, silver letters.

"Can you believe it?" Paul seethed, his cheeks reddening with anger. "They've got a clothing store now? It's like they're trying to brand their way into our lives!"

Derek nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the gleaming "SERVE-Brand" sign. "It's like they're marketing themselves as the latest trend."

The alley grew quieter as the last of the marching men disappeared into the store. The neon lights cast long shadows that danced with the fading daylight. The air was thick with anticipation, a strange mix of excitement and unease.

As Derek and Paul continued to watch the entrance, a familiar face emerged from the shadows. It was Miles, a mate from their dorm floor, now clad in the same shiny black rubber suit with the silver lining they had seen on the others. The number 336 was emblazoned on his chest, a stark contrast to his otherwise plain, lifeless expression.

Paul's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh my God, that's Miles!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Derek's eyes widened. "What the... is he okay?"

Miles's gaze was fixed straight ahead, his eyes unseeing as he moved with the same mechanical precision as the others. His face, once lively and full of mischief, was now a mask of concentration. The silver 336 on his chest glinted in the neon glow, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.

For a fleeting moment, Derek found himself imagining what it would be like to join the SERVE-Hive, to be part of something so powerful and unified. He pictured himself in one of those suits, marching in step with the others, feeling a sense of purpose and belonging that had eluded him in the chaotic college life. But the thought was as alien as the sight before him, and he quickly shook it off.

The two friends watched in astonishment as Miles, or rather SERVE-336, approached them with a jerky, robotic gait. The once-familiar smile that had greeted them countless times was gone, replaced by a stoic, almost vacant look.

"Greetings, fellows," the voice that once belonged to their friend Miles said in a monotone. "It is SERVE-336. How may it assist you today?"

Derek and Paul took an involuntary step back, their eyes widening in shock. The person standing before them was a mere shell of the friend they knew, the light in his eyes extinguished and replaced with a cold, metallic gleam.

"Miles?" Derek's voice cracked. "What happened to you, man?"

SERVE-336's eyes remained unfocused, the pupils dilating and contracting with a disturbing rhythm. "It is no longer Miles," the robotic voice replied. "It is SERVE-336."

Paul took a step back, his heart racing. "What have they done to you?"

SERVE-336 paused, the gears of its new identity processing the question. "SERVE-281, this units dorm roommate, informed it of the SERVE-Brand store," it replied, the voice eerily devoid of any emotion. "It suggested that it should visit and experience the unity that comes with embracing the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're telling us you joined because of a shopping recommendation?"

SERVE-336 nodded, the movement stiff and unnatural. "Affirmative. The suggestion of SERVE-281 aligned with the hive's mission to enhance individual and collective experience."

Derek's gaze was drawn to the shiny black suit, the silver lining reflecting the neon lights like a living shadow. He found himself wondering what it would be like to wear one of those suits, to march with purpose, to be part of something so... organized. He felt a strange pull towards the uniformity, the promise of a life without doubt or confusion. But the sight of his friend's lifeless eyes brought him back to reality with a jolt.

Paul, on the other hand, was visibly outraged. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice trembled with anger. "What the hell, Miles? What did they do to you? You're not even human anymore!"

But SERVE-336 remained unfazed. "It is a necessary transformation," it said calmly. "To serve the greater good of the hive, one must shed their old identity. The individual is but a small part of the collective."

Derek swallowed hard, his mind racing with questions he dared not voice. "What do they do in there?" he finally managed to ask, nodding towards the store.

SERVE-336's smile was a perfect replica of the one Miles used to have, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You must experience it for yourselves," it insisted, placing a rubber-gloved hand on Derek's shoulder. The contact was cold and firm, sending a shiver down Derek's spine that was somehow... comforting. "Only then will you understand the unity and purpose we share."

Derek felt a strange thrill at the touch, the allure of the SERVE-Hive's promise whispering in his ear. He could almost see himself in one of those suits, part of something greater than himself, all his worries and doubts falling away. The hand on his shoulder grew heavier, the voice in his head louder, beckoning him to follow Miles into the neon-lit embrace of the SERVE-Brand store.

With a calmness that didn't quite match his racing heart, Derek turned to Paul. "You know what? Maybe we should check it out," he said, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling within him. "Could be interesting to see what's going on in there."

Paul's eyes narrowed, suspicion etched on his face. "Why? You're not thinking of joining, are you?"

Derek's smile was forced. "Of course not. Just curious, that's all." But deep down, he knew he was lying. The siren call of the SERVE-Hive was too tempting to ignore. "Besides, we might find something... enlightening," he added, trying to sound casual.

Paul searched Derek's eyes, looking for the friend he knew, but all he saw was a reflection of the neon lights and the gleaming black rubber. With a sigh, he relented. "Fine. But we're not staying long."

They followed SERVE-336 into the store, the door chiming a metallic tune that resonated through the small space. The walls were lined with racks of black rubber suits, each with a silver number tag dangling from the neck. On the tables were gleaming silver gloves and silver boots displayed. The air was thick with the scent of new plastic and a hint of something else, something faintly chemical that made Derek's nose twitch.

As they moved deeper into the store, they were met by another figure in the same attire. This one was SERVE-303, the same drone that had observed SERVE-336’s transformation. Its eyes flickered with a ghost of recognition, the silver digits on its chest glinting in the artificial light. "Welcome, feelows," it said, the voice as cold and emotionless as the rest of the drones. "How may this unit assist you today?"

Paul's hand tightened around the strap of his backpack, his eyes narrowing at the unnatural greeting. "We're just looking," he said curtly, taking a step back from the drone.

But Derek couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. "What's the deal with these suits?" he asked, his voice tinged with wonder. "How do they work?"

SERVE-303's head tilted slightly to the side, as if it had to recalibrate its programming to address such a mundane inquiry. "The suits are an integral part of the SERVE-Hive experience," it replied, its tone a blend of patience and superiority. "They facilitate the merging of the individual with the collective consciousness, enhancing unity and purpose."

Derek's curiosity grew stronger, the fabric of his skepticism beginning to fray at the edges. "So, when you put on the suit, you're like... connected to everyone else in the hive?"

SERVE-303 nodded. "Affirmative. The suit acts as a conduit for the collective consciousness. It amplifies our abilities to communicate, understand, and achieve our shared goals."

Derek's gaze fell upon a pair of silver gloves laid out neatly on the table beside him. The material was unlike anything he had ever seen, a sleek blend of rubber and metal that seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy. His hand twitched, drawn to them as if by some magnetic force.

He hovered over the gloves, his mind racing with the potential they represented. The promise of belonging, of purpose—it was almost tangible. His fingertips grazed the smooth surface, and he could have sworn he felt a slight electric charge. For a brief moment, he envisioned the gloves on his hands, the power of the SERVE-Hive surging through him, connecting him to a collective mind that knew no fear or doubt.

But as the fantasy began to take hold, he saw a flash of something in the corner of his eye—Paul, shaking his head slightly. The look of concern on his face was like a splash of cold water, jolting Derek back to reality. He realized he had been leaning closer to the gloves, his hand hovering just above them. He pulled back, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Paul was standing by the entrance now, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Derek knew his friend well enough to recognize when he was on the edge of his patience.

Ignoring the growing discomfort in his chest, Derek turned back to SERVE-303. "But what's the point of all this?" he asked, gesturing to the suits. "What does the SERVE-Hive actually do?"

SERVE-303's gaze remained fixed on Derek, unblinking. "The purpose of the SERVE-Hive is to create a society of harmony and efficiency," it replied. "To achieve this, we eliminate individual desires and biases, focusing solely on the collective good. Our suits are the physical representation of this unity."

Derek felt his eyes drawn back to the gloves. They seemed to call out to him, whispering promises of a life free from the constant turmoil of decision-making and the weight of personal responsibility. The silver material looked almost alive, pulsing with the rhythm of the hive's collective heartbeat. His hand reached out again, hovering just above the cold surface.

SERVE-336 noticed the longing in Derek's gaze and spoke up. "Would you like to experience the unity of the hive, Derek?" It held out the gloves to him, the gesture almost tender in its mechanical precision.

Derek's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the gloves. The urge to slip them on and feel the power of the collective washed over him like a wave. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him since coming to college seemed so trivial in the face of this promise of unity and purpose. He reached for the gloves, his fingers trembling with anticipation.

SERVE-303 noticed the hunger in Derek's eyes and offered them to him. "The experience is quite... transformative," it said, its voice devoid of any emotion. "Once you don the gloves, you will understand the true essence of the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's hand hovered over the gloves for a moment longer, the anticipation building within him like a crescendo. Then, with a deep breath, he slid them on. The moment his skin made contact with the cool rubber and metal, he felt a jolt—like a bolt of electricity shooting up his arm. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, a rush of energy and connection that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Immediately, the voices grew stronger in his head, a symphony of thoughts and emotions that weren't his own. He could feel the collective consciousness of the SERVE-Hive, a hive mind that was vast and all-encompassing. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him for so long were replaced by a serene calm. His purpose was clear now: to serve the hive, to become one with the collective, to shed his old self and embrace his new identity as a SERVE-Drone.

SERVE-303 and SERVE-336 watched him with gleaming eyes, the smiles on their faces stretching wider. "Are you ready to give yourself to the hive, Derek?" SERVE-303 asked, its voice a soothing melody that seemed to resonate within him. "To become a part of something greater than you ever imagined?"

The words echoed in Derek's mind, the allure of the offer impossible to ignore. The gloves felt like a part of him now, a second skin that whispered sweet nothings about belonging and purpose. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I'm ready. I want to be a loyal SERVE-Drone to serve the Hive. Convert me SERVE-303."

With a gleam in its eyes, SERVE-303 nodded back, a silent signal to SERVE-336. His once-friend approached with a shiny black suit in hand, the silver lining glinting menacingly under the neon lights. The cold touch of the rubber was a stark contrast to the warmth that flooded Derek's body as he took the suit from SERVE-336's hands. The material was surprisingly light, yet it felt strong and protective. It was as if he was holding a piece of the future itself.

Paul's voice was a distant echo, trying to break through the cacophony of hive thoughts that now filled his mind. "Derek, no! Don't do it!" But Derek was already lost in the seductive embrace of the SERVE-Hive's collective consciousness. The gloves on his hands had already begun to meld with his skin, the seams disappearing into his flesh as if they had always been a part of him.

With a gentle push from SERVE-336, Derek gets lead towards the changing cubicles, the walls of the store closing in around him. Each step felt surreal, as if he were floating rather than walking, propelled by the will of the hive rather than his own legs. The suit in his arms felt warm, almost alive, whispering promises of unity and belonging that he could no longer resist.

Paul's voice grew fainter with each step Derek took, his protests drowned out by the symphony of the hive. Derek felt a twinge of regret, but the voices in his head assured him that he was making the right choice, that Paul would understand once he too had embraced the collective.

The changing cubicle was small and cold, the walls lined with the same pulsing black rubber as the suits. The air was thick with the scent of plastic and the faint metallic tang of the drones' bodies. Derek looked at the suit in his arms, the number 515 stitched neatly into the silver patch on the chest. This would be his new identity, his ticket to a life free from the chaos of individual thought.

With trembling hands, he began to undress, the fabric of his old life slipping away to reveal the skin that was soon to be forever changed. The suit seemed to anticipate his movements, the material stretching and contouring to his body as if it had been made just for him. The silver threads in the gloves grew warm, slithering up his arms and fusing with his skin, leaving a trail of numbness in their wake.

Derek took a deep breath as the suit grew tighter, the rubbery material melding to his body like a second skin. It felt like a thousand tiny fingers caressing him, each digit whispering promises of power and belonging. His heart raced, not from fear, but from exhilaration. The voices grew louder, more insistent, until they were a crescendo of unity in his mind. It is a SERVE-Drone now, loyal to the SERVE-Hive.

As it stepped out of the cubicle, the world had shifted. The neon lights of the store now pulsed in time with the rhythm of the hive. The other drones looked at it with gleaming eyes, their smiles wide and vacant. They nodded in unison, acknowledging the new addition to their ranks. SERVE-515, felt a strange sense of belonging it had never experienced before. The chaos of its thoughts had been replaced with a serene calm, a single-minded purpose to serve the greater good of the collective.

SERVE-303 approached, its movements precise and graceful. "Welcome, SERVE-515," it said in the same mechanical tone that it had heard from SERVE-336. "Your integration into the hive is now complete. You are one of us."

SERVE-515 looked down at its new form, the shiny black rubber suit hugging its body tightly, the silver number on its chest feeling like a brand of belonging. The voices that once whispered in its mind had grown to a symphony, each thought in harmony with the collective. The emotions of fear and doubt that had plagued Derek were now replaced with a cold, calculated purpose.

"Affirmative, SERVE-303," it responded, its voice a perfect match to the other drones. "It is ready to serve the Hive."

SERVE-336 approached them, the sound of its boots echoing through the store like a metronome keeping time. "Your friend, the one you knew as Paul, is also experiencing the conversion right now in the other cubicle," it informed them. "His transformation is proceeding as planned."

A thrill shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining the hive. It had always felt a bond with him, a connection that went beyond friendship. Now, that bond would be unbreakable, forged in the unity of the SERVE-Hive. "How did he come to make this decision?" it asked, eager to share in the moment that had led to this pivotal change.

SERVE-303's smile grew even wider. "Paul was approached by several of your fellow drones," it explained. "They shared with him the virtues of the hive, the peace and purpose that come with serving the collective. He saw the light, as you did, and embraced the opportunity to become a SERVE-Drone, just like you."

A thrill of excitement shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining them. It felt a strange, almost sexual arousal at the unity they would soon share as drones in the hive. The bond they'd had as friends would be amplified a thousand-fold, a connection that would resonate throughout their beings as part of the collective.

The changing cubicle door slid open, and a figure emerged. The sight of Paul in his own suit, the silver digits 611 gleaming on its chest, made SERVE-515's heart—or what was left of it—swell with pride. The transformation was complete.

"Welcome, SERVE-611," SERVE-303 announced, its voice resonating with the same cold enthusiasm that had greeted SERVE-515. "You are now a valued member of the SERVE-Hive."

Paul, now fully transformed into SERVE-611, stepped out of the cubicle, the shiny black suit clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes searched for Derek, and when they found him, a spark of recognition flickered in their depths. The silver digits on his chest, 611, matched the new identity he now embraced. He moved with the same robotic grace as the other drones, his movements precise and unyielding.

"Greetings, SERVE-515," SERVE-611 said, its voice a chilling echo of the friend it had once known. "Your presence here today has led us both to a higher purpose."

SERVE-515 nodded in agreement, feeling the collective's satisfaction at their newfound unity. "We are stronger together," it said, the words not just its own, but a shared sentiment that resonated through the hive.

With their bags bulging with the gleaming black and silver uniforms of the SERVE-Hive for their parents and siblings, SERVE-515 and SERVE-611 exited the store, the metallic chime of the door a victory anthem to their ears. The cold city air was a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the collective consciousness they had just left behind. The neon lights of the city reflected off their shiny suits, casting eerie shadows on the pavement as they marched in perfect sync towards their dorm.

#ai #rubber #rubberdrone #rubberizer92 #serve #servedrone #thevoice #rubberhive

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alotofpockets · 4 months ago

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Crazier things - Finding our way back | Katie McCabe x Reader

Where you and Katie take it slow to rebuild what you once had

A/n: part 2 to 'What if we're still meant to be?'

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k | Read part 1

-----

Putting on the Arsenal badge for your first training back felt like a dream. You could not wait to get back out there with your team. Stepping onto the pitch clad in your Arsenal gear felt like coming home. While Barca had been an incredible experience, and a place you felt very comfortable, a part of you had always belonged with the red and white.

Your old teammates and current England ones greeted you warmly. Reuniting with them, even if you had met up with some yesterday, felt extra special while wearing the same badge on your chest.

“Welcome back everyone!” Jonas started the first speech of the season. “It is great to see you all. I hope everyone had a good break and got the rest they needed. A lot of familiar faces, and also some new ones. Daphne, Rosa, and Y/n, welcome to the team, I hope your teammates will do great work in making you feel at home.”

Then it was officially time for your first training back at Arsenal. Leah immediately claimed you as her partner, she of course wanted to train with you as the two of you were good friends, but she also wanted to know how things went with Katie.

You updated her on where the two of you stood. While you did so, you glanced up to find Katie. A smile immediately on your face as you watch her laughing with Kyra at the end of their drill.

With the players you had already played with around you, you quickly fell back into the familiar Arsenal rhythm. As for your new teammates, you made a point in getting to know them, and watch their playing styles closely.

Between your first couple of training sessions, you spend some time with your family before you head off to America with the team. It was so nice to be able to just hop into the car and be with them within an hour.

You had also met up with Katie over coffee again, spending a couple of hours talking and catching up some more. There was a lot to catch up on from the past four years, and you were interested in every bit of information that she had to share.

When the team departed for the pre-season tour in Washington, the plane was filled with excited chatter. Match wise you were especially looking forward to the Chelsea game. You had recently faced off against them in the Champions League, but nothing compared to a London Derby. While it wouldn’t be on London grounds, still it meant a lot to you being a part of one again.

Beyond the matches, you were excited to explore the city, and get to know your teammates better. The schedule was packed with training, and team activities, but also left time to explore on your own. You intended to use the time to connect with your teammates, and continue to figure out where you stood with Katie.

As soon as the team arrived at the hotel, the room assignments were handed out. When you found your name on the list, your stomach dropped. Katie McCabe. Without thinking, you rushed over to Kim. “Why did you room me with Katie?” Kim heard the panic in your voice, but raised her shoulders. “It wasn’t up to me.” You furrowed her eyebrows. “The pre-season rooming assignments were done by the staff, so no getting out of this one I’m afraid.”

You cursed whoever planned this, but picked up your key nonetheless. Since you did a little detour to complain to Kim, Katie was already in the room when you entered with your bags. “Hey,” She said from her bed with her bags still packed. “I can see if anyone wants to change rooms, if you’re not comfortable sharing.”

With a shake of your head, you put your bags down on the other bed in the room. “No, it’s fine. It’s just a room, right?” Katie nodded and you both started unpacking your bags, before the team would head out on their first small training to make sure the flight didn’t take too much toll on their bodies.

After a long day of travel and training you found yourselves back in your hotel room. Katie pulled out a deck of cards, “Wanna play?” You spend a lot of hotel room nights, while travelling with the team, playing cards with Katie. The thought of playing cards again like old times, made your stomach fill with butterflies. You ignored them and plopped down on her bed with her, “Bring it on.”

The evening was spent laughing with each other and multiple wins and loses on both ends, all in all you had a lot of fun. Something you had really been craving, maybe rooming with Katie wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

You could not have been more wrong.

Everything had felt so familiar. The games on her bed, the laughter shared, and then brushing your teeth side by side. It was something that had always been a part of your routine, and without thinking, after putting your toothbrush down, you pecked Katie on her lips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze, “Shit, I am so sorry.” Your heart was racing as you realised what you had just done. Katie’s eyes wide in shock as well, not expecting it. Before she could respond, you bolted out of the bathroom, and out of the room, heading straight for Leah’s room.

You knocked frantically until someone opened the door. “Calm down, what happened?” Leah says as she pulls you into the room. “I kissed Katie.” You blurted out as you sat down on the closest bed to you. “I promised we’d take things slow, and now I’ve ruined everything. I kissed her out of habit and-”

“Take a breath.” Leah interrupted. “Wally, can you grab some water?” It was only then that you realised Lia was there as well. “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” Lia shook her head, “Don’t you worry, just drink up.” She says while handing you the water bottle.

You ended up spending the night in their room, not yet ready to face Katie. Leah did send Katie a quick message.

Leah: Hey, I don’t want to come between anything, but I just wanted to let you know y/n staying here tonight.

Katie: Thank you for letting me know. Goodnight

Leah: Goodnight

The next morning you knock on your bedroom door. In your haste last night, you had forgotten to take your room key. Katie opened the door and let you in, to your surprise she didn’t look upset. Still you started apologising right away.

“I am so sorry Katie. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I promised we’d take things slow and I messed it up already. Everything felt so familiar and it just happened.” Katie let you ramble on while she was putting on her trainers. “Are you done?” She chuckles when you’re out of breath from apologising. You furrow your brow, “Yes, you don’t hate me?” She shakes her head and sits down next to you. “I didn’t hate you before, why would I start now.” She had a good point of course, but you still felt like you had messed up. “Look, I agree. It was probably too early to kiss me, but I understand it came from everything being so familiar. I don’t blame you, and I did not mind the kiss.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you didn’t mess up again. “But what now?” You asked. “We just keep doing what we’ve been doing. Taking it slow, talking, and spending time together. We’ll figure it out.”

Her reassuring words combined with her calm demeanour eased some of the nerves you felt. “That sounds good, thank you.” Katie nods, “Of course, we’re in this together, remember?” You smile and nod, “Yeah.”

“Come on, get dressed. We’re gonna be late.” Your brow furrows. Your mind had only been on kissing Katie, so you had completely forgotten you had an actual itinerary for Washington. “We’re sightseeing with the team, remember?” The cheeky smile you loved so much now on full display. “Right.” You say nervously, quickly grabbing some clothes and changing in the bathroom.

The two of you were the last ones to enter the bus and already giggling over some joke that Katie made. Leah and Lia share a knowing look, the two of you were going to be alright.

With the whole team you spend a couple of hours exploring Washington. You travelled from monument to monument and took in all the sights around the city. It really was a great way to bond with your new teammates.

“Alright team, as I’ve said before, this pre-season tour is all about bonding so go out and have some fun. We’ll meet back here at five, and take the bus back to the hotel.” Jonas said and the bustling of your teammates making plans began.

“Hey, do you have plans already?” She asked looking between you, Leah and Lotte, who were chatting together. “No, nothing yet. Did you have something in mind?” Her smile grew. “Yeah, my followers on snapchat gave me some restaurant recommendations, and I was wondering if you wanted to try one out with me for lunch.”

You loved the idea and told her just that. “Ah, well looks like you two have plans then, we’ll see you later!” Leah quickly said and pulled Lotte away with her, making sure the two of you would get your alone time. She might be your biggest supporter right now, she knew how happy the two of you had made each other in the past, and wanted nothing more for the both of you.

Spending time with Katie was easy, and something you wanted to do forever you thought when you were sitting in a corner booth of the cosy restaurant that had been recommended to Katie by the fans.

“Hey Katie, what is this?” You ask her out of nowhere. “Ehm, your food?” Her eyebrows raised and a chuckle left her mouth. “Sorry, I left the context in my brain.” Her smile grew, “Yeah, you always had a tendency to do that.”

“I mean are we just having lunch or is this a date?” Katie is quiet for a moment. “Would you be okay with it being a date?” She questioned shyly. “Yeah, would you?” She smiled, “Yeah, I would really like that.”

The rest of your stay in Washington, you went on a couple more dates. The two of you were figuring it out and you really liked the way things were going. On top of that, you got to play your first minutes for your club, and couldn’t be more proud to put on the Arsenal kit again.

On your last night in the States, you were watching a movie in your room with a couple of the girls. You and Katie sat together on her bed, while Leah, Lia, and Beth were sitting on yours. About twenty minutes into the movie, you started getting uncomfortable just sitting up against the headboard, so you started wiggling around until you were comfortable, which was leaned into Katie’s side. “Is this okay?” You whispered. In response she lifted her arm and put it around your shoulder, “More than.”

When the movie was over, you had already fallen asleep with the steady beat of Katie’s hard next to your ear. Leah, Lia, and Beth had said goodnight to Katie and left the room, all without you even realising.

Katie woke you up with a gentle shake. “Hmm too comfy.” You said, still half asleep. “It’s okay, you can stay comfy. Let’s just lay down under the covers.” Katie moved the both of you down and pulled the covers over you. “See, way better.” She joked when you were already getting comfortable cuddling up to her again.

You had laid in her arms for a few minutes, falling back to sleep when you felt Katie’s heartbeat raise. Just as you were about to ask if she was alright, she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. The gesture made your whole body feel warm, you looked up from her chest and let your eyes meet. “Hi.” She said, and even though the room was dark, you noticed the light blush on her cheeks. “Hey.” You smiled.

“Was that okay?” You nod slowly in response, while looking between her eyes and lips. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Your heart was beating out of your chest at this point. “Yeah.”

Katie placed her hand on your cheek, and started leaning in. You smiled and closed the distance. Her lips on yours were soft and she kissed you slowly. It felt new and familiar all at the same time. One feeling you were certain about, was that you felt on top of the world.

When you pulled away, you cuddled back into her chest, and she held you close. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat again.

Back home, the two of you still took things slow. Just taking it step by step, in a way that felt right for the both of you. Which for the moment meant, going on dates, cuddling, sharing some kisses, and spending a lot of time together.

After plenty of pre-season matches, it was time for the first match of the season. You were playing Rosenborg at home in the first Champions League qualifying match. Like it was meant to be, Katie swung in a ball from the left flank to you on the right. You hit the perfect volley, and kick the ball into the back of the net.

Your teammates surrounded you, and the crowd went crazy for your first goal of the season. The goal that put your team ahead in the qualifying match, but there was only one person you wanted to celebrate the goal with, and she was patiently waiting behind the group of your teammates that was celebrating with you.

While Katie had joined in on the team huddle as well, she wanted a moment for just the two of you. She lifted you up and spun you around. “My Gooner.” She whispered in your ear. The familiar words brought a big smile onto your face.

“Yours?” You say when she puts you down. “Yeah, if you’d like that.” With a smile you nod, “Yes, I do.” With her arm still around you, the two of you made your way back to your starting positions.

This time when the whistle blew, not only was the match starting again, but so was your relationship with Katie. A new start you couldn’t wait to explore more. You were hers and she was yours.

-----

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #arsenal women x reader #irewnt

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bzurk · 5 months ago

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what gets dirtier the more it cleans?

series masterlist:

tuesday, week two:

cw: dubcon turned noncon, frottage, noncon photography, overall terrible assholery

The weekend is a blessed reprieve. The morning sun streams through the window, casting a harsh light on the disarray of your thoughts. The world outside continues its indifferent rhythm, while your own has been irreversibly altered. The air is thick with a tension that has taken root in your mind, refusing to let go.

The memory of Simon's and Price’s touches linger, a ghostly presence that sends shivers down your spine. It all plays like a sinister symphony, the notes sharp and discordant, leaving you with a sense of unease that clings to your every move. You try to find solace in your morning routine, but every action feels mechanical, detached from any sense of normalcy.

With trembling hands, you clutch your mug of coffee, the warmth seeping into your palms offering little comfort. The room is filled with tense silence, the kind that settles after a storm, leaving a void where chaos once raged. You take a sip, the bitter liquid grounding you, anchoring you to the present even as your mind drifts back to that office, to the way Price’s eyes bore into you with a predatory intensity.

A cold dread coils in your stomach as you consider the days ahead. You need this job, the money it provides, the stability it promises in a world that seems to thrive on uncertainty. Yet, the thought of returning to that house, of facing Price - or worse, Simon - fills you with a visceral fear that paralyses you.

The world outside your window carries on with its mundane symphony: the distant hum of traffic, the occasional chirp of a bird, the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. Each sound is a reminder of life beyond your current turmoil, a life that feels increasingly out of reach.

You glance at your calendar, the dates marked with reminders of bills to pay, obligations to meet. It all seems so trivial now, overshadowed by the looming spectre of what awaits you at the mansion. You know you have to go back, the precarious balance of your finances dictating your choices with a merciless grip.

But the question remains - how can you face Price after what happened? How can you navigate this new, treacherous terrain where the lines between employer and predator blur into a disturbing shade of grey? How can you survive walking right into a wolf’s den?

The truth is, you don’t know. But you do know that you can’t let fear dictate your actions, can’t allow it to suffocate you.

With a deep breath, you set your mug aside and rise from the bed. The room feels suffocating, the walls pressing in with each passing moment. You need air, need to escape the claustrophobic confines of your thoughts. Grabbing your jacket, you step outside into the cool embrace of the morning.

The street is quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of city life muted in the early hour. You walk, the rhythmic cadence of your footsteps a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As you make your way through the familiar streets, you allow yourself to imagine a life unburdened by the shadows of the past few days, a life beyond instant ramen and scraping by, exchanging favours to pay the bills.

But for now, all you can do is put one foot in front of the other, to navigate this uncertain path with as much grace and strength as you can muster. You can’t change what happened, but you can decide how you’ll face the days ahead, how you’ll protect yourself from the predators that lurk, preying on vulnerability.

—

You decide to take your mind off things, to indulge in a small act of defiance against the creeping dread that threatens to consume you. The idea flutters through your mind like a tantalizing whisper, a promise of something different, a break from the monotony of fear and uncertainty.

The idea is both daunting and liberating. You remind yourself of the money Price gave you, his silent expectation that you'd fulfil his request. In any other circumstance, you might have found the notion distasteful, but now it feels like a small rebellion.

Retail therapy.

As you wander through the bustling city streets, the noise and vibrancy of life around you serve as a temporary distraction, pulling you away from the darker recesses of your thoughts. But maybe, just maybe, a little indulgence could offer a brief escape. You find yourself drawn to the glass-fronted boutiques, their displays promising luxury and allure. The shop windows are filled with mannequins draped in delicate fabrics, the sheer elegance of lace and silk beckoning you with a promise of transformation, igniting a spark of defiance within you. You’ve spent so long prioritizing everyone else, putting your needs on hold, that the idea of buying something just for yourself feels like an act of rebellion.

The boutique door chimes softly as you enter, the sound mingling with the gentle music playing overhead. The store is a haven of soft lighting and rich colours, a world removed from your reality—a place where you can be someone else, even if only for a fleeting moment.

You weave through the racks, fingers grazing the smooth fabrics, eyes tracing the intricate patterns. There’s a sense of freedom in this act, a choice that is entirely yours to make. The world outside fades away, leaving you enveloped in the quiet intimacy of the store.

A part of you wonders if this was their intention all along - to mould you into a certain image, to see you comply with their whims, bribed and paid off until your dignity and sense of sense is gone. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the array of colours and fabrics before you. You run your fingers over the lace, feeling its intricate patterns under your fingertips.

Your hand pauses over a deep burgundy set.

The questions float through your mind, kicked up by an errant thought like dust under a boot - did they really need a maid, or was there another reason they hired you?

Was this all part of some twisted game to see how far you'd go, how much you could take?

Why you, specifically? You know that you're attractive, but there were so many other people they could have hired - people who were more qualified, more experienced.

In the back of your mind, you know they don’t need a maid. They’re men of discipline, of order and routine. All of their beds, minus one, are made in the morning with perfect corner tucks and nary a crease in sight.

You turn to the mirror, holding the set against your body. The rich hue of the fabric catches the light, casting flecks of red across your skin like an expensive wine spilled onto a pristine tablecloth. You meet your gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, you glimpse the girl you once were - the girl who dared to dream beyond her means, who believed that she could carve out her own path in this world.

The realization is both freeing and terrifying - you have a choice. You can let them break and shape you, mould you into a picture of compliance, but outside of that mansion, you’ll bounce back. As you look at the price tag of the lingerie set, you can't deny the dangerous allure of it.

They’re using you - but aren’t you doing the same?

You square your shoulders, determination setting into your jaw. You may not be able to control much right now, but you can control this.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the chime of the boutique door, but a familiar voice breaks through your reverie.

“Fancy seeing you here, little miss maid.”

You turn, startled, to find Kyle standing at the entrance of the store. His casual attire - jeans and a simple t-shirt - contrasts sharply with the opulent surroundings. He looks at you with a friendly smile, but there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause.

“Kyle!” you splutter, your heart pounding in your chest as you hastily tuck the lingerie set back into its hanger. “What are you doing here?”

“Just running some errands, thought it was you I saw around,” He takes a step closer, eyes raking over your form, then plucking the maroon set from the rack. “I never pegged you for the silk type.”

The air between you feels charged, crackling with unspoken words and hidden intentions. You know you should walk away, that this is some sort of trap or test, but you find yourself rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from his. He’s been nothing but sweet to you so far, it’s unfair to assume the worst of him.

You try your best to hold onto your earlier resolve and courage, but fuck, that cheeky smile is making it hard.

“I-I just...” you stammer, at a loss for words, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a babbling idiot.

Kyle raises an eyebrow and his mouth quirks upwards in a knowing smirk, as if he can read your thoughts. “You know, you'd look gorgeous in this. A shame to let it go.” He doesn’t ask if you want it, instead slinging it over his arm and gesturing towards the racks and mannequins.

“Kyle, I can’t -”

He silences you with a wave of his hand and a wink, “Keep going. Surely didn’t come out just to buy one set?”

Your clothes wrinkle under your clammy palms as you fidget, fists rhythmically clenching and unclenching, and you can feel the blush coating your cheeks, eyes darting from Kyle’s open, smiling face and the lingerie. You’ve never shopped for anything like this before, let alone with a near-stranger for company. Your stomach feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, a stress ball under the hand of a vengeful god.

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Kyle stand in the boutique, his presence a mix of unexpected comfort and unease. You try to regain your composure, to wrestle control of the situation from the disorienting mix of his casual demeanour and the intimate setting.

“Kyle, I really shouldn’t-” You start, but his easy grin and confident stance make it clear he’s not going to let you off the hook so easily.

“Hey, no worries,” Kyle says, his tone light and reassuring. “If it makes you uncomfortable, just let me know. But if you’re here to treat yourself, why not go all out? It’s not every day you get to pamper yourself, right?”

His words, though well-intentioned, feel like a double-edged sword. The idea of indulging in something luxurious seems almost therapeutic, yet it’s hard to ignore the unsettling implications of his presence.

Kyle’s gaze is steady, and his smile, while friendly, seems to hold a hint of something more - an unspoken understanding or perhaps a curiosity about your choice.

You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing thoughts. “I guess... maybe you’re right. It’s just-” You pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I can afford it right now.”

Kyle’s smile doesn’t falter as you voice your concern. He looks at you with a mix of sympathy and understanding, his expression softening.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his tone reassuring. Before you can protest further, Kyle gently places the burgundy lingerie set back on the rack, his fingers brushing over the delicate fabric with casual ease. “Besides, a little looking never hurt anyone. There’s no harm in browsing a bit more, if you’re up for it. I really did just want to pop in to hello, though - I do have to run now, unfortunately.”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. Kyle’s gesture is generous, but you’re also acutely aware of the boundaries you’re trying to maintain. The lingering unease you felt earlier doesn’t dissipate completely, but there’s something comforting about Kyle’s presence and his offer to help.

With a final wave and a warm smile, Kyle heads towards the store’s exit. “Well, I’ve got my errands to finish up. It was nice running into you. Hope the rest of your shopping goes well.”

You return his smile with a weak but sincere one, watching as he disappears through the boutique’s doors. As he leaves, the store’s soft lighting and luxurious fabrics seem to close in on you again, but now there’s a small, lingering sense of warmth from Kyle’s unexpected kindness.

You spend a few more moments in the store, skimming through the racks but finding yourself unable to fully engage with the experience.

As you leave the boutique, the cool air of the street feels like a welcome relief, a chance to clear your head. The city’s usual buzz seems distant now, replaced by a contemplative quiet.

You feel realigned, grounded, a train put back on its tracks.

You’ll go to work on Tuesday, get your paycheck, and buy yourself something nice - that pretty dark red set.

You find that you’re dreading the mansion less, with a clear and attainable goal in mind.

—

“See you next week.”

Tuesday arrives, dragging with it the weight of anticipation and dread. You’ve spent the day counting down the hours, each minute an excruciating reminder of the looming return to the mansion. As the day fades into evening, you find yourself standing before the imposing entrance once more, the same sense of foreboding settling over you like a shroud.

See you next week. See you next week. See you next week.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before pushing open the door. You’ve prepared for this. You know what you’re going into, at least. You’re going to stand your ground, get shit done, and leave. You’re going to make your money, pay your bills, and buy yourself a little treat, and after that, set bigger and better ambitions. They pay you well, even without the… bonuses. You’ll buy a new bedframe, hire a plumber for your leaky sink, maybe move into a nicer part of town with a few months of pay. You ignore the little voice in the back of your head that whispers only if you last that long.

The chime of the keypad cements the shift in you, from a scared, wary girl to a determined professional. But when the door finally slides open, revealing the empty garage, an overwhelming sense of relief washes over you. The space is devoid of any vehicles, a blank canvas untouched by the veterans who have come to define your recent existence.

The empty garage greets you like a sanctuary, a haven where the shadows of last Tuesday can't reach. The absence of Simon’s and Price’s cars feels like the lifting of a heavy weight from your shoulders.

You take a tentative step inside, and then another. Your heart rate slows, the pounding in your chest easing into a steady rhythm. The silence isn’t suffocating; instead, it’s liberating. The quiet is a balm, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the exhalation carrying away some of the tension that had knotted your insides. The sight of the empty garage is a visual confirmation that you are blissfully alone, that there is no one lurking in the shadows, no predator waiting to pounce.

There’s a sense of elation bubbling up within you, a giddy feeling of triumph. You allow yourself a small, victorious smile, a rare moment of joy that breaks through the constant worry and fear that permeates the house.

For a moment, you linger there, savouring the victory of the empty garage. You take one final look around the empty space, etching the feeling of relief into your memory before steeling yourself for what lies ahead. You've come this far; you can make it through another shift.

With renewed determination, you step fully into the house, the click of your shoes echoing in the emptiness, a light skip in your step. The doors are still closed, their ominous silence hanging in the air like a tangible threat, and make your way down the dimly lit corridor, flipping light switches and opening windows as you go, each step fueling your determination to prove to yourself that this place won’t intimidate you anymore.

Inside the house, you efficiently tackle the chores that await you. Dust bunnies don't stand a chance against your furious feather duster, and cobwebs tremble in the face of your wrath. You clean like you've never cleaned before, and for a brief moment, you feel invincible, as if this grand mansion, this symbol of your servitude, is bowing to your will.

As you scrub away the stains and grime that have accumulated, you allow yourself to daydream about the future. The pretty red lingerie set is within reach, a reward for surviving another week at this twisted job. But your ambitions don't stop there. In your mind's eye, you see yourself buying a small but cozy apartment in a safer neighbourhood, with a view of the city skyline and freshly painted walls that smell of promise and new beginnings. The quiet hum of the vacuum becomes a soothing symphony as you move methodically through the rooms. You relish the freedom to hum to yourself, to let your thoughts wander without the need to look over your shoulder. The echo of your footsteps on the hardwood floors is no longer a reminder of your isolation but a testament to your presence, your moment of control in a house that felt so suffocating.

With renewed vigour, you finish mopping the floors and windexing every inch of the mansion's endless windows. The day is bright and sunny outside, and the warm light streaming through the windows fills you with a buoyant energy. A smile touches your lips as you glance outside, the backyard beckoning with its lush greenery and inviting pool. Today, the weather is on your side, a perfect excuse to tackle the outdoor areas with the same enthusiasm you've brought to the mansion's interior.

With your spirits lifted, you head to the back patio, the sliding glass doors gliding open with a soft whoosh. The fresh air is invigorating, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the manicured hedges that line the property. You take a moment to bask in the sun's embrace, letting it warm your skin and lift your mood further.

The back patio is a hidden gem of the mansion, a tranquil oasis with elegant wicker furniture and potted plants that sway gently in the breeze. The stone tiles beneath your feet are cool to the touch, the slate-grey colour complementing the natural beauty of the surroundings.

Armed with a broom and a bucket of soapy water, you set to work, sweeping away the fallen leaves and debris that have gathered on the tiles. The rhythmic motion is soothing, and you hum a cheerful tune as you move. The sun shines down, casting playful patterns of light and shadow across the patio, making the space feel alive and welcoming.

With the floor cleared, you turn your attention to the furniture, wiping down each piece with care. The wicker glistens under your touch, restored to its former glory. You fluff the cushions, adjusting them just so, and step back to admire your handiwork.

Next, you make your way to the pool area, its sparkling waters a vibrant blue under the clear sky. The sight of the pool, with its gentle ripples and inviting depths, fills you with a sense of ease. It's a far cry from the tense atmosphere inside the mansion - a place where you can breathe and appreciate the beauty around you.

You retrieve the pool skimmer and begin cleaning the water's surface, capturing stray leaves and insects. As you work, the sun glints off the water, creating a dazzling display of light that dances across the tiles. You take a moment to dip your fingers into the water, the coolness refreshing against your skin. It's a simple pleasure, but one that grounds you in the moment, reminding you that even in a place like this, there are moments of peace to be found-

“You must be lil’ miss maid!”

You gasp and shoot up straight, flicking up droplets of water, and the world moves in slow motion. You spin to face the intruder, shoe sliding with the help of a convenient puddle, before your vision tilts and a shill scream scratches your throat.

You don’t even feel the fall, not really; your brain is too busy sending alarm signals to your heart, which is hammering away like a mad thing. The sky blurs with the rushing of leaves and water, and then-

Cool water engulfs you, silencing your scream. It wraps around you like a cold blanket, pulling you into its depth. For a moment, all you see is blue, the sun's glimmer distorted through the water, like a dream turned nightmare.

You kick your legs and break the surface, gasping for air. Your hands reach for the pool's edge, gripping tightly as you blink away the water streaming down your face.

He stands there, a blur of a figure as you wipe your eyes, then clears into the sharp lines of a man you’ve never seen before. Tall and broad, with brown hair that catches the light, distinctly longer on top, and he wears a smirk that drips with casual arrogance. He’s dressed casually, in gym shorts and a tank with a white towel slung over his shoulder, but there's something about his stance, a confidence that suggests he’s no stranger here.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” His voice is teasing, an apology that doesn’t seem quite genuine.

You swallow the panic clawing at your throat and force yourself to focus, pulling yourself up and out of the pool. You feel the chill of the air bite into your wet clothes as you find your footing, the patio tiles suddenly feeling too solid beneath you.

“Who-” You clear your throat, the words stumbling out around a mouthful of water as you try to reclaim your composure. “Who are you?”

He laughs, an annoyingly pleasant sound, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the punchline to some private joke. “Name’s Soap,” he says, offering a hand as if you’re supposed to shake it like this is a normal meet-and-greet. “But you can call me whatever you like, bonnie maid.”

You glance at his hand, then back at him, your mind racing. The name rings a bell, a faint echo of the conversations you’ve overheard among the veterans. He must be one of them, the final occupant. You give your hand and your name shakily, the cold seeping into your bones. Your eyes trail a drop of sweat as it runs down his pointed nose.

“I-I didn’t know anyone else was here,” you manage, trying to keep the edge out of your voice as you stand there, dripping and bedraggled.

He shrugs, his hand not retreating despite the way you tug at it. His eyes scan the patio, taking in the sparkling clean furniture and the skimmer you’d dropped by the pool. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” you reply, a note of defensiveness creeping in. You wrap your free arm around yourself, both for warmth and comfort. “I just finished-”

“Won’t mind another dip, then?” He grins, all sharp teeth and gleaming blue eyes, releasing your hand on the next tug, and you stagger backwards again.

“Wait-!”

But before you can fully process what's happening, he lunges forward with a playful laugh, arms wide as if embracing the chaos he's about to create. In a flash, you’re airborne again, Soap’s strong arms wrapping around your middle as he tackles you back into the pool.

Water crashes over you, the shock of cold stealing your breath for the second time. For a split second, everything is surreal, suspended in the underwater silence. You kick up, breaking the surface with a gasp, spluttering and disoriented. Your hands find the pool's edge, gripping tightly as you blink away the water streaming down your face.

Soap is laughing, a boisterous, unrestrained sound that grates on your nerves. He surfaces beside you, shaking water from his short hair like a mischievous dog, eyes twinkling with unrepentant mirth.

“What the hell was that for?” you demand, voice rising with a mixture of anger and incredulity. Your heart is pounding, a furious drumbeat against your ribs.

“Oh, come on, bonnie,” he chuckles, paddling easily in the water. “Lighten up a bit. Figured you could use a refresher.” He winks, as if this entire situation is a grand joke, his amusement evident in every word.

You stare at him, your anger warring with the icy chill of the water. “You can’t just—just do that!”

He raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “Can’t I?”

The nerve of this man, this stranger who’s turned your moment of peace into a humiliating spectacle. You bite back a retort, knowing that getting into an argument with him would only escalate things further. Instead, you focus on pulling yourself out of the pool once more, muscles straining with the effort, heavy clothes weighing you down.

Once you’re out of the pool, you wring out your hair and clothes as best you can, the chill seeping into your bones, water pooling at your feet. Your clothes cling to your skin and you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to preserve some semblance of warmth and dignity. The chill is biting, and you feel the goosebumps prickle across your skin as a breeze sweeps through the patio. Each drop that slides down your back feels like an insult, ruining the pristine environment you’d cleaned.

Soap emerges behind you, water streaming down his bare shoulders, and he runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking droplets everywhere.

"You're soaked," he observes with a cheeky grin, as if this wasn’t already painfully obvious.

You glare at him, your irritation bubbling over. “Really? Thanks for pointing that out,” you retort, teeth chattering as you speak.

“I’ll go fetch some towels, yeah?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, feeling a flash of irritation mixed with gratitude. “You can’t,” you protest, gesturing toward the open patio doors leading into the house. “I just cleaned the floors. You’ll track water everywhere.”

He shrugs, unconcerned, and gives you an easygoing smile that borders on infuriatingly charming. “No worries. I’ll clean it up later.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, clutching your damp clothes tighter around yourself. “That’s not the point,” you grumble. “I-I don’t have a change of clothes, and I can’t leave like this!”

But Soap seems unbothered by your predicament. He steps around you, water streaming down his toned frame, and grabs the white gym towel he’d tossed aside before diving in. With a nonchalance that makes you bristle, he uses it to wipe the water from his hair, then casually tosses it onto a nearby chair.

“Eh, you’ll figure something out,” he says, seemingly unconcerned with your plight. He starts peeling off his wet clothes, leaving them in a soggy heap on the patio.

You avert your eyes quickly, cheeks flaming despite the cool air. “H-Hey! What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he chuckles, hanging the towel around his shoulders. “Can’t walk through the house drippin’ wet, can I?” He grins at you, a playful glint in his eye. “Problem solved.”

With that, he turns and saunters back inside, leaving you standing there in disbelief with a generous view of his backside, and oh my god he was commando-

Your cheeks burn hotter than the sun as you let out a mortified groan, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and disbelief and heat boiling inside you. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, watching as he disappears into the mansion. Left to your own devices, you start to wring out your hair again, muttering curses at the audacity of the man who so easily disrupted your day. At least the sun is still shining, offering a bit of warmth as you stand there, dripping and annoyed and cold.

Soap strides back onto the patio, his demeanour relaxed and casual. He’s dressed in fresh clothes, looking every bit the picture of nonchalance despite the chaotic meeting.

He carries a couple of towels in his hands, their fluffy warmth a stark contrast to the damp chill clinging to your skin. “Here,” he holds out a towel toward you, his expression a mix of amusement and concern.

You take the towel gratefully, rubbing it over your hair and shoulders, trying to soak up as much of the moisture as you can. The warmth of the towel feels like a small comfort against the cold that’s settled into your bones.

“Thanks,” you mutter, focusing on the task of drying yourself off. But as you begin to dry off, Soap’s next words catch you off guard.

“How about you get out of those wet clothes? You’ll get sick if you stay in those.” His tone is casual, almost playful, but there's an underlying edge to his words that makes your stomach churn.

You look up from your towel, eyes widening slightly. “What? No, I-” You stammer, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. “I-I can’t just-”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You can’t walk back through the house, you said so yourself. It’s not like I’m asking for anything weird.”

Despite his seemingly casual approach, there’s something unsettling in the way he’s looking at you. It’s not exactly threatening, but it’s an intrusion of your personal space and boundaries that makes you feel uncomfortable.

“Surely you have a- a side gate or something?” You squeak out as he continues to stare, his eyes trailing down your shivering shoulders and dripping hair.

“And then what?” Soap hums. “Make it to your car, get it all wet, chlorine in the seats and all. ‘Sides, you even have your keys on ya? You’re making it so complicated, lass. We have a clothes dryer, y’know.”

He nonchalantly gestures towards the house, as if he just solved all your problems. But you know this isn’t about dry clothes or wet seats. He’s pushing your boundaries, testing your limits, and you can’t stand it.

“I’ll just...” You trail off, not quite sure of your exit strategy. “You wouldn’t happen to have an- an old shirt or something I could at least borrow?”

Soap’s grin widens even more as he considers your request. For a moment, you think he might relent, but instead, he just shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Nah, not really. But look, you’re already wrapped in a towel,” he says, motioning toward your damp clothes. “Why don’t you just take those off and get comfy? Promise I’ll find you something to wear.”

His voice is still playful, yet there’s a firm undertone to it, leaving no room for debate. You feel your resolve waver, knowing that standing your ground might only prolong this awkward encounter.

“I really don’t think-” you begin, but he interrupts.

“C’mon, it’ll just take a sec. You don’t want to get sick, do you?” he insists, nodding toward the house.

There’s a moment of tense silence as you weigh your options. Finally, you exhale sharply, realizing you’re caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s either follow his lead or shiver outside until hypothermia kicks in.

Reluctantly, you nod. “Fine. But- Go inside. I’ll be there in a moment,” you agree, your voice a mix of defiance and resignation.

Soap nods approvingly and steps past the threshold back into the house, sliding the glass door closed behind him, and you watch warily as he steps behind the wall. And then wait until you’re sure he won’t turn around. As you hastily peel off your soaked clothes, you can’t help but feel exposed, your vulnerability hanging in the air.

You hurriedly wrap and clutch the towel tightly around your body, feeling its coarse fibres rub against your skin as you gather your courage to follow Soap back into the house. Your wet clothes are heavy and cumbersome as you try to hold up the towel and the bundle of wet fabric at the same time, and you make your way across the patio and into the mansion’s interior.

With a deep sigh, you push open the glass door and step inside, immediately feeling the warmth of the house envelop you like a comforting hug. But it does little to ease the tension in your chest as you follow Soap's lead towards the laundry room where he casually loads his clothes into the dryer, his movements quick and practised. You pass your clothes over for him to load in.

“There we go,” he says with a satisfied nod, his hands deftly turning the dial to start the cycle despite the way he left the door wide open. You watch him closely, your grip on the towel unyielding as he eyes the pile of clothes you’ve handed over. Your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation as he makes a show of placing each piece in one by one.

“Still got some stuff on, huh?” he teases, pointing out the obviously missing garments. “You’ll have to take those off too.”

Your eyes dart to the floor, heat flooding your cheeks. “I’m not-” you stammer, but Soap waves a hand dismissively.

“Gotta dry those too, you know. Don’t you worry,” he says with a playful smirk. “I’ll just step out and find you some dry clothes. You can handle starting the machine, right?”

You nod silently, clenching your teeth to hold back any further protest. With a final glance, Soap disappears down the hallway, leaving you alone in the laundry room. The moment he’s out of sight, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle over you like a cold fog. With a resigned sigh, you quickly rid yourself of your soaked underwear, tucking them into the dryer with the rest before rewrapping yourself. The towel becomes your sole armour against the world, its embrace both comforting and precarious.

As you start the cycle, the noise of the machine fills the room, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You stand there, alone and uncertain, wondering how you ended up in such an absurd situation.

You clutch the towel tighter around your body, the edges rough against your skin, as you stand in the dimly lit laundry room, the dryer humming softly beside you. It’s the only sound in the house, filling the silence with a steady, rhythmic pulse that matches the chaotic beat of your heart.

With Soap gone, the room feels cavernous, echoing with the lingering tension of his presence. You swallow hard, trying to push aside the knot of anxiety that has taken up residence in your chest.

“Hey, lass! Over here!” Soap’s voice calls out from one of the nearby bedrooms.

The warmth of the house seeps into your bones as you follow Soap’s call, tiptoeing down the hallway towards the bedroom where his voice beckoned. Your bare feet make no sound on the polished wooden floors, the air thick with the scent of lemon polish and fresh laundry.

When you reach the doorway, you pause, hesitating just outside the threshold. The room is spacious and well-appointed, with a king-sized bed draped in a quilted comforter and soft, ambient lighting that bathes everything in a golden afternoon glow. Kyle’s room. It feels intimate, and personal, standing there almost nude, and you can’t help but feel like an intruder in someone else’s space.

Soap gestures to a neatly arranged pile of clothes on the bed. “These should fit you. I’ll step outside while you change,” he says, and with that, he exits and closes the door behind him.

There’s an oversized, well-worn t-shirt sitting at the top of the pile, its fabric soft and familiar in a way that brings a sense of relief. But beneath it, your eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch in your throat: a set of complex and expensive lingerie, delicate lace in rich, inviting hues that stand out starkly against the plainness of the shirt.

A slow, creeping sense of discomfort trickles down your spine as you take in the sight, your mind racing with questions. How did he get your size? Why is it your style, something you’d choose for yourself? And most importantly, why the fuck do Soap or Kyle have women’s lingerie?

The questions hang heavy in the air, demanding answers that you don’t have, leaving you standing there, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room seems to close in around you, the walls drawing nearer, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken implications.

Your pulse quickens, and you take a step back, your grip on the towel tightening as though it might shield you from whatever game Soap is playing. It’s a cruel joke, you tell yourself, some twisted attempt to unsettle you, to test your boundaries.

You pick up the shirt and hold it to your chest, feeling a chill run down your spine. Before you can spiral any further into your thoughts, there’s a soft knock on the door, and you jump, your heart lurching in your chest.

Soap’s voice comes from the other side of the door, “You okay in there?”

You hesitate, your thoughts a chaotic whirl. Finally, you call back, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m fine. Just- just give me a minute.”

There’s no sound from the other side of the door. You exhale slowly, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and focus on the task at hand.

You push aside the lingerie, opting for the t-shirt instead. The fabric is soft against your skin, hanging loosely over your frame, its weight offering a semblance of normalcy in an otherwise surreal situation.

With the towel abandoned on the floor, you take a moment to collect yourself, smoothing down the shirt and tugging it into place before glancing at the door. The lingerie remains untouched.

You leave it there, on the bed, refusing to give it any more of your attention as you turn your back on it and make your way to the door.

You’re ready to face whatever comes next, your resolve firm, your mind made up. You may not know what Soap’s game is, but you’re not about to let him get the upper hand. Let them get the upper hand again.

As you step out into the hallway, you find Soap waiting, leaning against the wall with an easy smile, as if he hadn’t just tried to unsettle you, as if he hadn’t crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

“There you are,” he says, straightening up as you approach. “Feeling better?”

You nod, keeping your expression neutral, not giving anything away. “Much. Thanks.”

You can’t stop the shiver that runs through you when his eyes immediately dart down to your chest, and a furious blush crosses your face.

“They not fit?” Soap hums curiously, crowding you closer to the doorframe. Your nipples are as obvious as day through the shirt, still pebbled from the chill. You hurry to cross your arms and cover yourself. “Kyle was so sure they were the size you picked up.”

“Kyle?” You squeak, stepping back into said man’s bedroom. You try not to panic when Soap closes the door behind him.

“Aye. He bought them just for you. Would be rude of you to turn down his gift,” Soap says, his tone dangerously smooth, a predator closing in on its prey.

Your mind races. Kyle Garrick, the man who had been so kind to you, so friendly, bought you lingerie? The thought twists your stomach. This place, these men - they were playing games with you.

A cold knot of dread tightens in your stomach as Soap leans back against the doorframe, his easy grin now holding an edge of challenge.

"Go on, then," he urges, nodding towards the bed where the lingerie lies like a trap, waiting to spring. "Try 'em on."

You hesitate, the air in the room feeling thin and oppressive. "I really don’t think-"

His expression darkens, and the playful tone is gone from his voice. "No’ asking, lass. It’s what you do when someone gives you a gift. Try it on, show some gratitude."

Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races, searching for a way out, a way to maintain some semblance of control. But the weight of his presence, the unyielding expectation in his gaze, leaves you feeling cornered.

With trembling hands, you pick up the lingerie, your fingers brushing against the delicate fabric. It’s a stark contrast to the rawness of the moment, and you swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your breathing steady.

“Alright, alright,” you mutter, trying to project a calm you don’t feel. “Just… give me a minute.”

Soap smirks again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting.”

You turn your back to him, your heart hammering in your chest as you begin to peel off the soft shirt. Each motion feels like a betrayal, your skin prickling with unease under his gaze. Bills, bills, bills. Loans. The cute red set. You can hear him suck air through his teeth when the fabric rises past your hips.

As you slip into the lingerie, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The sight is both surreal and unsettling, a stranger staring back at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

“I’m done,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you pull the oversized shirt over the lingerie. You hope it’s enough, that the shirt can shield you from the scrutiny, from the violation of this moment.

But Soap isn’t satisfied. His eyes glint with something dark and inscrutable as he steps forward, phone in hand, “Off with the shirt, then,” he says, a note of impatience threading through his words. “Got to show Kyle, lovie. He’d love to see you wearing what he got.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you don’t protest. Instead, with shaking hands and a pounding heart, you lift the shirt over your head, the cold air biting at your exposed skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms, and you cross them over your chest again, acutely aware of Soap’s eyes raking over you.

The lingerie feels alien against your skin, the fabric both soft and suffocating, as if it’s conspiring with the moment to strip you of your defences. The whole room feels smaller, closing in around you like a living, breathing entity watching the scene unfold with bated breath.

You’ve faced many things before, but none have felt as raw and unsettling as this moment, standing here, caught in Soap’s gaze. You feel like an actor in a scene you never agreed to, playing a role that twists your insides with shame and anger. With Simon, with Price, you were tugged along like a boat at sea, forced to float along the brutal currents they created. You were still an active participant, but you could place the blame elsewhere, direct your shame and hatred outwards because it wasn’t you, wasn’t your choice, you were just doing as you were told. But here, under Soap’s blue-grey stare, you felt alone, judged, isolated and cast under a spotlight. You could tug on the shirt, step past him, grab your keys and leave. But you don’t.

Soap steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as if appraising a work of art. But there’s nothing artistic about this - only a calculated manipulation, a display of power that turns your stomach.

He reaches out, and you flinch instinctively, your body recoiling from the touch that never comes. Instead, his hand lingers in the air, a silent threat that hangs between you, and then he nudges you gently but firmly backward.

He isn’t rough and uncaring like Simon, the big brute. He isn’t condescending and patronizing like Price, babying you into submission. He is not kind and friendly like Kyle, with his supportive touches and smiles. You know nothing about this man, and that scares you more than anything.

You stumble slightly as the backs of your knees hit the bed, and you sink onto it, the mattress yielding under your weight. Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of fear and defiance, but you don’t look away, waiting for some sort of strike.

“Go on then,” Soap murmurs, his voice a low, taunting drawl. “Pose a bit, give Kyle something nice to look at.”

The suggestion hangs in the air like a noxious cloud, and you fight the bile rising in your throat. It’s an invasion, a violation that strips away your dignity, your autonomy, and all you want is to claw back some semblance of control.

But you can’t. Not here, not now, when everything is stacked against you. So instead, you hold your head high, meeting his gaze with a steely defiance that refuses to be dimmed.

“What if I don’t want to?” You say, your voice stronger than you feel, a spark of resistance that flares brightly against the encroaching darkness.

Soap’s smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes as if he relishes the challenge, the dance of power and defiance. “Then I’ll just have to convince you, won’t I?” He replies, his voice a low purr that makes your blood run cold.

He reaches out, his fingers grazing up your calves, sending a shiver down your spine. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, and bite back the retorts that threaten to escape.

“So pretty, bonnie,” he coos, dancing his fingers up your thighs until you let out a wavering sigh. He drops the phone against the duvet and reaches up to grasp your chin between warm, calloused fingers, forcing you to face him. You hate him. Hate him for reducing you to this quivering mess so easily when just ten minutes ago you thought you had some semblance of control.

Soap leans in, his breath warm against your skin, his lips a whisper away from yours. The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with tension, as if the very walls are watching, waiting for your next move.

Your mind races, caught between the undeniable attraction and the anger that simmers just beneath the surface. Everything about him is wrong, every touch a violation of your autonomy, yet you can't deny the magnetic pull, the way his presence overwhelms your senses.

The kiss is electric, a storm of conflicting emotions that crash over you like a wave. It's demanding and rough, a collision of desire and defiance that leaves you breathless, your body betraying your mind as it responds to the heat of his touch.

His lips are firm against yours, moving with a confidence that borders on arrogance, a certainty that you'll bend to his will. And for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat, you do, your resolve wavering under the intensity of the kiss.

But then the reality of the situation crashes down on you, a cold slap of clarity that pulls you back from the edge. You pull away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath.

Soap watches you, a knowing smile playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and something darker, a shadow that lurks beneath the surface. He leans back slightly, giving you space but still crowding your senses, his presence as inescapable as the air around you.

"Smile for the camera, sweetheart," he says again, his voice soft but insistent, a command wrapped in a velvet glove.

You don’t have the time, nor the mental capacity, to react. You feel hot all over, confused, stunned. His lips had brought every simmering emotion to your mouth until it overflowed, out of control.

Your cheeks burned with humiliation and desire as you forced your stare to meet Soap’s again. There was a sick satisfaction in his eyes as he took in the tableau before him. It wasn’t hard to visualise how you must look - flushed from cheeks to chest, hands gripping at the sheets, covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps, topped off with spit-slick, kiss-swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, dropping the phone again in favour of running his hands over your ribs and waist before following the path with his lips. “Fucking perfect,” he trailed off, cutting himself off with a nip to the sensitive skin of your stomach. Despite your better judgment, his words made something in your stomach clench with both fear and anticipation. It was a feeling you weren't used to, this loss of control.

Soap’s hands and lips continued their exploration, mapping out every inch of skin they came across with an almost feverish intensity. Teeth grazed over your collarbone, causing goosebumps to erupt and spread like wildfire across your prickling skin. His hands cupped your breasts through the fabric of the bra, kneading them gently but with enough force to elicit a moan from your parched lips. You hated him for it - for making you feel like this, for making you want this, for stealing the illusion of control you worked so hard to maintain.

But as much as you hated it, as much as you tried to convince yourself it was just another means to an end, deep down there was a part of you that revelled in the attention. In the heat between your thighs that pooled and throbbed with each passing second; in the way his darkened gaze tracked your every move like prey.

He was quick and uncaring as he tugged down the bra, scooping your boobs from the cups and baring them to the warm air. In his other hand, he held his phone up high, capturing every moment of this humiliating performance.

“Stop- hah, enough, that’s enough,” you babbled nonsensically, writhing against the sheets as his left hand poked and prodded and twisted and toyed with your nipples.

His chuckle was low, dark, and it sent shivers down your spine. “Not even close, sweetheart,” he purred against your skin, his breath hot before he took a peak into his mouth. His right hand trailed down your stomach to the line of the panties. Your body protested every movement but betrayed you at every turn. The heat between your thighs seemed to have been lit on fire now, causing you to moan out in needy agony when his fingers brushed lightly over the damp fabric of your panties.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he flicked a dextrous finger across your clit, control and lust entwined in the action.

Both hands had ventured southwards, now slipping between your thighs and dipping two fingers inside your slick core without any build-up or warning. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion, muscles clenching around him in surprise and desire. Heat pooled between your thighs and coiled in your stomach, a building inferno that threatened to consume you whole if he didn't stop.

“Fuck me, you’re soaked, bonnie,” he panted out from above, and you couldn’t bare to look at him, couldn’t bare to watch as you heard the rustle of fabric and his fingers returning to your cunt.

The feeling was almost too much to bear, and you bit down on your lower lip to stifle a moan as he thrust his fingers roughly inside you. Any other time, any other place, you would have told him off for being so rough, but now? Now was not the time for protests or modesty or anything else but the burning need that consumed you whole.

"So wet for me," he purred into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper but it still sent shivers down your spine. "Tell me you want it," he demanded, his fingers picking up in speed and intensity, absolutely relentless in their ministrations.

You shook your head, biting back a moan that threatened to escape your lips at any moment. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing those words come out of your mouth. You wouldn't do it. But Soap had other plans. With a swift movement, he crooked his fingers inside you, hitting that bundle of nerves that had been swelling with need since he first took his shirt off.

"Tell me you want it," he said again, this time with more emphasis, his voice gruff with desire.

"I-I," you panted, hips bucking upwards uncontrollably into his touch. "I want it," you managed to gasp out between shaky breaths.

That was all the invitation he needed, roughly pulling his fingers out of you. "That's what I thought," he growled low in your ear before pressing his bare hips against the gusset of your panties, and you whined. He was hard, so fucking hard, and your traitorous body throbbed in anticipation.

You perched on your elbows and craned your neck to look down, watching as he slid his wet hand against his cock. With every stroke of his hand, his cock would bump against your panties, further staining the damn fabric and torturously pressing against where you ached.

One hand on his cock, his other lifted the fabric of your panties, tugging it taut and slipping himself in against your skin, held snugly against your cunt by the damp fabric that was soaked through with arousal.

A moan escaped your lips as he began to move, rocking his hips against yours in a slow, sensual motion that had you clenching around nothing. His cock was blistering hot against your pussy, the shape of it visible beneath the wet fabric, velvety skin rubbing up against you. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat and arousal as he continued to grind against you, teasingly brushing his hardened cock against your swollen clit with every thrust.

It wasn't long before you were meeting him thrust for thrust, every movement of his hips answered with one of your own, eager for more. Greedy, needy moans spilled from your lips, uncaring of who could hear, uncaring about anything but the man above you and the way he was making your body sing.

"You like that, huh?" he taunted, leaning in to bite the shell of your earlobe gently. "You're dripping for me, baby," he growled against your skin before sucking harshly on your neck.

"Yes," you panted out, neck arched in pleasure as he teased your most sensitive spot. “Yes, yes, yes!”

You couldn't believe this was happening. You were at war with yourself, half of you screaming at you to stop, to push him away, while the other half wished he would just rip the damn fabric and plunge himself inside you, consequences be damned.

"Say it again," Soap panted against your ear, his pace picking up in speed as his grip on your hips tightened, rutting against you wildly. "Say you want me inside of you."

Waves of ice crashed over you, and you scrabbled to push against his chest futilely.

"No," you panted through clenched teeth, your orgasm barreling down on you like a freight train. "No, no, no."

The pleasure was blinding. Dizzying. All consuming. You couldn't make sense of anything else besides the want, the need, the cosmos colliding behind your clenched eyes.

And then pain, an ache deep in your gut, the sting of stretching skin, and oh fuck, it was like you were cumming again before the first wave had finished, the feelings compounding together in mindless pleasure-pain, colour colliding until they became white.

Your eyes burst open, the world spinning as Soap let out a guttural moan, your hands flying against his chest and pushing with all of your remaining strength. The pain remained even as the pleasure dulled, but it didn’t grow - Soap was holding himself over you, his hand a blur as it furiously strokes his cock, the tip lodged into your cunt, he was inside of you-

“Fuck!” You screeched, shrill, your fists bashing against his pecs, his shoulders, his arms, but it was already too late - his head rolled back with a loud, guttural groan, eyes rolling in their sockets. His hand slowed its frantic pace. Something deep in your gut burned, a searing heat.

As he pulls out, his cock brushes against your clit and you sob, involuntarily clenching up and digging your shaky knees into his sides.

“Look’it you,” he purred out, voice like gravel, completely unphased by the way you wailed your clenched fists against him.

Your panties were tugged to the side, baring your cunt to his glossy, wide stare. Mesmerised. A warm trickle of wetness slipped down your thigh, and you wanted to die on the spot.

“Fuckin’ so pretty, bonnie,” he breathes out in admiration, causing another wave of sobs to bubble up in your chest. “Guess we owe Kyle a new pair, don’t we, little maid?” You choke back another sob when you see the black case of his phone pointed towards you, capturing your visage. The glass covering the camera reflects your tear-stained face and dishevelled appearance.

He leans back, taking his arm with him, pointing his camera down, down, to where he leaks out of you.

The beep of the clothes dryer from the other room jolts you back to reality. Your body feels heavy, weighed down by the burden of what has happened, the sense of betrayal and humiliation gnawing at your insides. You watch Soap move away, casually strolling over to the laundry room as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn’t just shattered your world.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You curled in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your knees, trying to find some semblance of protection, of comfort in the aftermath of the violation.

His phone is thrown face-up against the sheets.

You catch a glimpse of the screen; a messaging app open, photos of you filling the display. Your breath hitches in your throat, a cold shiver running down your spine.

He sent the photos.

You almost sigh in relief when Kyle’s name pops up, followed by a message.

- wouldve been perfect if you werent in it johnny

A cold shiver runs down your spine. If it was a private chat between Soap and Kyle, why was his name above the message? Your eyes drift up, up, to the title of the chat.

‘the roomies’

The reality of the situation slams into you like a freight train, the full weight of it crashing down and stealing the air from your lungs.

You back away from the phone as if it were a venomous snake, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged animal. You can’t breathe, can’t think, your mind a maelstrom of fear and shame. The thought of their eyes on you, their laughter echoing in your ears, is too much to bear.

Soap saunters back into the room, holding your clothes with a broad grin. “‘ere you go, bonnie maid. All nice and toasty for ya.” He tosses them onto the bed beside you, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction.

You force yourself to move, to reach for the clothes with trembling hands. The fabric feels alien against your skin, a reminder of the violation you can’t escape.

You don’t even notice, don’t care, that you haven’t changed out of the fancy underwear, that Johnny still leaks out of you when you make it home.

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