#Lucky Contestant x Reader

[incorrect-finding-frankie]

For the x Reader thing:

Lucky Contestant and Human Reader. Maybe Reader is another contestant who wins a different season with Lucky. Or they die idk

🐰|From what they’ve learned, Lucky was well aware that they’d been the only contestant to actually win.|🍀

🐰|...And then the next rolls around. Just like before, there are new contestants—Lucky doesn’t know any of their reasons...|🍀

🐰|And then there’s you. Something feels a little different with you, compared to the rest of the newer contestants.|🍀

—

You scanned the area, hands clenched into fists. Scenarios were rushing through your head, as fast as a train.

To the right, there were four others. To the left? Just one.

The one on the left seemed... pretty focused. Pretty relaxed. Although, with the mask on, you couldn’t tell what they were thinking.

You took in a deep breath... and it released as two of the others rushed past you, one of them snickering.

A sigh came from somewhere on the left—and for a moment, you thought you saw the focused contestant shake their head.

Had they seen something like this before?

The gate to the room snapped open, and a monster rabbit leaped forwards, causing you to flinch.

He seemed far more focused on the two up front—but you didn’t exactly keep watching for very long.

The contestant to your left suddenly bolted for the opened gate, while the last one on the right seemed to hesitate.

Taking in another breath, you followed after the lucky one—trying your best to avoid a gruesome sight.

The moment you made it through the entryway, you tripped over your own feet...

...And right onto the other contestant, who let out a grunt. “Get off!”

—

🐰|At first, Lucky just tries to ignore you. They just try to keep on going.|🍀

🐰|But you’re talking a lot—and you’re somehow managing to keep up, and not sharing a similar fate to the other contestants.|🍀

🐰|”Listen, man-“ “Use my name, Lucky.” “I’d rather not. If I named you, I could get attached.”|🍀

🐰|Lucky’s not the only one surprised at how well you’re doing. Other Frankie didn’t think that there would be another lucky contestant.|🍀

—

“...You were in the last season?” You blinked at Lucky.

Lucky didn’t bother looking back at you—evidently being far more focused on the current parkour situation.

“Obviously.” The other contestant muttered. “How else would I-“

“Fair.” You interrupted them, earning a huff from Lucky. You felt like they rolled their eyes.

“Just stay focused, alright? We still have a lot to do.”

—

🐰|...Lucky got attached. After some time, at least.|🍀

🐰|A couple of times, you make them laugh. Lucky tries to hide it, but you very much hear it.|🍀

🐰|Although... actually getting attached? That’s a problem. There’s still a good chance that something could happen to you.|🍀

🐰|Especially when Hexa Havoc finally approaches.|🍀

—

“One last place, contestants!” From somewhere above, you heard the familiar voice of Other Frankie.

A chuckle seemed to escape from the rabbit. “Familiar, isn’t it, Lucky?”

You dropped down beside them, groaning a little from the fall. But then, you grinned, just a little.

You turned your attention towards Lucky—who seemed rather still for a moment. “Ready, Lucky?”

A sigh escaped Lucky, and the contestant turned away from you. “Just... be careful.”

They weren’t too certain how it would go this time.

[bueckets]

Thin Walls

Pairing: roommate!Paige x reader

Genre: roommates to lovers, kinda funny?, smut, unbearable sexual tension, petty revenge, paper-thin walls, psychological warfare via moaning, paige bueckers menace era, girl failure x girl who never fails, competitive pining, mutual obsession, doomed from the start but in a fun way, vibrators n SEX, almost all ssmut

Description: When a sleep-deprived biomed student moves in with UConn’s most notorious heartbreaker, you expect late-night film study, protein shake graveyards, and an apartment perpetually scented like sweat and victory. What you don’t expect? Thin walls. And Paige Bueckers making absolutely no effort to keep her extracurricular activities quiet.

What starts as a battle for basic human decency turns into something far messier—petty revenge plots, mind games laced with innuendo, and an unspoken tension that neither of you is willing to name. Paige plays like she owns the court, like she owns the world, and maybe—just maybe—like she wants to own you, too.

They say pressure makes diamonds, but when it comes to Paige Bueckers, it just might make a disaster.

WC: 8.4k

There’s a certain satisfaction in watching rich people fight over throw pillows. Like, deep, existential satisfaction. The kind that settles into your bones, whispering at least you’re not that delusional while you scrape the bottom of your bank account for rent. That’s why Selling Sunset has become your new comfort show—nothing soothes the sting of your own financial ruin quite like watching a billionaire lose their shit over an ocean view.

The couch has practically absorbed your body at this point, molded to the exact slouch of your spine. The TV’s glow flickers against the walls, the only illumination in the apartment aside from the soft neon blur of the city outside. A bowl of Greek yogurt sits abandoned on the coffee table—your latest attempt at a “responsible” late-night snack, made in partnership with self-loathing. You’re too exhausted to move, too wired to sleep. Somewhere outside, a siren wails, stretching long and lonely through the night, and you think, for just a second, that if you squint hard enough, you can almost pretend your life is fine.

Then the door slams open like a fucking battering ram.

A mess of limbs and pure, unfiltered desperation stumbles in. Paige Bueckers and tonight’s lucky contestant.

They’re already kissing—no, consuming each other. Lips fused. Hands gripping. Hips aligning like they’re moments away from shifting the tectonic plates beneath them. It’s all sloppy giggles and breathy moans, the kind of shit that should come with a parental advisory warning.

Paige is in sweats and a hoodie that’s hanging halfway off her shoulder, her blonde hair a tousled wreck that suggests she either just left practice or got aggressively felt up in the Uber ride over. The girl—a brunette this time—has her fingers twisted into the hem of Paige’s hoodie like she might actually rip it in half. You’re 98% sure they don’t even notice they almost wipe out over the entryway rug.

You stare. They don’t. They’re too busy dry-humping against the door like horny teenagers who just discovered the concept of friction.

This is usually the part of the night where you’d be asleep. That’s the unspoken agreement. Paige does whatever (or whoever) she wants, and you exist in separate, peaceful universes where her sex life is not your problem. But tonight, insomnia had you in a chokehold, so instead of peacefully slipping into unconsciousness, you’re here, trapped in the splash zone of her latest conquest like some unwilling war correspondent reporting live from the trenches.

Paige finally clocks your presence. Her head jerks up mid-kiss, blinking at you through the haze of what you can only assume is either lust or a full-on brain shutdown.

“Oh. My bad.”

Her voice is husky, wrecked, but casual—so casual, like you just bumped into each other in line at Trader Joe’s, not like you just caught her halfway to third base in the shared living space. The brunette barely acknowledges you, too busy chasing Paige’s mouth again, fingers already curled into the waistband of her sweats like they’re pre-gaming for something much worse.

Your jaw clenches. It’s not jealousy. It’s not even annoyance, really. It’s just…the audacity of it all. You didn’t survive financial ruin, an eviction, and the world’s most soul-sucking job just to end up as an unwilling extra in Paige’s late-night softcore escapades.

Paige smirks, something smug and completely unbothered dancing in her blue eyes, and then—because apparently, she has to make sure you fully marinate in your suffering—she winks.

She fucking winks.

Then she grabs her conquest by the wrist and drags her toward her bedroom. The door swings shut with a decisive click.

You exhale sharply. Shift on the couch. Turn back to Selling Sunset.

A blonde woman in Louboutins slams a designer purse onto a marble counter, screaming about escrow like her life depends on it.

You grab your spoon, chew a bite of yogurt, and pretend this isn’t the worst night of your life.

At first, it’s nothing you can’t ignore—a muffled giggle, the faint creak of a mattress. You’ve had years of training in the fine art of selective hearing. Cheap apartments with walls thinner than a CVS receipt, noisy neighbors who lived for 3 AM karaoke, exes who had no concept of volume control—life has forged you into a soldier of endurance. A survivor. You could sleep through sirens. You could pretend not to hear the couple next door having a screaming match about a misplaced vape pen. You could—if the situation demanded it—completely erase the existence of an entire soundscape from your brain.

But then the giggling shifts. Turns breathy. Then it turns into something else entirely.

A rustle of sheets. A gasp. A low, pleased hum that shouldn’t make your stomach twist with secondhand mortification, but does.

Your grip tightens around the remote. The TV screen flickers in front of you, but you’re no longer absorbing the content. Christine Quinn is monologuing about open-concept kitchens—something about “flow” and “maximizing natural light”—but her voice isn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the escalating symphony from down the hall.

You turn the volume up. Way up.

It doesn’t help.

Paige’s conquest lets out a high, breathy whimper, the kind of sound that makes your entire body lock up like your nervous system just crashed. Paige’s voice follows, low and affectionate, murmuring something you absolutely do not want to hear, but your cursed, traitorous ears pick up anyway. Whatever she says makes the brunette giggle—another peal of laughter before it melts into something softer, more desperate.

Your eye twitches. Nope.

You launch off the couch like you’ve been personally attacked, storming down the hallway with all the righteous fury of someone who has had enough. The second you reach your room, you slam the door shut behind you. The walls rattle. The moaning does not stop.

Jesus. Are your walls are made of tissue paper? No, fuck that—tissue paper at least offer some resistance. This? This is sonic purgatory. Paige’s voice is clearer now, her tone teasing, low, smug. A pet name you can’t quite make out but absolutely wish you could bleach from your brain.

You groan. Loudly. Throw yourself onto your bed and yank a pillow over your head like that’s going to do anything.

It doesn’t.

Because the sounds are intermittent—waves of giggles followed by the kind of sighs that make your ears burn. The occasional shhh from Paige, followed by a breathless “like that?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Think of something else. Think of literally anything else. You focus on the fabric of your pillowcase, the way the cotton sticks to your cheek, the faint scent of detergent—Paige moans, and your brain short-circuits like a 2003 Dell desktop.

You don’t even have the energy to be properly mad. This is just Paige. Unbothered, self-contained, casually ruining your will to live Paige. She doesn’t try to be inconsiderate, but she also doesn’t try not to be.

Another moan—drawn out and shameless—curls through the air, and you nearly levitate out of your skin. You want to scream. Instead, you yank another pillow over your head for good measure, as if two pillows will somehow create a force field against whatever the fuck is happening in there.

Christine Quinn is still monologuing in your mind, her voice a distant echo beneath the carnal horror occurring in real time.

"It’s all about location, location, location."

Yeah. No shit.

You really should’ve picked a better one.

The morning drags itself into existence like a bad hangover—except you didn’t drink. You just endured. Survived. Battled through the night like some war veteran, only your battlefield wasn’t made of trenches and gunfire but moaning and drywall acoustics.

Sunlight filters through the too-thin blinds, stabbing into your retinas like a personal attack. It casts a harsh glow over the wreckage of your living room—your personal post-war scene. The coffee table is an abandoned crime scene: an empty takeout container, a spoon half-submerged in a sad puddle of yogurt, a crumpled napkin that might have been thrown in frustration during hour two of your sleepless torment. Your blanket is twisted in a heap on the couch, kicked off at some point in your desperate attempt to burrow away from the sounds of Paige Bueckers living her best, most inconsiderate life.

It’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet. A void. No hushed giggles, no rhythmic bedframe percussion, no doors slamming. No evidence of last night’s atrocity except for your residual irritation, clinging to the air like stale perfume.

You sit at the dining table, textbook open, pen in hand, attempting to refocus on something productive. Biomed homework. Neural pathways, synaptic transmission—things that matter. Unlike Paige, who—

A shuffle of feet. Soft, socked steps. You don’t even hear her door creak open—just the lazy, leisurely sound of someone who has never known suffering emerging from her room.

You refuse to look up.

“Morning,” Paige says, casual as ever, like she didn’t turn your living space into the set of a low-budget lesbian porno eight hours ago. She stretches, arms overhead, back arching slightly, exhaling like she just had the most restful night’s sleep of her life.

Meanwhile, you—who has never been more tired—physically recoil at the audacity.

She rubs her eyes, yawns, shuffles past you toward the kitchen like nothing happened. Not even a hint of acknowledgment. No sheepish oops, my bad for mentally scarring you with surround sound sex noise. No hey, sorry about your insomnia and emotional distress. Just a morning like everything is fine.

You blink at her. Unbelievable.

Your fingers tighten around your pencil as you force your gaze back to your notes. Ignore her. You are a scholar. A person of intellect. A higher being.

Paige, meanwhile, has fully migrated to the fridge. She rummages carelessly, like she owns this apartment, like she pays your therapy bills. She emerges with the orange juice carton, unscrews the cap, and—like an absolute menace to society—drinks straight from it.

The pencil in your grip creaks ominously.

“You’re up early,” she remarks, between gulps.

“I didn’t sleep,” you reply, flat, clipped. You don’t look at her. You refuse to.

Paige makes a small sound—something vaguely amused, vaguely disbelieving. “Damn. That sucks.”

That’s it? That’s all she has to say.

You inhale, deeply, willing yourself not to commit a violent felony before noon.

Slowly, slowly, you lift your head, turn your glare toward her like a sniper locking onto a target. Paige, in all her infuriating glory, is leaning against the counter, still drinking your orange juice, looking like someone who has never felt guilt a day in her life. Her expression is neutral, open. Not quite smug, but there’s something about the way she exists that makes you want to throw your textbook at her face and plead temporary insanity in court.

She swipes her thumb across her mouth, wiping away a drop of juice.

“You know what else sucks?” you say, voice deceptively calm. “The structural integrity of our walls. They’re paper-thin. Just an interesting fact I thought I’d share.”

Paige’s lips twitch. She knows. She fucking knows. She tilts her head slightly, like she’s considering whether she should poke the bear or let you stew in your suffering. Then she settles on:

“Huh.”

That’s it.

Your grip tightens on the pencil so hard you might actually snap it in half.

Paige drains the last of the orange juice, wipes her mouth again (like an animal), and sets the carton down with a satisfied sigh. Then, as if she hasn’t just mentally and emotionally destroyed you, she stretches again, rolling out her shoulders.

“Welp,” she says, tone light, completely unbothered. “I’m out. See ya.”

“Wait, what—”

But she’s already gone, disappearing back into her room for approximately thirty seconds before emerging again—this time with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

You stare at it. “You’re leaving?”

Paige nods like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Team stuff. Won’t be back tonight.”

Your brain malfunctions. Won’t be back tonight. This terrorist has held you emotionally hostage for an entire night and now she’s just leaving? Just walking away from the wreckage like some kind of villain in an action movie, casually strolling as the building explodes behind her?

She tugs on her sneakers at the door, slings her bag higher on her shoulder, and—because the universe is cruel—throws you a lazy, almost mocking little salute.

“Don’t wait up,” she tosses over her shoulder. Then she’s gone.

The door swings shut and the apartment is silent again.

You sit there, fingers clenched around your pencil, biomed notes glaring up at you like they’re personally offended by your suffering. Your eye twitches.

I fucking hate her.

Then you sigh, rub your temple, and force yourself back to work.

It’s been three days of silence. Three whole, glorious days of peace. Three nights where you didn’t have to contemplate smothering yourself with a pillow just to escape the torment of Paige’s complete disregard for basic human decency. The apartment has felt almost normal—like an actual home instead of a halfway house for Paige’s revolving door of hookups. You don’t have to brace yourself every time the front door swings open, because it hasn’t swung open. You don’t have to leave your headphones on while studying to shield yourself from the auditory terrorism of her sex life. You don’t have to walk into the kitchen at 1 AM and fear that you��ll be confronted with Paige, half-naked, wearing nothing but someone else’s lipstick and a hoodie that’s falling off her shoulder like she’s starring in a fucking romance movie.

The peace has been so uninterrupted, so unnatural, that you’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to live in a state of constant vigilance. You throw yourself into your biomed assignments, losing yourself in the clean, clinical world of neural pathways and synaptic transmission, your SZA playlist looping softly in the background. You almost start to believe this is real. That this is the new normal. That maybe Paige has finally, miraculously, learned self-control or, at the very least, found a new venue to conduct her business.

You are so fucking naïve.

The front door doesn’t just open—it explodes. A crack, a slam, a full-body collision with the wall that rattles the picture frames. The kind of entrance that belongs to either a SWAT team or a raging hurricane of bad decisions.

Your body locks up like an animal sensing an oncoming natural disaster. The pencil in your grip slips through your fingers, hitting the desk with a dull thunk. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for one brief, delusional second, you tell yourself that it wasn’t real. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe Paige forgot something and came back only to leave again. Maybe—

A thud. Then another. The unmistakable rhythm of someone kicking off their shoes, the soft scuff of footsteps across the floor.

You grit your teeth, pressing your palms flat against your desk. You are not going to react. You are not going to engage. If she wants to slam doors and stomp around like a feral beast, fine. You refuse to let her drag you into the chaos. You reach for your headphones, adjusting them over your ears, cranking up the volume until SZA drowns out the world.

It’s not enough.

A sound pierces through the music, slicing through the air like a warning shot. It’s high-pitched, sudden, obscene—so sharp that your entire body recoils. Your brain trips over itself, scrambling to make sense of what it just processed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you think someone is in distress. Like maybe—maybe—this is the night Paige finally made an enemy and brought home someone who wants to kill her. But no. No, that is not the sound of murder. That is the sound of someone who is very much alive and living their best fucking life at maximum volume.

Your grip tightens around your pencil so hard you genuinely worry it might snap in half.

Then it happens again—louder this time. 

“Ooooh, Paige, baby it feel sooo good,” a long, drawn-out moan that echoes through the walls like a goddamn announcement.

Your jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear something crack.

You tell yourself to ignore it. You try to focus on the actual problems in your life—like the metabolic equation staring up at you from your notebook, the one that makes no fucking sense, the one you were just about to solve before Paige returned to single-handedly ruin your night. But this girl—whoever she is—sounds like she’s in a full-blown cinematic production, and Paige? Paige has zero concern for your sanity. No attempt to be discreet, no effort to maybe keep it down, no acknowledgment that she is actively breaking your spirit in real time.

A shhh from Paige, soft, teasing, followed by something breathless. While you– you black out for a second.

The chair scrapes against the floor as you shove away from your desk, adrenaline flooding your veins. You are this close to storming down the hallway, ripping Paige’s door off its hinges, and launching her entire bed out the fucking window. Instead, you flatten your hands against your desk, inhale deeply, and stare down at your notes like they personally wronged you.

This. This is it. You swear to yourself, you are getting revenge.

You don’t know how yet. But it’s happening.

Because if Paige wants to act like an inconsiderate, sex-obsessed demon hellbent on making your life miserable, then fine. Fine. Two can play at this game.

You’ve waited two days. Two agonizing, anticipation-filled days where you paced your room like a villain in the third act of a revenge flick, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every time you passed by Paige’s empty room, you could practically hear the ghosts of her past hookups mocking you. You had suffered. You had endured. And now, it was your time.

The front door swings open. Not as violently as before—no dramatic bang against the wall, no whirlwind of limbs stumbling over the entryway rug. Just the quiet shuffle of footsteps, the soft rustle of fabric, the barely-there whisper of a muffled giggle. It’s all very tame. Too tame. Like she thinks she can just slip back into this apartment unnoticed, like she didn’t shatter your will to live just days ago with her complete lack of shame or respect for human decency.

You sit up in bed, eyes gleaming in the dim glow of your laptop screen. Showtime.

It had taken an embarrassing amount of time to craft the perfect revenge strategy. You wanted something devastating. Something that would haunt Paige the way her late-night moanfest had haunted you. You considered various forms of psychological warfare—hiding her favorite hoodie, signing her up for weird spam emails, strategically microwaving fish at odd hours—but none of it felt impactful enough. You needed something biblical. Something that would scar.

And then, the answer came to you. Porn.

Loud, obnoxious, horrifically detailed porn. You smile at your glowing laptop and click play.

Instantly, the most sinful, ungodly, downright demonic sounds explode from your speakers. It’s graphic. Monstrous. A chorus of moans, screams, the unmistakable, wet, slapping of skin against skin. The kind of audio that makes you question humanity as a species. You’re pretty sure you hear someone begging in French.

It’s perfect. You crank the volume up.

Then, with the sheer dramatic commitment of a Broadway performer, you slam your bed frame against the wall.

The headboard cracks against the drywall with force, rattling like you’re in the throes of an earth-shattering experience. You moan. Not well, but loudly. Passionately. Over-the-top.

“Ohhh my GOD,” you scream, throwing in some unnecessary yes, yes, right there’s for added flair.

You can feel the disturbance in the force. But you don’t stop. Oh, no. You commit.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with guttural, animalistic gasps. You bang the headboard again, harder this time, just to make sure Paige feels your suffering on a molecular level. You toss in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out like you’re playing a villain savoring their monologue.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with deep, broken gasps, the kind of sounds that should not be echoing through the walls of a shared living space. Your voice wavers just enough to sound shaken, overwhelmed, ruined, like you’ve ascended past the mortal plane and are now one with the universe.

The headboard collides with the wall again—harder this time, with a resounding crack that might actually fracture the drywall. Good. Good. Let her feel it. Let the vibrations of your suffering seep into her bones. Let her live what you lived.

You throw in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out long, making it obscene. You let silence stretch, just for a moment, just long enough for Paige to think maybe—maybe—it’s over, that this nightmare has passed.

And then, with the full, unwavering conviction of a lunatic, you moan again.

It’s breathless. Shaky. The kind of sound that would make someone deeply uncomfortable in any setting, but especially when coming from the other side of a paper-thin wall.

A shuffle. A creak of bedsprings. A pause. You can feel her trying to process.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, Paige finally breaks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pure, unfiltered disbelief in her voice is a drug. It fuels you.

You slam your palm against the wall, a solid thunk that reverberates through the apartment. Then, in the single most unhinged act of pettiness you have ever committed, you howl a random man’s name.

Silence.

You shift in bed, letting out a shaky, devastated exhale, the kind of breathless, wrecked sound people make when they have been absolutely, thoroughly ruined. You make sure it carries through the wall, make sure it sinks into her skull.

There’s another pause. A long one. You can almost see Paige lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how her life has come to this exact moment.

Then—an aggressive rustling of sheets, a sharp inhale like she’s gearing up for a speech. You brace yourself.

Her response is immediate. A heavy thud—her fist against your wall. “Oh my God, have some fucking decency.”

That should be the end of it. A normal, sane person would stop here. But you? You are not a normal, sane person. You are a petty, wounded soldier, and you will see this through to the end.

So you shift, make sure your bedsprings let out a very suggestive creak, and then murmur, low and breathy, “Five more minutes.”

A second of pure, raw silence. Then, from her room—chaos.

The violent shuffle of blankets, a sound like something falling off her nightstand, an aggressively muttered string of words that you cannot hear, but you know they’re unholy.

Victory tastes sweet.

The next morning, you wake up feeling transformed. Cleansed. Vindicated. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of your own pettiness, reborn into a creature of pure, unadulterated vengeance. A god of retribution.

Last night was a triumph. A masterpiece of psychological warfare, orchestrated with the precision of a military strategist and the artistic flair of a Broadway performer. Paige had suffered—oh, she had suffered—and you had heard every ounce of that suffering in the sheer disbelief laced through her voice. You had sent her into an existential crisis without so much as stepping foot into her room. And the best part? You didn’t even have to talk about it. No awkward confrontation, no passive-aggressive exchange, no forced discussion about boundaries. Just a silent victory, the best kind of victory.

You stretch in bed, limbs loose and relaxed for the first time in days. No residual irritation, no ghosts of rage clinging to your skin. You won. You won.

The air feels different when you step into the kitchen, like the whole apartment is holding its breath. The atmosphere is charged, electric with something unspoken, a tension that exists only because you created it. You bask in it, inhale it like fresh air, let it fill your lungs as you roll your shoulders back and step into the room.

Paige is already there. She’s leaning against the counter, one hand wrapped around her ever-present protein shake, the other holding her phone, scrolling with the kind of casual indifference that feels fake. Too stiff. Too controlled.

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest. Good. That means you got to her.

You let the silence stretch, let her feel you watching her, reveling in the unspoken weight of last night’s events. Then, with all the exaggerated nonchalance you can muster, you open the fridge. You take your time, rummaging through it, making a show of your relaxed state, of your complete and total lack of shame or regret. Every movement is deliberate, every pause pointed.

The tension is thick enough to taste.Finally, after a long, drawn-out beat, you break the silence.

“Sleep well?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Paige just lifts her shake, takes a slow sip, and keeps scrolling, her gaze glued to her screen like you don’t exist.

You bite back a smirk. Oh, it’s like that, huh?

Fine. You love a challenge.

You grab a yogurt, pop the lid with exaggerated ease, and lean against the counter directly across from her. Mirroring her. Challenging her.

She knows you’re looking. She feels it.

The weight of your gaze drags over her jaw, the bare skin of her collarbone where her hoodie has slouched just a little too low. Over her hands—gripping her phone a fraction too tight, her knuckles taut with something just shy of restraint.

She lifts her protein shake. Takes a sip. Measured, deliberate.

You take a slow, obnoxiously slow, bite of yogurt.

“You seemed a little... tense last night.” Your voice is carefully neutral, the epitome of innocence, like you’re discussing the weather. But your eyes say otherwise.

A flicker. There. The tell.

It’s microscopic—her fingers tightening around her phone, a brief clench of her jaw before she lifts her shake again.

“I’m fine,” Paige says, monotone.

You hum, swirling your spoon through the yogurt, dragging it up in long, slow loops. “Really? You seemed a little... thrown off. Like you weren’t expecting something.”

Paige drinks. Swallows. Sets the bottle down with that same, mechanical precision.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, this is delicious.

“Hmm.” You take another lazy bite, then—just for effect—let your tongue flick over the spoon, slow, clean.

She doesn’t react.

But she sees it. You know she sees it.

The battle of wills unfolds in the silence. A quiet, blistering, psychological duel.

You stretch it, waiting, baiting. Letting the tension tighten between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

And then—she exhales.

A sharp, quiet breath, controlled but strained. Like she’s holding something back.

And finally, finally, she sets her phone down.

Lifts her head.

Meets your gaze.

And suddenly, the air shifts.

Because Paige’s expression isn’t annoyed, like you expected. It isn’t irritated, or bored, or vaguely exasperated.

It’s something else.

Something slower. Darker.

Your stomach tightens—not in fear, but in something far more dangerous.

She tilts her head just slightly, a fraction of an inch, but the weight of it is immense. A move so calculated it feels like a blade sliding from its sheath.

"You good?" she asks, her voice a study in casual ease. Too smooth. Too careful.

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap.

But you don’t back down from fights.

“Better than ever.” You drag the words out, light, effortless. “Best sleep of my life.”

Her lips twitch. Just barely. A half-second away from a smirk.

“That right?”

You shrug, feigning boredom. “Guess loud, passionate sex really tires a person out.”

A beat. A single, suspended moment.

Then—

“I wouldn’t know,” Paige says, smooth as silk. Cool as ice. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

Your smirk falters.

Oh.

Oh, she’s good.

You recover quickly. “Really? You must sleep like the dead, then.”

Paige picks up her phone again, dismissive, her gaze flicking back to the screen like you’re not worth the effort.

But her lips? They’re curling. Slightly. Just enough to show teeth.

“Or maybe,” she murmurs, so damn casual, “it just wasn’t worth noticing.”

Oh, that bitch.

Heat flares up your spine, crackling, sharp.

You glare. Paige doesn’t even glance at you. The war has officially begun. And it’s on sight.

You’re not proud of yourself.

Not in the slightest. In fact, you don’t even know how you got here.

But this is what happens when you let your petty little battles spiral into something else, something darker and messier and impossible to ignore. You hate her. You loathe her. You think about her way too much—about how she gets under your skin, about her smug little smirks, about the way she acts like she owns the air you breathe just because she’s taller than you, because she can throw a ball into a hoop, because the entire fucking world looks at her like she’s something more than just a girl who’s in your goddamn way.

And maybe that’s why you’re here.

On your back. In your bed.

Hand between your thighs like an absolute fucking degenerate.

Because Paige is supposed to be gone. She’s supposed to be three states away at some game, doing her little interviews, getting her ego fed by an arena full of people. The apartment is supposed to be empty.

So you let yourself have this.

Let yourself chase the tension out of your muscles, let yourself melt into it, let yourself lose in it.

And God, you wish you were thinking about someone else.

But it’s her.

It’s her stupid fucking face.

It’s the way she taunts you, the way she stands too close in the kitchen, the way her sweatpants hang low on her hips in the morning, the way she stares you down like she’s daring you to push her, like she’s waiting for the exact moment you snap.

You hate her.

You hate how easy it is to imagine her hands on you instead of your own.

Your fingers are slick. Obscenely so. The vibrator hums against your clit like a live wire, like an electric pulse searing through your nerves, turning every inch of your body into a hypersensitive mess. Your thighs twitch, your stomach clenches, your hips keep jerking up, desperate for more, even though it's too much—too intense, too sharp, too unbearably fucking good.

The sheets are ruined beneath you, damp and twisted from how much you’ve writhed against them, chasing the high, riding the edge, dragging it out like you deserve to suffer for this. Like you deserve to ache for it. Your other hand is gripping the pillow, fisting the fabric, white-knuckled, because Paige, Paige, Paige—you can’t get her out of your fucking head.

That smug smirk, those broad shoulders, the way she leans against the kitchen counter like she owns it, owns you, waiting, watching, pushing, teasing—

God, you hate her.

You hate the way she gets under your skin, the way she’s there, always there, lingering in the space between, looking at you like she’s daring you to do something about it. You hate that you want to.

And you hate that you’re so fucking close just thinking about her.

Your toes curl, your breath breaks into little hiccuping moans, your body bows off the mattress. The vibrator sends another sharp burst of pleasure through your swollen, oversensitive clit, and it’s too much—your thighs slam shut around your hand, trying to temper the sensation, trying to trap it, hold it inside you, but it just makes everything sharper, stronger, unbearable—

You choke on a sound, a raw, desperate little whimper.

And then– a noise. Not yours. Not in your room.

On the other side of the fucking wall.

At first, your brain refuses to process it. Because no. No. No way. Paige is supposed to be gone, three states away, playing her stupid game, being her stupid self, not here.

But then you hear it again. A moan. Low, wrecked, unmistakably needy.

Your whole body locks up.

For a second, all you can do is lie there, frozen in place, vibrator still pressed against your clit, your own pulse hammering in your ears. Your skin goes hot, burning with shame, with realization.

She heard you. She fucking heard you.

Another shift. A creak of her bed. The rustle of sheets. 

A sharp inhale escapes you, unbidden, and then you clap a hand over your mouth, mortified.

The vibrator is still humming against your clit, sending little aftershocks through you, but you can’t move, you can’t fucking move, because your brain is stuck on the fact that Paige is touching herself right now, that she’s lying in her bed, one wall away, listening to you, moaning for you, and you—

Oh. Fuck.

Your breath catches, your whole body locks up, your hand stills between your thighs—just for a second, just long enough for your brain to catch up to what the hell just happened.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, bite your lip so hard it hurts, and keep going.

You’re sick, a fucking degenerate. You have to be, because the thought of Paige, lying there in her bed, one flimsy wall away, fingering herself to the sound of you falling apart is the single hottest, most disgusting, most earth-shattering thing you’ve ever fucking imagined.

Your hips twitch up, chasing the feeling, chasing the high, chasing whatever this is, this tight, searing, unspeakable thing curling in your stomach. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should not be doing this. But your fingers are shaking, your whole body is on fire, and you can’t stop, you can’t fucking stop—

And then she makes another sound.

This time it’s louder, more desperate, like she doesn’t care if you hear her anymore. And it sends you spiraling.

Your eyes slam shut, your thighs squeeze together, your stomach clenches so hard you can’t breathe, and the pleasure—fuck, the pleasure—rips through you, tears you apart, drowns you, ruins you.

You come so hard you forget how to exist.

The air is still humming.Your skin is still hot, still damp, still sensitive in a way that makes every shift against the sheets feel like too much. Your breath hasn’t fully evened out, your body still shaking from the wreckage of it, from the way you lost yourself, let yourself drown.

It should be over. It should.

But then—

A sound. Distant, but there. A soft shuffle, the faintest creak of floorboards beyond your door.

Your breath catches. You stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, trying to ignore it. It’s late. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re still stuck somewhere between dream and aftermath, still feeling the phantom weight of her—her hands, her voice, the way your mind kept slipping back to her even as you tried not to.

But then it happens again. A shift of movement. Closer.

A slow, deliberate pause just outside your door.

Your stomach tightens. No.

But the air is suddenly thick with something too real, something too electric—something that makes your pulse hammer in warning even before the first knock lands.

Knock. You stop breathing.

Another.

You jerk up, your body still too sensitive, your skin prickling under the weight of anticipation. You don’t move at first. Don’t respond. Just listen.

A pause. Silence. Maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll take the hint—

And then, the voice. Low. Steady. Unshaken.

"Open the door."

Your fingers tighten around the blanket, pulse kicking hard. Not a question. Not a request.

Just a command.

You should hesitate. You should stay still, let the moment pass, let it slip into the quiet, pretend it never happened.

But you know what’s waiting on the other side. And you know you’re already too far gone. But now she’s here.

You don’t move at first. Just stare at the door, heart picking up speed, hands pressed against the comfort of your blanket. A breath. Another. You tell yourself to stay still, stay quiet, maybe she’ll go away, maybe she’ll take the hint—

She knocks again.

“Open the door.”

Your skin prickles. Not a question. Not a request. Just a flat, patient command. Still, you hesitate. Seconds pass, stretching out between you like a tightrope, thin and fraying. And then, finally, you move.

The door creaks as you pull it open, slow and careful. Paige stands in the dim hallway, shoulders loose, hoodie hanging from her frame like she just threw it on without thinking. Her hair’s a mess—like she’s been running her hands through it, like she’s been restless all night. Her blue eyes flicker over you, unreadable, scanning, weighing.

Then she steps inside.

She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait for permission. Just walks past you, brushing close enough that you feel the heat of her body, the scent of her—something clean and sharp, faint sweat and warm fabric and something entirely, infuriatingly her.

The door clicks shut behind her. You don’t speak.

You don’t have to. She turns to you, slow, deliberate, expression unreadable. Then, voice low and measured:

“Lay on the bed.”

A prickle of heat races down your spine. You swallow, breath catching, fingers curling at your sides. But you don’t argue. Don’t hesitate. Just step back, moving without thought, without question, without sense—because it’s Paige, and because you want to know where this is going, and because something inside you is already unraveling at the edges.

The mattress dips as you crawl onto it, arms bracing, knees pressing into the sheets. You don’t dare look at her. You hear the shift of fabric, the quiet creak of the bed frame as she moves behind you, slow, careful. A pause. A breath.

Then—

“Where’s your vibrator?”

The words hit like a strike to the ribs. Sudden, shocking, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your fingers clutch the blankets, throat dry. You don’t answer.

Paige hums, thoughtful, unimpressed. Then you feel her—one hand at your lower back, pressing just enough to make you sink into the mattress, the other trailing up your spine, fingers grazing the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re gonna tell me,” she murmurs, voice steady, quiet, dangerous in its softness. “Or I’ll find it myself.”

Heat pools low in your stomach, twisting sharp and deep. Your breath stutters. Paige’s hand lingers at the back of your neck, fingers tracing, waiting.

Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Drawer.”

A pause. The ghost of a smile in her voice.

“Good girl.”

Then she moves.

You hear it—the slide of the drawer, the shift of objects, the quiet click of plastic against wood. A heartbeat. Two. Then the bed shifts again, and she’s behind you, close enough to feel the heat of her, the weight of her presence, the steady, unshaken confidence in every movement.

Her fingers skim your thigh, light, testing, teasing.

“You know what to do.” Your stomach clenches.

Slowly, breathlessly, you shift forward, sinking onto your hands, pressing your chest to the mattress. Your knees spread, thighs parting just enough to leave you open, vulnerable, trembling with something you can’t name.

The air is thick, charged, electric.

Then, Paige’s voice, low and certain:

“Don’t look at me.”

You shudder.

And then—she starts.

The first press of the vibrator against your clit is light—just a tease, barely there, a flicker of sensation that sends a sharp jolt straight through you. Your fingers tighten in the sheets, breath catching, body already wound so fucking tight you think you might shatter from just this.

Paige hums, pleased, lazy. Her other hand skims up your back, slow and deliberate, tracing the dip of your spine, the curve of your ribs, fingers spreading wide as she grips your hip, holding you in place. The bed shifts beneath her weight, but you don’t look back. You don’t dare. Not when you can already feel her eyes on you, watching every little reaction, every twitch, every shaky inhale.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “So fucking wet already.”

You let out a soft, helpless sound, pressing your forehead against the mattress, trying to steady yourself. It doesn’t help. The vibrator hums again, firmer this time, rolling against your clit in slow, torturous circles, and your hips jerk instinctively, seeking more, needing more.

Paige clicks her tongue. “Uh-uh. Stay still.”

The sharp sting of her palm against your ass is unexpected, quick and precise, more startling than painful—but fuck, it makes you tighten everywhere, makes you gasp, makes heat curl even deeper in your gut. Your nails dig into the sheets, thighs trembling.

Then—without warning—the vibrator presses harder, just enough to make your whole body tense, thighs twitching, stomach clenching. Your mouth falls open, a high, breathless moan spilling out before you can stop it.

“That’s it,” Paige murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

She drags the vibrator lower, just for a second, teasing the slick heat between your thighs, and then—fuck—you feel her fingers, tracing, pressing, testing. You whimper, hips bucking, and she chuckles, low and amused, before finally—finally—she sinks one finger inside.

Your breath stutters, back arching, body clenching tight around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” she exhales, voice rough, almost reverent. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight.”

The vibrator keeps buzzing against your clit, steady, relentless, a constant pulse of pleasure as her finger moves, slow and deliberate, curling just right, dragging along that sensitive spot that makes you tremble.

“God, you’re dripping,” Paige mutters, voice edged with something darker, something raw. “You want more?”

You nod frantically, too wrecked to form words, pushing back against her hand, chasing it, needing it.

She gives it to you.

Another finger presses in, stretching you, filling you, fucking into you in slow, deep strokes, pushing past that tight resistance, until she’s buried up to the knuckle. Your whole body shakes, heat coiling low in your stomach, sharp and overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Paige breathes, her voice tight, wrecked. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

She picks up the pace—fingers curling, twisting, pressing in deeper as the vibrator rolls against your clit, unrelenting, merciless. You’re gasping now, panting, your hips moving without thought, without control, grinding down, fucking yourself onto her fingers, onto the pulsing buzz of the toy, lost in the slick, obscene sound of it, the heat, the pressure, the unbearable, intoxicating pleasure building too fast, too much—

“Paige—”

She tightens her grip on your hip, holding you still, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, fingers thrusting deeper, sharper, hitting that spot over and over and over—

And you snap.

It crashes into you all at once—blinding, breathless, a shockwave of raw, shuddering pleasure that rips through your entire body. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, legs shaking, thighs clamping around her hand as the orgasm slams into you, wrecking you, drowning you.

Paige curses, low and filthy, working you through it, keeping the vibrator pressed firm against your clit as your body jerks, as you convulse, as pleasure spills over in wave after brutal wave.

You collapse forward, panting, trembling, barely able to hold yourself up. But Paige isn’t done.

She flips you onto your back in one smooth, effortless motion, her body pressing into yours, caging you in. Before you can even catch your breath, her mouth is on you.

The first kiss is rough, searing, a claim more than a kiss—teeth dragging against your lip, tongue pressing deep, swallowing the wrecked little sounds spilling from your throat.

Her hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, dragging your legs apart, squeezing your waist, your ribs, your tits, mapping every inch of you like she’s memorizing it.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum,” she murmurs, lips brushing yours, voice thick with hunger. “All fucked out and messy for me.”

Your breath stutters. Paige leans in again, dragging her mouth down your jaw, your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear that makes you shiver.

“I want you loud this time,” she mutters, fingers already slipping back between your thighs, spreading you open, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your overstimulated clit. “You gonna give me that?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, hips bucking up into her hand, desperate for more.

Paige smirks against your skin. “Good.”

The heat of her body presses you into the mattress, her grip firm, unrelenting, claiming every inch of you like she’s owed it, like she’s been waiting for this for so fucking long that holding back isn’t an option anymore.

And it’s not. It never was.

Her fingers curl inside you, deep and sharp, pressing right against that devastating spot that makes your whole body tighten and shudder. You’re soaked, dripping down onto her hand, onto the sheets, your thighs slick, trembling, spread wide as she takes what she wants—what she’s wanted for so fucking long.

“You have no idea,” Paige mutters, voice low, wrecked, breath warm against your neck as she drags her lips over your skin, teeth grazing, biting. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You gasp, clutching at her shoulders, legs wrapping around her waist, dragging her closer, needing her closer.

She groans, grinding against you, fingers moving faster, harder, pushing into you with a rhythm that’s obscene, ruthless, making you arch, making you cry out.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she growls. “The way you looked at me? The way you listened when I fucked other girls in this apartment?”

Your stomach clenches, a sharp pang of shame and arousal slamming through you.

Paige laughs. A low, breathy, utterly wicked sound.

“That’s right,” she purrs, slowing her fingers to a torturous, teasing drag. “I know what you’ve been doing. Lying in here, all hot and frustrated, touching yourself to the thought of me.”

Your breath catches.

“You ever wonder if I was thinking about you?” she continues, voice husky, lips dragging down your collarbone, your chest, your stomach. “Lying in bed, hearing you through the walls, touching myself to the sound of you coming?”

Your hips jerk up, a desperate, broken sound escaping you.

Paige chuckles, dark and amused, before she slams her fingers into you again, relentless, brutal, dragging you right back up that peak.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat ripping through your body, pleasure slamming into you all at once, sharp and unbearable, too much but not enough, never enough.

Then she’s everywhere—her mouth crushing against yours, teeth nipping, tongue pressing in deep as her fingers fuck into you, relentless, merciless, like she’s making up for every second she didn’t have you like this.

“Come for me,” she demands, voice ragged, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes dark, wild, locked onto you like she’s daring you to fall apart.

Your whole body seizes up, back arching, mouth falling open on a silent scream as the orgasm tears through you, overwhelming, devastating, making your mind go blank, making your vision fucking blur.

Paige groans as you clench around her fingers, as you drip onto her hand, onto the sheets, onto her.

“Jesus fuck,” she breathes, watching you, drinking in every twitch, every shake, every shattered gasp. “You look so fucking good like this.”

And before you can even catch your breath, before you can even think, she’s flipping you over again, pressing you into the mattress, pinning you down, her body covering yours completely.

Her mouth is everywhere—hot, desperate, claiming every inch of you, kissing you like she wants to consume you, biting at your throat, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re mine now,” she mutters, breath ragged, hand gripping your hip, dragging you up against her. “You fucking get that?”

You nod frantically, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, needing more, needing everything.

“Say it,” she growls.

“I’m yours,” you gasp, voice wrecked, desperate.

Paige grins—wild, triumphant—before crashing her mouth against yours again, her hand slipping back between your legs, fingers dragging through the mess she’s already made of you.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” she murmurs, voice dark, teasing.

Your breath stutters, eyes going wide.

“You can’t—”

“I can.” She presses the vibrator back against your clit, fingers already sliding back inside you, making you sob. “And I will.”

Then she fucks you, properly, thoroughly, relentlessly, making you come again and again until you can barely breathe, barely think, until the only thing left in your head is her.

The room is wreckage. Pillows displaced, sheets tangled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. Your limbs are jelly, nerves still sparking like frayed wires, pleasure still ghosting along the edges of your skin in aftershocks you can’t quite suppress. Paige—Paige fucking Bueckers—is lying beside you, her chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths, arm slung possessively across your stomach like she owns you now.

And maybe she does.

You blink up at the ceiling, brain still trying to reboot. The night—Jesus, the night—had unraveled into something primal, something endless, something that had pushed you past exhaustion, past coherence, past sanity. Paige had wrecked you, torn you apart, rebuilt you in the shape of something raw and ruined and aching for more. And now—

Now, she shifts beside you. A lazy stretch, muscles flexing, a small, satisfied hum escaping her lips. You don’t have the energy to turn your head, but you feel her, the weight of her gaze settling on your profile.

Then, voice still husky from exertion, smug and utterly fucking unbearable—

"So, do you want to get dinner with me?"

Your brain stalls.

Your head turns, slow, disbelieving, vision sharpening just enough to catch the absolute shit-eating grin tugging at her lips. She’s fucking with you. She has to be. After everything—after the way she spent hours making you come until you forgot your own name, until your body had nothing left to give, until you had collapsed against her, too spent to do anything but breathe—she’s asking you out. Like it’s casual. Like it’s normal.

Like this isn’t the most insane, deranged turn of events imaginable.

You stare.

Paige smirks.

And you—God help you—you might actually say yes.

[scap34]

No one touches what’s yours ♡

sub! sugar baby! Toji x sadistic! rich! dom! younger! male! reader

warnings: cussing, mild daddy kink, oral sex, dirty talk, degradation, implied sex, mild manipulation, mention of murder

Another shitty gala. What was this one for? A charity? Who even cared? If half the money wasted on flaunting wealth actually went to the cause, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t even be a need for charity anymore.

Instead, it was just another popularity contest. And lucky him, you happened to be the star of the show—the hot, rich jock everyone loved to worship.

What did that make him? Your cheerleader? 

Toji scowled as he downed the wine in his glass. Expensive, yet it tasted like shit. He’d already had three in the last half hour, and the buzz was barely there—a waste of both time and money.

But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was all the eyes on you. The overly flattering tone, and greedy eyes people looked at you with. His fingers itched for his blade. To paint the shiny white floor red with their blood. 

You were his. So why the hell were people so fucking close to you?

Then your cold gaze met his, and for a moment, that disinterested look melted into faint amusement. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him, leaving behind a trail of disappointed murmurs and bitter faces, none daring to voice their complaints aloud. 

Toji stayed rooted in place, arms crossed, waiting for you to come to him. When you finally did, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Why the hell did you drag me to this?” he grumbled, his tone bordering on petulant—not that he’d ever admit it outright.

You had the audacity to chuckle, a soft, amused sound that only annoyed him more. “I didn’t.” You replied smoothly. “I told you, you wouldn't like it, but you insisted on coming anyway.”

Did he say that? Yes. 

Did he care? No.

“What was I supposed to do? Sit around at home like some miserable housewife?” He snapped back. 

You didn’t respond immediately, but the gleam in your eyes said everything. It was that look—the one you got right before one of your ideas. The kind that left him sore in all the right places and utterly, blissfully wrecked. 

Was it the housewife comment? Fuck, would you care about fucking him here? 

“Yeah, baby? Need your husband to make you happy?” you practically purred, your voice low and husky, dripping with amusement.

The tone alone had him shifting in place, a rush of heat racing down his body. Damn tux was too tight, but he knew better than to blame it on the suit. Knowing you, the control freak you were, you’d probably had it tailored perfectly to his measurements ages ago. Made perfectly to hug every curve of his body, all on display for your eyes.

Getting a fucking boner right now would like public exposure. 

You must have been rubbing off on him, cause the thought only served to make him more aroused.

“Y/N! What a delight to see you here!”

Your eyes shifted lazily from Toji to the man approaching, your expression unreadable. He was in his late forties, with hair that was clearly dyed to hide the gray creeping in—an attempt to cling to his youth. Everything about him screamed smug, from his tailored suit to the self-assured smirk plastered across his face.

The man practically radiated envy as he took you in. Of course he did. You were everything he wasn’t—young, rich, and devastatingly handsome. Flawless in a way that made people resent you the moment you walked into a room. And you were all his. 

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” he said, voice dripping with fake humility, “but luckily, I managed to find a spot in my schedule. I’m sure you didn’t have that problem. After all, you always attend these things, don’t you?”

He spoke loud enough for others nearby to hear, as if trying to gain some kind of upper hand in the conversation. 

You didn’t look fazed by it. The coldness in your eyes was sharp, daunting even as your lips curled into a fake, practiced smile.

“Isn’t it customary for the host to attend their own gala?” Your words were curt and polite to the point of biting cold. Throwing his words right back at him with chilling precision. 

Toji could almost hear the man’s teeth grind together in outrage at being one upped in the rich people dick measuring contest. Not that you were playing along. You didn’t need to. He could attest to how big your dick was. 

He let out a huff of laughter. The man’s eyes landed on him. The annoyance in his eyes shifted to interest as he took in Toji’s body. The tux, obviously not doing anything to hide his body. 

If this had happened anywhere else, he would’ve beaten the shit out of him. But this was your fancy gala, surrounded by those rich assholes who eyed your wealth like pesky flies. He wasn’t stupid enough to mess up your business. You’d be pissed at him, and not in a good way.

“And who is this? Your date?” The man’s slimy gazed trailed down his body. Toji had to resist the urge to shove a wine glass into his throat. 

“Yes. This is Toji.” You replied seemingly unbothered but he could see the way annoyance crept into your eyes. The way you shifted slightly closer to him. You didn’t bother introducing the man to him like you couldn’t bother with it. 

Toji bit down on his tongue, fighting the smug smile that threatened to tug at his lips. The man wasn’t important? Good, he didn’t want to play nice anyway. Toji’s eyes didn’t leave you. 

Fuck. He didn’t think you could get hotter. But you were hell bent on proving him wrong weren’t you? 

The confident, uninterested attitude of your that pissed everyone off was such a fucking turn on. Why the hell were you so hot? 

Your eyes met Toji’s heated look. Your eyes rovered down his body, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “My sugar baby.” You added on as an afterthought. 

He hated you. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. That confident smug gleam in your eyes. You sipped your wine with a smug smile. 

Damn you. You had fucked him before coming here. So why was he getting horny again? He got less boners as a teenager during puberty. 

“Then do you mind if I have a taste? What’s a bit of sharing between business partners?” The man’s slimy voice cut between the tension. 

Your smile disappeared in a flash. Before he could react, you had an arm around his waist. A possessive hand pulling him to you. Half his body pressed against your warmth.

“He’s not a toy.” You half snarled the polite facade in your face slipping. Your arm wrapped around Toji’s waist, a possessive gesture. 

Toji’s mind short circuited at the firm possessive touch. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his chest, and feel your firm muscles against his. Your fingers felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him as yours. 

He knew he was yours. But this just cemented it. It wasn’t something that had been there but never acknowledged anymore. It was real. He was yours. And you were his. 

He barely remembered anything past the man paleing at the thunderous look on your face. Stuttering half apologies even as his face burned with embarrassment and anger. Leaving as soon as possible. 

Toji didn’t give a fuck about him anymore. 

The innocent touch of your hand on his waist, made heat pool in his stomach. Your gesture was possessive, and demanding. He loved it. 

Despite the fact that he could have easily defended himself, or even killed that scumbag, this was better. You defending him with possessive anger burning in your eyes. A scowl on your lips as you protect him. This was so much better. 

He didn’t even notice when you led him out the hall. Only when your eyes met his, did he kiss you. Pushing you up against the wall, body grinding against yours. 

His lips pressed against yours, hungry for more. You easily took back control, after your initial surprise. Kissing back ruthlessly, plundering Toji’s mouth. Fucking his mouth with your tongue. 

He pulled away panting softly, and leaned his body against yours. The hard line of his erection pressing against your thighs. He resisted the urge to grind against you. 

You recovered quickly, a sadistic smile spreading on your lips. “Hard from a kiss, baby?” You cooed, your hand moving to cup his clothed cock. Your thumb flicked the head of his cock. The movement had him moaning, expensive fabric rubbing against his sensitive head in delicious ecstasy 

“It’s your fault.” He whined, shifting his body to hump your thigh, more dog in heat than an experienced killer. Need burned in his body like a drug. He wanted you. Wanted your cock in his hole, taking what was yours. Making him yours inside and out. 

“What a needy slut.” Your eyes were dark, all consuming. He wanted you so fucking bad. He humped against your thigh, pants falling for his kiss swollen lips. “Need to be fucked that bad?”

“Yes,” he practically whined. The thought of your cock had him salivating. His hips rolling against yours. You didn’t even look bothered, the dark look in your eyes only gave it away. 

“My needy cock whore,” you cooed lowly, your tone anything but sweet. “Don’t worry, daddy will fuck you good.” The nickname and the way your fingers squeezed his ass, had him melting into your arms like putty. 

“Mhmm yes please.”

…

“Who was that guy anyway?” He asked suddenly, a few days after the gala. You looked over at him, your fingers paused typing. All your attention on him, he almost wanted to change the topic, just so your focus stayed on him.  

A live horse race played on the tv. Like a typical day, you spent your time working near him, like the possessive asshole you were.

“What guy?” 

“That asshole who tried to hit on me.” He said vaguely unsure how to describe him. All he could remember was getting fucking into the sheets. Your voice muttering praises into his ear each time you started a new round. 

“Him? Don’t worry about it. I got rid of him.” You said turning back to typing on your computer. He blinked at you incedulously. That was it?

You got rid of him? 

“What,” his throat felt dry, he licked his lips. “Did you do?” He didn’t even know what he was expecting to hear. 

You didn’t even look away from your laptop to answer. “Exposed a few scandals and destroyed his company. His reputation and business are gone now.” You retorted coldly, working on your laptop.

He blinked at you, dazed, bewildered by your words. He knew you were cruel. The words tycoon most commonly used with you. You had to be cruel to make it to the top at such a young age. He knew that too. But it felt different experiencing it firsthand. You’d destroyed someone’s business and reputation for him.

He didn’t want to bring up that he could take care of himself. That he was the sorcerer killer. A weak human was nothing to him. He’d been taunted all his life for being the black sheep of the Zen’in family. For running away. For all the money he lost gambling. 

But you were different. You were a bastard. He knew that. You’d humiliate him. Push his body to the limit. But you’d also caress his cheeks and praise him. He was yours and you found nothing wrong with him. You were an oddity he didn’t mind.

He tugged your computer away from you. You let him, looking a bit bemused. He gently placed it on the table and straddled your thighs, his knees on either side of you.

His hard cock pressed against yours. You looked up at him with a raised brow. Your hands wrapped around his waist, rubbing circles. He grinded down on your cock, making your breath hitch, eyes darkening with lust. 

“Toji? What are you doing?” You asked huskily. Your hands encouraged his hips as he grinded down. Your cock rapidly growing harder. 

“Nothing,” he replied mischievously. His hands ran up his thigh, and disappeared under his shirt. Under your hungry gaze he played with his chest. Moaning when he pinched his dusty pink nipple, the pain mixed with pleasure.

“Yeah? How about I give you something to do then baby?” you muttered huskily. Your hands held his hips as you smirked. “Why don’t you suck my cock, baby?” 

His grinding nearly stopped if it wasn’t for your hands moving his hips, in slow circles. His cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. 

Suck your dick? He’d never done that before. But he couldn't help but want it. The idea made him harder. 

You could see his reluctance and palmed his clothed cock. “Be a good boy, Toji and suck me off.” He flushed darker, at your blunt words. His cock strained against his flimy pants, pre-cum smeared onto it. 

He nodded weakly. There wasn’t any chance he’d refuse anyway. He was weak for you.

…

“I can’t,” he sobbed, around your cock. The sound sent bolts of pleasure. Red marks on your thighs, where your baby dug his fingers in too hard. The pain barely registered to you. Not when the pleasure was so strong. 

You held back a smirk and frowned. “Already baby? I haven’t even cum yet.” Toji let out another frustrated sob. The sound reverberated through you making you bite back a groan.

“Please please ple’se can’t,” he begged, rubbing his cheek against your cock like a puppy. Like it would make you give in. You wouldn’t say it’s Toji’s fault for not making you cum. That was all you. Making him take a dildo as he sucked you off. You conveniently forget to tell it was also a vibrator. He’d came immediately when the vibrations started. And again when you increased it. 

The view didn’t help you. Fat pecs bouncing with each movement, trembling thighs parted lewdly, showing off his useless cock. His own cum staining his thighs messily. You had half a mind to turn him around so you can see the way his hole took the toy. 

But then you’d miss the dumb slutty look on his face. The fucked dumb look on your baby’s face. Cheeks flushed red, tears clinging to his lashes too stubborn to fall, lips bitten red and swollen, expression scrunched in pleasure and overstimulation. 

His pretty lips stretched obscenely around your cock. Messily sucking your dick, licking it like a pathetic kitten. The sight of his face could make you cum but you were holding out. After all, you had a goal in mind. 

“Come on Toji. You’re really going to leave me hanging?” You usually never called him by his name during sex. Your baby caught on. His hands clenched tighter and he tried to please you. Messy and sloppy. You loved it. 

“Ple’se t’rn it off,” he pleaded looking at you with desperate tear filled eyes. It just made you want to shove your cock back into his mouth and fuck his throat till his voice was hoarse. 

“Make me cum first, baby.” You replied like that other times he asked. He let out a choked sob, body trembling when you turned up the vibrations. Desperate and wreaked was the best look on your baby. 

“That needy, baby?” You can see the conflict in his eyes, all his previous confidence thrown out. Only a hazy of need and wanting to please in his eyes. He nodded lips around the head of your cock. 

“I’m going to fuck your throat then baby. Can you take it for me like a good slut?” He shivered from your words and nodded quickly. Opening his mouth obediently. 

You smirked. “Use your words baby.” He flashed a pretty red. 

“Ple’se, fuck my throat,” he pleaded weakly voice a bit hoarse. 

“As you wish, baby.” You smirked, your hands holding his hair a bit roughly. He barely winched, his cock twitching with interest. 

You had to hold back a grin as you pressed your cock into your baby’s mouth. He didn’t even gag. The perfect cock slut. You let out a groan and started to face fuck him. 

Toji barely protested, his moans sending heat pooling. Within minutes you finished onto your baby’s tongue. Toji obediently swallowed it. Hazy adoring eyes meeting yours, begging for praise. 

You chuckled and wiped your cum off his lips. “Good boy.” Your perfect baby. 

[g0dlyunsub]

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold. 

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer. 

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles. 

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door. 

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?” 

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view. 

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him. 

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips. 

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.” 

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.” 

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers. 

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you. 

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness. 

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and… 

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face. 

“shut up.”

[kentocidal]

lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin. 

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends. 

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively. 

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.” 

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you. 

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable. 

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

[norrisainz33]

golden || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his long term partner and actress, y/n, attend the golden globes

☆ pairing: lance stroll x actress!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zendaya & none

☆ a/n: shorter one bc i was inspired by zendaya and the big ring she was wearing last night hehe also lance has been moving me lately

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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user1: tuning in for you only

user2: i can’t wait to see what you wear!!! you are going to shine like always

lance_stroll: my beautiful gorgeous girl

ynuser: my sweet precious boy

lance_stroll: hoping on the plane now! should be there in a few hours.

ynuser: wonderful! thank you for coming all the way out to la baby - i know things are busy for you these days

lance_stroll: you are always my first priority y/n/n and this is a big deal ❤️

ynuser: i am so lucky to call you mine lancey

lance_stroll: i’m the lucky one 😘

yourbff: i’m so excited for you my love

ynuser: and i’m so excited to see you soon 🫶🏻

user22: people died!!! (me i’m people)

chloestroll: yayyyy!!! you’re my favorite superstar!!

ynuser: chloe 🥹

user3: MOTHER!!!

lance_stroll has posted multiple stories

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user2: the prettiest princess to ever princess

user8: when i show up to a who loves y/n most contest and ur there 🙄

astonmartinf1: make sure you send us all the pictures possible. can’t have our man stepping out without posting about it 😮‍💨

lance_stroll: don’t worry admin - you’ll get them before anyone else does!

user87: just casually showing up with bouquets and dior… oh to be a wag 😭

ynuser: reunited and it feels so good ❤️

lance_stroll: nothing beats being with you darling 🤍

user12: happy for you (i’m single and jealous)!

chloestroll: give my girl a hug for me

lance_stroll: you got it 😘

user9: your commitment to be at every event of hers is truly the sweetest thing

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yourbff: girl call me wtf

yourbff: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ IK YOURE JUSY GETTING YOUR HAIR DONE RN YOU CAN CALL ME

ynuser: CALLING NOW CHILLLLL

yourbff: OMG BESTIE IM SCREAING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

ynuser: 😂😂😂😂 i can hear you all the way from la

yourbff: this is one of the best days of my life fr

ynuser: s a m e girl

estebanocon: mon ami what happened?

ynuser: lance will call you shortly my dear friend ❤️

lance_stroll: 🤭

ynuser: eeeeeeek i love you

lance_stroll: i love you to the moon and back

flavy.barla: cryptic? but also give your little puppy a kiss from me mon ange 😘

ynuser: are you and estie together? if so, expect a call sooooooonnn!!!! also puppy says they miss you

flavy.barla: omg yes we are together!

flavy.barla: y/n/n! i’m still crying im so excited for you two you have no idea

chloestroll: HEHEHEHEH

ynuser: sisssyyyyyyyyy

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user2: GORGEOUS????

user18: is it just me or are you showing off that ring in like a …… it’s more than just an accessory way

yourbff: how is it that everything looks perfect on you?

ynuser: stop ittttt 😭

flavy.barla: stunning, beautiful, perfect! not a single note

ynuser: thank you flavy 🫶🏻

f1gossip: now y/n/n…. is that what we think it is?

lance_stroll: genuinely speechless. how does one get so beautiful?

ynuser: lots and lots of makeup

lance_stroll: oh stop! its natural

user19: foaming at the mouth

madelyncline: begging you to style me. i wanna be like you when i grow up 😩

ynuser: your wish is my command 🙌🏻

user34: you never miss

user21: s2g that’s an engagement ring

mclarenf1: nice color dress 🤭

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f1gossip: actress, y/n y/l/n, attended the golden globes last tonight with long term partner and our very own, Lance Stroll, sporting a rather large diamond ring on her left hand. when asked by a reporter if the ring on her finger was an engagement ring, all she did was give a coy smile and a shrug before changing the subject. looks like wedding bells are ringing for one of our favorite duos!!

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user2: first of all - y/n is radiant. second of all - i’m so glad these 2 are end game i love them

user6: how lance bagged this baddie will forever be beyond me

user28: he’s a good man savannah

user12: happy for them (i’m crying my eyes out)

user44: a little commotion for the dress my god

user33: all i can think abt is how it’s papaya

user9: now that is a ROCK! making my partner take notes

user4: my shot is with y/n is now GONE

user22: what do i have to do to get myself a billionaire to give me the biggest ring i’ve ever seen in my whole life

user35: no fr asking for a friend

user11: no lance!!!! that’s MY girl!!!

user9: i’d put a ring on that too if i was him

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lance_stroll: had the best evening with the most beautiful girl to have ever graced a red carpet. thanks for having me goldenglobes and thanks to hugoboss for the magnificent suit.

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user18: we got a lance post before gta6

user22: missed him dearly

astonmartinf1: that’s our driver 🤩

user34: that old money hotness is real

fernandoalo_oficial: looking good!

ynuser: magnificent suit indeed 😍

lance_stroll: maybe i should wear them more often

ynuser: yes please 😩

user3: don’t think i didn’t notice the big ring on y/n’s hand. care to explain lance?

chloestroll: two of my most favorite people 🥹

user24: seething with jealousy

estebanocon: cleaned up real nice mon ami

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user28: i am down so catastrophically bad. i cant decide which one of you i want more

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ynuser: it’s all in the details

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landonorris: cool papaya dress

ynuser: it’s orange mate

landonorris: close enough! thanks for being a fan 🧡

user99: this is all but confirmation honestly

sabrinacarpenter: i think i might be in love with you

ynuser: well thank god the feelings are mutual 😭

user12: there’s not a single red carpet where you don’t devour

lance_stroll: you have one new really good detail

ynuser: i do yeah! someone special picked it out for me

lance_stroll: well they certainly did a good job

ynuser: the best job some might say!

mclarenf1: currently fangirling! don’t mind us

astonmartinf1: back!!! back i said!!! 🤺

user13: the squeal i just let out

flavy.barla: reject me so i can move on already 😭

ynuser: i have no interest in rejecting you!!! lets run away tg instead

estebanocon: only if lance and i can run away together without you then

flavy.barla: fine by me!

lance_stroll: wow 🙄

user88: my 2 favorite people just got engaged no one speak to me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[anomaly-hivemind]

Whore Convention ☆ Ghostface, Michael Meyers, Jason Voorhees, Pennywise, Jeepers Creepers, Slenderman, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Albert Wesker, and Pyramid Head x Reader | Kinktober Day 9

Summary: Part two of horror convention (part one), reader uses their VIP pass to have some fun at different stations.

Word Count: 2673

Tags: free use, gangbang, rough sex, overstimulation, mask kink, cum as lube, fem reader,, degradation, spit-roasting, creampies, convention, non-human characters, non-human genital, size difference, size kink, large cock, manhanding, spit as lube, face fucking, semi-public, multiple orgasm, vaginal fingering, monsterfucking, double penetration. Anal, tentacles, bukkake

It's that time of year again, it was time to go to another horror convention. You have been to a couple of them, all very entertaining in their own right but this one feels like it's going to have a different vibe at least according to your friend. She had gone to her first convention last year and swore that it was the best experience of her life and even changed her forever. ( her words). She gave you her VIP ticket because something had come up and she couldn’t make it. So she begged you to go, like literally begged and you were sure she would have cried if you said no. Saying that this opportunity could not be wasted just because of her and that quote on quote someone needs to have their holes filled in her place, which you are sure is some random euphemism she made up or something.

You had nothing better to do on a near Halloween weekend, nothing you cared about that is. You put on a nice cosplay from Jennifer's body. You were wearing a very purple cheerleading outfit, its skirt wasn't incredibly short and the top even though it was long-sleeved was a bit too small so it was a bit cropped. But that's all alright because you look good and a few people recognized the DK on the shirt.

You looked down at your VIP pass to see the location and the time. As well as a cute little skull on the corner. It was on the furthest corner of the building you were in but you still have time to buy or look at a few things before you walk over to that event spot. All you got were a few posters for your room, you even had time to put them back in your car.

===============================================================================

You walked to your Vip event spot in the convention building. It didn't seem like there were a lot of people over here beside you. A person leads you into the room and you go and sit in the small crowd. The spokesperson you assumed got on the stage and spoke into the mic.

“May our lucky vip please come to the stage” the woman spoke and everyone waited For someone. You also look around for a moment wondering who it was but no one came to the stage.

“um if you have a skull of your pass you our lucky vip… could you come on the stage.” You looked down at your card… and noticed that you had a skull. Well shit.

You reluctantly get up and head to the stage, after you were sure that no one else was gonna get up and then confirm once with a door staff that you were in fact the person they were talking about. While they shoved a paper for you to sign, you didn't bother reading much of it and just wrote your signature. It was something like a consent to participate in the event and you didn't want to be kicked out so you didn't hesitate.

You look out in the crowd, now feeling like there were more people now that you weren't among all of them and a bunch of them were in hardcore cosplay.

“Now look at you all pretty up for our little event.” the woman said and could you hear her southern accent. You smiled and thanked the woman.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Well why don't you pick a set of crowd goers. Doesn't matter how many.”

You assume this was some kinda cosplay contest and you got to pick. You picked A secluded few people who looked like they were straight from the respective franchise.

They all came up to the stage one after the other. You had to pick the Creeper, it almost gave you chills looking at him, the fit was spot on. Then you picked a Pennywise because you love a good clown. Purely for nostalgia you picked the few creepypasta you saw that being Eyeless Jack and Laughing Jack, you were sure that the slenderman had mechanical tentacles that even looked wet. Then your guilty pleasure of yours from all the mask wearers Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Pyramid Head and lastly you picked the Person who basically Could be his doppelganger Albert Wesker.

You shiver now they are all in front Of you. They were huge, like unnaturally so and you can't tell nor see any stilts. It makes A nervous sound come out of you as you have to look Up at most if not every single one of the men In front of you.

“Well that's a hefty pickin’s you've got.” The woman said before snapping her fingers a few times. Quick moving staff brought up some kind of privacy curtain. It made you confused. You looked at all ten of the people you had selected and just stood there.

“Well make sure you get a wheelchair after the event but don't keep your guess waitin’” she smirks.

“What?”

“You sighed the paperwork right?”

“Uhm yes?”

“Oh then your good, have fun being fucked and sucked.” with those words the spokeswoman ran off stage.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you had signed you for, that being to your consent form for some sex event your friend was supposed to be at instead of you. A shaky breath leaves your lips, you really picked a group of strangers to fuck you. A group of men who were all taller and bigger than you. What was most shocking to you though was the fact that you weren't fully opposed to all of it, if not a bit nervous. But you were down for it in a slightly whorish way.

Up close you couldn't help but look at how detailed each Of these men looked, if you were delusional or something like that you may assume right away that they were the real thing, but that was a completely crazy idea. Right?

Ghostface was the first to make a move on you. Practically ripping your shirt off and it falls to the ground then stealing your panties which you don't think you'd be getting back anytime soon or at all for that matter. You felt like the main character a porno being topless with just a mini skirt and shoes on. All of them were muttering pleased comments for the most part.

“What a willing whore” Wesker said, and his voice caused you to shiver in delight from how spot on it is. Actually they all sounded like their canon voices at least the talkers did. You didn't get much time to be shocked or think about it, when a tendril brought you to your knees. It felt slimy and wet and you couldn't help but touch it.

Jason bends your ass up as rubs his fat fingers between your folds. You bite back hiss, it was too much fiction too soon. Who noticed and pulled away for a moment . The Creeper smirks before moving near Jason and spits on you. You feel his thick saliva sliding down your lower lips and a bit down one of your legs. Jason moves his fingers back against his folds, this time with much ease. You could feel your arousal start to make way now.

The one with The blue mask stands in front of you while unzipping his pants. His cock jumping for your attention, you wrap A hand around it. You cover it in your mouth’s moisture and give it a few strokes, effectively coating his gray shaft with your spit. You open your mouth to get ready to take him. You look up at him as he grips your face and shivers his cock into your mouth. You gagged around him as the rough actions but try to avoid biting him. He was so distracting that almost didn't register Jason pushing two fingers into your walls. His fingers were very thick and it caused you to moan and Eyeless Jack's cock.

“Going a bit easy there” the scratchy voice of the monochromatic clown laughed out.

You weren't paying attention to what the clown said because all you really could think about was how good Jason was making you feel. You could feel your orgasm jumping to make a first appearance everytime you would feel the hockey masked man’s knuckle constantly brushing at your clit. Eyeless Jack was getting sloppy with his thrust and you knew he was getting closer and with you hollowing out your cheeks to help he started to topple over with pleasure. His cock throbbed a few times before shooting his load into your throat forcing you to swallow the cool liquid.

You were falling into your own peak and you could feel it becoming one with your senses, your eyes closed tight and your legs shaking as you fell past the teerting edge. You wanted to curse out as your orgasm gets cut short when Jason gets pulled away by another person, effectively ruining your orgasm. You let out a whimper, but it didn’t take long for the hole to be filled, you get shrouded in the shadow of the muscular pyramid head. You looked back at the beefy man and shivered. He was huge, very potential to be seven feet tall. He plunges his cock into you, and a scream, even with how wet you were he was large and stretching you out. Your eyes watered and a part of you felt like you could die.

“That's what I like to hear” Pennywise chortled with sadistic amusement.

Pyramid head was rough on you, completely focused on himself and made sure that you were taking him fully with each thrust. It was as if you were mush and you didn't think you could be overwhelmed so fast but you were, and if slenderman’s tendrils weren't holding you up, you'd surely collapse on the stage floor. The tentacles were kneading and groping your breast with a slick texture that was cold on your skin. He was moving with little mercy but even passing the hurt it felt good to you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, it almost felt like you had a lower heartbeat because of it. You wanted to use one of your hands to touch yourself up. It gets taken and occupies hisdick.

“Sluts worry about others first.” Ghostface spoke using your hand to stroke his cock.

You moan, feeling your eyes roll back when a new contender moves in front of you. You look up at them, it was Jason; your gentle giant that had done some help, loosening you up. You open your mouth for him, your tongue hanging out ready to take him. He pushed his thick length into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around him and started to suck him off. It was the mix of Pyramid head getting ready to fill you with his seed, sucking off Jason and jerking off Ghostface. It was a complete sensory overload and you don't know if you'll make it to the end of it all. It was a mix of muffled groans and your also muffled moans.

You feel the borderline hot cum filling you up and trying to push past his cock. He makes sure to pull out of you as slowly as he could as if he didn’t want to leave Pennywise the first to take his place and quickly while wiggling his fingers before coiling around his hips. His cock felt like he was shifting inside you. It has ridges that were scratching at your walls pushing cum deeper into your cunt. He was thrusted into you into you wildly; he was giggling wildly with each movement.

Slenderman comes up from behind you. A slimy tendril prodding your tight ring of muscle. He circled around the outside spreading slimy fluid before he pushed in the wriggling limb. As he pushed it deeper into your rectum. The circumference widened. It stretched your whole beyond what you believed it could. He was literally in your guys right now, but it felt good. You moaned around the cock in your mouth with it pushed and wiggled around you.

When he slipped out his tentacle you thought it was over but then he thrusted in two of the appendages into your anus. You yelped around Jason and small tears sprang in your eyes. Surprisingly though, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

Jason fills your mouth with his gooey essence, happily. Then after him cums Ghostface, coating your hand in its sticky substance. The domino effect causes you to have yet another orgasm and as you clench around Pennywise swells up a bit before filling you with his rainbow clown Jizz.

They leave you a cum dumped mess with slenderman’s appendages rocking in their pendulum pattern. You felt like you were going to pass out but your holes still had a guest to attend to. Wesker and Myers go for your mouth and cunt respect. Weaker pulls your hair back as he pushes his cock into your hole and Michael was basically throat fucking you.

The Creeper and Laughing Jack then made you stroke them off. You felt like you had been thoroughly passed around and anyone Who had you before was jacking off as you got used like a fleshlight. You have another climax and you were sure everything had gone dark for a few seconds but the bounce of that seemed to matter, to the men of the mattered.

“An Excellent whore to take all of us” Wesker let out a groan as he slammed his hips into you over and over. You felt like we're going to cum all over again. His words make you shiver a bit and you start to clench around him, he slaps your ass like a silent approach. Michael was holding your face with a tight grip as he would take slow strokes all the way out of your mouth before ramming back down your throat. It was causing gag reflects a bit as he ruts his hips into you.

The tentacles pumping in and out of you sped up, the tendrils rubbing against you and each other. It felt like ripples coming through them before warm fluid filled your anal cavity. The semen kept coming and coming it’s like it was almost never ending until finally he pulled the tentacles out leaving you back entrance gaping and puckering. The cum poured out like a water leak, dripping down your ass and legs. You glanced down to see the black viscous liquid creeping down your legs.

You felt like you may have choked to death if you went breathing through your nose. The Creeper was looking at you with a hungry gaze as he started to thrust into your hand. Michael started moving faster, taking shorter strokes between your lips before he let out a hushed breath of pleasure. You almost coughed up the amount of thick fluids that had filled your mouth at once, you managed, then he pulled away. Laughing Jack was tracing patterns into your skin as he let out stroke him at your decided pace. You hold his slender cock in your hand in a firm grip, he was already leaking cum before a strong spray hits you in the face.

You could hear some groans and muffled heavy breaths from the men surrounding you. Their hands stroked themselves with vigor. Seemingly all at the same time they blew their loads onto you, painting your bodies with an array of hot cum. All which coat your skin with different levels of thickness and temperatures. Some were stickier than others, some watery. Different colors and smell. They all were panting, you included when the spokeswoman came back with a towel and your promised wheelchair. You had no energy, barely any to get up and put your close back on.

Your friend was right, this was a life changing experience

[tsuvvy]

Reader is injured during a fight with Bane and they refuse to seek medical attention. They hide their wounds from their batfamily and try to heal on their own. However, their condition worsens and they collapse in front of the batfamily. (Reader is the youngest tooo??)

Needing Help Isn’t a Weakness

Pairing: Platonic Batfamily x youngest adopted reader (A little more focus on Damian cause I want to be his little sibling so badly)

Warnings: Mentions of harm, violence, blood, passing out/fainting/collapsing, like one cuss word close to the end

Bane was a nightmare. An idiotic, annoying, nightmare. The guy basically threw you around like a ragdoll. You’d think he had it out for you the way he seemingly targeted specifically you. You’d sustained quite a few injuries by time the fight with the villain was over.

You were leaning over, your hands on your knees to support you. You almost felt what you thought might be your heart seemingly dropping to your stomach at the sight of the gash on your side. You hadn’t even noticed it. You must have been in shock, because the realization of even having it made it start to hurt. You could feel the blood seeping from the wound.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tim asks worriedly, coming to your side after having seen the heavy hits you had been taking in the battle against Bane.

You moved your cape, hiding your side in a way you usually liked to do, even when not injured. “I’m good,” You told him non-chalantly. You were lucky for the habit with the cape, cause Tim might have had a moment of wanting to continue prying on if you were okay, but he left it be.

You’d lied to everyone that asked if you were okay, giving them thumbs ups and ‘I’m okay’s. You rushed to your room, saying you were so tuckered out from the fighting and could do with a good nights rest. You were a little surprised that the family full of masked vigilante detectives didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. But that was until you got to just shy of maybe 7 or 10 steps away from your room.

“What’s your problem?” Damian spoke from behind you, his arms crossed over his chest, his tone accusatory and suspicious. You could almost feel how his gaze narrow on you from behind.

He had seen how you had clutched your side for a moment before letting your arm fall when you heard him.

“Nothing,” You had calmed yourself down, turning your body halfway to look at your older brother. “I don’t have a problem.”

Damian stared at you for a little while. And you stared back. The two of you caught in some kind of staring contest.

“You know you can tell me if you do, right?” Damian asked, his expression softening slightly, “I might be distant, but I’m still your older brother-”

“Adopted. Older brother.” You quickly added on. You had been adopted only recently, not having really taken to the family quite yet. “I don’t need your help or your pity, Damian.” You sighed, turning away.

Damian had stayed in the hallway for a little while, watching you walk into your room. And he heard the lock sound after you closed it.

But he didn’t see how you bit your lip and closed your eyes tight as the pain from the gash on your side radiated throughout your whole body. It was a struggle to get the vigilante uniform off, and even more of a struggled to try and bandage it yourself. You knew the gash needed professional attention, but why do you need anyone else’s help? You didn’t need Tim, Damian, Cassandra, Barbara, Dick, Jason, Bruce, or Alfred’s help.

It made sense why Bruce adopted you. He had a thing for adopting traumatized kids, and you didn’t seem to be any exception to that. You’ve been alone for so long. You’ve fought by yourself, stole by yourself, survived by yourself, and you’ve patched yourself up before by yourself. So why couldn’t you patch this wound?

But you couldn’t deny the flitting moment of thinking to going to any of the bat family for help when you let out mutters of pained whines and cusses as while you sporadically poured the 99% alcohol over it to ‘clean’ it. But that thought was quickly pushed to the side after the alcohol and cleaning part. You messily applied the bandage around the gash. If someone asked if you knew what you were truly doing, you’d be lying if you said yes.

Everything hurt. All of the wounds inflicted by Bane started taking precedence. But the gash most of all over all of them. Your legs and arms were sore, you had a headache, the cuts on your hands and face were stinging. It’s a miracle that you even made it to bed. You somehow got the strength to take a pain pill, and of course, to no surprise, you passed right out.

Luckily your bleeding had stopped not long before you took the pain pill, so you were able to survive the night the best you could with the most amount of sleep you could manage you get. Which was’t a lot..

When you awoke, everything was blurry, and bright, and your headache was back. And your side was just radiating with pain. You let out a whine of pain as you managed to sit up. You really hadn’t thought about how much pain you might be in in the morning.

You pushed yourself out of bed, and basically fell into the door of your room. You moved your hand to the doorknob, unlocking the door and turning the handle. You almost fell when the door you were leaning all of your weight against opened more abruptly than you thought. You managed to catch yourself by grabbing onto the door frame. A silent scream of pain leaving your lips.

Somehow, you also managed to use the wall to walk throughout the house, keeping a hand on the wall while you not even walked. I’d say.. Shuffled or scooted might be a better way to describe how you moved.

You were basically hugging the bannister while you slowly shuffled down the stairs. You could feel the blood soaking the already somewhat soaked bandages. Though you were wearing a thick long sleeved gray sweater with pajama pants.

“Y/n?” Dick questioned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you, “You okay?”

You were disoriented. You looked around, but it felt like you weren’t. Everything was a blur, all you heard was static in your ears. Everyone was staring at you with worry. But you couldn’t make that out. All you could make out was how everything began turning on it’s side before everything went black.

“Y/n!” A good majority of people screamed in worry while they watched you fall. Luckily, Jason was close enough to catch you.

You groaned, more of a whine of pain, actually.. It took almost everything out of you to peel your eyelids open. The cieling was weird. The medical equipment next to you was weird. You felt weird. You were in so much pain..

“It’s a miracle she lasted as long as she did with the poor bandaging job they did,” You heard a sigh from nearby. You looked over tiredly to see Barabara was the one that sighed while she had been talking to Dick and Tim.

“Y/n?” Everyone looked towards the opening in the curtain. It was Damian, and he was staring at you. His eyes wide yet worried set on you. “Y/n!” He said, but a bit louder and more enthusiastic in a way. Damian rushed to your side of the medical bed, grabbing your hand with a gentleness that was strange. Barabara, Dick, and Tim had made their way to your other side.

“She’s awake?” Jason questioned as him, Cassandra and Bruce came in as well.

“You are an idiot, l/n,” Damian told you, sending you a glare. But it was different. It looked more emotional. And you guessed it might have been a worried glare considering how his grip on your hand tightened.

“Seriously,” Jason started, he was standing behind Damian, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you seriously so stubborn you won’t ask anyone for help with something you clearly need help with?”

Honestly, you felt stunned and confused. You looked around at everyone. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn’t realize how your grip on Damian’s hand tightened.

“I don’t need help…” Was all you could mutter out, barely above a whisper.

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim deadpanned.

“With all do respect, Ms/Mr/Mx. Y/n,” Alfred appeared in the doorway, bringing little sliders for you to eat. He placed them on a little table next to the medical bed you were laid in. “But you collapsed from severe bloodloss, exhaustion, and because of the pain you were in,” You listened to him intently. Alfred was one of the only family members to be rewarded with such treatment for you, “I’m afraid the gash you had acquired on your side would have killed you if it was left not professionally treated.. And I must also say, dumping 99% alcohol onto a wound is very reckless.” The old man sighed.

You puffed out your cheeks and looked away from him. Your cheeks had colored in embarrassment.

“Y/n,” Barbara took your other hand, “I know it was hard growing up alone, you’ve been conditioned to not accepting other’s help.” She sighed, reaching up to move some of your hair out of your face with a gentle touch. “But needing help isn’t a weakness..”

“She’s right!” Dick spoke up, “It’s actually pretty honorable to know your limits and ask for help.”

“Come on, give them some space!” Bruce spoke up, noticing how everyone seemed to be crowding you. Barbara backed away from your side, your hand falling out of her’s. Damian however stayed at your side, keeping his grip on her hand tight and protective. Damian hadn’t always been the nicest, but he cared for you. Part of him felt the need to protect you. You’re his younger sibling, whether you were adopted or not, it didn’t matter.

“I am proud of you, Y/n,” Bruce patted your head. Your eyes widened, you weren’t sure what to say to such a gesture from the guy. “You need to learn that we all care for you and your wellbeing, we want you safe and happy. So next time you are injured as badly as you were, I do not want to be seeing you collapsing because of your stubborn pride.” He scolded you gently, “That understood?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Yes sir..”

“Alright, good.” He smiled gently and subtly.

“This was great and all,” Jason spoke up, “But I gotta get going,” He rested his hand on your head, ruffling your hair gently yet annoyingly, “Be safe, don’t do stupid shit anymore, kay?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before he left. And after him, everyone else started trickling out with their own goodbyes and see you laters. But Damian remained at your side.

The two of you sat in silence. You looked to the open curtain when Titus came into the room and hopped up onto your medical bed. He had rested his hand on your lap, and you began to pet him with the hand Damian hadn’t been holding

“Never again,” You heard Damian say.

“Huh?” You looked at him.

“Never do something stupid like that again..” He sounded angry, but also worried.. You stared at him for a second, your hand on Titus’ head coming to a halt.

“I’m sorry..” You muttered. Damian didn’t respond for a second.

“Don’t apologize, I understand your reasoning behind why you did it. Just don’t do it again.”

“Alright..” You said softly.

[gublerryswift]

Late night confessions | Spencer reid x Fem!Reader

only fluff allowed in this house

In which Spencer can't believe how oblivious you were.

Warnings: Pretty sure none!

Content: Love confessions, reader is oblivious, really cutesy, petnames (stuff like darling...)

--

It’s a Saturday night, and you’re getting ready to go out with your friends from the BAU. Somehow, you guys got lucky enough to have this day off and decided to go to a bar and have some fun. Hotch and Rossi both said they’re “too old” for this and decided to not go, which honestly left you relieved, you really did not want both your bosses to see you in the outfit you had planned for the night. Besides them, everyone was going, and you were excited to see the team outside of work – particularly excited to see a certain genius. 

You and Spencer are the kind of friends that everyone perceived as “suspiciously close” and everyone that didn’t know thought you guys were a couple. Actually, there was a bet amongst your friends as to how long it would take you two to actually get together.

At first, you and Spencer found it uncomfortable and got awkward every time they made a joke about you two being together, but after some time, you guys started to join in a bit. Now, the irony of it all is, between all the flirty jokes, the way Spencer became so comfortable with you being clingy to him besides his germophobia and the way he cared so much about you…  You fell in love with him. 

Arriving at the bar, you spot your friends all sat at a booth and head over to them.

“Hey guys” 

“Hi sweetie, you look gorgeous” Garcia says, giving you a kiss on the cheek 

“Thanks darling, you look stunning too” You say, taking a seat between Spencer and Penelope. 

You talk to your friends, occasionally making eye contact with Spencer, who has been blushing ever since you came into the bar. You had always found it cute how no matter how many dates he had, he still would get flustered around girls he found attractive. 

You spent the night dancing and gossiping with Penelope and Emily. Later, the group was starting to leave when you felt a hand on the small of your back, when you turn around you see Spencer standing there smiling at you

“Hi Spence, wanna dance with me?” You say, putting your hands around his neck and smiling back, voice coming out a bit dragged

“Not now darling” He said, softly laughing at the way you were, not that usually you were super uptight but at this moment you seemed so relaxed and carefree he loved seeing you like that “Did you drive here?”

“Nop, but don't worry, I'll take a cab back home” 

“There's no way I'm letting you take a cab alone this late at night. C'mon, let's say goodbye to everyone and I'll take you home” 

You roll your eyes at him, but the way he was being so protective over you made your heart flutter. You thought about contesting him, something about you being a “scary FBI agent” but you knew he was right and decided to just go with it. 

You say your goodbyes to the rest of the group and go on with him to the parking lot. On the way to the car, Spencer is holding you by your waist to prevent you from stumbling, you're fully aware that you don't need it, you didn't even drink any alcohol, still you let him do it because there's no way you would ever shy away from being this close to him.  

Back at your house, Spencer goes with you in the elevator, stopping at your apartment's door 

“Alright, here you are, safe and sound” He says, smiling at you 

“Thanks Spence” You reach out to give him a hug, and it lingers for more time than it normally does

All you wanted to do right now was kiss him. 

“Do you want to come in? I'm not sleepy at all, and I would feel guilty with you driving alone this late at night, we can make some tea and talk maybe”

“I don't know, you really should rest…” Just as he began reclining your offer, you gave him the look you knew he would never say no to “Alright, I'll come in” 

“What's going on in that pretty brain of yours Spence” You say, leaning on the counter top 

You smile at him as you walk into your apartment, getting rid of your shoes and stepping into the kitchen. Spencer sits in one of the stools near the counter top and watches as you start to make tea. He watches every move you make, as if memorizing it, and maybe it's all in your head, and maybe you're just seeing what you want to see, but he has this look in his eyes, different from before.

“Not much” He smiles, and it feels like the world stops for a moment. 

 “Now that's a surprise, when have you ever not thought about everything all at once” 

“You tend to have that effect on me” His gaze lingers on you, as if he was trying to tell you something. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. 

“What's that supposed to mean” You think you might know, but there's no way he reciprocates your feelings… right? 

“You know exactly what i mean, there's no way you're that oblivious” He smirks at you, and god you think you might pass out right then and there. 

“If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, Spencer” 

He laughs and stands up, getting close to you "Alright, what i mean is when i'm close to you, that's all I can think about… You. I've been in love with you for… honestly, I don't even know how long anymore” He takes a step closer, placing a hand on your waist and his voice drops to a whisper “I've made it pretty obvious too, maybe you took the ‘don't profile each other’ too serious. How did you not notice?” 

You're shocked, you can't even process your thoughts right now. Your best friend, whom you've been in love with for years, just confessed to you. You did notice his change in behavior towards you, you just didn't believe he could ever be in love with you 

“I noticed you treated me different, but I thought it was just…” You lose your words when he reaches out and cups your jaw, you look into his eyes, and you can see the love in them, and it makes you feel something inside. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and all you can do is take a deep breath and lean into his hand, feeling your heart flutter. You give him a small nod and close your eyes as he gently presses his lips against yours, and at that moment, you know that this is real. 

 He gently pulls you into his arms and kisses you on the forehead as he whispers “I love you” 

“I love you more” You say, looking up, smiling at him.

“Impossible” He says, smiling back at you.

[lionneee]

When Aemond is exhausted

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

Modern!MafiaBoss!Aemond x fem!Reader

•Warnings: oral (male), smut, kissing, taking of sexual themes, boobjob, tits licking, (basically worshipping breasts), mention of killing someone.•

“Come on, Aemond…” You hummed as you looked down, your eyes half closed, your mind fuzzy by the alcohol. You caressed the back of his head as he pushed his face further between your tits, kissing, licking, sucking and biting every inch of skin he could reach.

But he wanted everything.

“Shut up, will you?” He mumbled against your skin, his tongue darting out between your breast and your top, touching your nipple, that immediately went hard under his light touch. You wrapped your hands around his neck as you shifted closer on his lap, hugging his face closer to your chest with a small moan.

You knew he had an exhausting day, enough to not even be able to take you and fuck you properly. The music of his club came low in the background, his office lights were low, the desk a mess.

Even his hair was all massy when you first walked in tonight, him who was always composed, elegant and a perfectionist.

His hair was even more messy now, but that was entirely your fault. One of his hands cupped the side of your tit, pushing it towards your face as his other hand moved under your wavy skirt, gripping tightly the skin of your ass, squeezing it in his hand. You moaned again, grinding slowly on the bulge you felt raising under your core, pushing Aemond’s face as close as you could. 

You knew he loved when you did that, you even got worried in the past about how he could breathe so buried in your boobs, but he never complained once, instead he sometimes scolded you for talking nonsense.

He growled as he dug his fingers in your skin, his hand on your ass sproning you to keep grinding on him, as the other moved to tug down your top harshly, enough to hear some stitches ripping.

Your boobs sprang free and you could see Aemond’s eye basically sparkle at the sight, but it only lasted a moment, before he closed his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard, slowly taking more of your breast in his mouth, as his hand take care of the other, pinching it harshly, just like he knew it would have made you crazy.

“Oh, you’re so lucky I’m not on my pre-cycle period or I would have punched you…” You moaned as you kept staring down at him, so concentrated on your breast he barely even looked up at you when he hummed in response.

“Sir.” The door of his office behind you opened, but Aemond never relented, his attention started loyally on your body. You turned your head to the side to look at the guard that just entered, that immediately casted his gaze on the floor.

He wouldn’t have seen anything anyway, if not a bit of your ass because Aemond kept raising your skirt, and your back. He was lucky, because Aemond would have probably gouged his eyes off if he saw anything more.

“Sir…” The guard repeated, less convinced.”They caught someone of the rivalry here…” He explained as he refused to look up.

He didn’t say anything more, so the only sounds filling the room were coming from Aemond’s mouth, still attached to your tits, like an infant sucking for milk. You could already see some red and purple marks on your breasts, some of them along with the signs of his teeth.

He was really exhausted.

“Leave. Now.” You said as you looked back at Aemond, you could see him completely lost in your body, he probably didn’t even hear the guard coming in. You arched your back to push more your chest towards his face, making him moan as he moved his mouth to your other boob, sucking it immediately, eagerly, tilting his head back as if lost in pleasure.

God he was so cute when he was like this.

“But, Miss…” The guard contested. “The man…” 

You heard Aemond groan as he gripped tightly the skin of your ass, forcing you to grind faster on him, and you quickly obliged, your arms around his head and neck tightening.

“Kill him, or whatever. Leave.” You repeated more firmly, not leaving doubts for any other questions as you started to pant, slipping your hand in Aemond’s hair making them even more messy.

“Of course, excuse me.” You head the door open and close again.

Aemond didn’t raise his head when he used his hand to pull down the straps of your top, so he could lower it even more. He leaned back on the chair, each of his hands palming freely each of your tits, squeezing them as he wanted, harder or more softly. He looked up at you and he widened his legs, and you immediately understood his prompt, so you raised on your knees and got off his lap, kneeling down under his gaze.

He nodded to you to continue, spreading his legs open, his bulge more than evident, the lines of his cock well evident. Your mouth watered at the sigh, and you immediately opened his belt and pants, tugging them down with his boxers, so his long, pale and veiny cock could spring free, for you to admire.

You immediately wrapped your hand around it, filing how it pulsated under your touch. You smiled as you saw a bit of precum on his tip, leaning on to lick it, as you looked up at him through your eyelashes with an innocent face.

You saw his nostril flare as he looked down at you, his hand slapping lightly the side of your tit. You whined softly, raising up on your knees and taking your boobs in your hands, trapping his cock between them. He immediately let out a deep breath, leaning comfortably on his desk chair, his hips shifting further on his seat.

“Yeah, baby…” He huffed as he locked his eye on your tits, as you let a string of saliva fall down on his cock, so you could start to move up and down slowly, always pushing your breast together more firmly when his tip disappeared in them. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping the armrest so tightly it looked like he wanted to break it. You kept spitting saliva on his cock as you started moving a bit faster, bending down your head and licking his tip every time you had the chance.

“Take it in your mouth.” He ordered as he kept looking at you in awe, tilting his head to the side as he kept staring at you. You hummed and wrapped your lips around his tip sucking hard, making him thrust his hips up by the pleasure you were giving him.

“Fuck yes…” He groaned as he shifted closer to the edge of his seat, quickly put his hand over yours, his were bigger, and held more of your tits in them, he pulled you closer, planted his feet on the floor and started to trust up between your breasts. He let go of one of your boobs only to push your head down, forcing you to take his cock in your mouth every time it emerged, then his hand flew back to its place, his fingers digging in your skin.

You moaned around him, sucking eagerly his cock, wanting to make him feel so good after such a bad day. The room was filled now with obscene sounds that kept coming out of your mouth, wet noises mixed with your moans and his.

“Oh fuck– F-fuck… You’re gonna make me come, baby…” He grunted as he squeezed your breast even more in his hands almost to a painful point, but you didn’t pull back, you wanted to give him everything he wanted to take. You hollow your cheeks, slipping one of your hands from under his, grabbing his balls and squeezing them gently, massaging them in your hand. He growled loudly.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby– I-I’m gonna come–” He panted, thrusting his hips furiously between your tits, looking down at how his cock disappeared and appeared again between them. You looked up at him, looking how he was completely lost in pleasure, his eyebrows arched and his mouth open.

Godly.

You moved your hand lower, touching the skin that connected his balls to his butthole, pressing two of your fingers on the soft skin, watching how his body jerked at the unexpected touch.

“No, shit– Ah, baby…” He moaned loudly. You smiled around him as you slowly moved your finger even lower, pressing right against his little hole, watching how his eye shut as you felt his sperm filling your mouth with that warm, familiar taste. You swallowed with a smirk, letting go of him as he leaned back on the chair, spent as you kept licking his cock like a lollipop, cleaning him as best you could.

He looked down at you, slipping a hand in your hair, caressing your head gently. You looked up at him as you traced the underside of his cock with your tongue. He chuckled and grabbed you by under your arms to lift you up back on his lap. 

You smiled as you caressed his hair and face.

“Do you want to sleep here?” You asked softly, looking down at you as he nodded, fixing your top.

“I’ll get it done, you open the bed.” You said gently as you stood up, locking the door to the office as he fixed himself back in his pants, going over the couch to open the hidden bed. You took off your heels, top and skirt, staying only in your panties, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to take off his shirt so you could put it on. He smirked as he looked down at you, taking his time to take off his tie, then slowly undid every button of his shirt, his eye roaming shamelessly all over your body. You smiled back at him, holding your hands behind him, confident with your body in front of him. He finally took off his shirt, coming closer to you, bending down to kiss you as he put it over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you pulled back, starting to button it up. Aemond watched you from above you, stopping your hands the moment you started to close the buttons over your breasts.

“Can’t sleep without my pillow, can I?” He leaned down, his forehead touching yours as he undid a couple of buttons. 

You liked when he was like this. When he completely let go of his facade of an angry, cold, mafia boss and let himself be a sweet loving boyfriend.

He picked you up in his arms, walking over the bed and laying you down on it, following you immediately after, resting his head on top of your tits, his arms around your waist.

“I love you.” You whispered as you saw him closing his eye, ready to fall asleep. “You’re cute.” You said lower then, more to yourself than to him. “I love you.” He mumbled back, hugging you tighter. “But never call me like that again.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95

[incorrect-finding-frankie]

Poly Lucky and Other Frankie with a Reader whose a Wolf Mascot

🐰|Lucky & Other|🎩🍀

|Truthfully, Lucky really never imagined that he'd be dating anyone in this place--especially Other Frankie.|

|...But to then catch feelings for someone else? It's even more surprising.|

|You're a bit of a new mascot--a wolf, and there are thing's just like the real animal that you tend to do.|

|At the same time, you and Other caught feelings--and Lucky realized his additional ones a bit later.|

|There are enough times of you and Lucky simply hanging out together, but neither of you actually reveal anything.|

|Until Other Frankie makes a sudden entrance one day, and share's the information with you both.|

|He almost never leaves Lucky's side--and has always been very affectionate with the contestant. Now, you have to experience that, too.|

|Other flirts so much to the two of you--you don't know how, and Lucky rarely does it.|

[drvscarlett]

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

[luvfae]

DOC

summary: you’re a med student in the games and thanos has a serious case of blue balls.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, semi-public sex, masturbation, oral (thanos receiving), mention of death.

The fluorescent lights in the facility buzzed faintly above you as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick with sweat, desperation, and the metallic scent of blood—remnants of the last brutal game.

You were exhausted. Being a med student in this hellhole meant you were everyone’s nurse, whether you liked it or not.

The moment word got out that you had medical training, you became the unofficial caretaker of the surviving players. You regretted ever letting it slip to the few people you dared to befriend.

Now, every time someone got a scratch, a bruise, or even a headache, they came running to you like you had a fully stocked hospital at your disposal. As if you weren’t just another desperate contestant, fighting to stay alive. Attempting to patch up the ones lucky enough to survive, all while knowing that your own life was just as disposable.

One night, after yet another O vote sealed your fate, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. Your body felt like dead weight, exhaustion sinking into your bones, the fight in you fading with every step.

As you passed the men’s restroom, a low groan caught your attention. Being a nurse in training meant you were wired to care for people, whether you liked it or not. So no matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t just leave whoever was in pain behind that door alone.

You pushed open the door, stepping inside.

What you found made your breath hitch.

Player 230. Thanos.

Leaning against the sink, head down, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock.

Oh fuck, that wasn’t a groan of pain.

Your lips parted in shock, but before you could back away, his eyes snapped open, locking onto yours.

Instead of embarrassment, he smirked, completely unfazed. “Oh? Thought I was dying, huh, Doc?”

Doc. That damn nickname he had given you after he convinced himself he’d snapped his ankle, pestering you until you checked him out. It wasn’t broken—he was just being dramatic.

You swallowed hard, heat crawling up your neck. “I—uh, I heard a noise—”

“Yeah, you did,” he chuckled, lazily pumping himself, as if you weren’t standing right there, eyes glued to the scene before you. “Couldn’t help myself. Adrenaline’s got me all worked up. Can’t exactly rub one out in the dorms, can I?”

Your breath was shallow. You should leave. You should turn around and pretend you never saw this.

“Sorry, I’ll just go—”

“You don’t have to,” he replied smoothly. “You could help me out.”

You froze, a pit forming in your stomach. “Pardon?”

“Please, Doc,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I’m in so much pain. I’ve got a serious case of blue balls. Can you help me drain them?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, your hands balling into fists. His puppy-dog eyes met yours, and you groaned, already regretting the entire situation.

You turned to leave, but before you could reach the door, he lunged at you. His pants slipped down as he tripped, crashing to the floor in a mess of limbs.

You spun around, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay? You fucking idiot. If you crack your skull, no one’s coming to save you.”

He lay there, looking up at you with a mix of desperation and a smirk. “I’m desperate, baby,” he purred. “You know you’re the only one who could help me.”

Something in your chest tightened, but you couldn’t place it. You hated this. He was an asshole, yet… yet there was something in the way he looked at you that made you hesitate.

His smirk widened, as if he could see the war waging in your head. “C’mon, señorita. You could die tomorrow,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t you wanna suck dick one last time? I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

Your jaw clenched. "That's your argument? That I should suck your dick because I might die?"

He smirked. "Did it work?"

Your eyes flickered down-just for a second— and he fucking caught it. His smirk widened, full of arrogance and something darker, more dangerous.

Your stomach clenched. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, but the way his dark, hungry eyes raked over you had you frozen in place.

He rose to his feet, his arousal mere inches from your face.

“Come on,” he murmured, his tone low, coaxing. “Be a good girl and help me out.”

“What if someone walks in?” You whispered.

And he smirked because he knew he had you. He was about to get his dick sucked in a godforsaken hellhole like this. Now that was fucking rizz.

“Who gives a shit?” Thanos drawled, eyes hooded, lips curling at the corners.

“I do!” you snapped, glaring up at him. “Just because I might die tomorrow doesn’t mean I’m throwing all my self-respect out the window.”

Thanos snorted, seizing your wrists and yanking you to your feet. His pants hit the floor in the middle of the grimy bathroom, forgotten, before he dragged you into a stall and slammed the lock into place.

“Better?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement.

You huffed, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge the heat curling in your stomach.

He grinned. “Get on your knees. Kneel for your king, Thanos.”

“Call yourself ‘King Thanos’ again and I’ll fucking break your dick,” you shot back.

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming. “Kinky,” he murmured. “I like it, señorita.”

You rolled your eyes—but the sound that left your lips when he pushed you down was anything but annoyed. A sharp inhale, a gasp, thighs clenching as you landed on your knees before him.

You shouldn't be doing this. You weren't the kind of girl who got on her knees for men like him—cocky, reckless, insufferable. But here you were, on the ground, staring at the problem he so desperately wanted you to fix.

"Atta girl," Thanos murmured, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Knew you'd make the right choice."

You glared up at him. "I didn't say I was gonna do anything."

His smirk didn't waver. "No?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. "Then why are you still here, Doc?"

Fuck. You had no answer for that.

His free hand trailed down his stomach, lazily pumping himself as he watched you. "C'mon, baby," he coaxed. "Open that pretty mouth. I bet you'll look real good with my cock in it."

A low heat curled in your stomach, shameful but undeniable. You should slap him. Call him a pig. Storm out.

Instead, you exhaled shakily, glaring up at him even as your fingers reached for the base of his cock.

His breath hitched at the first touch.

"Good girl," he murmured, watching you through heavy lids. "Now suck."

You parted your lips, let your tongue flick over the tip, teasing. His groan echoed in the empty bathroom.

And then you took him into your mouth.

His head fell back against the stall door with a dull thud, a low groan slipping from his lips as your mouth closed around him. His fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, not forcing—just holding, like he couldn’t believe you were actually doing this.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick with pleasure. “Knew you had it in you, Doc.”

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, and he hissed, his grip tightening just slightly. His thighs tensed beneath your hands, the muscles flexing as he fought to keep still. You could feel his restraint, the way he wanted to fuck into your mouth but was holding back.

“You’re good at this,” he rasped, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Too good. You been practicing, baby?”

You glared up at him, but the effect was lost when he groaned again, rolling his hips just enough for the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered slightly, but you took it, nails digging into his thighs as you relaxed your jaw, letting him have it.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough, breathless. “Taking me so fucking good. Knew that mouth wasn’t just for talking back.”

Heat pooled low in your stomach at his words, at the way his voice had taken on a desperate edge, strained and wrecked. You felt powerful like this, with him falling apart because of you.

His breathing turned ragged, his thighs trembling. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice hoarse. “Gonna come down that pretty throat.”

You moaned around him, giving him permission. That was all it took.

With a strangled groan, he spilled into your mouth, his entire body shuddering as he came. You swallowed every drop, sucking him through it, milking him until he was cursing under his breath, his body twitching from overstimulation.

When you finally pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he looked down at you with lidded eyes, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

“Fuck,” he breathed, smirking. “Guess you’re not as much of a good girl as I thought.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself to your feet. “Don’t get used to it.”

He caught your wrist before you could step away, pulling you close, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Oh, I will,” he murmured. “You’re mine now, Doc.”

[911lonestar911imagines]

Drunken night - Eddie Diaz x Reader Smut

Summary: After a drunken night it leads to multiple one night stands with Edmundo Diaz, after he goes on a date you both realize what really matters

warnings: PURE FILTH THIS IS DIRRRRRRTY SMUT

The first time you and Eddie Diaz ended up in bed together was truly a drunken mistake, you were Evan's twin and at first if Eddie was sober, he would've never even looked in your direction, but after that one night, you became like his drug, he'd purposely come over to your and your brothers apartment to 'help' with things, which would always in end with you two having sex somewhere in your apartment.

Tonight you were sure your guys' fun was ending, Eddie was on a date his Tia had set up for him, and you were lucky enough to be a babysitter for Chris. Unknown to you, Eddie wasn't planning on dating anybody except for y/n Buckley, and his plan to have you as a sitter? an excuse to have you over. As you laid on the couch staring at the ceiling, Chris being asleep for at least the last two hours, since Eddie left. As you felt yourself start to zone out, you jumped up, ready to swing the bat that was tucked under your crush's couch for safety. "You're gonna beat a man who's coming home?" Eddie gasped playfully, walking closer to the couch, frowning as you rolled your eyes plopping back down resuming your staring contest with the ceiling tiles.

"Hey, Amor..." He whispered teasingly leaning closer to you over the back of the couch "What's troubling you?" Eddie finally asked sitting down next to your legs. "How'd your date go?" You asked, not meaning to sound so cold towards him, but you cringed at the thought of another woman grabbing Eddie like you did. Eddie laughed softly resting a hand on your thigh slowly moving to hover over you, so you weren't able to avoid eye contact. Moving his arm to hold himself up from the arm rest, and using his other hand to hold your jaw straight to look at him. "You wanna know how it went, amor?" He whispered raising his eyebrows "We went to dinner, and the entire time I sat in that chair, I thought about how badly I wanted to get home to you" He whispered kissing down your neck making your entire body shudder in excitement "These last couple of weeks, mi amor" He continued, not stopping his trail of kisses towards the neckline of your shirt, which was actually his. "All I could think about was you. Wanting you here, I can see you everytime I got home, not sneaking around" He whispered before kissing you deeply, you could feel a knot forming in your stomach as he bit your bottom lip, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he let his free hand roam your body, taking in every inch.

Eddie took you by surprise as he easily lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you towards his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours "I love you" He whispered against your lips before dropping you onto his mattress, your legs still linked around his waist "I love you too" You whispered back, grabbing the sides of his jacket pulling him closer, taking your turn to kiss his jawline slowly "I've missed my Edmundo" You whispered tracing your hands up and down his chest as you left hickeys down his neck, smirking as you felt his manly demeanor falter, his knees buckling under him "Fuck, mi amor" He grunted grabbing the back of your neck, hovering over you again as he kissed you deeply, grinding against you. You bit down on his bottom lip trying to muffle your moan the best you could "E-Eddi-" You were cut off by him pulling away making intense eye contact with you, you felt nervous under his gaze, he looked almost dangerous.

"I've got you, mi princesa" He whispered softly, before pulling his shirt off of you, kissing down your chest, growling against your skin as you tightened your legs around him, grinding against the obvious bulge in his jeans. Grunting, Eddie undid his belt, tossing it to the side as he shoved his jeans down, stroking himself a few times, as he watched you squirm impatiently "te tengo princesa" He whispered as he pulled off your night pants, followed by your underwear. Eddie bit his lip hard, he couldn't help it, the way you looked so desperate laying on his bed, under him because you were his woman, and somehow you managed to make desperate look knee buckling hot.

You growled, growing impatient with him, you pulled him closer, squealing quietly as he pushed into you, you could feel yourself screeching around his size. "Lord help me" He panted as he leaned on his elbows, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss his chest softly, leaving deep hickeys where you could. Eddie panted leaning his head down to look at you before starting to thrust his hips, you gasped digging your nails into his back, that just fueled him more, almost fucking you so hard the bedpost would occasionally hit the wall. "Fucking hell, Eddie, what's gotten into you?" You panted between moans, you guys had fucked, but he was never like this "You. All I fucking think about is you, anywhere I look. You've fucking ruined me" He panted as his thrusts never faulted, you were so worked up, you could barely hear him, moaning into his hand as he kept it there to keep you quiet. "I can't think of anything without remembering how you sounded cumming for me for the first time" He whispered in your ear, you whined loudly trying to pull him closer to you, wanting to feel him deeper, faster, harder.

"What, mi amor? Is this not enough?" He asked teasingly, resting his hands on your hips, turning you onto your hands and knees before fucking you again, this time at alot faster pace. "H-Harder, please Eddie" You begged tugging his hair, this triggered something in Eddie, his thrusts became a lot rougher, but never slowing in speed. You felt like you were going to explode, only being able to repeat Eddie's name like it was a prayer. You could feel Eddie's hip stutter for a moment, his knuckles tightening as his hold on the sheets and your wrists as you felt him cum, feeling the warmth flow inside of you. You moaned his name loudly as his thrusts returned back to his original speed, your legs quickly closed around his waist, you entire body shaking as an orgasm ripped through you. Eddie grunted, releasing your wrists as he kissed you deeply "That's it, baby, you can do it" He whispered against your lips, you whined loudly, overstimulated your legs tried to close to give yourself a break, but Eddie wasn't stopping, you two had an agreement, tap out (Saying stop, no more, etc) or knock out (Fuck till you can't take it anymore).

He lifted you back into his arms, letting you lean against his bedroom wall as he continued sliding in and out of you, watching as you threw your head back against the wall "Fuck, you look so fucking hot taking all of me like that, baby" He panted holding your throat gently, just tight enough to apply pressure "E-Eddie! I-I can't-" You stuttered pushing your hand between the both of you, your legs were shaking so bad from overstimulation, you didn't think you'd ever walk again, the knot in your stomach was almost painful, but Eddie's dick continued to brush against your cervix walls, you could feel his cum start to smear against your inner thighs. "Yes you can, you're my girl, you can take it, you know your words" Eddie grunted, bottoming out inside of you before rolling his hips, you dug your nails into his back again, your body shaking and spasming as your 3rd orgasm ripped through you almost painfully, but honestly? the pain just made you twice as wet.

You bit your lip, tears brimming your eyes from overstimulation as Eddie slowed his thrusts, but didn't quite stop "Fuck I'm almost there Mi amor, please baby" He begged, you could tell by his face he wanted to cum bad, so you slowly pulled him out of you, much to his disliking "Please, please baby, just need to cum, please baby" He begged, basically on his knees, taking to opportunity to lick a bold strip right across your clit, you almost fell to the floor as you moaned loudly "get up" you demanded, Eddie slowly stood to his feet as you slowly sat on your knees "you dont- Oh!" Eddie moaned out in shock as you immediately took his cock down your throat, his hand found it's way to the back of your head, guiding your head up and down as you swallowed around him. It wasn't long before you felt the warm substance starting to run down your throat. Looking up Eddie was laid flat on the bed, you could see his chest rising and falling rapidly as he attempted to catch his breath, as you slowly and shakily stood up, Eddie's hand was quick to gently tug you down onto the bed with him, pulling you close to his bare chest.

"You really love me?.." You asked after a moment, breaking the comforting sounds of Eddie's humming, his hand still running through your hair, trying to get any tangles out "I do, mi amor, more than anything in this world, other than my son, nobody can top him" Eddie whispered before chuckling "I really love you then too..and agreed, I love Christopher more too, he's a great kid" You smiled, resting your hand over the tattoo the wrapped around his forearm. "I'm really glad we got drunk that night.." He whispered pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you leaned closer into his touch as he continued humming quietly, Eddie adored you, no matter how messy your hair, or rough you look, he could never find a flaw, you were perfect in his eyes in every possible way.

Now only thing left is to find a way to tell your brother and Eddie's best friend.

[eliaah]

you're drunk !

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, & william vangeance

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i'm back with the scenarios ! sorry if it's been awhile, i'm just really busy with school and all

🍂 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The cool night air wrapped around you as you stumbled along the path, still feeling the warmth of the drinks you had with Yami back at the tavern. The night had been filled with loud laughter and challenges from overly confident patrons that Yami either shrugged off or jokingly threatened to handle with his sword.

Yami walked beside you, hands shoved casually into his pockets, his steps as steady as ever despite the amount of beer he’d downed. He glanced at you, clearly entertained by your struggle to walk in a straight line. “You’re wobbling like a newborn deer.” he teased, his smirk growing wider.

You shot him a glare, though you knew it lacked any real bite. “I’m not wobbling.” you insisted stubbornly, your voice slurring just a little. “I could walk a straight line if I wanted to.”

Yami raised an eyebrow, his grin daring you. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this far too much.

With an overly determined look, you tried to step forward, concentrating so hard that your tongue peeked out between your lips. But despite your best effort, your feet betrayed you, and you tripped. Yami quickly caught you, pulling you upright and steadying you against his chest.

“Yeah, real convincing.” he chuckled, keeping his strong arm around your waist. “Remind me to never let you talk yourself into a drinking contest again. You’d end up starting a bar brawl and lose.”

You scowled up at him, though you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at your own clumsiness. “I don’t need your help, Captain.” you grumbled, but you made no effort to move out of his hold. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

His smirk grew more teasing. “Sure, Miss Independent.” he said, leaning in closer. “You’re strong as hell, but right now, you’re about as coordinated as a fish out of water. Admit it.”

“Never.” you shot back. But your pride softened, and you couldn’t hold back a smile. You let yourself rest in his embrace, at least for now.

Yami seemed pleased, but he wasn’t done teasing you yet. His eyes glinted with amusement as he added, “You know, you’re lucky I’m here to catch you when you do something reckless. Otherwise, I’d be scraping you off the pavement.”

You gasped, playfully swatting at his chest. “You’re the worst!” you exclaimed, though a grin spread across your face. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Yami shrugged, his smirk never fading. “Probably because I’m devastatingly handsome.” he said, then leaned in close, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. “And because you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat. “Arrogant as ever.” you shot back, though the affection in your voice was undeniable. “One day, that ego of yours is going to be your downfall.”

“Maybe,” he replied, squeezing you a little tighter as the two of you continued down the road. “But at least I’ll have you to catch me when I fall, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you big idiot. Just don’t make me regret it.”

Yami let out a soft chuckle, and for a moment, the silliness fell away, replaced by a genuine warmth that lingered between you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” he said, his voice unusually gentle before he quickly added, “Now hurry up. I don’t feel like carrying your drunk ass home if you pass out on me.”

You burst out laughing, nudging him playfully as the two of you continued down the path. The night felt perfect, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy leaning into his warmth, knowing that your silly, playful love would always make you feel this light.

🍂 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The mission had been a resounding success, but the celebration that followed had clearly taken its toll on you. Fuegoleon had joined the squad in raising a glass—or several—to the victory, but unlike you, he’d known when to stop. You, on the other hand, had indulged a little too freely in the wine.

Now, you found yourself lying on your bed, your limbs feeling heavy, and your head buzzing in that telltale way that meant you’d had far too much to drink. Fuegoleon sat on the edge of the bed, carefully removing your boots as you mumbled incoherent protests.

“You don’t have to do that.” you slurred weakly, though your attempt at resistance was half-hearted at best.

“And yet here I am.” Fuegoleon replied calmly, his voice laced with patience as he set your boots aside. “It seems tonight I have the honor of looking after you, my love.”

You blinked up at him, a hazy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re too good to me.” you murmured, the warmth of the wine in your system amplifying your emotions. “I don’t deserve you.”

Fuegoleon chuckled softly, reaching for a damp cloth. “If that’s true, then what does that say about me? I’m the one who chooses to stay by your side.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment before you peeked at him again. “Probably that you’re too noble for your own good.”

“Or perhaps,” he countered, his voice quieter now, “I simply know a treasure when I see one.”

The words made your cheeks heat, and you let out a shy laugh. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” you said teasingly, though your voice cracked ever so slightly.

Fuegoleon smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before running the damp cloth over your hands. “No tears tonight, sweetheart. Only rest.”

You watched him in silence for a moment, taking in the way his purple eyes glowed softly in the lamplight, his every movement deliberate and tender. “You’re really handsome, you know that?” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Fuegoleon paused, glancing down at you with a look of amused surprise. “Am I now?”

You nodded with conviction, your voice growing dreamier. “Mm-hmm. Handsome and kind and strong and... warm. You’re everything, Fuegoleon.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks, but his smile didn’t waver as he set the cloth aside. “You’ve had too much to drink, my love.” he said softly, leaning in closer. “But I’ll take your words to heart.”

“I mean it.” you insisted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re amazing. And I love you.”

He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you too.” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “Now rest. You���ve earned it.”

You hummed in contentment, your eyes fluttering closed as sleep began to claim you.

Fuegoleon stayed by your side, his hand resting lightly over yours as he watched you drift into peaceful slumber. Even as the night stretched on, he remained there, his heart full and his resolve unshaken. For all your stubbornness and mischief, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

🍂 NOZEL SILVA

The night had gone exactly as Nozel predicted—messy. You’d gone out to celebrate your friend’s birthday, promising him you wouldn’t overdo it. Yet here you were, kneeling on the bathroom floor, your stomach emptying every last drop of the party’s "fun."

Nozel stood behind you, his hand carefully holding your hair back, the other steadying you with a light touch on your shoulder. His usual pristine demeanor was intact, save for the slight furrow in his brow and his sleeves rolled up—a rare sight that might’ve made you laugh if you weren’t currently miserable.

“I should’ve known.” he muttered, his voice calm but tinged with irritation. “Letting you go to a party unsupervised was clearly a mistake.”

You groaned, wiping your mouth weakly. “It was... one night. I don’t always do this.”

“Precisely why you don’t handle it well.” he replied, offering you a glass of water. “Drink. Slowly.”

You took the glass, sipping carefully before giving him a half-hearted grin. “Look at you, Sir High and Mighty, tending to a lowly drunk like me. Isn’t this beneath you, Captain Silva?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grip on your hair steady. “It’s certainly testing my patience.”

You laughed weakly, leaning against the wall. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this just a little. You love me too much to leave me here.”

He let out a sharp sigh, though his hand on your back moved in slow, soothing circles. “Loving you doesn’t mean I enjoy watching you throw up.”

You cooed, turning to look up at him with a tired smile. “You said you love me. That’s rare. Must be the alcohol working its magic.”

“Don’t push your luck.” he replied, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Now stop talking nonsense and rest.”

“But you’re so handsome when you’re annoyed.” you teased, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch as he helped you shift into a more comfortable position. “It’s like... brooding prince energy.”

“Foolish woman.” he muttered, shaking his head, though his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You'll live.” you murmured, your voice softening as sleep started to creep in. “You’d miss me too much if I wasn’t around to drive you crazy.”

Nozel paused, his amber eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Perhaps.” he admitted, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “Now sleep, before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

You gave a small laugh, your head lolling to the side as exhaustion overtook you. “No regrets... just you.”

As your breathing evened out, Nozel sighed, his hand lingering on your back for a moment longer before he stood. He quietly adjusted the blanket draped over you, his usual sharpness replaced by a rare tenderness.

“Rest well, my love.” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ll be here.”

🍂 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

It had been one of those days where everything felt overwhelmingly boring. After a mission, everyone had dispersed to rest, and you found yourself wandering the halls, feeling antsy. The idea of a drink crossed your mind—just to pass the time and try something new. You'd never really been interested in alcohol, but today, curiosity got the better of you.

You found an unopened bottle of something fruity-looking in the pantry, poured yourself a small glass, and took a sip. It wasn’t bad. A little sweet, a little tangy. You went back for another, and before long, you’d emptied half the bottle. You could feel it starting to settle in—everything was a bit fuzzy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

After a while, the alcohol made you feel a little too good, a little too brave. You thought about how lovely it would be to visit William. You had to tell him something important, after all.

You made your way to his office, swaying slightly as you walked, still feeling the warmth spread through you. When you entered, William looked up from his desk, and for a moment, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern.

"Y/N?" he asked, standing up immediately, his brow furrowed in worry. "What’s wrong?"

You smiled up at him, feeling unusually lighthearted. Without thinking, you dropped to one knee in front of him. “William Vangeance.” you said dramatically, though your voice was slightly slurred. “Will you marry me?”

William froze, his eyes widening, clearly taken aback. "Y/N, what are you—" His voice softened as he rushed over, kneeling in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You giggled, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “I’m not drunk, I just… really love you.” you said, trying to focus on him. “You’re kind and smart and… and perfect. How could I not want to marry you?”

William’s expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached out and gently cupped your face, his touch tender. “My love,” he said softly, “You’re a little tipsy right now, aren’t you?”

You nodded, still smiling up at him, completely at ease. “Maybe. But it’s still true.” you said, your voice warm with affection. “You’re everything to me, William. I’m lucky to know you.”

He chuckled lightly, the worry in his eyes replaced by something softer. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk.” he murmured, his voice fond as he helped you sit back down on the floor. “But I think we should get you comfortable. You’re not thinking straight.”

You pouted, but it was more playful than anything. “I am thinking straight.” you said, leaning into his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, helping you to the couch. “I’m just being honest.”

William's arms wrapped around you more securely as he guided you onto the couch. He sat beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His voice was calm, but affectionate. “You’ve always been honest with me, even when you're sober. But I think tonight, we’ll keep the marriage talk for another day.”

You relaxed into his embrace, still feeling giddy and safe in his arms. “But one day, though.” you murmured, your eyes fluttering a little. “Promise me we’ll talk about it when I’m not… all wobbly.”

William smiled softly, his heart full of affection for you. “I promise.” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But for now, just rest. You’ve had a long day, my love.”

You hummed, leaning into his warmth, the world around you beginning to fade into the comfort of his arms. “You’re so sweet, William. I’m glad you’re here.”

He held you close, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m always here for you, Y/N. Always.”

You sighed contentedly, letting the last of your energy slip away as you drifted off in his embrace.

[devotedfem]

«Charlie Y/n and the chocolate factory»

Synopsis: You were broke and lost, but a golden ticket changed your life. You won a trip to Seokjin's candy factory with other 4 contestants. But the tall charming man hid very dark secrets inside his company.

K. Seokjin x f. Reader

5.3K words.

Genre: Charlie and the chocolate factory au | yander-ish.

Tags: inspired by Charlie and the chocolate factory by Tim burton, obsessive behavior, mystery, weird and whimsy Seokjin (just like Wonka from the movie), murder, character death (not reader or Seokjin), hints of cannibalism (nothing explicit), weird things happening in the factory, plot with porn, extremely dubious consent, reader doesn't want Seokjin's attention, captivity, smut, very bad ending for reader, good ending for Seokjin, a tiny bit of angst, so much mystery.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

It was freezing out there, you sighed blowing cold air, rubbing your palms to ease the ugly cold that was getting into your bones. 

The little old house of your grandpa came into view, you rush into it, dying to sit in front of the hearth.

“Grandpa I’m home!” You say kicking your boots away, removing your big scarf and coat.

The temperature of the house wasn’t too different from outside, but at least your sweet grandpa was sitting comfortably in front of the fire, wrapped in many fluffy blankets. Your heart ache at the sight, you didn’t have enough money to install a heater. Your parents died when you were 12, and your grandpa took care of you since then, but he couldn’t do it anymore because of his illness, leaving him unemployed, so since you were 16 you had to work many jobs to support yourself and your grandparent. He was with you at your worst, so you will stay with him at his worst too. You own him a lot.

“Hi there,” you said softly, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Oh! My sweet pea! I didn’t hear ya’ coming, how was work, my child?” He said putting on his cute glasses with his clumsy hands, his eyes looked even more bigger now.

You smiled softly at him.

“ ‘Was pretty good as always. Tell me what did you do today? Read another good book?” You asked trying to divert the conversation, you didn’t want to talk about your shitty job.

It worked, because your grandpa smiled big and sweet, with stars shinning in his eyes.

“Even better, I listened to the radio, and guess what?” He asked like an excited toddler, you couldn’t help the endear smile from breaking on your face.

“What?”

“Seokjin gave a speech on the radio after being gone for 10 years! He will reopen his chocolate factory, but that’s not the best part!”

You frowned a little, that man closed his factory before your parents died. Your grandpa always told you that he met him once, but at this point you don’t know if you should trust your grandpa’s clarity and blurred memory.

“What would be his reason to appear again out of nowhere,” you said more to yourself, wondering about the mysterious man’s intention.

Your grandpa just shrugged at your words.

“Who knows… he has this mysterious and whimsy aura that surrounds him,” he said with admiration in his eyes, making you smile. “Anyway, as I was saying, the best part it’s that he hid five golden tickets inside five candy bars, they may be anywhere, in any shop. The point is, that those lucky five will visit Seokjin’s factory, and one of them will receive a special prize!”

You hummed at his words, imagining finding a golden ticket to give it to your grandpa, fulfilling his dream of visiting Seokjin’s factory, his literally idol.

But the corner of your lips curled down at your thoughts, you shouldn’t fantasize about that stuff, you’re not that lucky, and the probability of finding it is very low. You have to be realistic, you don’t even buy candy.

But… watching your dear grandpa’s eyes shining with hope at the thought of finding a golden ticket squeeze your heart.

You’d do anything in the world to make him happy, that’s why you’re walking towards the shop in the middle of the night, freezing your ass and ready to spend your last 5$ dollars.

The nearest store was full of people, as you expected. There was a queue of 30 people inside, all of them were buying candy bars, some even had shopping carts full of candys to the top. You were impressed, you didn’t know Seokjin’s factory was so adored.

You grabbed only one candy bar because you couldn’t afford to buy more. You felt a pang of sadness when you compared yourself to the others, your chances of getting the golden ticket were very low, and you knew that fact when you chose to test your luck, but the pill was still hard to swallow.

You paid the candy bar, and watched the snow outside of the store, so you stayed there two minutes more, using the heater of the store to warm your body.

But then, curiosity won over you, so you started to open the candy wrapper. You just needed to know, you’ll wrapped the candy again later.

And then your world stopped.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out with your hands trembling, blinking hard to make sure that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks.

It just can’t be true, the possibility, the chances were ridiculously low, but there it was.

A golden ticket. A fucking golden ticket.

“Oh my god you got it! She got it! Please resell it to me! I’ll give you anything, I can give you 3.000$ dollars right now!” A desperate woman grabbed one of your shoulders, with wide eyes fixated on the ticket in your hands.

You inhaled sharp at her words. Your heart beat went wild.

You needed the money, desperately. 3.000$ dollars would help you and your grandpa a lot. You can even raise the price taking advantage of the woman desperation.

But you just couldn’t. This was your grandparent dream, and you know deep down that this big opportunity it’s way more valuable than a few thousands of dollars, so you kept the candy bar and the ticket in your pocket and walked out of the store, almost running and looking back to make sure that no one was following you. You knew that you were extremely lucky by having the ticket, so you won’t take any risk on losing it.

“I got it!” You screamed at the top of your lungs when you got into your home, waking up your grandpa.

That night his eyes shined brighter than the fucking stars, you two were so lucky.

You just hope that everything keeps going this well. You really do.

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There was 6 of you standing in front of Seokjin’s factory, you were the only one who brought company. Your grandpa was as excited as a child eating a candy bar.

The other “participants” were a little bit intimidating, there was a young boy with bunny eyes and bulky body, he looked like a biker. Then there was this one who looked too posh and rich to be here, and right next to him was a blonde and cute boy chewing a gun. And the last man was pale and short, he seemed pretty quiet.

You were the only woman, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You didn’t have any money, any talent or a prestigious name, so you felt a little bit insecure standing there, like a fish out of water.

Big heavy metal doors suddenly open making you startle, revealing a set of mechanical and robotic puppets resembling people, performing a musical. It looked very creepy, and all of you looked at each other with frowns.

“Seokjin! The amazing chocolatier!” They sang in unison with their uncanny faces.

But then the robots malfunction, sparkling and running down of battery.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

“He was way more dramatic back then. This looks a little bit sluggish for him.” Said your grandpa.

Your attention was brought back to the entrance when a man came out of it.

He was very tall, with wide shoulders, wearing a long red coat and a black hat hiding his gaze. He then took off his hat to smile at you all. Your breath stopped at the sight, he was gorgeous and he looked pretty young too. He seemed to be in his late thirties, you expected him to be older to be honest.

His dark eyes inspected all of you, until his gaze fell upon you, watching you for a long couple of seconds. Recognition flashed his face when he saw your grandparent at your side.

You couldn’t believe that your grandpa really met this guy.

“Hello there, my golden winners.” He said with a smirk on his face.

“Who’s this freak?” Asked the posh guy with a grimace.

“He’s Seokjin!” Said your grandpa excited. All of the other participants turned their attention towards the both of you, like they just had realized that you two exist at all.

“I thought you’d be older, no offense, this factory it’s pretty old.” You speak up for the first time since you entered the factory.

Seokjin’s dark eyes were on you immediately, watching you slowly from head to toe, and smiling to himself.

“I promise you, that my factory isn’t that old little one, neither I am.” He winked at you before returning his attention to the others.

“All right! let’s move on, shall we?” Cheered Seokjin putting his hat on and turning around to walk into the factory.

The others were quick to follow his steps, almost as if they were competing with each other for whoever’s gets to Seokjin’s side faster. You rolled your eyes at them, they acted like toddlers, you wonder how good the final prize must be to have these grown ass men behaving like kids fighting for candy.

“Mr. Seokjin, I should say my father is a big fan of yours. He owns the gas company of the town by the way. He even said to me that he would love to make business with you one day,” uttered the posh and fancy-looking boy with his chin up and chest out. He seemed to be the type of rich kid who thinks he can buy the world with daddy’s money.

Seokjin hummed at his words without slowing down his quick walk, almost as if he didn’t care at all by the boy words.

“Gas and chocolate have nothing in common, the kids don’t eat gas and the cars don’t fuel on chocolate.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his silly response, making everyone else chuckle along with you. The guy blinked taken aback by Seokjin’s response, not expecting him to reject his proposal so dumbly.

Seokjin looked back at you over his shoulder, giving you an enigmatic smirk with his hat hidden his dark gaze. You felt shivers at his attention, but it was gone when he returned to look straight ahead.

“Hey dude, don’t take that creep seriously, I mean he treat us like kids. He’s so weird,” muttered lowly the blonde boy chewing a gun beside the rich one.

The posh guy crossed his arms with a frown, with his steady eyes sending daggers to Seokjin’s back.

“You’re right. He’s literally broke and he dares to reject my proposal,” spat him with disgust, looking to the other boy head to toe, giving him a smile that looked all too fake, “I’m Taehyung, you are…?”

“Jimin,” smiled the blondie blowing his bubblegum.

“Let’s be friends then.”

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Your eyes were widened and your mouth parted, your grandpa expression wasn’t better. Seokjin brought you to his chocolate room, a huge place with literally a river and a waterfall of melted chocolate, there was a vibrant green grass on your feet, everything looked so colorful and bright that it has all of you entrance, well except for the raven-haired boy with cat eyes, he seemed disgusted.

“Now now, don’t drool over the sight my dear participants. I know this place looks otherworldly, but I need you all to be careful.” He warned standing tall and clasping his arms behind his body.

“This looks pretty unsanitary,” the cat-eye boy sneered with disgust, pursing his lips at the sight of the river.

“Oh, you must be Yoongi. The little devil that hacked my system to win the ticket, don’t worry though, I hold no grudge, boy.” Sneered Seokjin back, you can imagine the mirth in his hidden gaze.

“I’m 29, not a fucking boy. And I’m not “little” anything, your system was just shitty,” said Yoongi with his jaw clenched.

Seokjin’s smirk only widened.

“Forgive me Yoongi, your height confused me a little, it was a little mishap perhaps, I hope you forgive me a little, little Yoongi.”

You bit your tongue to not laugh at Seokjin’s childish and dumb remark. He did hit a nerve though, by the way Yoongi widened his eyes in disbelief with his fists clenched, his cat-eyes were narrowed, and if looks can kill Seokjin would be buried 9 feet underground.

“He’s so cringe, oh my god,” mumbled the biker boy, walking away to get near the river of chocolate, with everyone else following him.

“I think this place is beautiful,” you said to Seokjin, watching your surrounds with awe, standing right next to him.

You felt his piercing gaze fixated on you.

“It is indeed, and besides its beauty, everything here it’s eatable.” He said the last word lowly, making you shiver at his odd change of tone.

“Everything? Even the grass?” You asked impressed.

He chuckled, looking down at you with half of his face hidden by the hat.

“Even the grass, even you.”

You blinked and frowned at his words, he must be joking, right?

“Right… I think you’re funny, sometimes…” you mumbled averting your gaze towards your happy grandpa eating a candy apple.

Seokjin hummed, saying nothing for a long minute.

“Be careful pretty girl, everything inside my factory belongs to me. Everything here I can eat.” Those words horrified you, making you freeze in your place. You watched Seokjin walking away towards the river and the biker boy who was devouring the chocolate with his bare hands.

You watched in slow motion how the boy slipped from the edge falling right into the river of chocolate, and you saw how Seokjin did nothing to help the boy from falling, almost as if he was expecting it to happen.

“He fell into the river! Someone help him!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, alerting the others. You ran to the edge of the river, realizing with dread that the boy was nowhere to be seen. The melted chocolate was motionless, as if he never fell into it.

Everyone rushed to the edge, calling for the boy and sinking their arms into the melt chocolate to grab him but there was no body on the surface.

You felt your pulse quickening with alarm. Your hands trembled and sweat; you couldn’t believe what had just happened. A boy drowned in front of you, probably dead at this point, and you did nothing to save him. Seokjin did nothing help him.

“You didn’t help him!” You shouted at Seokjin, making everyone else went silent. Watching you two with surprise, your grandpa frowned with concern.

Seokjin arched a brow, looking down at you with dark eyes, and then his lips curled in a spiteful half-smile.

“You didn’t help him either, in fact you just stand over there watching him fall. I told him to be careful, I couldn’t risk myself to help him because it would’ve been useless, this river is dangerous. My employees will call the police. Follow me.”

He simply said turning around and pointing forward for the others to follow him, and for your horror they just walked away as if nothing happened, as if there wasn’t a corpse swinging into the depths of the river.

You stand there in shock, your eyes widened and your fists clenched with fury and frustration. You were speechless, and you regret not talking back to Seokjin, not telling the others that you were further than him and that’s why you didn’t react quickly enough to help the boy. But the words were dead on your tongue, it was pointless to argue with Seokjin. The boy was dead anyway, and no one cares.

“I didn’t know he was this cruel, it’s like he got ice in his veins. He wasn’t like that back then, maybe we should go home my sweet pea. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Your grandpa was staring at you with worry written on his face.

You smiled at him, trying not to show your bitterness and fear.

“Don’t worry about me grandpa, let’s stick together and be careful. I want proves to charge him to the police, I know he’s hidden something,” you muttered the last words to yourself.

“All right then, but if it gets too dangerous, we go, okay?”

“Okay,” you promised softly.

You won’t let that freak go unpunished.

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Seokjin made you climb on a boat on the chocolate river, and you felt sick to your stomach when you think about the boy’s corpse in the bottom of the river. It was just so cruel, but you stayed quiet, watching your surrounds to catch anything suspicious, you’re absorbing any kind of information to give it to the police.

The boat sails off towards a tunnel in full speed.

“Where the fuck are we going?” Said the posh guy whose name was Taehyung, looking around with scared eyes.

“If I am honest with you, I have no idea where this boat will lead us,” said calmly Seokjin, sitting with his legs crossed. You wanted to murder him.

“What!?” Screamed the blondie, almost spatting his gum. He was trying to win a Guinness record of the person who chews a gum longer.

“I’m joking, I’m not that crazy. Jeez.” Seokjin muttered, explaining a couple of rooms that were in the tunnel.

This place was literally otherworldly, you didn’t know a factory can hide all this dreamy and extravagant rooms. Seokjin can be a psycho and a weirdo, but he was pretty artsy and creative for building a place like this.

You were in entrance by all the wonders you saw, until you stopped in front of a room with machines, it seems that here is where the candys are made. He was explaining all the whimsy ways he creates candy, until he stopped in front of a big gum machine.

“There is something new I created, an everlasting gum, for the kids who had little money to buy candy. Isn’t it wonderful?” Seokjin’s voice was full of pride, standing tall in front of his machine.

“I feel like I’m in a fairy tale, nothing here feels real.” You say to no one.

“I second that,” said the cat-eyed boy.

The machine let out a violet gum, and the blondie’s eyes shine at the sight.

“I need to taste it, you can charge me the candy later.” Said the blonde whose name was Jimin, chewing the new gum without spiting the other he had.

Seokjin’s lips curled down with annoyance.

“I didn’t say you can chew that, is still a work in progress. I don’t know about its side effects.”

That was a warning, and you knew all to well what would happen next.

Jimin’s face turned blue, literally blue. He started to cough violently, your grandpa gave him strong pats on his back, but it was useless.

You watch with relieve when Yoongi stands behind Jimin placing both of his hands on Jimin’s belly, pulling inward and upward to force air out of Jimin’s lungs. And the blonde did spat the gums, but he fainted anyway. Everyone gasped with worry, and for everyone’s horror the boy’s pulse was absent.

Did he really die? Just like that?

“My employees will call the ambulance, he will be fine. Let’s move on.”

Your lips were parted in shock at his response, you watched freeze from your spot how strangers came out of nowhere to take Jimin’s body away.

Yoongi and you stared at each other with fear.

Something was off. It wasn’t a coincidence what happened, it was a trap for Jimin, maybe the gum was poisoned? But he did warn Jimin about it… But he also did it too late though, he should’ve said something before.

There was a strong tension in the air around all of you. The silence was unbearable, and no one dared to break it.

You stared at Seokjin all the time, watching his every expression, analyzing his words and where he keeps his attention at. But you found nothing odd, yet.

You weren’t surprise when he brought you all to a room full of squirrels getting nuts off its shells. The others were distracted by the sight, especially Taehyung who said that squirrels were his favorite animal.

But your eyes were fixated on Seokjin’s back, something feels off again.

“I’ll have holes in my back by your stares, pretty girl. Though I’m not complaining, I kind of like your intense eyes on me.” Seokjin sneered turning around to face you. His gaze was as intense as yours.

“Really? It’s a shame that I’m only staring at you with disgust, but you must be used to people looking at you like the freak you are.” The words were vomited without your consent, you didn’t mean to blurt all of that. It wasn’t a smart move to insult him when you are in his factory, under his rules.

Seokjin didn’t say anything back, standing tall in front of you, not moving and not talking, making you uncomfortable by his heavy gaze. You did notice a sour expression flashing his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

He then, step slowly towards you, inches from your body. You felt him leaning his upper body closer to you, feeling his hot breath at the side of your head.

“I know you’re a smart girl, so I will warn you once; don’t ever insult me in my factory. If you know what I’m capable of, you wouldn’t stand here so brave offending me.” He whispered near you ear, making you shiver. He spoke those words lowly but firmly.

You blinked, leaning your head back to look at him. He met your gaze, with his eyes falling to your lips.

Is that desire what you see?

Does he think you’re dumb?

“What would you do to me? Drown me in chocolate?” You asked in a whisper, making Seokjin grin like a wolf.

“Perhaps I would, but your body won’t sink in the river but in my cock, opened sweetly for me. I told you everything here belongs to me, and if I say so, you won’t step a foot outside of this factory.”

Seokjin smile was predatory, and his words felt somehow possessive.

What were you all doing here? Does he eat people?

“Because you’ll kill me? And then eat me like Jungkook and Jimin?” You spat with anger.

Seokjin grabbed your waist to pull you closer to him, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes.

“Don’t tempt me, I would love to eat you. But not kill you, what use can have a rotten candy? The others were simply compost for my experiments, but you are my prize.” He said the last words near your lips, with his hot breath brushing your mouth.

You flinched away from him with disgust and fear. He was crazier than you think. You should’ve run away with your grandpa when he told you to do so, but you knew that Seokjin wouldn’t let you go that easy, all of you were dammed the moment you step a foot inside the factory.

Now you have to think how get the fuck away from here.

A scream from Taehyung pulled you away from your thoughts, you witnessed with horror how the squirrels throw him inside a deep hole in the room, with his screams echoing while he was falling. Until there was a crash noise, and then just deep silence.

Yoongi and your grandpa looked back at Seokjin with horror written on their faces.

“Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine.”

Everyone know it wasn’t the truth.

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The four of you were inside of an elevator made of glass going to god knows where. The silence was present again, lingering heavily, until Yoongi broke it with a deep frown.

“Why are there so many floors? That’s impossible.”

Seokjin snorted at him, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I think your little smart-ass didn’t expect this elevator to go sideways.” Seokjin remarked pressing a button, and as he said, the elevator went sideway to a cold room.

The room was huge and snow covered, your teeth chattered by the cold. You hugged yourself to feel a little bit of warmth, you looked at your grandpa with worry.

“Let me guess, here’s where you make ice-cream.” Said bitterly Yoongi. His nose was turning red.

“Touché.” Replied Seokjin with a grin.

You hate him.

“Why are we here? We’ll die of cold.” You said blowing cold air. You took off your sweater to put it on your grandpa, he needed it more than you.

“Don’t worry, there’s a door leading to another room. Follow me.” Said Seokjin walking away.

You walked through many rooms, each one weirder than the other. Those rooms have no purpose but to be weird and extravagant.

“Why are we fucking walking when we could use the elevator.” Groaned Yoongi with annoyance.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, feeling exhausted.

“Don’t be so grumpy, we’re closer to the end of the contest.”

Seokjin’s words made you shiver, you didn’t want to find out how will be the end or the final prize.

You stopped in front of door, when Seokjin opened it, you entered an empty lab with a television in the middle of the white room.

He made you wear lab coats, and told you to stand in front of the tv.

The screen showed a candy bar in a cave. You frowned, feeling lost of why were you there.

“Little boy, why don’t you grab the candy bar,” ordered Seokjin without taking his eyes off the screen.

Yoongi cursed under his breath, grabbing Seokjin’s coat with his fists. Yoongi might be two heads shorter than Seokjin, but he looked intimidating with those piercing cat eyes.

“Listen here you fucking candy freak, you better stop calling me short or I’ll go and call the police on you, and your weird murderous business. You choose.”

You inhaled sharp when you notice Seokjin’s gaze darkening. Yoongi was so stupid for that, you all were in danger, and he knew damn well.

“Yoongi stop,” you said, trying to save him from earning Seokjin’s wrath.

Your words knocked some sense into his head, because he let go of Seokjin’s coat as if it burned his hands, regret flashed his face. You can’t anger the psycho that has all of you trapped here.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” said Yoongi between teeth.

“It’s all right, no grudges, remember?” Said light-heartly Seokjin, but you knew better than to fall for his nice façade.

“Why are we in front of a tv?” Asked your grandpa, turning Seokjin’s attention back to the tv. You smiled sweetly at him.

“Well, I need one of you to grab the candy bar from the tv screen. Yoongi, would you do us the favor?”

Yoongi laughed, then sobered up when he realized that Seokjin was being serious.

“Uhm, okay I guess,” he said, expecting to crash his hand against the screen, but to your surprise his hand passed through the screen, actually grabbing and pulling the candy bar out of the tv.

All of you were shocked, not believing what just happened.

“Eat it, it’s yummy I promise,” smiled Seokjin, and Yoongi did as he said.

He finished eating, licking the wrapper.

“It was good.”

“Now, return the wrapper into the tv,” ordered Seokjin.

And again, Yoongi did as he said, except this time when he touched the screen he got electrocuted, with his eye balls turning white and his body stiffing by the electric shocks.

You screamed with horror at the top of your lungs, crying and begging Seokjin to stop whatever was happening.

And Seokjin did stop it, by simply turning the tv off.

You watched with tears Yoongi’s body falling to the floor, motionless, lifeless. You couldn’t believe you witnessed that atrocity.

“You’re a monster,” said your grandpa grabbing his chest.

You widened your eyes with worry.

“He needs to get out of here! It’s too much stress for him,” you said with a trembling and desperate voice, making Seokjin hum.

“All right, but in one condition; he can go only if you stay.”

Your grandpa shake his head, not willing to leave you here alone.

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a second, you’ll find a way to escape. Your priority now is your grandpa’s health.

“Fine. But I need to see him out of here safe and sound, I don’t trust you.”

“Deal,” grinned Seokjin, like the wolf he was.

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You watched with a heavy heart how Seokjin’s employees took your grandpa away from you, hearing him screaming your name, telling them with sobs “return me to my child! She can’t be alone with that monster”, but no one listened to him. You were standing next to Seokjin in the entrance, watching your grandpa’s body disappear out of the factory, away from you.

At least he was safe.

You though for a second about running away, maybe if you do it fast enough they won’t catch you. But Seokjin read your mind, pulling you inside the factory and locking the big doors with a set of keys, one you noticed in great detail.

But locking you inside didn’t mean you won’t try to run, and so you did. He followed you behind and you run as fast as possible, reaching the room with the chocolate river. You stand on the edge of the river, watching the boat lingering closer to you. You extended your arm to grab the border of the boat, but you slipped, falling straight into the river.

“Watch out!” Were the words you heard from Seokjin before sinking into the chocolate.

The world turned silent, and you feel yourself drowning in a dense immobilizing substance, making it impossible for you to move or swing to the surface.

That’s it, that’s how’ll you die, drowning in fucking chocolate. The most stupid fucking way of dying, but at least you won’t see Seokjin again.

And suddenly, you were on the surface, inhaling lungful’s of air. Seokjin pulled you out of the depths, carrying you to the edge.

You two were soaked in chocolate, lying on the “shore” of the river.

“I’ll chain you, for being so stupid. You have zero survival instincts.” He barked, breathing heavily.

You didn’t expect him to save you, that grossed you out.

You tried to get up but Seokjin didn’t let you, carrying you in his arms in bridal style. You were too weak and tired to protest.

He took you into a hidden room, locking again the door behind him. The way he locks every door makes you feel claustrophobic and trapped.

You shriek when he dropped you on a table, chaining your wrists and ankles to it. You struggle against the chains, but it was impossible to free yourself from them.

Seokjin stared down at you with hunger in his eyes, watching slowly your body sprawled on the table.

He took a knife, and you closed your eyes expecting him to kill you, but he did not. Cutting your clothes instead, tearing your clothes away and leaving you bare for him. Your cheeks heated and your heart beat went wild, you felt angry, exposed and afraid. It was too much.

Seokjin’s lips attached itself to the exposed skin of your belly, making you flinch but bearing it, because you have no choice. He kissed the skin, tasting the chocolate, licking and kissing the skin until your breasts, his tongue circled slowly around your nipples, and then they travel up to your neck.

He lapped your neck slowly, like a thirsty but restrain dog. His hot breath was labored against your neck, and his lips and tongue taste you like a sweet candy.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

And your eyes sting with tears, because you were enjoying it.

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