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00valentina-writes00 · 3 days ago

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hello! I’ve read like twenty of your stories in like two hours. I’m in awe. And I’d like to request a Sevika x reader story? Maybe one where reader is feeling rather self conscious and Sevika tries to get through to them with words but that’s not what the reader needs (sex). (Im heavily implying smut) but you don’t have to, I just wanted to compliment your works!!

♡♥︎ Mine ♥︎♡

You wake up to the faint hum of Zaun’s undercity, the distant clatter of machinery and the occasional burst of chatter from the streets below seeping through the thin walls of Sevika’s apartment. Her arm is draped over your waist, her hand resting lightly on your stomach. The weight of it feels comforting, protective, but today it makes you tense. You’ve been avoiding this closeness, this intimacy, for days now. Your insecurities have been gnawing at you, whispering ugly truths in your ear. Your thighs are too thick. Your stomach is too soft. She’s not going to want you like this.

Sevika stirs behind you, her chest pressing against your back as she shifts. Her voice is low, gravelly from sleep. “You’re thinking too loud.”

You stiffen. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Bullshit.” Her hand tightens slightly on your stomach, fingers brushing against the soft curve there. “You’ve been dodging me all week. What’s going on?”

You shrug, trying to shake her off, but she doesn’t budge. Her grip is firm, insistent. “It’s nothing, Sevika. Just leave it.”

She exhales sharply, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “Don’t give me that. You know I don’t do well with cryptic bullshit. Spit it out.”

You swallow hard, your throat tightening. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing you, but you know Sevika won’t let it go. She never does. “I just… I feel disgusting. Okay? My body’s… it’s not good enough. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Sevika snorts. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You whirl around to face her, your cheeks burning. “It’s not stupid! You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. Her grey eyes lock onto yours, piercing and unyielding. “You think I give a damn about what you look like? About a little extra weight or whatever the hell you’re obsessing over? News flash, darling—I don’t. I never have.”

Her words hit you like a punch, and you blink, stunned. Sevika’s never been one for sugarcoating, but this feels different. There’s a rawness in her tone, a ferocity that makes your chest tighten.

“But…” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“But nothing,” she growls, sitting up and leaning over you. Her copper prosthetic arm glints in the dim light as she braces herself on the mattress, caging you in. “You’re mine. Every damn inch of you. And I’m not letting you talk yourself out of that.”

You stare up at her, your heart pounding. Her presence is overwhelming, as it always is—towering, muscular, scarred. Her dark hair falls across her face, framing those sharp, angular features. Her lip piercing catches the light, drawing your eyes to her mouth, to the way her brownish-black lipstick smudges just slightly at the edges. She’s beautiful, in a way that’s all hard edges and raw power, and it makes you feel small in comparison.

“Sevika…” you whisper, your voice trembling.

She leans down, her nose brushing against yours. “You need to stop thinking so damn much,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your lips. “Let me show you how much I want you. How much I need you.”

Her hand moves from your waist to your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. You shiver, your breath catching as she grips you harder, pulling your leg up to wrap around her hip. The movement is possessive, demanding, and it sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” she demands, her voice low and rough.

“I… I want this,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

She smirks, a wicked, predatory thing that makes your stomach flip. “Good.”

She doesn’t waste any time. Her hands are on you, rough and insistent, shoving your shirt up and over your head before you can even think to protest. Her mouth finds your neck, teeth nipping at your skin as she works her way down. Her prosthetic arm moves with a precision that’s almost unnerving, the cool metal brushing against your ribs as she strips you bare.

You’re exposed now, completely vulnerable under her gaze. You want to shrink away, to hide from the intensity of her stare, but she doesn’t let you. Her eyes rake over your body, cataloging every curve, every imperfection, and instead of disdain, you see something else. Hunger. Need.

“you’re beautiful,” she growls, her voice thick with desire.

You shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not—”

She silences you with a kiss, hard and bruising, her tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth. It’s not gentle, not tender—it’s possessive, demanding, and it leaves you breathless. When she pulls back, you’re panting, your chest heaving.

“Don’t argue with me,” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “I don’t have the patience for your self-loathing bullshit. You will not disrespect my girlfriend like that.”

Her hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your wetness with a rough, almost careless ease. You gasp, arching off the mattress as she teases you, her touch just this side of too much.

“See this?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr in your ear. “This is how much your body turns me on. How much I fucking crave you.”

Her fingers sink into you, deep and unrelenting, and you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, her rhythm punishing as she fucks you with her hand. Your thighs tremble, your body tightening around her as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Look at me,” she commands, and you obey, your eyes locking onto hers. Her gaze is intense, unwavering, and it feels like she’s staring straight into your soul. “You’re perfect, alluring, and godlike. Every fucking part of you. And I’m not letting you forget it.”

You cum with a strangled cry, your body arching off the mattress as she works you through it, her fingers relentless. When it’s over, you’re shaking, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Sevika smirks, pulling her hand away and licking her fingers clean with a deliberate slowness that makes your cheeks burn.

She moves off the bed, and you hear the sound of her rummaging through a drawer. When she turns back to you, she’s holding a strap-on, the thick, curved silicone gleaming in the dim light. Your breath hitches, your body already thrumming with anticipation.

She straps it on with practiced ease, her movements confident and unhurried. When she climbs back onto the bed, the weight of her presses you into the mattress, her body hovering over yours. Her grey eyes bore into you, and for a moment, it feels like she’s looking straight through you, past all your walls and insecurities.

“Tell me you you’re pretty,” she says again, her voice a growl.

You nod, your voice trembling. “I’m…I’m pretty Sevika..”

Her lips curl into a wicked smile. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t wait, doesn’t give you time to second-guess. She pushes into you in one smooth, brutal stroke, the stretch of her filling you completely. You gasp, your back arching as she bottoms out, the sensation overwhelming.

“Fuck,” she groans, her head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so hot. So fucking perfect.”

She starts to move, her hips pistoning into you with a relentless rhythm. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. Her hands grip your love handles, holding you in place as she fucks you, her pace unforgiving.

“You’re mine,” she growls, her voice rough with desire. “Mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you cling to her, your nails digging into her back as she drives you closer and closer to the edge. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve alight with pleasure.

“Sevika, I’m— again-”

“Cum for me,” she demands, her voice a low snarl. “Now.”

You obey, your body shattering as pleasure crashes over you in waves. She fucks you through it, her rhythm never faltering, until your entire body is trembling with the force of it.

When she finally stills, her body pressed against yours, you’re both panting, your chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. She drops her forehead to yours, her grey eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“You’re mine,” she repeats in a whisper, her voice rough, “and I’m not letting you forget it.”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yours,” you whisper back, your voice trembling.

She smirks, that wicked, predatory thing that makes your stomach flip. “Good girl.”

And then she’s moving again, her hips rolling against yours, and you realize with a gasp that she’s far from done with you.

“Sevika—”

“Shut up,” she growls, her voice low and dark. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #the last of us #sevika x reader smut #sevika x you #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika i love you #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 days ago

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Your Private Dancer

A/N: Everybody say thank you Tina Turner; man I really am just a mixture of everything I’ve seen and heard.

CW: Dancing for money, sex work/ prostitution mentioned, using money as manipulation, Reader wears makeup n' heels lmao

Synopsis: You work at the downtown peep show dancing for quarters, trying to get out of the rough patch you’ve fallen into. Seemingly, a man out of your usual customer regulars has business with you.

Tonight, a habitual fear bobbed its way inside your head, just as it had the night before. The idea of your boss’s beige, neatly ironed trousers becoming ever-so visible from under the slowly rising black curtains was making an appearance, his aged face slick with sweat, with desire behind the see-through plastic shield.

Again, the same scene but with a distant friend on the other side of the decaying plastic that separated you from your… clients. They’d be popping in the coins you worked for-- mere quarters, often giving you barely enough to buy a drink for the night.

This line of work could be greedy, could sap all energy and self-worth you had-- but for some, it had led to better lives; ones where they could purchase groceries for their kids or nice handbags if they decided to skimp out on dinner that week.

Never you, though. How long has it been since you started working at the peep show, two months? You barely made enough to cover rent, and that was primarily paid for by your office job handling phones and directing clients to your bulging boss’s office.

Taking a swig of some bottom shelf vodka you so sneakily hid into a mug, you drank the thoughts away, waiting patiently for the electric blue lights to come on. If you had any less self respect, you’d dare to sit on the yellow tile beneath your studded heels, legs aching from standing ten til’ two waiting for some man or another off the street to feed your coin box something of substance. You prayed for whoever came next-- if anyone-- they wouldn’t try to shove another piece of gum or arcade coin in as a cheap ploy. You thought they did it more to fuck with you and get a free show than a true lack of being able to pay for their lust.

On the brink of lighting an unused cigarette left next to your mug, the lights of your five-by-five room soon became illuminated by the cobalt blue lights of the client room across from you. Velvet curtains rose to show a pair of black slacks, left knee impatiently bouncing. The blue never bathed the entirety of your small room; it was just an illusion for the paying customer, making everything in front of them turn an electric shade that used to burn your eyes; now, you wished you were doused in that blue, instead of witnessing the yellow stains on the walls beside the see-through window, the dirty circles formed on the green walls from put-out cigarette butts.

The curtains rose to his neck, and you knew it was time to start dancing. You were by no means a professional-- hell, you never moved this much unless it was in this room. But you were pretty good at making yourself consumable, as if the men on the other side could have you-- could taste the way your hips gyrated and how you grabbed at your chest, stroking and fondling yourself in a desperate attempt to keep the money coming. For some of those who worked the peep show, it was liberating; no man could touch them, and they could rake in all the money they’d need. For you-- it was just a step above demeaning yourself to being touched.

You started slow-- sensual. He was looking at you, of course-- but he hadn’t even gotten his pants down yet. You rarely get these kinds of men, the ones who just liked to stare, maybe smoke a cigarette and put the rest of their quarters in their pockets to leave with a frown of boredom.

You let your hands rise from your hips, gracefully dancing up your stomach, to your chest. You circle around your shapes of hard and soft, letting each curve flow beneath your fingers as if it were his hands touching you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, watching him from the corner of your blurry eyes as he brought a hand to his mouth. He stroked his jaw before bringing the cigarette between his fingers to his lips. He scrutinized, a small line creasing under his eye as his gaze traveled the intimate way you swayed your hips.

He occasionally took a drink from an engraved scotch glass saved for VIP members, those who made monthly payments in cash that the owner hoarded in his liquor cabinet. Not many paid such a hefty price unless they routinely took clients or coworkers here-- and even then, the existence of powerful businessmen in such a grimy part of the city like this, with a less than clean business-- was so rare you were suspicious.

But your suspicions were buried as soon as he left your dancing cell, your mind quick to focus on electric bills and the next few nights of eating dry pasta and watching bad reality TV, slaving away at the office and more early mornings at the peep show. It almost didn’t surprise you to see him at your dance room again a few days later-- until he started showing up multiple times a week. Like clockwork at 11:02, he was sitting across from you with a cigarette or an indulgent glass. Sometimes, he’d merely watch. You had a few regulars, but none like him… not ‘this’ regular.

Even with keeping your eyes glued on your own reflection, you’d catch the dark blacks of his own trained on you, his face bathed in blue and zoned in on your expression. He never unbuttoned his pants, never lingered his eyes on one area for too long, even if he scanned you up and down with a sultriness.

You couldn’t deny that you felt like you needed to impress him, to make him react or find a reason to keep seeing you; he was allowing you to afford paying rent, putting coins in to last for a 30-minute session before he’d disappear into the night. But you never spoke to him, never had any kind of interaction besides that unspoken ritual.

Another month at the peep show passed, and you found yourself fixing up your makeup in the vanity, trying desperately to get a thick layer of eyeliner right. A thick knock rapped against the dressing room door, a foreign sound; none of the workers knocked, finding no reason to. Your boss stuck his head through the gap, his receding hairline shiny and his thin silver chain looking dull from the overhead light. For such a sleaze, he was kinder than most when it came to treating his employees fairly. Maybe because he was keen on avoiding complaints and federal eyes.

“Got a visitor for ya.” He chewed a thick wad of gum, talking in a voice lower than you had ever heard him speak in. “This one’s a big fish, alright? Don’t do anything to piss him off-- he’s the reason you’re getting such a good payout tonight.”

Payout? You didn’t get paid in anything other than quarters once the night ended, unless someone was looking for further services of which you were not interested in providing.

Your boss leaves the door open a crack, his mumbles traveling in as he spoke to someone outside. The door was knocked on again, but no one came in.

“It’s open.” You say, a little thrown off by the way your voice cracks a pitch higher.

The door opens fully, closing behind the stranger as he moves forward. You look in the mirror to see him, but are forced to turn around to believe your eyes.

“It’s you.”

You look at him-- nice suit, pressed and finely tailored, with even a small handkerchief in its breast pocket.

His hair isn't dark like you had imagined under the blue light, but rather a gold brown, deep and cool-toned. For being so young, he had deep creases below his eyes, as if he had been worried since birth.

“I’ve paid for your shift tonight. “ He stares at you, direct but with some underlying, concerned thought. “Your manager says there’s a room upstairs, where we can be alone-- privately.”

You’re disgusted by the mention of anything above the underground cells you’ve danced in, recalling the thin walls of faked moans and foul dialogue you’d tried to avoid.

“I’m not a prostitute,” You say brusquely, watching the stoicism on his expression falter. “You can have your money back, I don’t want it if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I’m not.” He says, sounding a bit off guard and adjusting his tie almost habitually. “I want.. To talk, If you can believe that,” His hard gaze shifts to minute worry, as if this wasn’t how he expected it to go. “This isn’t… I want to help.”

You’re more so puzzled than offended now, staring at the pool of his ink-like eyes, no traceable ounce of debauchery behind them. If you said no, it almost seems like he wouldn’t care less, besides for another crease layered under his eye.

“What for?” You question, guarded and fiddling with your absurdly short low-rise shorts; the discomfort was part of the appeal, supposedly.

“I have a proposition for you-- a deal. You don’t have to accept it, of course. Just listen to what I have to say.”

He lifts his eyebrows, trying to gauge your reaction, your potential interest. You continue to squint at him, realizing now you were near past the start of your shift; You were losing money as you sat here.

“Maybe this will convince you; I already let your manager know not to bother us.”

Like a true businessman, he rummages through the inner pockets of his suit in an attempt to find something hidden. Finally reaching into the left side he pulls out a thin, blank envelope.

With two hands, he brings the envelope towards you with unnecessary formality, and you waste no time taking it. Besides overdue bills and unpaid bank statements, you rarely opened any other kind of unmarked envelope.

It wasn’t even closed when you tried to open it, the top un-licked and sticky. You looked inside, not needing to take out the content to understand what was in it. Several fifties were lined against each other, scarce in their numbers but large in what they equaled together.

“What… is this for?” The shock you gave with your agape mouth almost made him grin a bit, fascinated. He rarely felt pleasure in the wide-eyed stare his clients would give him at the same sight, but you weren’t them. Oh no, you were far from them.

“Just a talk. I can pay you more afterwards.”

Your gut senses danger-- perhaps he took pleasure in luring unsuspecting victims from low places with money, killing them for sport. But, he looked too clean-- too unmotivated.

You should say no, should turn away and finish putting on your makeup and tell him you aren’t looking for a pimp.

You pocket the money, crumpling the envelope and putting it on your vanity.

“I don’t do anything under the clothes; I can give you a lap dance at most and that’s it.”

You lead the man out of the dressing room, not bothering to close the door.

He leads the way upstairs, watching the grimy pictures decorating the walls with feigned interest, some in black and white, others grainy and full of half-naked women. You kind of wish you had led the way now; atleast then you wouldn’t feel like you’re following an omen to your doom, farther deep into the velvet hallway.

“My name is Dakota.” He utters, quiet and firm.

You brush past him, getting in front to open the door at the beginning of the hall. “What, no last name?”

You still wonder if you should turn back, even if it means losing your job. But you persevere, holding a dramatic hand towards the now opened room as if you were a doorman.

“I imagine you aren’t interested in my last name,” He stops to take a short view of the client room before settling his eyes back on you. “And regardless, I’d much rather know yours.”

You open your mouth to speak, but are quick to be cut off as he walks past you into the creaky, red-pink room.

“I know you won’t tell me, a part of the show-room code, or so I’m told. but it doesn’t matter; I already know.”

He reads your mind again as you barely get a moment to protest.

“I’m accustomed to going through unnatural ways to find the information that I need, but don’t bother asking for why or how, I won’t tell you.”

Your body tenses as you shut the door behind you, the red lowlights of the bedroom making your heart pound just a little louder.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want to know-- it's my privacy damn it,” You’ve forfeited any sexy walking as you come closer. “If you’re some kind of creepy stalker--”

“I guess I could be labeled as that.” Dakota slumps to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the dipping mattress. He almost relaxes, shoulders drooping along with his eyes, uncharacteristically so.

“I’ve come here to offer you a chance for safety,” He loosens his tie, watching as you stand there, tensing your back and one step directed toward the door.

Dakota wasn’t blind to your hesitation, your unease. But you were wrong to think he’d let you go just because of a little fear; you had a lot to learn about him.

You watch him look at you, waiting expectantly for him to go on. But he doesn’t and you realize he’s waiting for you to start-- to do something of which he paid copious amounts of cash for. So, you do what you do best, and what you feel safest doing, where no man can touch or stroke you.

It’s not as extravagant of a dance as when you’re in the coin-operated cell, but it's intimate enough.

You keep your eyes to the floor, only looking up at Dakota to egg him on, letting your feet drift you in a rhythm. He looks entranced for a moment, offering a stare that was far from innocent-- but not as hungrily disturbing as you had expected.

“Your co-workers won’t be given the same option, this is an opportunity directed at and intended only for you.” You come closer, small struts as Dakota completely unties his tie. “I’ve got a variety of apartments across the city, most of which are rented out or used as a small place to come back to when I've got business farther out. And no-- I won’t tell you what kind of business I do.”

You almost grunt in frustration, keeping your eyes on him.

You’re nearly toe to toe with him now, watching from above as he puts his hands back on the bed.

“One of these apartments is not too far from here,” He squints his eyes, deliberating. “A few blocks away, I'd say.”

Your hands slow as you drop them to the front of your hips, Dakota’s eyes following them.

“It can be yours. If you’d like.”

“What?”

You stop, dropping your arms and watching the pink glow from under the bed cast a shadow up to Dakota’s cheeks.

“Some people call this kind of an arrangement “sugar babying” but that’s a bit too crude for my tastes.” His eyes are still traveling from your wrist to your forearm. “You’ll be on an allowance, of course. But it means you won’t have to work here anymore.”

The way he said ‘here’, it was clear what he thought of it.

“You can quit that desk job too; or keep it, if you want. But I can’t imagine it being much fun. Either way, you won’t be working here anymore. Not with the kind of men who are looking at you while I’m away.”

Dakota’s gaze finally met your own, his tired hand coming up to stroke his curved jaw.

“You’re not actually being serious, are you? This is some kind of sick joke?” You let out a short laugh, lacking in humor.

Even with him dressed to the nines in a suit that no creature who stepped foot in this place could afford, you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe it. You shake your head in ridiculousness, taking a step back.

“Sorry, I have other customers to attend to; I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”

You turn to walk away, feeling less safe than you ever had; if he was delusional, or some kind of sick sadist who thought he could buy your life-- he had another thing coming.

“Hold on,” Dakota grabs at your fingers, almost desperate in his grasp. His eyes were void of anything other than concern. “I’ve booked you for the whole night, I don’t recall asking for you to leave.”

Booked? You were under the impression you just received a little extra bonus from this stranger. Just how much were your manager’s morals worth? Did he care AT ALL what he might’ve ‘sold’ you for?

Dakota held on, even with you hesitantly shuffling back to where you stood.

“You don’t have to accept what I’m offering-- just consider it,” He stays seated, bringing your hand palm-up towards him. “Though, I’ve been told I'm quite persuasive.”

“Look man, whatever you’re selling, I'm not buying. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly content with my job, and I’m not looking for some kind of ‘savior’ if that’s what you’re trying to be.”

You could feel your own lie cutting deep into you, and by the looks of it Dakota didn’t believe it either. He looked at you, a kind of benign glare leaving from his oaky eyes.

“Call me by my name.” He says, barely above a whisper.

“...Huh?”

“I’m not just some ‘man’. Call me by my name.”

Dakota ran his thumb down your palm to your middle finger, keeping your hand hostage between both of his own. He looked to you, then back down to his grasped treasure. He looked like he didn’t really know what to do with it, but that it was something intimate he didn’t want to let go of.

“Wha--okay fine. Dakota. This isn’t some kind of game,” The name felt weird coming out of your mouth, but watching who it belonged to’s reaction was even stranger.

He shivered. Physically shivered at the guttural hearing of his name, of the consonants and vowels sliding off your tongue.

Dakota looked down, avoiding your gaze as he memorized each line and indent in your fingers. You wanted to pull your hand away, to recoil in disgust and fling him off like some kind of bug. But in a way, he looked small sitting there, head down and entranced at the details of your fingers, the ridges of your palms, the shaking pulling at his shoulders as he asked you to say his name again.

“Dakota.” You mutter, wondering if this was some kind of kink.

With the way he stopped a groan midway from slipping, you were sure you weren’t too far off. But whatever he was into, now was not the time for discovery.

“This is, just ridiculous. Were you listening to me, at all?” You tilt your head, trying to catch his eyes to see if you could see what the hell he was so captivated by.

His thumb pressed hard against your palm, short nail digging just slightly to leave a crescent shape.

Without the response, you were starting to get fed up. You pulled your hand away, sliding smoothly out of his warm, dry grasp.

At this, his head shot up, watching you with a kind of look as if he had come from out of a panicked daze.

“I’ve wondered what my name would sound like from your mouth-- I could never hear anything from the other side of the glass.”

“...Right.” You aren’t sure if you should still be worried, but his fascination with you made you feel a little concerned.

Dakota propped himself up again, seemingly realizing his recent lack of finesse.

“Take my business card.” He seemed to say all of a sudden, searching blindly in his inner-jacket pockets like he did to give you your payment for the night. He seemed a little scattered, padding up and down to look for his cards before finding one in his breast pocket. “Here.”

You grab it, finally getting an inkling of answers to who he was besides the money and his name.

Unfortunately for you, the card didn’t offer much else from what you already knew. There was his name in ink-black font, ‘DAKOTA--VERIDIAN FIRMS’ and a small phone number, barely readable beneath.

“That’s my personal number. Day or night, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll answer.” He looks at you with an inappropriate level of intensity.

“Okay.”

“Now that that’s squared away--” He sighs, relaxing backwards again, watching you hold the business card. “We can return to business as usual;” He keeps his eyes on yours, displaying a kind of tension and expectation. “I believe you were dancing, and I was enjoying your company.”

You can’t imagine spending the rest of your shift solely dancing for one man, in this dreary far-too cold room that had seen too much. You don’t move, not ready for the rest of tonight to continue.

Dakota brings out another small envelope, this time with ease. Looking at it expectantly, he then looks back to you.

You began to move your shoulders to the rhythm of the thumping music from downstairs, using it as a way to distract your thoughts. Dakota puts the envelope on the bed, letting out a sigh as he voyeured in novelty, watching you gaze at the heart-shaped headboard behind him.

You tried to keep your thoughts empty, but it was near impossible. How much could you be bought for, and how much more would it take for you to agree to be his?

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p0orbaby · 2 days ago

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Pl plz plz some Leah smut. Like reader has been travelling & leah has been sex deprived & when reader returns leah jumps her x

it’s not quite smut but it’s close enough

oh, and i’m sort of back…

You barely get the key in the door before it’s yanked open from the inside, like Leah’s been standing there, waiting, vibrating with unspent energy, and, more likely, unchecked rage. She looks good, which is annoying. Her hair’s slightly damp, and she’s in one of your hoodies—the grey one with the slightly frayed cuffs, the one she always steals when she wants to get away with things.

She stares at you. Not in a romantic, teary-eyed, oh-my-God-you’re-home way. More like she’s assessing the damage. More like she’s calculating just how much she’s going to make you pay for leaving her here alone. Three weeks. Alone. In this house. With only her own hand and a rapidly depleting sense of self-control.

“You,” she says, like an accusation.

“Me,” you say, stepping inside, dropping your bags.

She’s still staring.

“Miss me?” you ask, grinning.

She doesn’t answer, just grabs the front of your shirt, pulls you fully inside, and slams the door shut.

“Three weeks,” she says, voice clipped, already backing you against the wall. Her fingers curl in the fabric, knuckles whitening. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like?”

Leah has never been known for her patience. Not in queues, not in traffic, not in meetings, and certainly not when it comes to you. Three weeks you were gone. A press tour. Obligations. Endless flights, different time zones, hotels with beds that smelled like washing detergent and other people’s lives. Facetimes that never quite felt like enough. She’d lasted the first week with nothing but passive-aggressive texts and the occasional call, voice tight with the kind of restraint that suggested she was moments away from losing her composure entirely. By week two, she was openly sulking. By week three, you were receiving messages like, “I am actually going to die” and “This is inhumane” and “I hope you’re happy, my muscles have atrophied.”

“I was working”

“I had to do yoga.”

You blink. “You?”

“Yes.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. “Jesus.”

She exhales sharply through her nose, jaw tight. “Not funny.”

“No, of course not.” You shake your head solemnly. “Very serious.”

She glares at you. “I am not joking. And I had to light a candle.”

This time, you do laugh. “A candle?”

“A fucking lavender one.” Her grip tightens on your shirt. “I’ve been desperate. Like, actually clinically unwell. Do you understand?”

“I think I can imagine—”

“You can’t,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “You’ve been in Italy. Drinking espresso. Eating pasta. Probably wanking in a five-star hotel—”

“Leah—”

“Meanwhile, I’ve been here. Alone. With a shitty vibtator and several cold showers.”

“You act like I was off having an affair,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Leah exhales, impatient, then tilts her head, considering. “Would’ve been less cruel,” she says eventually. “At least then I could’ve been angry instead of just—” She gestures vaguely at herself. “—sexually malnourished.”

She kisses you before you have a chance to respond, her hands sliding up your chest, curling around the back of your neck, holding you there like she needs to keep you still, needs to make you stay. Her mouth is hot and demanding, frustration spilling over, and when she pulls back, she looks just as angry, just as desperate, just as ready to have you ruin her as she was a minute ago.

“Upstairs,” she says, already pulling you towards the staircase.

You smirk. “You’re keen.”

She stops, turning sharply, eyes dark. “Shut the fuck up and take me upstairs.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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gold-onthe-inside · 15 hours ago

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critical asset

n. def. a specific entity that is of such extraordinary importance that its incapacitation or destruction would have a very serious, debilitating effect on the ability of a nation to continue to function effectively.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: the one where you and spencer finally get closer, even if it's just because penelope's too busy. content warnings: pining spencer, r and penelope argue word count: 1.8k

It’s painful how much Spencer likes you, wishing he could just transfer to counter-intelligence and be around you all the time, especially these days. You don’t come downstairs as often anymore, not since they put away Doyle, and it makes him all the more restless. He pursed his lips, looking at the chess game he was playing out, his interest in it sapping the more aware he was of your absence.

A few weeks ago, you would have been sitting right across from him, contemplating your next move, toying with the bishop between your fingers, so focused on the game that he could stare at you as long as he liked. He liked watching your sharp eyes dart around the board, assessing threats to your victory, liked watching you chew your lip as you thought about what to do. He could notice the exact shift in your expression when you knew you were either going to win or lose.

“I see it in 4,” you said, running the tip of your tongue over your teeth, glancing up at him as his gaze shifted to the pieces, the litte furrow in his brow as he wet his lips, trying to see what you did.

“How?” he asked. He was so sure he hadn’t given you a way out… until he watched you arrange each move delicately and his lips pursed into a pout. “Rematch?” he would ask, noticing your smug smile.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you’d say, standing up and squeezing his shoulder before you’d walk away, and he’d sigh, like he’s doing right now, sweeping the pieces into the cloth drawstring bag and folding up the wooden board to put back in his desk.

He’d get one over you more often than not when playing chess at least. He couldn’t say the same for everything else. But if anyone would say yes to a meditation sci-fi film, he knows it’s you — you’re one of the rare few people in his life who has obscure interests like his.

“My Russian isn’t that good,” you said as he waited by your cubicle for an answer, watching you turn off your desktop, drumming his fingers on the top of your transparent divider.

“I can translate anything you don’t understand,” Spencer offered, able to sense that he was close to prying a ‘yes’ out of you.

“I’ve heard your Russian,” you replied, raising a brow at him as the two of you stroll to the elevatory. “Just cause you can memorise the language doesn’t make you fluent, Reid.”

“Well, how am I supposed to become fluent if I don’t immerse myself in the language?” he asked, knowing exactly how to modulate his voice to melt your resistance. He sees your nose twitch and he knows he’s got you.

“Fine, but you’re buying dinner,” you replied, pointing at him and he frowned at you.

“How’s that fair if I’ve bought your ticket too?” he asked, pressing the elevator button. “Plus paying for snacks, and you know those places charge extra than normal—”

“Ugh, fine, jeez,” you replied, leaning against the wall. “I’ll buy dinner.” He was content with that, waiting for you to get in the elevator before following you. A thought crosses his mind, unbidden, that he had never said anything about getting dinner together, and hope flares in his chest. Maybe you wanted this to be a date as much as he did.

It’s dashed when he overhears your argument with Penelope when he’s supposed to be asking her to track down gas stations close to their crime scene — “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling left out if you weren’t constantly shutting me out!” you cried. “God, I mean, you didn’t even let me know you were going to work this early, but you seemed fine calling up Kevin to carpool with.”

“It’s… That’s… It’s just complicated, okay?” Penelope cried, already on the edge since they’d lost Emily.

“Yeah, a lot of things seem complicated with you lately,” you said, scoffing. “It’s kinda hard to support you when I don’t know what’s going on with you, Pen. You’re either working or you’re with Derek or you’re with Kevin—”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same about you!” Penelope shot back. “Been on any dates with Reid lately?” she asked and his breath stuttered where he stood, out of sight, behind the slightly ajar door.

“What else am I supposed to do when you’re always bringing Kevin home?” you demanded. “Seriously, it’s starting to feel like he’s a third roommate lately. He certainly eats like one.” His heart sinks at your words — were you only hanging out with him because you had nowhere to go? Spencer pressed himself back against the wall. “You know what, if he’s gonna hang around that much, you could at least get him to split the groceries,” you snapped at her, heading for the door.

“Yeah, well…” Penelope struggled to come up with a retort as fast as you did — she didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. Or at least, she wasn’t as quick with using it. “Well, if you’re gonna spend that much time with Reid, the least you could do is throw that boy a bone,” she called after you as you stormed out, slamming the door behind you and letting out an enraged huff as you stalked down the corridor, oblivious to Spencer.

He swallowed, watching your retreating figure and letting a beat pass before contemplating whether he should go to Penelope. Maybe he should just have Morgan talk to her instead. He turned on his heel, making his way back to the briefing room instead.

Spencer stared at the clock, watching the hands tick round until you would finally leave. All this week he had been trying to convince himself that you were avoiding him, but that was just his paranoia talking. You’d been avoiding everyone, really — him, Garcia, Morgan… your behaviour towards other people was almost exactly the same. Almost, but not quite. You had been colder to him specifically.

He just couldn’t help thinking you were upset with him.

“You okay?” he asked, catching up to you outside the building, a slight pant to his voice due to the short sprint he had to do to catch up to you in time. Your pace had slowed, and with your gaze to the floor, you let him fall in step beside you. Spencer tried not to pay too much attention to the distance you kept between the two of you.

He noticed everything about you. He couldn’t help it. He had noticed the stiffness in your shoulders, the rigid way you carried yourself.

"Fine," you replied half-heartedly, turning your keys over in your pocket. "I just hate taking the train home."

“Why not get an apartment that’s closer to here?” he suggested, stuffing his hands in his own pockets, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he fell into step beside you. He’d noticed you had been taking the metro a lot more than usual. He wondered if everything was okay with your roommate.

"I like living in DC," you replied, walking with him to the station. He hated driving as much as you hated the train.

He nodded, walking alongside you. He wished you’d look at him, though. He could never guess what was going on in your head — was everything okay? Had he done something wrong? You seemed colder to him these days. “What’s been going on with you?” he asked, his voice soft. “You’ve been a bit down lately, are you sure you’re alright?” You finally looked up at Spencer and he had to catch his breath — he’d never get used to your eyes, the sharp intelligence in them, the focus.

You sighed, looking ahead again. "Penelope's been... I dunno, things aren't great between us."

“Why’s that?” he asked, reminded of your argument again. The two of you were always together, you were inseparable. “Is everything okay?” He was about to reach out, touch your arm, but he second-guessed himself, not wanting you to push him away. He couldn’t take it if you did.

"I don't know," you confessed, your nose tinged red with the cold, still turning over the key in your pocket to keep yourself grounded. "She's working overtime, if she's not on a case, she's working on something with Derek that she won't tell me about, which is fine, I get it. If anyone understands classified projects, I do. And then she's always with Kevin and I just..." You let out a breath, like you haven't let all of it out in a while, and it fogs up a little, your eyes glassy. "You know, you see yourself as this central person in someone's life and then suddenly... all these other figures come in and you just... don't know where you fit in anymore."

The look in your eyes made him ache to comfort you and he had to look away to stop himself from being overwhelmed by what he saw there. “People get busy,” he said, softly. “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t value your friendship, or that she doesn’t want you around as much as you want to be.” His fingers twitched against his own palm as he spoke — he knew the feeling in your words all too well. He hated the idea that you were going through what he did on a daily basis.

You blinked the dampness in your eyes away, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. "It's whatever," you murmured, tucking hair behind your ear.

Spencer looked at your profile as you walked and he had to look away again. He was starting to lose count of how many times he’d stopped himself from reaching out to you. He wanted to, he wanted to so desperately… but he was also terrified of rejection from you. He didn’t have an endless well of confidence, and he couldn’t bear it if you pushed him away. So he settled with wishing he could help you more than he currently was.

"How are you doing?" you asked, glancing at him. "With Emily and everything."

Spencer cleared his throat as he walked beside you, staring at the ground in front of him. “I think I’m still in shock,” he said, softly. “I miss her a hell of a lot, I’ve never connected with someone so quickly.” He didn’t even hesitate before he added: “Except maybe with you.”

You huffed a little, smiling. "Nerds of a feather, right?"

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He glanced over and met your gaze, and he couldn’t help the way a grin bloomed on his face, your eyes meeting his.

You smiled at him, your eyes lighting up in that way he loves — not just with amusement, but with warmth, and his chest started to ache, just a little. He could do this forever.

His heart skipped, and for a moment he could forget everything. For a moment, everything was perfect, just you and him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x analyst!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #my fics

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ramp-it-up · 3 days ago

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Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out.

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you.

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest.

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?”

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?”

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?”

There was an edge to the question.

“And… My lips. All over you.”

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.”

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.”

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard.

“Oh? What if I want more than that?”

“You can have whatever you want...”

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.

“I trust you.”

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him? He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.”

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?”

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him.

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.”

“Fuck…”

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too.

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined.

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…”

“Of course you are.”

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more.

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?”

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit.

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.”

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came.

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well.

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him.

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.”

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers.

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well.

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…”

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos.

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…”

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him.

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve.

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it.

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space.

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit."

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated.

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip.

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled.

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench.

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook.

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper.

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper.

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems.

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form."

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…”

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you.

And he did.

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both.

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured.

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head.

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach."

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?"

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch.

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient.

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened.

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper.

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page.

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers.

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath.

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much.

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist.

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise.

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.”

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured.

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more."

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building.

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.

“You do that to me, Peach.”

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?”

“Me?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.”

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes.

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.”

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

“Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?”

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants.

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you.

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry.

Not at all.

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth.

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry.

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear.

You gaped at him.

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation.

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue.

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.”

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light.

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much.

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip.

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness.

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point.

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together.

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly.

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest.

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke.

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….”

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking.

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you.

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach.

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!”

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!”

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming.

You were beautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again.

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

#knock you down fic #this is the right one #steve rogers #peach fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #mob boss! steve rogers #chris evans #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #mob boss!bucky Barnes

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rubyvhs · 3 days ago

Text

show me love [ dean w. ]

SUMMARY . you and dean’s friendship (of both platonic and sexual nature) falls apart when his father goes missing TAGS . 0.7k words, cliffhanger, all texting, heavy angst LAILA’S NOTES . y’all I’d apologize but this is the first thing i’ve written in years so if anything we should be happy.

February 2003

Dean: Hey, sweetheart.

Still in Georgia?

You: Yeah, why? Are you thinking of passing by?

Dean: Something like that.

I’ll be there in two days, maybe.

You: That sounds great, D. Text me when you’re here.

August 2003

Dean: Look outside.

You: You’re a real piece of work, you know that?

Rocks at my windows was sexy a century ago.

Dean: Still worked though, didn’t it?

You: Yeah, asshole, I’m awake at three in the morning.

Dean: Does that mean you’re not gonna open the door?

You: Fuck you. I’m getting dressed.

Dean: No point, gonna take it all off anyway.

You: You left suddenly, didn’t know I was a one night stand, asshole.

Dean: Sorry, sweetheart, Sam called and I didn’t wanna wake you up. We can grab something to eat tonight, how’s that?

You: Is that a promise you actually plan on keeping?

Dean: Swear on my life.

You: I’ve seen it, ain't much to swear by.

Dean: Ouch.

You: Miss you, pick me up at seven.

Dean: See ya then, baby.

June 2005

Dean: Hey

You: Hi, D. Been a while.

Dean: Yeah, I’m sorry

You: It’s okay, I never expect much from us anyway. What’s up?

Dean: Do you think I’m a bad person?

You: No. Why would you say that?

Dean: I’m gonna ask Sam to come back, I can’t find dad.

You: Why didn’t you tell me? And it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I mean, I would advise against it, Sam deserves a good life and you know that, but the fact that you’re asking before doing it says everything I need to know.

Dean: What does it say?

You: That you have a pure heart, D. Don’t ever doubt it, okay?

But also incase you were actually thinking of it, please don’t go get Sam. He’s out, he’s finally out of the life, Dean.

I text him every week and he’s happy and in love, don’t do it.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: Answer the phone.

Dean answer me.

Stop ignoring my calls

You suck

You: You’re still not a bad person.

August 2005

You: I will never forgive you.

Ever.

Dean: I didn’t know you’d be here.

You: Fuck you. You disappeared on me for months and stop answering my calls you fucking asshole and then I try talking to you and you walk away in front of everyone.

Do you understand how fucking humiliating that was for me? My sister’s asking if I’m okay, that’s how bad it is.

Dean: I’m sorry.

You: You’ve never once meant that, Dean.

Not fucking once.

You’re a dick.

And one day, you’re the one who’s gonna regret it, not me.

September 2005

Dean: Hunted a Djinn today.

Wanna know what my perfect life looked like?

You: Oh now you wanna talk?

Real nice of you.

Dean: You know what it was

You: And yet I don’t care

Don’t text me again

Dean: You would’ve blocked me if you meant it.

It was you, sweetheart.

You: Good night, Dean.

Dean: Night.

Sam: Hey, darling.

You: Sam!!!!!!!

I’ve missed you endlessly

Literally haven’t seen you in ages

Sam: Yeah, sorry about that.

Dean told me that he met you at the gathering.

You: Yeah why weren’t you there?

Sam: Just didn’t feel like it.

But I do miss seeing you, send me your location?

You: Virginia, what about you?

Sam: Close. About a day out.

You: You don’t have to, we can meet up when we’re closer.

Sam: Ah, so you don’t wanna see me?

You: No no no I do, just don’t bring Dean.

Please, Sammy.

Sam: Sorry, sweetheart but if I drive him around then I get to go wherever he does.

You: Dean?

Sam: Yeah, Sam’s in the bathroom. We’re on our way.

You: Don’t text me.

Sam: Heard that threat before.

Sam: Hey, sorry, I didn’t know he would do that.

You: I’m wrapping up my hunt, won’t be in Virginia when you get here.

Sam: No no, please.

You: Sorry.

January 2006

Sam: Hey.

You: Hi.

Sam: Dean’s dying.

You: What are you talking about?

Sam, answer the phone.

Sam the last thing I told him is to not talk to me please answer the phone

Sam: We’re at Bobby’s.

You: I’m on my way.

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muhlsworld · 3 days ago

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IDFC

pairing: nika muhl x fem!reader

synopsis: nika swears she doesn’t care until she notices she’s losing you

WARNINGS: angst, nika kinda being an ass, cussing

you and nika have this on and off thing going on between the two of you. no fault of your own of course. you wanted to be with her. but she always brushed it off when you brought it up.

it had become sort of habit where you two would hook up and act all domestic only for nika to get all cold with you a few days later. it was exhausting but you wouldn’t leave. you cared deeply for her and for some reason you thought she did too.

you figured nika would come around on her own time. you didn’t want to rush her. you knew she was in a relationship with a guy from the men’s team and it was kinda serious. so you thought maybe that’s why she didn’t want to be in a relationship right now. and you were fine with waiting because of that. although her breakup had been about a year ago.

although you and nika weren’t exclusive by any means you took it upon yourself to not see other people. you for some reason had assumed nika would be the same way.

so here you are walking to nikas dorm because you wanted to talk to her. she hadn’t been answering your texts these past couple of days so you decided to go to her dorm, this was a common thing that happened when she wouldn’t reply.

as you’re getting closer to her door you see it open. you think you’re about to see nika walk out so you pick up the pace but then you stop dead in your tracks. it was some random girl walking out in a uconn practice shirt. the sight made your stomach uneasy.

you watch as she turns around and places a kiss onto nikas lips. you had tears pooling in your eyes at the sight. once that girl had left nika turned to look in the hallway and that’s when she saw you. but it’s as if you didn’t matter to her. she simply looked in your direction and then receded back into her dorm and closed the door.

you went back to your dorm immediately. you and nika weren’t exclusive so why did it hurt you so bad that she was seeing other people?you thought she actually liked you but maybe she just didn’t care.

but it was the exact opposite. back at nikas dorm she was panicking. she saw the look on your face. you were hurt. and she knew why. she had never intended for you to see that. it was a mistake.

nika liked you. she really did. she was just scared of the commitment from her last relationship. so she thought by pretending she didn’t care she wouldn’t be hurt again. and it was working until she saw your face of hurt and betrayal.

it had been a few days since what you saw outside nikas dorm and you were done. no more of this hot and cold game you guys had going on. you were just gonna leave her alone and love your life.

nika had assumed you’d confront her about what you saw. seeing as that was how things always were between you two. you would always contact nika first. but this time your message never came. she was confused but didn’t think anything of it and just kept waiting.

it had been two weeks and it was complete radio silence on your end. you hadn’t reached out at all. you were done.

you were walking back to your dorm after some classes and hanging out with friends when bumped into nika on the way. “oh sorry.” you said sweetly thinking you bumped into a stranger at first. but then you saw it was her. “oh hey i’ve been meaning to talk to you.” nika said completely ignoring the apology. “about?” you questioned. even though you had a feeling on what it was about.

“what you saw outside my dorm.” she stated. “don’t worry about it” you said calmly and nika looked confused at your answer. “we weren’t exclusive. you didn’t owe anything to me. we’re good.” you said in a harsher tone. you had never spoken to nika like that and it confused her.

“what?” she asked the confusion laced in her voice. “you’re free to see whoever you want nika. you don’t owe me an explanation. i just want no part in it.” you said firmly. you had an unreadable expression on your face. but with that you walked into your dorm leaving nika outside alone with her thoughts.

after your last conversation nika was sure you would still come around. you always did.

but then she saw you with another girl. it was a girl from the volleyball team. she recognized her. you guys were walking and talking together. and you seemed happy but nika didn’t like it. she realized you were moving on. and she didn’t want that.

how could she have let her immature actions push you away. you were everything she could’ve wanted and now she couldn’t have you all because she pushed you away on her own when you had been nothing but patient with her.

she was gonna get you back. if it was the last thing she did.

it was now a saturday night and there was party going on. you decided to go with your friends thinking it would be a good time and you could meet new people.

so here you were in the middle of the dance floor dancing away with your friends. you were having such a good time. until you saw nika approaching you. you had mentally rolled your eyes what was about to happen. “i need to talk you.” she said. and before you could even reply she had dragged you to the bathroom.

“what you saw that day meant nothing to me okay? i have been trying to come to terms with my feelings and i like you okay? i really do and i was just scared.” she blurted out immediately. you looked at her wide eyed not expecting that confession. “why didn’t you talk to me?” you asked. “i was scared. with everything that happens with my ex i just wasn’t sure what to do.” she said and then followed up with “i never meant to hurt you.”

you heard the softness in her voice and you could tell that she was telling the truth. you wanted to be with nika but she would have to do it right.

“look we can start something again but if we do we’re gonna do it right.” you said and nika immediately nodded and took a sigh of relief. “you’re going to take me out first and we’re gonna talk. we’re gonna have a real talk this time.” you said. “okay okay yes whatever you say.” nika said excitedly.

you smiled at how excited she was and you placed a soft kiss on her cheek and walked out of the bathroom.

nika had changed her ways for you and you couldn’t have been happier. she was really trying this time. she couldn’t risk losing you again. she never realized just how important you were to her until she almost lost you.

but here you are now almost three months later, both of you happier than ever.

A/N: the end is kinda sloppy but i hope you guys like it!

#uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #uconn women’s basketball #seattle storm #wnba #wnba x reader #wnba basketball

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omgfangirlland · 5 hours ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next(TBC)

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument. Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader #platonic yandere #yandere!mark grayson #yandere!nolan grayson #yandere!debbie grayson

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wendichester · 9 hours ago

Text

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 strictly professional,

summary. you're dean smith's new secretary and boy--it's hard to keep your thoughts from wandering.

pairing. dean smith x secretary!reader

wordcount. 1073

notes. slight smutty ; mdni!

The first time you meet Dean Smith, he barely looks at you.

You walk into his sleek, minimalistic office, resume in hand, and he simply gestures for you to sit, eyes still locked on his computer screen. He types something, clicks his mouse, exhales through his nose. Then finally, he looks at you.

And damn.

His green eyes—sharp, assessing—sweep over you as he leans back in his chair. His suit is tailored to perfection, crisp and expensive-looking, dark blue that makes his sun-kissed skin pop. His tie is a deep burgundy, knotted neatly at his throat, and when he tilts his head, his jaw flexes in a way that should not be sexy.

But it is.

"You're the new hire," he states, voice smooth, cool. A businessman’s voice.

You nod, clear your throat, stating your name. "Yes, sir. Your new secretary."

Something flickers across his expression, something unreadable, and then it's gone.

"Welcome to Sandover Bridge & Iron," he says, and just like that, you're in.

Two weeks in, and you should not be fantasizing about your boss.

But it’s hard when he looks the way he does, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, tie loosened at the end of a long day, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he reviews contracts.

And it’s harder when you catch him watching you sometimes, gaze lingering when he thinks you won’t notice.

And it’s damn near impossible when he calls you into his office after hours, voice low and smooth through the intercom.

“Need you in here for a moment.”

You step in, closing the door behind you. The office is dimly lit, the glow from his desk lamp casting sharp lines over his face. He’s loosened his tie completely now, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

"Late night, sir?" you tease lightly.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Paperwork never ends." Then his gaze lifts to yours, intent. "You’ve been doing good work."

You blink, caught off guard. He usually isn't one for compliments. "Oh—thank you."

"I mean it," he says, sitting back, studying you. "You’re sharp. Fast. Pick up on things quick." A small smirk tugs at his lips. "Can’t help but notice you watching me like you’re trying to figure me out."

Your stomach flips. Heat creeps up your neck. "I—um, well, I like to be observant."

Dean hums, standing up. He takes slow, deliberate steps around his desk, stopping just a foot away.

"That so?" he murmurs. "And what have you observed?"

Your breath catches. You shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t let this happen. But he’s so close, warmth rolling off of him, cologne wrapping around you.

"I…" You swallow. "I’ve noticed that you work too much. That you don’t let yourself relax."

His smirk grows, lazy, knowing. "And you think you can help with that?"

The room feels smaller, air heavier. Your pulse pounds in your throat.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his hands are on you—gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and wanting.

You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as he lifts you onto his desk, knocking over a pen holder. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing up your skirt, fingers teasing at the tops of your stockings.

"Tell me to stop," he pants against your lips. "Tell me this is a bad idea."

You don’t. You can’t.

Instead, you tug at his tie, pulling him back in.

"I don’t want to stop," you whisper.

And that’s all he needs.

Dean groans into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist like he’s anchoring himself, like if he lets go, he’ll come to his senses. But he doesn’t want to. You feel it in the way his fingers grip you, in the way his breath stutters when you rock your hips forward, seeking more.

He’s all heat and strength between your legs, suit still sharp but unraveling fast—tie loose, shirt wrinkling under your touch, belt clinking as he pushes against you.

“This is insane,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, over the sensitive skin of your neck.

You tilt your head, giving him more. “Then stop.”

He growls, low and rough. “You know I can’t.”

His hands slide up, pushing your blouse up with them. His fingers brush the lace of your bra, teasing, and you shiver, gasping as his mouth follows, warm lips dragging lower, tongue flicking over your collarbone.

You don’t know when you start unbuttoning his shirt, but soon, your hands are splayed over his chest, feeling hard muscle, the heat of his skin. He hisses when your nails scrape lightly down his stomach, hips jerking forward, pressing his growing arousal against you.

“Fuck,” he grits, forehead dropping to yours. His breath is ragged, fingers flexing against your hips. “You’re making me lose my mind.”

Your lips curl into a smile. “Good.”

Dean lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head, before crashing his mouth against yours again, hands trailing down, tugging your skirt higher, fingers ghosting over your thighs, teasing at your soaked panties.

The knock on the office door nearly makes you jump off the desk.

Dean jerks back, eyes wide, breathing hard.

“Mr. Smith?” A voice—some poor, oblivious intern—echoes through the door. “You still in there?”

Dean curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair before calling out, voice forcibly even. “Yeah. What is it?”

“There’s a last-minute revision on the quarterlies. I can slide them under the door if you want.”

Dean exhales sharply, leveling you with a look that’s both frustrated and amused. You press your lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, do that,” he says, stepping back, straightening his tie, though it doesn’t do much to hide the way his shirt is still unbuttoned, his belt unfastened.

A few seconds later, the rustle of papers sliding under the door is followed by retreating footsteps.

Silence.

Then, you burst out laughing.

Dean sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face, but there’s a smirk playing at his lips. “This is what I get for breaking my own damn rules.”

You hop off the desk, adjusting your clothes, still grinning. “And yet, you’re not saying you regret it.”

His eyes darken, fingers catching your wrist as you pass. He pulls you back, tilting his head.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and promising. “We’re nowhere near done.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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eempyreall · 3 days ago

Text

♪ 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝑏𝑦 𝑅𝐸𝐼 𝐴𝑀𝐼 ♪

༺ In The Walls ༻

Oneshot ~ Male Intruders x Female Reader

Summary ~ Unknown to you, two men have been living in your house.

Featuring ~ Original Characters: Charlie & Kameron

Extra Notes ~ Just a quick lil something I had an idea for.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only

You know for a fact that you’re not alone.

You haven’t been for quite a while.

At first, you told yourself it was just paranoia. The faint creaks at night were only just the house settling. The items are only out of place because you forgot to put them back. It doesn’t matter that you hadn’t touched them in the first place. Your blankets are only pulled off of your body because you must be a rough sleeper.

You were able to ignore it and push down your worries for a couple of weeks until now.

“You forgot to lock the door, again. Didn’t you?”

You could’ve sworn the voice was right behind you, coming from the hall as you sat on the sofa of your living room scrolling through your phone. Despite the reluctance, you check the bedroom and your bathroom as you walk down the hall. You found nobody.

Another week passed as you started to question your sanity.

“I’ve watched you cry yourself to sleep every night,” the voice murmured, breath hot against your ear. “Those tears should only be for when I get my hands on you.”

You shot up, sweat heavy as the fabric of your pajamas stuck to your skin. Your breathing is heavy as you look around the dimly lit bedroom. Your hand is on your chest as you observe the empty space.

A couple of weeks passed and things started to get weirder. Anyone that you’ve been in recent contact with has completely disappeared. Your message inbox is as empty as a ghost town. You haven’t heard from your two friends or even any of the men you had started talking to. The barista who left a note on your drink, offering his phone number. The neighbor who frequently checks on you. All gone.

“We took care of them for you. They weren’t good enough.”

The note you found on your kitchen counter when you came home from work sent chills straight down your spine. You didn’t know whether something bad had actually happened to those people or not.

You had enough.

You finally installed cameras around your house.

You watch the footage from your phone screen as you sit in a cubby in the public library. The clock reads seven o’clock in the evening and you were too scared to go home and watch the last few hours that you had been at work.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you used a thumb to fast forward, watching all of the cameras placed in the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen. You chew on your thumb’s nail and a slight movement caught your attention.

Your breath hitched as the screen flicked to your bedroom.

Two men lounged on the bed as if it was their own. They’re stretched out lazily against your sheets, their heavy-lidded eyes making contact with yours through the camera.

The man on the left—his short brown curls are tousled, as if he just rolled out of bed. He’s dressed in baggy black pants and a dark metal band t-shirt, piercings covering his ears as a spiked collar is secure around his neck. He smirked at the camera while propped on his elbows.

The man on the right has mid-length dyed white hair that frames his face. His outfit mirrored the first but in pastel shades, sleeves covering his arms. His fingers are covered in rings, his fingers in fists as he stretched out lazily like a cat on its back.

Your heart pounded as you watched the brown-haired man get up, his movements casual as he walked to your dresser. His fingers traced the lining of the wood before he yanked it open, his hand rummaging through before he grabbed a pair of your lace panties.

Your breathing becomes harder as your chest feels constricted.

The microphone from the camera picked up his hum as he turned to you, his smirk widening as he brought the fabric to his lips. His canines sink into the soft material, gaze staying locked on you as he stretches the lace.

Heat flushed your body as you felt the embarrassment crawl up your stomach.

The other man got up from the bed as well before walking closer to the camera. Your breath hitched as he pulled out a knife. He held it up so you could see the shiny object. Your eyes widened at the stained blood covering the blade.

His lips parted as his tongue slithered against the blade as he kept his lazy gaze onto you. His tongue flicked before he used his middle finger to glide against the metal and circled his lips around the finger, sucking it deep before slowly pulling it out.

Both men release howls of laughter before you finally shut the phone off.

Your hands are shaky as you take a moment to process what you just saw.

“Please, I don’t know these people. I—I think they’ve been in my house for a while now,” you desperately say to the sheriff as you stand in his office.

“So yer tellin’ me,” he began with an eyebrow raised. “That two men have been living in your house this whole time and you only just noticed?”

“I know how it sounds, but I swear! I have proof,” your voice says shakily. The device almost slips out of your hands as you search for the footage.

Your eyes widened as you violently swipe through the app’s saved downloads. You even checked your gallery. It’s nowhere to be found.

Time ticks along before the sheriff sighs, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a bored gaze.

“Ma’am, I think you need some rest.”

It was now midnight.

You didn’t want to go home, but there was nowhere else for you to go. You had no choice but to face these unpredictable weirdos and potentially risk your life.

When you got home, your hand shook with the pepper spray you had gotten from a shop earlier in the day. You shut the door and locked it behind you as you slowly checked each room. The kitchen, living room, bathroom, and your bedroom. You found nobody. You didn’t hear anything either.

Your nerves are shot as you peeled the covers back, climbing into your bed after half-finishing your night routine and changing into your pajamas.

You couldn’t sleep, obviously wide-awake with the pepper spray still in hand. You chug the glass of water you had made earlier, before you lied down. You hadn’t expected to drift off into a heavy slumber, as you planned to stay awake the entire night when you couldn’t fall asleep initially.

Your eyes shot open to bright blue irises, your screaming muffled by the palm pressed against your mouth. The brown-haired male smirked at you, a crazy glint shimmering against his eyes as he looked down at you.

The platinum-haired male’s bright green eyes pierced you as he held the blade against your throat, both of them hovering over you as you lay flat against the bed.

“Shh, shh. Relax,” the brown-haired male cooed as his index finger rests against his lips.

Your breathing became frantic, whimpers released against his skin as you tried to calm yourself down. You contemplated fighting them off but knew it wouldn’t be a good idea considering the cold, sharp metal against your throat.

“You’re being so good right now, Y/n,” the blue-eyed male murmured. “Already submissive and shit,” his grin grew, sharp teeth glistening through the dark room.

The lump in your throat grew larger as you felt the pale-haired man press the blade against you just a little harder. Your eyes shut tightly as you try to calm the acceleration of your heartbeat.

“Come on, cheríe. I wanna see your beautiful eyes. Wanna make sure you’re paying attention,” you heard the second voice say, his tone slightly lighter than the brown-haired male.

“Good, good,” the blue-eyed male praised as you complied. “You hurt our feelings, y’know? Ignoring us for that long.”

“And to think you were a little snitch,” he says before his irises shifted upwards in thought. “Or at least you tried to be. Pig didn’t do shit for ya, huh?” he chuckled.

You didn’t understand how they could know. It was impossible for them to have been there because the office is small. It was also unexplainable how they deleted the footage as well. Are they hackers?

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

“Oh? Crying, already?” The pale-haired male questioned with fake curiosity on his expression. “We haven’t even gotten started, Y/n. You’re such a sensitive little thing, huh?”

The blue-eyed male’s hand tightened against your jaw as he lowered his head, tongue sliding against your cheek as he lapped up the tear streaming from your eye.

They’re fucking filthy.

The platinum-haired male hummed as he pulled the blade away, only to trail it down the delicate column of your throat, tracing along your collarbone. His grin widened at the way you trembled, your skin prickling beneath the cold steel.

“Look at her,” he cooed, tilting his head as he lazily dragged the knife down your chest. “So scared… so weak.”

The brown-haired one snickered, finally pulling his hand away from your mouth before gripping your cheeks. His fingers squeezed, forcing your lips to pucker. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not gonna beg for your life?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you tried to think of something—anything—that might convince them to let you go. But the words wouldn’t come.

The platinum-haired one sighed dramatically, as if disappointed. “You’re no fun, Y/n. I was hoping for at least a little pleading.”

The brown-haired one leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Or maybe you want this. Is that it? You wanna get on your knees for us?”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head rapidly, a desperate whimper escaping your lips. “N—No… Please!”

You want to snatch the blade and cut them for making you feel this way. You’ve never been at anyone’s mercy like this. You’ve always been in control of everything in your life. Even unexpected situations. This is humiliating.

“Now she begs,” the platinum-haired one mocked, twirling the blade between his fingers before pressing the flat side against your cheek. “Too bad, cheríe. We were thinking about gutting you from the start.”

Your body locked up, your breath hitching as terror consumed you.

The brown-haired one chuckled, watching every little reaction, drinking it in. “You should see your face right now,” he mused. “So cute.”

You hesitated before suddenly lurching forward. You used all of your strength to shove against their chests, catching them off guard as their bodies shifted back in surprise.

You scrambled towards the edge of your bed, fingers reaching for the floor as you tumbled down. You quickly pick yourself up, ignoring the pain as you run barefoot through the hallway.

Your hand reached for the front door as you were halfway there, sprinting through the living room before a hand yanked you by the wrist, sending you backward as you landed harshly on your back.

Your arms and legs wailed as the brown-haired male pins your hands on either side of your head while his body hovers in between your legs. The green-eyed man kneels above your head as the prickly edges of the blade are pressed against your chin.

Both males sneered down at you as you breathed heavily.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, your throat burning from the strain.

“Here I thought you were a good girl, Y/n,” the blue-eyed male growled. “That’s fine. I like when they fight back anyway.”

“I knew there was something special about you,” the blonde released a breathless laugh. “I say we keep her. What do you say, Kam?”

They both glance at each other before a grin grows on Kameron’s face.

“Well, Charlie. I guess we got a new toy to play with.”

#yandere #yanderes #yandere x reader #yanderes x reader #yandere darling #yandere intruder #yandere oc #yandere stories #yandere male #yandere males #yandere scenarios #dark content #knifeplay #eempyreall #eetherealgoddess #eetherealgoddesss

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fuck-customers · 16 hours ago

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Work in a flower shop, and we keep the floral foam behind the registers cuz it’s super fragile, and we only sell two sizes, large and small. Been like that for the 8ish years I’ve been here. There’s this one regular who comes in roughly every other week, buys a single bunch of greenery, and buys a block of foam. It’s not always the same size, even though she buys the same bunch of greenery roughly twice a week. So I ask her every. Damn. Time. Which size? And she just. Stares at me. Every. DAMN. Time. Waiting for me to read her mind on what size she wants today, when even the small size is way to big for the small bunch of leaves she buys with it. I’ve begged the owner to ban her because she also insults my looks if I don’t wear makeup that day, gets upset if I don’t offer to help her, gets upset if I DO offer to help her, calls me filthy if I’m literally sweeping the floor??? This doubles as a fuck management cuz I’m so tired of seeing her and my boss saying she’s ultimately harmless. I’ve half a mind to piss her off so bad she attacks me to finally ban her. We don’t have cameras with audio so I could say whatever to her with a smile and it’d look like I was genuinely helping her, just so I never have to see her ever again. Or at least watch her get arrested.

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mattsobvimyfav · 15 hours ago

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Y/N has always played it safe—balancing her job as a pediatric nurse, and her careful lifestyle. But one night out with her friend, Jordan, changes everything. When she meets Matt and Chris—two dangerous, enigmatic brothers—she’s drawn into a world she doesn’t belong in. But the more she resists, the harder they pulls her in.

pt 4

The sun filtered softly through the blinds, casting warm streaks across the room. I blinked slowly, stirring from sleep, only to find Matt's arm draped securely over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. This is how it has been for the past week, the boys would handle their business or I'd go to work and they'd end up back at my apartment.

I smiled faintly and gently nudged his shoulder. "Matt," I whispered, brushing my fingers against his arm. "Matt, wake up."

He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open, hazy with sleep. "What?" he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly.

I laughed softly. "I have to go. I’ve got nannying today. Gotta watch the kids."

His brows furrowed slightly as he processed my words. "Already?" He pulled me closer for a brief moment, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "Can’t you skip it?"

I chuckled, running my fingers through his messy hair. "Tempting, but no. I actually like these kids, you know."

Matt sighed dramatically, finally releasing me. "Fine."

I sat up, stretching before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "You’ll survive. Besides, I’ll be back later. If you guys want to come back?"

He watched me for a moment, "Yeah. Maybe."

Matt may sleep in my bed every night, but he keeps his distance. There’s no hand-holding, no soft whispers in the dark. He isn’t lovey-dovey, and he hasn’t even admitted to liking me. Oddly enough, I don’t mind. I like how casual it is, the comfort of having someone there without the pressure of defining it.

I pulled on a pair of biker shorts, a cozy oversized hoodie, Nike socks, and my Hokas. Running my fingers through my hair to smooth it out, I glanced back at Matt, still sprawled lazily across my bed, his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Leaning down, I pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. "Lock the door before you leave, okay?"

He gave a small nod, his eyes following me as I grabbed my bag and headed out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.

The drive to the family’s house was peaceful, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the Boston streets. The familiar route felt comforting, like slipping into an old routine. I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the front door. Before I could knock, the door swung open, revealing Ella, with her wild curls bouncing as she launched herself at me.

“Y/N!” she squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around my legs.

“Hey, El!” I laughed, scooping her up into a hug. “Miss me?”

She nodded vigorously. “A lot.”

Inside, Owen, her brother, sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in a book about dinosaurs. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and his serious little face made me smile.

“Hey, buddy,” I greeted, ruffling his hair as I set my bag down.

He glanced up, offering a shy smile. “Hi, Y/N.”

Their parents gave me a quick rundown of the day’s plans before heading out. Once the door closed, Ella tugged on my hand. “Can we go to the park?”

“Of course,” I replied, packing snacks and water before we set off.

The park was bustling with families enjoying the warm air. Ella ran straight to the swings, demanding to be pushed higher and higher. Owen wandered off to examine rocks and sticks, his curiosity endless.

After an hour of chasing them around, we settled on a blanket under a large oak tree. We shared sandwiches, Ella chattering non-stop about her imaginary friends, while Owen quizzed me on dinosaur facts.

Back home, we spent the afternoon building a fort out of blankets and couch cushions. Inside our makeshift hideout, we read books and played with flashlights, their giggles echoing off the walls.

As evening approached, I prepared them dinner, it was simple—grilled cheese and tomato soup, with Ella proudly declaring she was my sous-chef.

When their parents returned, the kids clung to me, reluctant to say goodbye.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Not tomorrow, but soon,” I promised, giving them both a tight hug.

Driving home, I felt a warm sense of contentment. Being around these kids felt like a breath of fresh air from the adult life I created for myself.

When I got home, the quiet comfort of my apartment wrapped around me like a familiar blanket. I kicked off my Hokas, dropped my bag by the door, and flopped onto the couch with a sigh. The soft cushions welcomed me as I reached for my phone, scrolling through the notifications until I landed on the group chat with Matt and Chris.

Y/N: Home, finally.

It didn’t take long for Chris to respond.

Chris: Perfect timing. There’s a party tonight. We’re going. You in?

Almost instantly, Matt added:

Matt: Come with us.

I stared at the screen, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. A party wasn’t exactly on my agenda, but the idea of seeing them both, of slipping back into that chaotic, unpredictable energy they brought, felt tempting.

Y/N: What time?

Chris: We’ll pick you up at 9.

Y/N: I’m in.

I set my phone down and let myself relax for a little while, stretching out on the couch. The hum of the city outside my window was a soft reminder of the world still spinning. After a short rest, I stood up and made my way to my room to get ready.

I pulled out a cheetah print cropped top, pairing it with a sleek black mini skirt and my favorite leather boots. The outfit hugged my curves perfectly, giving me a boost of confidence. I decided to keep it simple with my hair, curling it into loose waves that effortlessly framed my face.

With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my small black purse, sitting on the couch again and waited for Matt and Chris to arrive.

At exactly 9 PM, I heard a knock at the door. Opening it, I was met with Matt’s dark, intense eyes and Chris’s mischievous grin. Matt’s gaze slowly roamed over my outfit, his jaw tightening slightly before he muttered, “You look good.”

Chris clicks his tongue, "Yeah, you do"

I rolled my eyes, locking the door behind me as we made our way to Matt’s car. The car roared to life, music thumping softly as Matt drove through the city streets. The party was on the outskirts, in an old warehouse lit up with neon lights spilling from the windows.

We stepped inside, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something faintly metallic lingering. People moved like waves, pulsing to the beat, laughing, shouting, and lost in their own worlds.

Matt and Chris immediately got to work, connecting with a few guys in dark corners. I found a spot on an old, beaten-up couch, watching the crowd while sipping on a drink someone had handed me. It wasn’t long before Matt made his way back, sitting beside me and pulling out a small blunt. He lit it, taking a slow drag before passing it to me.

I hesitated only for a second before taking it. I was somewhere new and didn't know anyone but Matt and Chris, I was unsure about being high and drunk here. I ultimately decided Matt and Chris would keep me safe if anything was to happen so I grabbed the blunt from Matt’s hand. The buzz hit quickly, mixing with the drink.

It had been about twenty minutes since Matt had left me alone on the couch, and my mind still felt like it was swimming in a fog. I had tried to focus on the people around me, watching them as they moved through the crowd, laughing, talking, losing themselves in the chaos of the party. But every face I looked at felt unfamiliar, out of place. Nothing made sense, not even the noise. The thumping bass, the flashing lights—it all felt too loud, too bright, like it was mocking me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

And then, suddenly, the noise of the party shifted. The music didn’t stop, but the voices grew louder, sharper, rising above the rest. I looked up from where I was sitting, instinctively turning toward the sound. That’s when I saw Matt.

He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his back rigid, his face hard as stone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused on something—or someone—a guy in the crowd. The guy was yelling at Matt, hands flailing wildly in the air. His voice was thick with aggression, but I couldn’t make out his words over the music.

Chris was beside Matt, his posture tense, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator looking for a target. It was obvious this wasn’t a casual confrontation. The way Chris stood—motionless, like he was waiting for something—told me things were about to get real. Fast.

The yelling escalated, louder, and more intense. I couldn’t hear the words, but the aggression in the air was palpable. I felt a pit in my stomach as I watched Matt and the other guy exchange words. I wanted to look away, but something made me stay. It was like I couldn’t pull my gaze from the tension that was building between them.

And then, in a flash, Matt’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw. The punch was swift, precise, and brutal. It landed with a sickening thud that cut through the noise of the party. The moment it hit, everything exploded. It was like someone flipped a switch—people screamed, fists flew, bodies scrambled, and the fight spilled into the center of the room.

I could barely process what was happening. Matt and the other guy were locked in a brutal exchange, throwing punches with such intensity that the entire atmosphere of the party shifted. Blood mixed with sweat, and the harsh, flickering lights above cast eerie shadows across the room.

But Matt wasn’t just fighting. His movements were sharp, controlled, and fast—too fast for the guy to keep up. It was clear he wasn’t just defending himself—he was letting his rage drive every blow. He was holding his own, but there was something dark and violent in the way he moved, a fury that I hadn’t seen before.

As the fight spiraled further out of control, something shifted in the room. I saw Chris reach inside his jacket, and before I could even process what was happening, he pulled out a gun, the metal gleaming under the harsh lights. The sight of it sent a cold chill through me, freezing my blood. It was aimed at the people trying to jump into Matt’s fight, the mere presence of the weapon in the middle of this madness was enough to make everything feel dangerous.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. The fight between Matt and the other guy continued, but now people were backing off, the sight of the guns keeping anyone from getting any closer. The crowd was tense, unsure of whether things were going to escalate further, but Chris didn’t make a move to use the weapons. They just held their ground, making sure everyone knew they weren’t to be messed with.

The fight was broken up quickly after that, people rushing in to separate them. The other guy was dragged away, kicking and yelling, still trying to get another shot at Matt, but the fight had already drained the energy from the room. The party slowly began to settle, but Matt’s fury hadn’t.

Without a word, he turned and stormed toward me. I barely had time to react before he grabbed me by the waist, his grip strong and unyielding, and hoisted me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. My stomach lurched in surprise, and I instinctively grabbed at his back, but he didn’t seem to notice. His body was rigid, his anger still boiling just beneath the surface.

"We’re leaving," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, like he was daring anyone to stop him.

Chris was right behind him, his face set in stone. He hadn’t said a word, but his presence was enough to make sure no one got in their way. They moved through the crowd with the kind of confidence that came from knowing they controlled the situation—guns tucked away, but the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Outside, the cool air hit me like a slap. Matt gently set me down but kept a firm grip on my hand. His knuckles were bloodied, his breathing ragged, but his eyes… his eyes were dark, Not in the way I had ever seen them before.

We drove in tense silence, the car filled with the residual heat of anger and adrenaline. No one spoke.

The drive away from the party was cloaked in silence, the tension thick and unspoken. Matt's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles still bruised and raw from the fight. Chris sat in the passenger seat, his jaw clenched, eyes flickering between the road ahead and Matt's rigid posture.

I sat in the back, the cool leather of the seat against my thighs grounding me. The city lights faded as we drove further, replaced by quiet streets lined with towering trees and sprawling houses. I leaned forward slightly, glancing out the window.

"Uh, where are we?" I asked, my voice breaking the silence.

Matt didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the road. Chris turned slightly, his smirk returning, though it lacked its usual ease. "Our house," he replied casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked, my mind trying to process his words. "I thought you guys lived at the trap."

Chris chuckled softly. "The trap is where we work. This is where we live."

Matt pulled into the long driveway of a massive, modern house tucked behind tall, sleek gates. The exterior was all sharp lines and dark glass, illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that gave the place an almost surreal glow.

Stepping out of the car, I followed them up the stone path, my curiosity outweighing my confusion. The front door swung open effortlessly under Matt's hand, revealing an interior that made my jaw drop.

The house was nothing like I expected. High ceilings stretched above us, adorned with minimalist chandeliers that cast warm pools of light onto polished hardwood floors. The living room was expansive, with plush, oversized furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city skyline like a painting.

I toed off my boots, feeling out of place. "This is... not what I expected."

Chris threw his phone on the marble kitchen counter, grinning. "What were you expecting? Milk crates and mattresses on the floor?"

I shrugged, still taking it all in. "Honestly? Yeah."

Matt finally spoke, his voice low and rough. "Appearances are deceiving."

He disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone with Chris. Chris flopped onto the enormous sectional, patting the seat next to him. "Get comfortable, sweetheart. You're staying for a while."

I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions, my mind racing with questions but my lips staying shut. The air felt thick, almost heavy with something I couldn’t quite place, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what it was.

“Upstairs,” Matt’s voice called from above, rough around the edges. I hesitated for just a second before making my way up, my heart pounding a little faster. I’d never been here before, and something about being alone with Matt—his house, his world—felt different.

When I entered his room, I stopped in my tracks for a moment, taking in the sight. The bed was massive—almost ridiculously so. His boxers and a t-shirt were laid out neatly on the sheets. I swallowed hard, nerves creeping in, but I forced myself to keep moving forward.

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Change,” he said, his voice flat, as if he was saying something completely ordinary.

I nodded, retreating into the bathroom attached to his room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I changed quickly, not wanting to waste any time, but something about the whole situation felt off.

Once I was dressed, I climbed into the bed beside him, pulling the covers over my body. He was already there, sprawled out and clearly still tense, his mind a million miles away. He didn’t even say anything as he flicked on the TV, the soft glow illuminating the room and casting shadows across his face.

I shifted closer, resting my head on his shoulder, the weight of the night pressing down on me. “How do you have this house?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I had to ask.

Matt didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the TV, his jaw tightening as if the question bothered him more than I expected. Finally, he shifted, just enough to look down at me, “You’ve seen what we do,” he said, his voice low, edged with something I couldn’t quite read.

I felt my stomach knot. He wasn’t wrong. I had seen it—the deals, the late-night phone calls, the way Matt and Chris operated in a world I had no part in. The life they’d built wasn’t exactly something you could just turn off.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel the weight of it all hanging between us, pressing down on my chest. But instead of pulling away, I just snuggled closer, needing the comfort. His arm wrapped around me, his grip tight and protective, but I could feel the tension in his body, the anger from earlier still lingering.

“I don’t need this,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing against my skin, the touch surprisingly soft.

I stayed silent, not sure what to say. The truth was, I didn’t need this either. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

I stayed there, pressed up against Matt’s side, his arm still wrapped around me, my head resting on his shoulder. The low hum of the TV filled the silence, but my thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a mix of confusion and unease. The strange quiet of the house, the tension in his body, the weight of his words—it all felt like too much. I was lost in it, trying to make sense of everything.

And then my phone buzzed, breaking the stillness.

I pulled it from the pocket of my jeans and saw Jordan’s name lighting up the screen. My heart sank. I didn’t feel like dealing with her right now, especially not after everything that had gone down tonight, but I unlocked my phone and opened the message anyway.

Jordan: Did you hear what happened with Matt tonight?

I stared at the screen, feeling a wave of panic rise in my chest. I quickly typed a response, my fingers shaking slightly as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

Me: Stop trying to parent me. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions, okay?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. But the pit in my stomach only deepened as I stared at the message, like I was waiting for something to happen—waiting for her to text me back.

And then it happened. Matt's arm shifted, and before I even realized what was going on, he grabbed my phone from my hands, his movements sharp and quick. My stomach dropped as he looked down at the screen.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat as I watched him scroll through the messages. His eyes flicked over the screen, his jaw tightening as he read Jordan’s message.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I silently cursed myself for not locking the phone, he glared at the screen, his expression darkening with each passing second. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, his body stiffening as he scrolled through the messages. He didn't say anything at first, but I could feel the tension growing between us.

He slammed my phone down onto the bed with a force that made me flinch, his eyes meeting mine, full of frustration. "She’s been texting you about me... about us?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously calm.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing heartbeat. I didn't know what to say. I could feel my breath quicken as I scrambled to explain myself, but he cut me off before I could get the words out.

“Jordan,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. "She’s been on your case for weeks now, huh? With that bullshit, telling you to stay away from me and Chris?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "She doesn’t know shit about what goes on here. She acts like she does because we let her spark up with us once in a while." His voice dropped lower, almost too quiet. “She has no idea what it’s like... what it really takes to keep a place like this.”

I felt the heat rise to my face, a mix of embarrassment and guilt. Matt’s anger was raw, and I could see it in his eyes. But at the same time, I also felt a strange mix of fear and protectiveness over him.

“I told her I could make my own decisions,” I said, my voice shaky, trying to hold onto some sense of control.

Matt scoffed, leaning back on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the tv. "Yeah, well, she needs to mind her business." His tone was sharp, and the anger still simmered just below the surface. "She doesn't get it. She doesn't know the shit she thinks she does about me and Chris."

My heart pounded in my chest, guilt eating away at me. She was just trying to look out for me, even if it didn’t feel that way.

I reached for my phone, but Matt grabbed it first, holding it just out of my reach. “You’re not talking to her anymore,” he said, his tone final. “She’s not gonna mess this up for us.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, waiting for a reaction.

I couldn’t tell if it was the intensity of his gaze or what, but I didn’t fight him. Instead, I just lay there next to him, unable to shake the feeling that I was trapped between two worlds—between Matt, the life he led, and everything Jordan had been warning me about.

Matt’s body was rigid beside me, his presence solid and warm. The tension in his muscles hadn’t quite relaxed, his jaw still clenched, and I could feel the storm of emotions swirling in the air around us.

The lights in his room were dim, casting long shadows across the walls, and I was still trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened. The fight at the party. The blood.

While we were laying there the door opened with a creak, and Chris’s voice broke through the stillness.

"Matt," Chris called out, his tone sharp. "We’ve got a visitor."

Matt tensed beside me, his muscles tightening as he pushed himself up from the bed. "Stay here," he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was something dangerous lurking in it. "Don’t leave the room."

I barely had a chance to respond before he was already moving, slipping on a shirt and heading toward the door. My stomach twisted. I wanted to know what was going on, what kind of "visitor" they were dealing with, but Matt’s warning echoed in my mind. I stayed in bed, though the unease in my chest wouldn’t settle.

The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. It had been ten minutes since Matt and Chris left the room, and I couldn’t sit still any longer. My curiosity gnawed at me, a constant itch I couldn’t ignore.

I slipped out of bed quietly, moving toward the door. I could hear the faint sounds of voices downstairs, muffled, but nothing that gave me any clear idea of what was happening. What they were doing.

I cracked the door open just enough to slip out, trying not to make a sound. My bare feet padded across the cold wood floor as I crept toward the top of the stairs. The house felt eerily quiet, the silence hanging heavily in the air. I could hear muffled voices now, sharp words mixed with a few desperate pleas. My heart skipped a beat.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. What I saw froze me in my tracks.

At the bottom of the stairs was the guy from the party—the one Matt had fought earlier. The guy was on his knees, his head bowed, his hands trembling in front of him. He looked like he was begging, but I couldn’t hear his words from where I stood. I could see the fear in his eyes, though, the panic as he tried to make himself small under the weight of Matt and Chris’s presence.

Matt and Chris were standing over him, both of them tense, and I could see the guns in their hands. Matt had his at his side, the barrel gleaming in the dim light, while Chris held his steady, aimed at the kneeling man.

My breath caught in my throat. I felt like I was intruding on something I wasn’t meant to see, like I was looking into a world I couldn’t understand.

Matt’s voice rang out, low and filled with an edge of danger. "You know the deal," he said, his tone cold, commanding. "You pulled that stupid fucking shit tonight. ‘You dont get paid enough’ Fuck that."

The guy on his knees didn’t speak at first, but I could see him nodding desperately, tears running down his face as he raised his hands in a pleading gesture. His whole body trembled, and I could feel the fear emanating off him in waves.

"I-I didn’t mean to—" he started, his voice shaky, but Matt cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up," Matt snapped, his voice hard.

I took a step back, my heart pounding, my body frozen in place. My eyes were still locked on the scene below, the tension between the three men thickening with every passing second. It was like a standoff, a moment where everything teetered on the edge of something dangerous.

And then, my foot shifted slightly, the floor creaking under my weight. The sound was soft, but it was enough.

Matt’s head snapped up, his sharp eyes finding me at the top of the stairs. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and I felt his gaze lock onto me, cold and piercing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Matt’s voice rang out, low but filled with an unmistakable edge of anger. His words sliced through the air, and I felt the sudden weight of them. His gaze shifted quickly between me and the guy still kneeling on the floor.

I didn’t know how to respond. My breath caught in my throat as my mind scrambled to make sense of everything happening in front of me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I wanted to apologize for intruding, for seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see, but I couldn’t make myself move. I was frozen, caught between the need to explain myself and the sheer fear of what this moment meant.

Matt’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but I could see the fury simmering just below the surface.

"You should’ve stayed in the room," he muttered, his voice dangerously calm.

I swallowed hard, my body tense as I realized how much I didn’t understand. How much I had already gotten myself involved in.

The man on the floor looked up at me, making eye contact, his body trembling in fear, Chris caught on to the man looking at me and hit him in the face, hard, causing me to gasp at the sound.

Matt took a step forward, his posture almost predatory, "Get back to the room," he ordered, his voice low. But there was something in his tone that made my chest tighten—something that made me realize I wasn’t just an innocent bystander anymore. I was part of this.

I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t stay there, not at this moment. My legs felt like they were going to give out, but I managed to turn around and retreat back into the shadows, disappearing into the hallway as quietly as I could.

The sound of Matt’s voice echoed in the distance, but I didn’t hear the words. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart and the realization that the life I had stepped into was far darker and more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.

The door slammed open, and Matt was standing there, his presence filling the room like a storm. His chest was heaving, his jaw tight, eyes burning with anger. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, like it was pressing down, suffocating me.

"What is wrong with you?" he snapped, his voice harsh and raw.

I instinctively shrunk back, my heart pounding in my chest. He stepped forward, his frustration practically radiating off him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I told you to stay in the room. I literally asked you one fucking thing, but you went ahead and—" He cut himself off, pacing a few steps before turning back to face me, the anger in his eyes almost too much to handle.

"Do you have any idea what you just saw?" he continued, his tone lowering but still laced with irritation. "This isn’t some fucking joke. This is real. People get hurt, Y/N. People die."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words felt trapped in my throat. What could I say? I didn’t even know how to explain what had been going through my head when I snuck out of the room, what had driven me to see what was happening downstairs.

Matt shook his head, his gaze never leaving me. "This is dangerous, and if you want to keep seeing me and Chris, you better start understanding what that means."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. His voice was calmer now, but there was no mistaking the edge of finality in it. "I’m not going to baby you, Y/N. You either get it together or you walk away. Because you’re playing with fire and expecting not to get burned. And I’m not just gonna sit back and watch you do that and wait till you do.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words tangled in my throat, choked by the weight of his anger. My chest felt tight, my heart racing, and without thinking, I slid off the bed and closed the space between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I reached for him. My hands found his chest first, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin, the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into the warmth of his neck, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp edge of sweat and adrenaline. “Please, I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to know you were okay,” I murmured against his skin, my lips brushing softly over the curve of his neck as I spoke.

His body remained rigid, his hands clenched at his sides, but I held on tighter, desperate to break through the wall his anger had built. I placed soft, frantic kisses along the line of his jaw, his neck, my voice shaking between each one. “Please, Matt. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I just—I needed to see you.”

His breath hitched, a sharp exhale that made me cling to him even more. My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white, as if letting go would make the distance between us even worse.

“I’ll listen next time. I swear. Just—don’t be mad at me,” I begged softly, my words muffled against his skin, my lips finding the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat fast and hard.

For a moment, he didn’t move. The tension between us thick enough to drown in. Then, slowly, his hands came up, not gentle but rough, gripping my arms, his fingers digging in just enough to remind me of who he was.

But he didn’t push me away.

Matt’s grip loosened slightly, his fingers sliding from my arms to my waist, pulling me in closer. His head dropped to look in my eyes, his breath warm and uneven as it fanned across my skin. His eyes were still closed, like he was trying to hold something in—something fragile beneath all that anger.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration, but not just at me. At himself. At everything. He let out a shaky sigh, his hands gripping my hips tighter like he was afraid I’d slip away. “I want you here,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost broken. “But you’ve got to listen to me, Y/N. You don’t get it, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

My chest ached at the rawness in his words, the vulnerability bleeding through the cracks in his tough exterior. I cupped his face gently, His gaze was softer now, the sharp edges dulled by something deeper.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just, I don't know.”

He let out another breath, his hands sliding up my back, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us. My face buried in his chest.

“I don’t want to worry about whether or not you’re going to listen,” he murmured, his voice muffled but clear enough to make my heart clench.

I held him tighter, pressing soft kisses to his jaw, trying to ease the tension in his body. “I’ll listen,” I promised softly, my fingers threading through his hair. “I’ll do better.”

Matt didn’t respond right away. His grip on me tightened, like he was still trying to process everything. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes still dark but softer, the storm behind them finally settling.

Without a word, he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His skin was warm, scattered with faint bruises from the fight earlier, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His gaze never left mine as he reached for me again, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies were flush.

“c’mere,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but not with anger this time.

He guided me back toward the bed, pulling me down with him. The sheets were cool against my skin, but his warmth made up for it as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I nestled against him, my face tucked into the curve of his neck, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of him.

His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along my back, grounding me, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his words earlier. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a rhythm that slowly lulled me into calm.

“You matter more than I want you to.” he whispered into the dark,

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

Sleep came slowly, but it came—with his arms around me, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

tag-

(divider by @cafekitsune) @tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274 @sturnslutz @secret-sturniolo @vickytaa @matteatmeout @pair-of-pantaloons @ananskanansbsnwbensb @theboredknightcat-blog @sturniolostuff @dariellemccaul @mamamadssss

#christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic

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omaano · 2 days ago

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Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

I’ve been tagged by so many people in the past two months - most recently by @frostbitebakery thank you! ❤️ - but since I haven’t replied to any (I’m sorry, adulting is catching up with me 😭) I will just shamelessly reverse tag everyone ^^

In an incredibly but unsurprisingly “timely” manner I finally started working on my @codex-week project 🤣😅

The last lines were actually erasing some of the sun ray lines that went through the trees

No pressure tagging: @valkeakuulas @rexsterss @loverboy-havocboy @nooneherebutaghost @insertmeaningfulusername @rooksunday @synthwavecryptid and anyone else who feels like showing off their wips! (Show me your wips! 👀)

#my art #my wips #last line challenge #codex #WIP #cloneshipping

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yangjungwonisms · 3 days ago

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7 Minutes in Heaven-YJW

warnings: NSFW in the middle| MDNI 18+

It was all a misunderstanding, at least that’s what Jungwon swore to you up and down when you caught him in a lie. He had been coming home late from work all week, which wasn’t like him at all. All week long he had been telling you he had to stay later at work to finish work on a big project. You’d never had any reason before to doubt what he was telling you, but when one of his coworkers who was supposed to be working late with him messaged you asking if you two wanted to get a late dinner you became confused. You tried to calm down and give Jungwon the benefit of the doubt, but when you messaged his friend back asking if Jungwon had been working late that day and they said that he had been leaving at the same time as him everyday that you started to second guess things. So naturally, you called Jungwon but he didn’t answer. So you decided to go to his office to see if he was there and maybe his friend had been mistaken. The office was closed, you figured that out in just enough time for Jungwon to call you back. “Hey baby, sorry I didn’t answer I was caught up at work. Is everything okay”? You didn’t know how exactly to feel upon learning your boyfriend of 2 years had been lying to you. But you were trying to keep your cool because you weren’t keen on having an argument over the phone. You had been silent too long for his liking and he was started to panic. “That’s actually funny you say that, I’m standing outside of your office, Sunghoon invited us for dinner. I'm a little confused because isn’t Sunghoon who you’re working on your project with”? He said nothing, he had been caught and he knew it. “So tell me, Jungwon. Where have you been going everyday after work”?

“It isn’t what you think baby”. Why couldn’t he have just answered the question, that’s what was pissing you off. Because if it was truly nothing he could’ve just told you. “Okay, if it isn’t what I think then you should have no problem telling me. Where have you been”? Within seconds of you sending that text Jungwon had called you, wanting to have this conversation over the phone instead of text. “Baby, it’s nothing I promise”. You took a second, sighing trying to calm your nerves but it was a battle you were slowly losing. “So then if it’s nothing just tell me Jungwon”. Now he was the one who sighed, in your relationship there were very few times you or Jungwon ever got into arguments. In fact, you’d almost never seen or heard him lose his cool. But now you were starting to see his demeanor slip. “Can’t you just trust me? You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be babe”. Now you were pissed. “That’s not what this is about Jungwon, you’ve been lying to me every day telling me you were at work when you weren’t. I think I’m owed honesty from you”. That seemed to set him off. “I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me, so I’d appreciate the benefit of the doubt”. He made a point but you couldn’t concede, you hated lying and if it truly was nothing then why couldn’t he have just told you from the start. “And I’d appreciate my boyfriend not lying to me”. He immediately started trying to defend himself and push you away from the fact he lied. “Jungwon let me ask you this, did you stay late at work this week”? All you heard was silence, before he sighed answering with a short “no”. “Will you tell me where you were”? He knew that his answer was going to make things worse yet he chose it anyway “I can’t baby”. You were crying at that point and reaching the point of exhaustion after having argued with him for what felt like hours at that point. “Okay, well, I would appreciate it if you found somewhere else to stay tonight and for the foreseeable future”.

It was now a week later and you and Jungwon still weren’t speaking. He still wasn’t sure how he had managed to fuck things up so badly. He knew how it looked, and yes he had lied to you but it really wasn’t what it seemed. He had been at Jay’s house after work getting his help with something. Jungwon had recently started planning to propose to you, but after a little bit he realized he needed help. The only person he thought to ask that wouldn’t tell you accidentally was Jay. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the surprise so he just made up the first excuse that came to his mind. He hadn’t even considered that you would find out he was lying. Even still, when you confronted him he could’ve just told you the truth. But he couldn’t lie, hearing you refuse to take him at his word had pissed him off. He had always done everything in his power to be open and accessible to you. But seeing how easy it was for you to doubt him had wounded his pride. So, even though it was childish if you didn’t want to talk to him, he wasn’t going to talk to you either.

Now here you both were, too stubborn to talk to the other first. Jay, who had been letting Jungwon crash at his place for the last week was losing his mind at how stubborn you were both being. There were several times he himself had considered just going to you and telling you what was going on. But it wasn’t his place. He as well as your other mutual friends had; had enough of the moping around. They were tired of hearing you both complain about an argument that should’ve been over by now. So they came up with a plan, without telling either of you, they dragged you both to a party at another friend's place.

You were beyond pissed at your friends, you were pissed at a lot of things this last week. Pissed that your friends tricked you into talking to your boyfriend. You were pissed that Jungwon wouldn’t just tell you what he was doing. Jungwon was pissed just the same but for different reasons. Still even though you were mad at him, you missed him more than anything. You two never fought, and on the rare occasions you did it was always over before it really ever began. So when Friday had hit and your friends showed up at your apartment wanting to take you out, you were thrilled. It was just the distraction you needed. All week long you had been spiraling over the fact that Jungwon still hadn’t reached out to you, so you very much needed to get your mind off of it. So maybe you had drank a little more than was necessary, but you were having fun nonetheless. That was until you looked across the room and saw Jungwon staring daggers into you. Frantically, you turned to your friend pulling her into the hall “what the fuck is Jungwon doing here”? Your friend rolled her eyes moving to push past you “he’s here because you two need to grow up and make up already”. You knew your friend was right but you weren’t ready to put your pride aside yet.

Jungwon on the other hand, was livid. He hasn’t seen you for over a week and the first time he does, you’re out drinking in a tight little dress. He hated how it made him feel. Normally he would’ve had the smug satisfaction of knowing that you were dressed up for him. But he didn’t know who this was for. You had yet to realize Jungwon was there, so he had to watch you unabashedly accept drinks from every stranger that walked by. He’d had enough of it, before his brain caught up to his body he had already walked across the room to you. “What the hell are you doing here”? You didn’t have to look to know who it was that was talking to you. “I could ask you the same thing”. He stood there seething with every second that passed. “I asked you a question baby, answer me”. He had a lot of nerve to get an attitude with you when he’s the reason this argument was even happening. “Why should I tell you anything? It’s not like you’ve been answering any of my questions lately”. That seemed to piss him off more.

Within seconds Jungwon had grabbed you by the arm dragging you into the next empty room. “You’re pissing me off right now baby”. Jungwon wasn’t proud of how angry he was getting, but he had been drinking after all and was hardly able to control his temper. “How am I pissing you off? This is the first time I’ve seen you in a week”. His only response was to slowly back you up against the door, he had been slowly inching forward and all that remained between you two was a couple of inches at most. “Because, you look so fucking sexy in that dress and it’s driving me crazy. Not being with you this week is driving me crazy”. The atmosphere in the room had flipped at a blinding speed, by his sudden confession. “Yeah, well whose fault is that won”? His body was flush against you at this point, you could feel how hard he was against your leg. “Fuck baby, it’s mine I know it is. I’m sorry”. Him being so close to you, did more harm than it did good. You were okay being mad at him from a distance but up close and alone with no buffer your body was succumbing to him. “Oh fuck this”. Were the last words you said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into you.

Your bodies were moving on autopilot at this moment. You had both had a long week and you were both exhausted pretending you didn’t need the other. The only sound in the room was the sound of your heavy breathing and kissing. It didn’t take long before Jungwon had pulled you across the room until he had you backed up against a desk. “baby, I need you. Been thinking about fucking you all week”. You couldn’t judge him for it, because you, yourself had been thinking about him railing you all week. “Then shut up and fuck me already”. That seemed to set him into action, he grabbed you, turning you around and pushing you down onto the desk. He didn’t bother taking your clothes off, instead he just pushed your dress up and pulled your underwear to the side. “Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me. Gonna stretch you out real quick so you can take my cock”. He did just that, his movements were quick and impatient with the way he pushed two fingers into you and started fucking into you vigorously. He was quick to slap a hand over your mouth, not wanting anyone to know what you two were up to in that room. “Baby, I need you to shut up and take what I give you. Can you do that”? You simply nodded your head, he took that as his sign to continue. He removed his hands from you and moved them to quickly undo his pants.

He started fucking into you so hard that you couldn’t even remember what it was you were mad about. You could feel how frustrated he had been in the rough way he was handling you. “Feels so fucking good baby, missed you so much. Missed your pussy so much”. You don’t say anything, partly because the way he’s fucking you is so intense that you genuinely can’t form sentences. But also because you are still just a little angry at him. Jungwon noticed how quiet you were being, faltering ever so slightly. “Are you feeling okay baby”? That snapped you back to the moment, deciding that you needed him more than anything else. “Feels s’good won. Fuck me on the bed please, need to see you”. Wordlessly, he picked you up and moved you to the bed, readjusting before starting to fuck you in missionary.

Time moves by in a blur after that, he must’ve fucked you 3 times before you two finally pulled away from each other. When you had finally recovered enough to get up and get dressed the tension in the room had set in. You were getting ready to walk out of the door before Jungwon grabbed your arm and turned you to face him. “Baby, wait. Will you let me explain”? You look at him nodding, moving past him to sit on the desk allowing him the opportunity to speak. “I’m really sorry I lied to you”. You take a second making sure he’s done speaking before responding. “Then why did you”? He moved across the room standing right in front of you before kneeling down in between your legs, grabbing both of your hands in his. “I was trying to plan a surprise for you and Jay had been helping me. That was the reason I didn’t wanna tell you. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise”. You make eye contact with him for the first time that night, shaking your head and pulling him in for a brief kiss. “Okay. I accept your explanation. I’m sorry for being so stubborn. I love you”. Jungwon felt a weeks worth of stress dissipate when you kissed him. “Does this mean I can come back home? I’m sure Jay is tired of me and I’ve missed you so much. Plus, I’m out of clean clothes”. You can only laugh at that before standing up, grabbing his hand in yours and walking out of the room. The minute you two step out, all eyes are on you. From the corner of the room you hear Jay yell out “who bet they’d have sex in Jake’s room before the end of the night”? The only response was Jake yelling from the kitchen “you’ve got to be kidding me”.

#kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop writers #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enha jungwon #enhypen smut #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon #jungwon smut #jungwon enhypen #jungwon #kpop smut

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