#Them telling him to kill that attitude before it kills him

[sleepystargaze]

On Caitlyn's 180: An Essay

This is all spoiler below. But I NEED to talk about it.

What if this is the exact moment Caitlyn puts everything together, including Vi being one of the children who burglarized Jayce's penthouse.

Hear me out.

So, Caitlyn asks Vi what she's doing there, and Vi says, "Trying to save my dad." She has this little "AHA!" moment.

(go look at the last panel of this gif set rn for more context)

That woman just had an epiphany. Furthermore, the way the music swells at this exact moment just feels like it's clueing in on more than meets the eyes.

She clearly realizes, at minimum, that her and Vi are here for the same thing: Warwick. And then doesn't even really question it. This got me to thinking, "but how she do that though?"

Well, she has all the information she needs to put it together, this is just the first time she's had a reason to pull that SPECIFIC information together.

Let's start with the fact that Caitlyn loves a mystery, and the rise of shimmer is a part of her favorite mystery.

Literally, in her giant bedroom, the only part of it that looks lived in is the big map at the foot of her bed. The show doesn't indicate when exactly this obsession started for Caitlyn, but it makes it clear that it's been on her mind for a very long time. Jayce called it "the great conspiracy," so she definitely talked about it a lot. And Jayce's flippant attitude tells us she's definitely been thinking about it since she was a teenager.

Educated guess, I believe this started with Sheriff Grayson's murder. (a) It would be unsurprising Caitlyn felt a great need to bring justice to the person that murdered someone she cared for. (b) It was a murder that would ultimately become a cold case. (c) Silco being the main conspirator to her murder, the trail would lead her to a larger conspiracy.

And from this scene above, we know that Vi is impressed with what Caitlyn was able to gather without ever going to the Undercity. Which means, we know her board was really close to the truth. Afterall, it did lead her to Vi, who single-handedly led her to the answers she sought.

So, why the hell does this matter in regards to Vi being involved in the burglary?

Caitlyn knows that Grayson's main priority at the time of her death was finding the culprits of the explosion.

Caitlyn's parents clearly involve her in the conversations revolving around the explosion at the penthouse. I don't feel it's a stretch to assume she also knew that the council were putting pressure on Grayson to solve the case.

The explosion of the warehouse happened on the same night as Grayson's murder. While I don't think Caitlyn had a way to really connect the 2 explosions except that they happen within days of each other, I doubt Caitlyn forgets this fact even if she does not connect them initially. 

Now you may being wondering why the heck that matters. What does the warehouse have anything to do with it?

Caitlyn was in the ruins of the destroyed warehouse at the end of season 1.

In which she heard this conversation.

Thing is, she was going through an extremely traumatic experience at the time... Then her mom was killed... So I doubt she realized it was the same place nor had the mental capabilities of processing the information. And by the time she did have the capacity to really consider it, she likely had no reason to...at least yet.

Regardless, she's here for this conversation. She now at least knows Vander's name and that he was important to them and that Silco murdered him here.

So, she has her connection here. If she realizes this was the location of the second explosion, she now knows that Grayson and Vander were murdered on the same night. And if she connects it to the penthouse explosion, Grayson's investigation and main focus at the time, she also knows that...

4 children were fleeing the scene.

Seems like everyone knew this within the hour after the explosion. Word spread so fast, Vander knew before the kids even got home. Caitlyn undoubtedly knows about the kids. She just doesn't know who they are, but she has seen them.

Caitlyn has an eye for detail and a mind for investigation. I doubt she lets much fall between the cracks. They didn't leave Ekko's home until it was dark. She had plenty of time to look at this mural, at the 4 children including Vi. Then at the tea party when Jinx starts talking to her hallucinations, she's pointed to...

Again, traumatic experience. Probably not thinking about it that hard, but she did see the puppets. Again, no reason to connect those things yet. But she does now have the context to connect that these 2 other children are important to Vi and Jinx and that they were important enough to be brought to the "tea party."

And because of the mural, she knows that these were real people and that they died.

FURTHERMORE, they undoubtedly know who Vander was by the reputation he left behind.

When that one guy getting tortured gave up Vander's statue as the meeting location, Ambessa's second-hand man, who is not from Zaun OR Piltover, knew exactly where that was. There's no way Caitlyn doesn't also know about the statue. Besides that, she also saw him in the mural. If she's seen this statue, she knows it's the same man.

Caitlyn would now know that Vander is important to the whole undercity. "Well respected."

Lastly, Singed told Ambessa about the man behind the monster.

This one is a bit of a stretch, but think about it. Ambessa has no reason to withhold the information Singed gave her. Here it is below if you want a reminder:

"He isn't a monster. He was once a man. Well respected, at that. Victim of great tragedy. He had a furocious will to live. An incredible tolerance for pain. With him, I was able to make strides impossible with any other specimen. But the mind... the mind I could not recover. The man forever lost in the bowels of the beast, compelled only by the scent of blood. Or so I thought. It now seems I had yet to uncover the right catalyst."

Singed is awfully forthcoming with information once he realizes he doesn't have to hide it from Ambessa. And when Caitlyn walks in on them in Singe's lab, Ambessa makes no effort to hide her current involvement with Singed. AND even if Ambessa realizes Singed is talking about Vander, I highly doubt Ambessa has the information necessary to realize she's literally delivering Caitlyn to a connection to not only Vi, but Jinx.

Caitlyn, however, does have all the information. If Ambessa or Singed told Caitlyn the same info or even more, Caitlyn could likely start making some assumptions on who the man behind the beast is.

She just didn't have a catalyst to put everything together... Again, yet.

And while we're on the topic of this scene...

We learn Caitlyn abhors a gap in information.

Caitlyn talks about the mystery of shimmer, "This led to one other missing puzzle piece whose absence has always gnawed at my mind."

She wants all the details even if it does not add much to the full picture.

She already knows Silco and the chembarons are responsible for the manufacturing and distribution of shimmer. Learning who made it only tells her who made it. It doesn't solve anything or change what she would have to do to stop the spread of shimmer. But she wants to know. She HAS to know.

She wants all the dots to connect and is not satisfied until they do.

So, when Vi says, "Trying to save... my dad."

What if this one sentence was all Caitlyn needs to connect everything she didn't understand before. I mean, how else do you explain that little "aha" head move she does.

There is no way she did not take a greater interested in how the heck Vi was involved to begin with and especially as a child.

Her main focus has been on Jinx: finding her and bringing her to justice. She's been distracted.

What if this is the catalyst, the first time she has a reason to connect all those dots to make what Vi said make sense. And suddenly it all does.

Honestly, it would explain why Caitlyn jumped ship so easily.

In conclusion.

Caitlyn has all the information she needs to connect the dots.

She has the motivations to continue seeking those answers.

She just didn't have the mental opportunity to really consider it... until she did.

Anyway... Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe one "Cupcake" is just not enough to convince me she'd immediately plan a mutiny, but maybe she is that simple! (She's definitely not. *coughs*)

But you know what, even if she didn't glean that Warwick is actually Vander and Vander is Vi's dad in that moment, she definitely knows after this...

So, anyway, I think she definitely knows or is at minimum primed to have the realization. Guess we'll see.

[fatkish]

hashiras reacting to a little girl reader about 8 years old who is a street fighter and has faced people much bigger than her and possibly killed them (like the case of akaza/hakuji) and has developed combat skills at a young age and a tough personality (like toph from atla)

Hashiras x Child Fighter Reader

Your parents had been killed when you were an infant. The area you live in is well know for having demons. Your parents lived outside the village and had hidden you when the demon attacked. Since no one was really willing or financially able to care for you, you took care of yourself. You traveled often, going from one village to the next, as a means of survival. During your travels, you had come across various people who knew some kind of martial art and you copied what you saw.

Being on your own, you often had to defend yourself from people and demons. After fighting with demons, you always had some kind of injury. Eventually one night, you fought a demon who managed to cut one of your eyes. Leaving you blind in one eye. After that, you quickly learned self defense and became quiet skilled at using your opponent’s strength against them. When you learned that demons were weak to sunlight and wisteria, you began carrying a wisteria paste around with you. The paste was made from ground up wisteria flowers and leaves. Every time you fought a demon, you’d coat your hands in the paste and use a small knife to stab the demon with. Once stabbed, you’d dig your fingers into the wound on the demon.

You didn’t particularly go looking for demons. You just defended yourself whenever you came across one. That’s how you ended up meeting one of the Hashira. Shinazugawa had been on a mission, he had gone to a small village that was said to have multiple demons. Something that you didn’t know, was that you needed glasses. With only one eye that’s very blurry, you’re very defensive. You’ve adopted a ‘fight first, ask questions later’ kind of attitude. Whenever anyone who seemed hostile touched you, you would quickly throw them over your shoulder and proceed to attack since you couldn’t tell whether someone was human or demon.

Sanemi was on the trail of a demon when he came across you. Seeing a seemingly defenseless little human kid all alone in a forest at night, Sanemi knew he had to protect you. He however, went about it the wrong way. He walked up to you and grabbed you by the shoulder rather roughly and was about to speak when your little hands wrapped around his wrist and suddenly he was on his back looking up at you. He growled and was about to speak again before you started attacking him and trying to stab him. During your scuffle, the demon Sanemi was chasing decided to attack him while he was focused on you. However, Sanemi quickly subdued you and cut of the demons head as it leapt towards him.

Now here Sanemi was with his knee on your back holding you down as you thrashed about trying to escape. “You little brat! Stop fighting already! You’re safe now!” He shouted. Still you continued to struggle forcing Sanemi to have to knock you unconscious. When the Kakushi came, they decided to bring you to the butterfly mansion to treat any wounds you had. When you woke up, you wandered around before coming across Shinobu. When you were unconscious, Shinobu checked you over and found the Wisteria paste you used against demons. She was intrigued by your ingenuity and wanted to ask about it. When she spoke to you, she realized that you needed glasses and gave you an eye exam.

After some time, you became Shinobu’s Tsuguko. You picked things up very quickly and wore a mask that both covered your blind eye and held a prescription lense for your other eye. The mask only covers your forehead, eyes and ends near your nose. Unlike Shinobu, you use a spear to fight. The spear is always coated in wisteria poison that Shinobu taught you to make. You often train with the other Hashira since your fighting style is mostly defensive and they find it a challenge to break through your defenses. Despite your blind spots, you’re very accurate when defending yourself. This is what the Hashira’s thoughts on you are.

Tengen: the little squirt has some rather flashy moves. For someone so small, they really know how to use their opponent’s strength against them. I wish they’d let me design their mask. It’s too plain. But overall they’re a good kid

Obanai: their fighting style is interesting and they are quite skilled for their age. Whenever we spar, they always seem to deflect or redirect my attacks. They’re still young but they do show some promise and potential.

Sanemi: that brat? Man they’re a pain in my ass. Ever since Tengen learned about my first interaction with them he always makes fun of me. The kids got some skill but I’ve still won most of our matches. (Has a soft spot for the kid and won’t ever admit it)

Muichiro: who? Oh the child? They remind me of a clam. They have a good defense but once you figure out how to get past it, it’s rather easy to take them down.

Giyuu: they’re nice. They talk to me often and they always offer to eat or have tea with me. They are rather strong and we often train together. They call me big brother. I don’t know why, but I enjoy it.

Gyomei: such a sorrowful yet sweet child. Having to overcome difficulty after difficulty. It saddens me that someone so young has had to grow up so quickly. Despite their challenges and setbacks they haven’t given up, and I respect them for that. Recently they asked if they could call me their father. They told me that they don’t remember their father and that they see me as fatherly figure. It brought me to tears and I graciously accepted. Now they call me Papa Mei.

Shinobu: they are a very bright child. They previously had never received any proper training and only copied and learned from the things they saw. I’ve thought them Insect breathing and they’ve adapted it to fit them. I’m very proud of them.

Mitsuri: they are so cute and sweet. Whenever we hang out, they always offer to cook with me. Whenever we eat, they always make sure that I’ve eaten and have had my fill. They even offered me their food. They are so sweet. They were even impressed by my strength and told me that they wanted to be just like me. I love them so much.

Kyojuro: ah such a strong spirited child. Their technique is amazing and they’ve clearly trained quite hard. Whenever they visit, they often spend time with Senjuro. They get along quite well and have helped my younger brother train. They started calling me big brother so it seems I now have a second younger sibling. I am quite impressed with them and look forward to watching them grow.

[one-chaotic-neautral]

Ok quick post before bed, but in s2 the reveal of Felicia (?) Vi and Powder's mother knowing and being friends with Silco and Vander adds a bit more complexity to Silco's relationship with them.

When I was rewatching s1 earlier I had a theory that Silco may have intended to try and recruit Vi (if she would be convinced, otherwise he probably would have killed her). It makes sense; she's a very strong fighter showcased by her taking down his big henchmen, she resembles a younger Vander, and her attitude toward piltover aligns moreso with Silco in that she wants to fight them. Then adding her mother into the equation maybe he wanted to give her a chance out of maybe old fondness or guilt for her.

What made me think this specifically was that scene in episode 3 where he tells deckard to 'find the girl' after the explosion.

At first it seems 'to kill her ofc' but he didn't mention mylo or claggor, who he had no way of knowing where dead at that point (for sure). So he had Vi in mind specifically, and said 'find' not 'kill' or 'deal with'.

But what more is in Episode 6, when Silco ambushes Vi and Caitlin at her childhood home. First off Huck was the one who gave up their location, but I think Silco also knew where she might go if he knew their parents, cause that's Vi's childhood home. Makes sense why he got there so quickly even if he got told by someone else.

When they're talking he calls her 'Vanders prodigy', so he was obviously aware of her skill as a fighter, likely before their encounter in ep 3 (cause I feel like it is an old title that would've come about from him being aware of her being trained by Vander beforehand)

(Contrary to some others theories, I don't believe he was involved at all in their childhoods, likely observing from afar.)

Then he reveals he 'thought she was the prize of their secondhand family', so he was obviously aware of her for a while before adopting Jinx.

This is the main reason why I believe he wanted to recruit Vi instead. If he was that aware of them already he was probably having them watched and likely knew about her disagreements with Vander over fighting topside.

So if this theory is correct, he likely never planned on outright killing Vi and Powder unless he had to. Which now know about his friendship with their mother makes even more sense.

On the other hand, if this isn't the case, then I think it would make arc 1 Silco even more evil as he was willing not only to kill Vander and some kids, but the kids he knew were the children of his old friend, who'd died in front of him, and made him promise to make a better future for.

[butchvamp]

i finished Davrin's quest last before going into the endgame and i have a lot of mixed feelings about it. i know a lot of people were really upset with what they did to Isseya (i don't know anything about the Last Flight so i can't speak on that) but i think it was interesting what they tried to do-- the Grey Wardens have always asked "do the ends justify the means" and i think his quest has potential to tie up nicely with the overall theme of choice and regret-- Davrin choosing the Wardens, choosing that sacrifice versus Isseya, who was forced to follow orders and ultimately regrets her choice.

but Davrin's quest, like the majority of companion quests, is hindered by racism (thinly veiled anti-indigenous racism filtered through the elves as well as anti-black racism). we had a chance to explore real reasons why he felt compelled to leave his clan and join the Grey Wardens-- he's a monster hunter, sure, but he is also a protector. maybe he felt he could better protect them in this role? but Dragon Age loves their "the Dalish are boring and too stuck in the past and tradition, so i left to find something better" shtick, and they are clearly caught up in dichotomies in this game which we also see with Taash (and the rest of this quest, too). Davrin cant be Dalish and a Grey Warden and proud of both-- only one. but this doesn't even really align with Davrin's attitude that we see later.

i mean he named his griffon Assan, he clearly does hold the Dalish close, and we get to learn about how he used to tend the halla with Eldrin-- he comes back to this after surviving Weisshaupt, something he probably never imagined he'd be able to do, and i wish the game had dug into his feelings more rather than shifting immediately to focus on Assan.

Davrin survives Weisshaupt, he survives killing an archdemon, and he clearly has a lot of guilt about it-- Rook can tell them that he did the Wardens proud, but he retorts, "Did I? Because I'm still here and they're not." he made his choice, was prepared to make the sacrifice, and it was taken from him, and he survived when so many others died. "I feel like a blade sharpened all these years to confront the worst darkness in the world. And my blade struck true at Weisshaupt. What now?"

so now he has a new choice, one that he doesn't feel he's earned. and they try to convey this through the griffons, trained by the Grey Wardens for one singular task until it ultimately killed them... but now reborn, Rook and Davrin are given the chance to release them from their service to the Wardens and potentially find a new path. like Davrin, they weren't supposed to survive, either, and only did because of Isseya. throughout the quest we can see Davrin shift his opinion of the Gloom Howler, insisting on calling her Isseya, giving her back her name in the end to stop her. we see other wardens who have lived past their calling, past their "purpose," and how twisted they have become-- Davrin clearly sees some part of himself reflected in Isseya because of this, on top of being both a Grey Warden and an elf, too. unlike Isseya, though, Davrin has pushed through his guilt and regret and found new purpose with the griffons.

i think this is a good set-up. but in my opinion the execution is weak because after a certain point the story just starts to ignore Davrin in favor of the griffons. Davrin is the one that is both the monster hunter and the shepherd, but we only focus on Assan, and the ultimate choice is about the griffons, not Davrin himself. with the blight ending, why didn't we get to discuss what it is Davrin wants to do once everything is over? does he want to return to the Grey Wardens? he fulfilled his purpose, he killed an archdemon. does he want to become the griffons' shepherd now instead? there is no option, the griffons (besides Assan) are just handed over to someone else in the end. does Davrin join them after the final battle? does he help train them with Evka and Antoine? or does he leave the wardens and join Eldrin in Arlathan? the fake-out goodbye with Assan makes it seem like he doesn't do either, but we really don't know, since his end slide in the credits is just about the fucking griffons! it's so frustrating.

i also think him being the possible sacrifice at the end is a poor choice. the point of Davrin's story is that he survives. he survives! he has to live with it and accept it and find a way to move forward, reconnecting-- through raising Assan-- with a life he had previously sworn off. all of that development only for the game to potentially just kill him anyways.

Davrin has some of the best banter and relationships in the game, he deserved better, i really wish we got to explore his character more beyond using him as a stepping stone to reestablish griffons in Thedas.

[latteandjacks]

The Ribbit community doesn’t talk about The Hero nearly as much as we should

Picture this:

You end up into some weird magical world, you encounter a hooded figure that has already put all of his trust on you despite not knowing you, he begs you to help him save his kingdom, not even because he’s actually royalty but because that’s his home, you not only reject him but you push him/slap him away and proceed to mock him for being “too weak”, you go to the real world and realize that not everyone is as “weak” as that boy, your attitude got in serious danger and now you are contractually obligated to sell whatever even when that world is borderline collapsing while talking weird, time passes, an anthropomorphic frog and a familiar face approaches you, you try to sell them a nocebo and realize the familiar face is the same boy that once begged you for help, now being more assertive and colectes apparently, you want to be proud and believe that, even tho you were a jerk, you helped him, but you end up realizing you made him like you, your actions wounded him and now he’s just like you, like the person that hurt him and the “you” you no longer want to be

Like that’s fucked upppppp

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”

[miriani-lavellan]

Ahh, Lucanis. So let me first say, his scenes make total sense and I'm happy with what we got - we all want more from our faves, but they did manage to compact a lot of trauma and resolution in some fairly compact quests. Here's what I think happened that wasn't made explicitly clear though:

Lucanis chooses the pantry to sleep in because he's been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and he's not ready to leave captivity yet, not inside his head. He locks himself in there because it's familiar misery to him, which is easier to deal with than scary freedom.

Lucanis' letter to Rook before he asks Emmrich to bring Zara back for questioning tells us he's suicidal at that point, and probably has been for a while. Spite, however, doesn't see him as a lost cause - he never uses that to take over Lucanis' body entirely. This is so interesting to me, when we know things like that pretty famously happen all the time in Thedas. He's determined to keep Lucanis alive - and he asks for Rook's help in doing so.

We are in the NORTH now BABY! Attitudes towards spirits and demons are different here, especially in Rivain, and it seems with our Rook too, who never expresses any chantry-esque hang ups (that I've seen). Seer Rowan greets Spite as Determination, and that's how he's introduced by Isabela (with some excitement) if you fight in the hall of Valor. What happened to Spite is just as sad as what happened to Lucanis. He was violated, perhaps corrupted, and definitely trapped - and hurts Lucanis sometimes in his frustration. But, I think he likes Lucanis! He's his host's little head gremlin, and I think the relationship they have (that we don't see too much of) is healthier than any of the possessed individuals we've seen before.

Because? Lucanis is not a spiteful person. He wants revenge, yes, and he's angry, but he doesn't hurt everyone around him because he's in pain. One of the first things he does when he becomes part of the team is go shopping for them. And despite how Ilario and Caterina have hurt him - and you can argue all day whether he's right to be like this - he still cares for them.

I think that when we help Lucanis leave the prison inside his head, we are helping Spite to return to his original nature as Determination just a little more. We're determined to help our friend, and you know what? Spite is too. For himself, firstly, because Lucanis's pain is hurting him, but in the end, he's done it for Lucanis too. There's an argument there that Determination didn't get corrupted at all - just hurt, and that Lucanis, with his loving nature, has been keeping him from turning into a mindless demon of pain.

I thought for a long time that when Lucanis breaks away from kissing Rook, it was because Spite said something horrible to him. But actually, I think it was Lucanis himself, remembering how trapped he is. Thinking about the eventuality of killing himself - I strongly suspect that's what he was thinking about before he fell asleep, and that's why Spite was trying to go walkabout - trying to get out from where Lucanis can't. Lucanis got lost in the moment, but of course he doesn't want to drag Rook into that.

Lucanis making dessert for Rook and thinking that's the same as asking them out (but not actually asking them out) is so completely on brand for him I laughed. He has no idea what he's doing. It would have been nice, though, for Rook to reply to one of the companion's 'so you're together?' banters with... 'we are?' Or for Rook to be able to ask him. Unfortunately, we don't get those convos where we can spam ask questions etc like in DA:I - I did wonder if that got cut and we missed some resolution to that.

Lucanis gives no shits about everyone knowing he's Rook's love interest. He's not ashamed of himself or scared he'll hurt them - Rook has helped both him and Spite. And judging by the way Spite's wings come out to embrace Rook as they kiss Lucanis, I suspect that Spite might love them, too.

[bratbby333]

gamer!bf sukuna drabble

·:*¨༺ nsfw mdni ༻¨*:·

gamer!bf sukuna who is always sat at his desk, shooting at something

gamer!bf sukuna who will lose track of time and play for hoursss, not even acknowledging your existence until you interrupt his game play with dinner

gamer!bf sukuna who buys you your own gaming set up after catching you playing on his computer when you think he isn't home (he positions your new monitor and gaming chair right next to his)

gamer!bf sukuna who laughs in your face when you ask if he wants to play minecraft with you (how dare you recommend something that isn't violent? silly little thing. do you even know him?)

"so childish... why the fuck would i play that?"

gamer!bf sukuna who feels bad after you pout at him for making fun of you, reluctantly agreeing to play fortnite (the tamest game he'll play)

gamer!bf sukuna who is never not yelling at someone through his headset

"you stupid fuck! ask your mother how my dick tastes"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves when you pull up a chair to watch him play

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you sit in his lap, the controller in your hands with his hands over yours, pushing the buttons for you... the elated grin on your face when you finally kill someone makes his dick hard

"baby! i did it! i got him!" "that's my good girl, now let me reward you"

gamer!bf sukuna who loves that you play animal crossing at your desk next to him while he plays cs:go and valorant, you eventually put on your noise canceling headphones because he won't stop screaming

"what the actual FUCK was that? you're trash. GET OUT OF MY LOBBY"

gamer!bf sukuna who finally agrees to play minecraft with you after weeks of begging, enjoying it more than he thought he would (the face you make when he finally says yes causes his heart flutter just a little bit... but he'll never tell you that, constantly groaning at how boring it is, but playing it with you for three hours)

he runs around killing creepers and skeletons to quell his homicidal ideations instead of helping you build a house "why the hell would we build a fake house when we're literally sitting in our real one?" so fucking sassy for no reason he'd run around collecting a mob of enemies instead, luring them into a pit before sealing it off and dumping a bucket of lava on them, laughing as they slowly burn to death...bro is insane i stg...

gamer!bf sukuna who let's you wear his headset while he plays a 1v1 in a custom lobby, laughing at his opponents obvious anger and frustration thinking they're losing to you (COD is so misogynistic, and sukuna is thoroughly amused when he gets to put them in their place on your behalf)

gamer!bf sukuna who beams with pride when you start picking up on gaming terms

"that guy sucks, he's just camping", you say, brows furrowed in annoyance. "who the fuck did you learn that word from?" "who do you think i learned it from, dumbass?" you retort, a taunting smile on your lips. he just grins, "god, you're so fuckin' sexy. but drop the attitude before i fuck it outta you."

gamer!bf sukuna who attempts to teach you how to play call of duty, battlefield, and cs:go

"you'll get better, doll. just keep tryin'"

gamer!bf sukuna who refuses to admit that he actually enjoys playing minecraft with you, hoping you'll suggest to play it first

gamer!bf sukuna who looks down from his monitor to see you kneeling under his desk, head between his legs, sucking him off while he's on discord talking to his friends; tangling his hands in your hair, biting the inside of his cheek when you deepthroat him unexpectedly, his hips bucking off his chair. "you dirty fuckin' girl, it's like you want them to hear" he moans out. his friends erupt in laughter after hearing him, but he doesn't want you to stop. exhibitionist!sukuna has entered the chat

"you can stay and listen if you want, at least im gettin' some unlike you virgins"

gamer!bf sukuna who fucks you rough when he loses a game

"god you're so fuckin' tight for me" he groans, his grip tight on your hips. he looks down to watch your pretty pussy suck him in. you squirm, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you with every trust, whining as he pushes your head into the mattress, his strokes unrelenting. "uh uh. don't move...stay right fuckin' there n take this dick, brat."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: hehehe...this was super fun to write. if you have any requests, send them here! if u wanna be added to my anon club, drop an emoji with ur submission and ill add u to my pinned post ☺︎

i've already written longer, smut-filled stories of gamer!bf sukuna,,u can read them here and here and here

thank u liking, commenting, and reblogging...it makes me kick my feet n giggle when i get the notification ♡

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[radiantrosaa]

Minors DNI

All characters are 18+

Not proof read

-

THIS with Stanley and Stanford‼️

-

When Stanley first sees you in the outfit, he would have to do a double take before he eyes followed you out of the room. He would get up and follow you into the kitchen where you would begin making dinner, before you know it you can feel his hands on your hips which results in them getting slapped off by you.

He would be baffled by the sudden attitude at first then resume with trying to hold you again, once he got slapped off once more he’d get a bit frustrated and ask why you’re doing that only for you to respond with “nah, don’t touch me.”

He didn’t realize why you were acting this way until the quick flash of a little argument from earlier ran through his mind. Oh you are petty.

Stan wouldn’t stop no matter how many times you tell him to quit it because he knows you love it. Next thing you know, you’re sitting on the counter glancing at the stove to make sure it’s turned off all while Stan is hammering his cock deep within your cunt. He’s racked two orgasms out of you already but if you know Stan, two is barely enough for him.

Maybe just maybe, you should be petty more often..

-

You and Stanford got into a little bickering session earlier due to him continuously forgetting to eat because of how zeroed in he is on his current research project. He claims he’ll always remember and missing a meal or two won’t kill him but you just want him to stay healthy and not miss out on what’s important for his body. He claims he’ll eat when he’s done but then he never does which resulted in you finally trying to talk to him about it.

You left him to his work after that and decided to start cooking dinner, you always did bring it down to him anyway so he could make sure and eat. You had bought this cute little piece earlier in the week so you decided to make use and wear it. It was comfortable and fit your body perfectly, it was amazing.

Ford actually ended up finishing a part of his research early so he decided to head upstairs and make himself some well deserved coffee. As he strolled into the kitchen, he’s met with the sight of you in that outfit, when did you purchase that?

He would walk up behind you and slowly run his hands up your sides, feeling the fabric under his palms. Before his hands could rest anywhere comfortably though, you slapped them off much to his surprise. He gave you a puzzled look only for you to say those petty words “don’t touch me.”

He raised his eyebrows as he tried to figure out where this attitude came from only to have the realization slap him across the face, that petty little minx.

One thing led to another though and he had you sitting on the edge of the counter as he’s eating you out with vengeance, his tongue lapping at your folds before dipping inside your heat to explore further. You’re a mess and that’s exactly what he wants. As his mouth is working down there, his hands are snaking their way up to grope and feel you up.

You’re definitely paying another visit to that store tomorrow..

[jo-com]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆ ➛ Opposite

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Oscar has always been so grumpy and moody; frowning towards others but when he sees you, his mood changes faster than the speed of light itself.

Genre: Black cat boyfriend x Golden retriever girlfriend

Note: look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread guys!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Lando joked, seeing as Oscar’s expression rested into it’s usual downward smile. It was always fixated like that so it’s hard to tell whether or not he’s mad or just himself— others often misinterpret his attitude though.

Mainly because of his resting bitch face and the fact that he’s always frowning all the time, but people got used to it overtime.

Oscar just rolled his eyes and shrugged,”Nothing, i was just staring at something.”

“Staring?” Lando scoffed, “mate, you look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Oscar flipped Lando off, not even sparing him a single glance as he does so.

The other driver chuckled at his child like behavior and just shook his head in a playful manner, “I am telling you man, whatever your staring at right now, might think you’re judging the inside of their soul”

“I don’t even care, fuck them” oscar retaliated, his eyes rolling in the back of his head out of habit.

Before Lando could even tease him any further, a familiar voice spoke softly; interrupting their conversation and joining in themselves.

“Fuck who?” You asked innocently, your smile so radiant and bright that it lit up the once cold and mundane atmosphere.

Oscar’s whole demeanor changed and so did his mood— as soon as you set foot in the hospice and when his eyes landed on your pretty figure, he was like a completely new person.

“Hi babyy!” He spoke, dragging the y with an exaggerated smile, his tone going from gloomy to happy.

Lando giggled from the corner, “wow, where did that come from.”

Oscar momentarily glared at Lando— his eyes shifted back to his old one. If looks could kill, Lando would be buried 6 feet under.

His fellow driver put both hands in front and gestured to back off, “guess i am off then, see you around y/n."

"Bye lan, it was nice seeing you!" you replied happily.

Meanwhile, whilst Lando was heading out, Oscar's sharp stare never jearked away from his body; staring daggers at the poor man.

But of course, once Lando has left, his whole aura changed; he was all bubbly and smiley. It's like he wasn't the Oscar from earlier.

Oscar then patted his lap, gesturing for you to sit there, to which you happily obliged. Sitting excitedly on his lap and gripping his waist to try and balance yourself.

You leaned in to his embrace and shifted yourself to comfort.

"What were you guys talking about?," you mumbled, moving your head up to see his face clearly.

Oscar let out a contented sigh as he gently laid his hand in the roof of your head and ruffled it. You were just so damn adorable, sitting on his lap like that.

Your eyes narrowed from his movement, "What was that for?" You gasped confusingly, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Nothing you're just too cute not to" Oscar spoke, using his free hand to pinch the side of your cheek.

He looked at awe with your confused look-- he doesn't know why it affects him that much and why it makes his heart go beat crazy, but he likes the feeling.

Only with you though.

You guys were too busy with each other that you didn't even notice another presscence blocking the doorframe.

Only when a subtle gasp where let out that the two of you knew that there was someone else.

"IS THAT A SMILE I SEE FROM THE OSCAR PIASTRI??"

"LEAVE US ALONE PIERRE"

And he's back.

...

Sorry for not updating in a long time, I've not been myself lately😭

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant. 

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place. 

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.” 

Now he knows you’re messing with him. 

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about. 

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression. 

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?” 

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling. 

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable. 

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink. 

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop. 

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention. 

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful. 

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.  

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours. 

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing. 

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap. 

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself. 

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him. 

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid. 

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did. 

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder. 

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared. 

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep. 

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine. 

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings. 

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass. 

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked  upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along. 

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend. 

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash. 

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night. 

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[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Ghost crashed into a car before he parked ours] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

To your surprise, Kyle, or Gaz – the model-like man introduced himself as – is such a considerate person with a nice sense of humor, at least compared to Soap or Ghost. 

That day you trapped yourself in the predicament with John, he seemed to sense your embarrassment, hence he just handed his boss a backup shirt without making fun of you like his boss, so you have a lot of time for the man. 

Like now, he’s sitting and sharing a plate of biscuits with you, enjoying a tranquil tea time accompanied by the pleasant smell of Earl Grey.

“You don’t have jobs to do today?” You raise your cup and ask, before taking another sip and watch Kyle finish his bite and reply.

 “Ghost’s in charge of dealing with the enemy today.” 

“Ehmm, okay” You refuse to figure out what ‘dealing’ means “What about others?"

"I killed mine yesterday.” 

Okay, you truly don’t mean this, but let’s just end this topic and move on. With a few biscuits down to your stomach, brainwashing yourself to forget what you heard seconds before with the sweetness, and buying you some time to come up with a better subject, you open your mouth again.

“Every time one of you comes here, you just scare all my customers away.”

“Isn’t that better?” 

“I need customers to earn money, Kyle.”

“You have us to pay you.” He points at the badge pasted on your wall. Of course, you’re not the one who put it on, you rather read the military smut out in front of all British than do it, but if you try to take it off, Soap will put a new one back, so in the end you just compromised and let him claim your shop publicly.

“This place isn’t only served for you guys.”

“It isn’t?” 

Is it possible to refute when Kyle flashes you a smile that you almost get blind and start wondering if he can replace himself as your lights and save you the electricity bill? Maybe counting this as one of Kyle’s humor will be better than explaining. All required is to ignore the evil glints in his majestic brown eyes while he questions you.

But even though Kyle said he doesn’t have work today, he doesn’t stay long after he finishes his tea.

“Gotta head back to help the boss.” He grins as he turns the knob and waves you goodbye.

What’s weird is that   after Kyle leaves your shop, customers start flooding back. Many of them are familiars of the shop, as you’re sure they’re 141’s lackeys too.

You remember them see you as one of the henchmen… Although they're not as afraid as when they first visit the shop because of your hospitable attitude, you can still sense the attentiveness in their demeanor.

No matter what, you’re going to figure out what’s  actually  happening.

“Hey, you.” You walk to one of the minions' sides. “Mind to tell me about why you guys always disappear when Gaz or Ghost or others come here?”

“We…” The guy’s eyes avert, shooting his friend a glance for help “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Raising your eyebrow, you lower your voice to make it  menacing 

“It  really  is, ma’am, nothing to bother with the Sirs.”

“Show me, they must have sent some messages to inform you guys, right? Let me take a look, or I will…” You will what?  Actually,  you have no idea what you can do to these guys that can lift you  up  and throw you into a trash bin like a shot “Wait a second.”

Quickly running back to your kitchen, you come back with your most intimidating weapon – 

“Or I will hit you with my pan!” You wiggle your arm as a threat.

“…” 

They don’t look scared of the pan for a tiny bit. Wait, you should take your kitchen knife instead, who the fuck will pick a pan? You idiot.

yet to your satisfaction, they still fish out their phone and let you have it, and you don’t waste any time as you open the texting app.

‘Announcement: Boss will arrive at the tea shop in 10 minutes, clear the shop immediately.’

So they  really  are scaring your customers off. Give the phone back to the poor guy with pity in your eyes, you bring him a few more biscuits.

You’re strolling through the aisles in the shop. You’re out of flour and sugar, and every Wednesday the groceries are on sale. You never miss these chances to build up savings.

What a nice shopping trip. Quiet, leisure, just enjoying your own time, picking up different brands of cereal and calculating which is cheaper like a competent broken adult. Things never go wrong when you’re alone.

“Hey lass!”

Well, you’re kidding, things go south too quickly. The voice’s too familiar. It must be a hallucination.

“Lass? Bonnie?”

 Don’t look back, keep walking. It’s not the detergent man with a stupid chicken crest yelling at you.

“HEY!” A hand pats you on your shoulder and makes you jump. Sighing internally and prey there won’t be any trouble caused by the man, you turn around and face him.

“Oh, Soap, Hi.” Shit, looks like you just can’t have a break from these men. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Even though the nan outside tells me te shut the fok up?”

“Yes.” you shamelessly admit, pro tip to confront people without shame “Why are you here by the way, Soap?”

“Oh, we’re in need of some things, so Ghost pulled off during our way home.”

You take a glimpse at his basket. A rope, a roll of duct tape, and a knife. 

They must be going on a picnic. Yes, don’t overthink. The rope is for securing the tent, the duct tape is for concealing the holes on it. Knife? they surely will need it when cutting apples.

The image of Ghost slaughtering… peeling apple you mean, with Soap and Gaz playing red light green light and John napping in the tent is so vivid in your mind that you need to restrain the laugh with a clear of your throat before you grunt in affirmation and restart your steps.

With Soap depriving you of your last respite, you choose to grab what you need and head to the counter. All you want is to get home, have a nice shower, and lie on the bed reading the new fic you found last night.

“Do ye need help?” He watches you shove the products in your bag, but 5 huge cartons of milk are too heavy for your weak limbs, you can feel your arms trembling under your attempt.

“It’s okay, my car’s near the door. I can carry this myself.” Again, cheekiness works every time. You don’t care about strangers staring at you struggling with the bag and exit the supermarket in a crab way, as long as it can bring you back into peace faster, and you almost tear up when you see your car, the white of it is like the lighthouse in the atramentous night.

Hey, but you don’t remember your car has a goddamn huge dent at its boot.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell ye. Ghost crashed into a car before he parked ours, and he’s contemplating whether he should kidnap the driver when they come back and make them shut up, or just kill them.” Soap looks at you stopping in despair as he recognizes what you’re looking at. “So it’s your car aye?”

You don’t answer him, you just watch Ghost materialize from the Shadow beside your car and give you a nod.

Fuck your life.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

Car -1, Peaceful night -1

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[prodbyton]

only you ☆ p.sh

park sunghoon x reader

jealous gf and reassuring bf >>>

🎀 smut 1&+ MDNI , fem!reader , small joke ab violence, dom!hoon , oral (f) , unprotected sex , creampie , kinda soft but like a little possessive , pet names (princess , baby)

⭐️ wc. 1.6k

🎧 love between… kali uchis

“baby, you seriously can’t still be mad at me right now, we've been back home for an hour” sunghoon groans as he follows you into the living room, watching as you sit on the opposite end of the couch.

“um, yes i can. that girl was all over you in the store! and i was literally right there! i’ll be mad as long as i want,” you pout, arms folding over your chest in annoyance to your oblivious boyfriend.

“but how is that my fault? it’s not like i flirted back. i simply ignored her advances, which is what i’m supposed to do… so why are you mad?”

“that’s just the bare minimum, hoon. you’re supposed to say ‘my super hot amazing girlfriend would kill you if you thought i'd pick you over her’ and then you punch her right in the stomach” you smile, feeling like you made a valid point and hoping that sunghoon would take notes. he just looks at you shocked, not very amused by your statement.

“i love you, so much… but im not punching a woman in the stomach” he chuckles, and you pout again.

“i guess you don’t really love me then!” you get up from the couch, storming into the kitchen to get away from the male who clearly doesn’t understand the severity of the matter.

he follows close behind you, not liking your little jealous attitude and wanting you to know that there was nothing for you to worry about. you were looking in the cabinet for a snack when you felt sunghoon behind you, turning your body around so you could look at him.

“baby, i love you, and only you” his voice was serious, letting you know that he meant every word and he wasn’t playing around.

you lean backwards, body supported by your hands on the counter. you give sunghoon a challenging look, trying to keep your attitude intact while he stares you down. “mhm… prove it then”

he has you pressed against the kitchen counter now, hand holding your hips still while he grabs your chin and brings it up so he could press his lips on yours. it was soft, but full of emotion. you give into him so easy, dropping the jealous act the moment his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. his hand on your hip moves to your ass, gripping the flesh over your pants. you groan, pushing your body closer to sunghoons while you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck.

his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and bites on the exposed skin until his mouth reached your chest. he pulled away from you, looking at how your eyes were hooded and lips swollen from his kissing and from you biting them.

he groped at your breasts with each hand, pinching your hard nipples through your tank top which made you help.

“hoon” you whine, letting your hands rest back onto the counter behind you while sunghoon played with your tits through your shirt.

“yes, princess?”

“want you,”

“tell me what you want,”

you bring your hand to his, grabbing onto him and guiding his hand down to where you needed him most. you look at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he doesn’t try to tease you further and he gives you what you want.

he slips his hand into your pants, shifting your panties to the side so he could drag a finger through your slit. you bite back a moan, watching as sunghoon looks down at you in awe.

“so wet already princess, a little kissing has you this desperate for me already, huh?” his tone was condescending as he slipped his middle and ring finger into your cunt, making you let out a choked out moan.

“shit, yes. want you so bad hoon, please” you move your hips up, grinding on his fingers. he hums, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before pulling his fingers out of you. before you could whine about the loss, sunghoon was turning you around and bending your body over the countertop. still not giving you a moment to process, he was hooking his fingers into the fabric of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. all you could do was gasp at the cold room air hitting your exposed core.

“such a pretty pussy, baby. wouldn’t even think of wanting another one” he spreads your legs apart, getting down on his knees so he could be face to face with your pussy. hands resting where your ass and thighs connect, he grips the flesh to pull your folds apart to see how wet you are. the contact had you moaning, hips moving in the air as if there was anything touching you. the way you were positioned, you couldn’t see what sunghoon was doing. so you had no choice but to wait for him to make a move.

that's when you felt his lips on you, kissing all around your inner thighs with wet lips. he licked, sucked, and bit on the skin, getting closer and closer to your cunt with every kiss. you knew it was coming, but you were still caught by surprise when you finally felt his tongue come in contact with your clit. grabbing onto whatever your hands could reach, you held on tightly to the edge of the counter to keep yourself from falling.

“s-sunghoon! fuck, baby it feels so good” you cry out when his flicks to your clit turn into sucks and you can feel his nose prodding at your dripping hole. he’d move up to collect all your juices on his tongue, then back to your clit. he had a mixture of saliva and your arousal dripping down his chin, but it didn’t matter to him because he had your legs shaking over him.

“taste so good, all for me?” he mumbles from under you, he’s spreading your folds open while he talks, blowing lightly onto your clit forcing a whimper from you. your body from the waist down was strained, clit throbbing, legs aching from how you were bent over and nearly on your tippy toes, and sunghoons grip on your thighs getting stronger.

“mmmhm, always for you hoon. ‘m gna cum” you felt the string in your stomach get closer and closer to snapping, feeling like you would explode at any moment.

with your little warning of your impending orgasm, sunghoons lips and hands were off of you. your eyes that were threatening to close now wide open, the ache in between your thighs coming back and you feel like you were going to cry. you tried to stand up so you could turn to sunghoon, but he was already a step ahead of you. he had pushed you back down onto the counter, grabbing both your hands in one of his and holding them in place on your back.

“sorry princess. want you cumming around my cock, mkay?” he was pulling his pants down with his free hand, freeing his cock from the tight feeling of it straining in his boxers. all you could do was nod, the moan that left your lips being taken as a yes before sunghoon was lining himself up with your entrance.

with a small push, he was sliding right into you with a hiss. you ball your fists up, not being able to hold onto anything while sunghoon stretches you open with his cock. once he bottoms out, he pulls out almost completely before pushing himself back in with a sharp thrust. you gasp, him repeating this action twice before he finds a rhythm. he moves fast, hand gripping onto your waist while he pistons his hips into yours.

“taking my cock so well princess,” he groans out, words coming out slurred as he tries to keep his pace. “shit baby, you’re so tight for me”

you could feel yourself getting close again, the way you were bent over had sunghoons cock hitting a spot deep inside you, making you let out choked sobs every time he thrusted into you.

“hoonie, baby please let me cum, m’so close” the words come out in between cries, and you feel the hand that was holding you up wrap around to rub messy circles on your clit. you felt like you were on fire, the stimulation becoming painful the closer you got to your peak.

“cum for me, make a mess all over my cock princess” with the delicious pressure of his fingers on your clit, you were cumming before he could even finish his sentence. your body spasmed, clenching hard on sunghoons cock as you subconsciously tried to push away from him. you couldn’t move much with the hold he had on you, and he kept his fingers on your clit while he finally reached his own orgasm, giving you a few more harsh thrusts before his hips stilled as his cum filled you up. you both moan out, out of breath and completely fucked out.

he releases his hold on your hands, letting them rest on the counter where your head lays, and he’s leaning over you to place a kiss on your shoulder.

“still mad at me baby?”

“i don’t know, you might have to prove yourself again in the shower”

A/N: first enha fic on this account 🤭🤭 i hope you guys liked it. more coming soon !!

reqs are open !! -> 🎀

[fxrmuladaydreams]

use me (mv33)

max x reader

summary: max needs a way to take his frustrations out, you offer yourself to him

notes: !! contains smut minors dni !! i have other stories in the works but as a max girlie this took precedent, it had to be done after watching the singapore quali

You were on the edge of your seat watching the remaining 15 cars zoom around the track. Both the Red Bulls had been having issues during the weekend, not driving as fast as they had been in previous races.

You watched as your boyfriend, the reining world champion, made his final lap in Q2, scoring fairly low, and just falling further down the list as other drivers crossed the line. Liam Lawson of all people was the one to push Max down to 11th. You had to admit the kid was talented, but you knew Max was going to be very unhappy with the results.

You knew you were right when you saw Max get out of his car before they had even pulled it into his garage. He stormed away, pulling his helmet off his head as someone practically had to chase after him.

“He’s going to be pleasant.” A voice pulled your attention away from the scene in front of you.

Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his headset now resting around his neck.

“He’ll be fine.” You tell him, however you know just how explosive Max can get when he doesn’t do well.

“You should go see him, calm him down. He won’t kill you.”

You snort. “Right.”

“Think you can calm him down in the next 30 minutes?” He asks.

“I can try.” You stand up to start heading in the direction Max walked off in.

You find him sitting in a corner, drinking from his water bottle, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him.

You stand next to him and run a hand through his hair. While he would usually lean into you, craving more of your touch, he doesn’t react now, unmoving from his current position.

“How are you?” You ask, in an attempt to tread safely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m great, how are you?” He doesn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

You tilt his chin up so that he’s looking you in the eyes. You can practically see the anger swimming around in the blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You know the press are going to eat you alive if you walk in with that attitude.” You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks back down ahead of him. “They’ll be cheering, dancing on my grave.”

You glance down at your watch. 25 minutes until Max will be needed for press. 25 minutes to bring back your happy Max.

“C’mon.” You take his hand, and slowly pull him up.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following you.

You lead him back to Red Bull hospitality, taking him up to his driver’s room. It’s small, a massage table sits in the corner, a shelf against the wall with more race suits and fireproofs.

“You need to get your anger out before you go do press.” You tell him as you lock the door.

“What, do you want me to throw things around the room?” He asks with his hands on his hips.

“I want you to fuck me.” You tell him, your voice completely serious.

He looks shocked for a moment. The two of you were always pretty private in your relationship, never showing too much PDA, and never having sex anywhere outside of your home. His shock soon dissipates, and turns into thoughtfulness, as if he’s thinking about the risk versus the reward.

You walk towards him in the center of the room. Your hands lift to his shoulders, softly massaging them before your arms wrap around his neck. You lean your head towards his, softly nudging your nose against his. He already looks like he’s losing his self control, his eyes watch your lips as you whisper to him.

“Use me, Max.”

He dives down to kiss you, his lips firm against yours. There’s no asking for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, it pushes past your lips and tangles with yours.

You grip onto his hair as he hoists you up on the massage table. He stands between your legs, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on any skin he can find.

He tugs your shirt and bra off, flinging them to some corner of the room, desperate to have access to more of you. He travels down your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples, teeth softly biting at it while his fingers find the other, pinching at it. After he’s satisfied he switches to the other, continuing his work.

Your pants and underwear are the next to come off as Max trails his fingers along your center. He smirks when he feels your hips move to meet his hand.

He pulls a whimper from you when his thumb brushes against your clit. He kneels down, pulling you to the edge of the table and lifting your legs over his shoulders. His hands press down on your abdomen to keep you still as his tongue laps over you.

His nose brushes against your clit, send a jolt to your hips. His hands press down harder on you as his eyes look up to meet yours. They’re a stormy blue now, his pupils enlarged and eyelids hooded.

“Stay still.” He says, his voice low and rough.

His tongue is quick to continue prodding against you, slowly pushing inside you as you let you a long moan. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling itself in his light brown locks, as your other keeps yourself propped up.

Your taste is sweet, one of his favorite flavors really.

“You taste so good mijn liefje.” He softly moans against you as he eats you out, his nose now bumping your clit over and over until you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue.

This only encourages him, as he takes everything you give him. Your body is tired, exhausted from keeping yourself upright, ready to collapse on the table.

Max stands up and it’s only then you realize that he’s still in his clothes, his race suit still hanging off his hips, while you’re completely bare in front of him.

“I’m not finished with you yet schat.” He shakes his head as he pulls you upright to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on him, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s all tongue and teeth and it’s messy, but still so good.

He pulls you off the table, your legs slightly wobbling beneath you. You’re surprised when he turns you around, keeping your body trapped between his and the table. You hear his clothes move around some more, the thick fabric of his race suit rustling around, then you feel him softly kick your ankle with his leg.

You spread your legs for him, wide enough to allow him room, but still close enough that you can stand comfortably.

He reaches a hand around you to feel between your legs.

“Think you’re wet enough to take me?” He asks. Max has always been a caring lover, even in his dominant moods he still checks in with you.

“Yes Max, please fuck me.” You lean forward against the table and push your ass back against him. You can feel his cock press against you as he grabs onto your hips.

He fists himself a few times before lining himself up with you then pushing in.

The stretch is a lot but feels so good. Max stills for a moment, leaning down to press a kiss against the flushed skin on your back.

His sweet demeanor quickly turns back to his dominant one though, slowly pulling out, then giving a harsh thrust back into you. You try to grip onto the table for dear life as Max pounds into you from behind.

Your moans aren’t quiet, yet neither are his grunts. The door being the only thing blocking you from the rest of the Red Bull team is the farthest thing in your minds at the moment.

He wraps an arm around your middle pulling you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. He’s still wearing his fireproofs, only having pulled the pants down far enough so that he’d be able to bury himself inside you.

The new angle causes him to sink even deeper in you. You feel so full, so consumed by Max.

He grins when he feels you clench around him. His right hand travels over your body, squeezing your breasts before stopping over your neck. He wraps his hand around it, putting a slight pressure on it as his other drops back down to where the two of you meet. He finds your clit, and rubs quick harsh circles into it.

He lets out a low laugh as you clamp down even tighter around him. He leans his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he teases you. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Your mind is so clouded over that you can only moan in response.

“Oh, you can’t use your words? You’re just dumb for my cock huh? It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” He bites down on your neck, sucking a dark hickey onto it. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me again?”

You nod your head, feeling something tighten in your core for the second time tonight.

It only takes a few more rough thrusts before he’s got you cumming again, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer.

The hand on your clit moves to your hip so that he can control his movements. His release follows as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You feel his warm cum fill you up as he holds himself inside you. He keeps himself there as you both come down from your highs. He softly presses kisses to your back as you catch your breath.

You hiss when he slowly pulls himself out. His hand falls away from your neck as he uses both to make sure you don’t collapse to the floor. He turns you back around and lifts you back up onto the table.

He finds a towel and spreads your legs to help clean you up. The sight in front of him causes his cock to stir with interest again, his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs. Your skin shines with the layer of sweat that’s coated your body. Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your neck has several marks along it, fresh hickeys to show what you’ve been up to.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, throwing the towel away to a corner of the room.

You give him a lazy smile. “Not at all. I really enjoyed that.”

“I love you.” He says, helping you back down from the table.

“I love you too.”

You’re both quiet at you get dressed again. You still feel a little wobbly on your feet, but are beginning to regain your balance.

“So do you think you can handle the press without chewing anyone’s head off?” You ask him as you both head to the door.

“Oh definitely.” He grins.

He wraps an arm around your waist as you leave his driver’s room and head back to the main area of the paddock.

Max gives you a quick kiss before he separates from you to do his post qualifying interviews, leaving you with the rest of the team.

When Christian spots you he sighs. “Y/n… no…” he says as he looks at the marks along your neck and the way your legs shake if you stand in one spot for too long.

You shrug. “What? You told me to calm him down.”

Needless to say everyone was surprised when Max was calm cool and collected during his interviews.

[emberuby]

you deserve better | l.hs

pairing: lee heeseung x fem! reader

summary: heeseung overhears you crying about your asshole of a boyfriend. he'd do anything to show you how much better you deserve.

warnings: best friend's brother! heeseung, age gap (hee is 3 years older), mentions of body shaming, heavy insecurity, toxic ex, infidelity but it's deserved, soft dom! heesung, simp heesung, sub! reader, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, missionary, creampie, sort of angst?, hurt comfort, not proofread.

wc: 4.7k

“Stop being such a pussy and break up with him already,” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. Hojung slapped him on the shoulder and glared fiercely. She felt a surge of frustration on your behalf at Sunoo's nonchalant attitude.

“Sunoo! That’s not helping,” Hojung snarled, her eyes filled with annoyance as she looked at him, but they softened when she turned back to you.

You looked utterly miserable, eyes red and puffy from crying. Your hair was a mess, and your mascara was smeared in blotchy streaks across your cheeks from constantly rubbing your face.

You had recently discovered that your boyfriend of six months was growing bored of your relationship, especially your sex life. You knew it was a trivial thing to cry over, and Sunoo was right. Breaking up with him would be the simplest solution to end this cycle of misery.

“Come on, I'm just being real. He’s clearly not worth it. He humiliates you in front of his friends, sexualises you in front of them, mocks your weight, and can’t even make you orgasm but has the audacity to say the sex is boring? Hojung, why haven’t we kicked his ass yet?” Sunoo folded his arms across his chest and scowled, imagining the worst possible things happening to your boyfriend.

Hojung looked deflated as she slowly nodded, agreeing with everything Sunoo said. She grabbed your hand softly and looked at you with pure sympathy. “Y/N, I hate seeing you like this. Why are you still with him?”

You hiccuped, feeling on the verge of tears again at her worried tone. Despite hating to burden your best friends with your problems, they had been persistent in getting you to open up about what had been happening since they noticed your change in demeanour over the past few weeks.

You had been unusually quiet and dejected, often barricading yourself in your room. Sunoo and Hojung decided to hold an intervention, and now here you were, tipsy off a few seltzers, spilling everything that had been plaguing your relationship onto them. At first, they were angry with you for not telling them sooner, but now their focus was solely on your cunt of a boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” you sniffed, “I have no idea why I’m still with a man who makes me so utterly insecure. I guess I think…I won’t be able to find someone if I were to leave him. I’ve never had guys go after me so a small part of me thinks I should just deal with this because what other choice do I have?” You knew you sounded pathetic, but at this point, you couldn’t care less. 

“Is that what he told you?” Sunoo asked, now matching Hojung’s level of rage.

You stayed silent, but the answer was yes. Your boyfriend always told you how lucky you were to be in a relationship with him given how dull and flawed you were. Before this relationship, you couldn’t remember having this many confidence issues, but ever since he came into your life, you can’t help but believe his words. Maybe you were so undesirable that this is your one and only chance for a relationship. 

“Snap out of it, Y/N! None of what you said was true. You are beautiful and so incredible." Hojung furrowed her eyebrow and drunkenly yelled, “I will kill that bastard for making you feel this way, I swear!”

“Oh! But if I said that, you’d call me all sorts of dramatic,” Sunoo scoffed.

“Yeah, because you would actually mean it,” Hojung retorted, snapping her fingers in front of Sunni’s face. It made you flashback to your early high school days when Sunoo would go after boys who teased you, usually by physically confronting them in the courtyard.

“I…You’re right. Both of you. I will break up with him, soon. I just hope I’m not such a coward that I chicken out like last time,” you used the ends of your sweater to wipe the tears away from your eyes, not caring anymore about the mascara stains that were being left on the fabric.

“You’re telling me you tried to break up with him before and didn’t follow through?” Hojung gasped. 

Before you could answer, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, you saw Lee Heeseung, Hojung’s older brother. Despite knowing he was off-limits, you couldn’t help but get nervous and infatuated every time he was around. Ever since you met him at thirteen, you’ve had a crush on him that was all too obvious to Hojung, not that she ever commented on it.

Perhaps it was slightly more than a tiny crush, but either way, you knew your place and never sought after him. Even if he wasn’t your best friend’s older brother, you knew he was way above your league. He carried himself with a confidence and beauty you could only dream of possessing.

It had been a year since you’d last seen Heeseung. He went off to a university in Europe but came back periodically to visit his family. Now that he was almost graduating and had more free time, he decided to come home for a few months and was staying at your and Hojung’s apartment for the week to catch up with his baby sister. 

Hojung snapped her head up at him, furrowing her eyebrows. “Heeseung! What do you need? We’re having a private conversation,” she scolded. 

Heeseung came up behind her to ruffle her hair, much to her annoyance. “You need to watch how much you drink,” he said sternly. 

“Ugh, I didn’t drink that much. I’m fine. Now go away!” She slurred.

“Fine!” Heeseung raised his arms slightly in surrender, “I just came to get some water.”

Heeseung looked down into your eyes, mesmerising you. You held eye contact for a moment before you got too nervous and tried to find anywhere else to look. Although his stare was rather intense and mostly unreadable, there was a hint of concern etched on his expression. “You okay?” He asked.

You nodded meekly, face heating up at the embarrassment of him having to see you in this state—a crying and babbling mess over a boyfriend who clearly wasn’t worth your tears. You tried to lower your gaze so it wouldn’t be so obvious to him, but it was mostly useless.

Heeseung walked over to the fridge and took out four water bottles. When he came back to the table, you felt him behind you, and the heat emanating off his body was all too noticeable. Your breathing became irregular as he leaned over from behind you to place the water bottles on the table. 

Hojung took a swig of water and suddenly tumbled out of her seat, running towards the kitchen to empty the contents of her stomach into the sink. You stood up to hold her hair back, followed by a worried but calm Heeseung. 

“How much did she drink?” Heeseung asked.

You kept your mouth shut, but Sunoo didn’t seem to have a problem with tattling as he said, “A few seltzers, a bottle of soju, three shots of tequila,” he grabbed a can from Hojung’s side of the table and inspected it, “And a beer?”

“Fucking hell,” you heard Heeseung murmur under his breath. “Hojung, what is your problem? You know you’re a lightweight.”

Hojung just groaned back, too dishevelled to say anything. You placed your palm on her forehead and felt it burn. 

“Alright, that’s enough, let’s wrap it up. Hojung, go to bed,” Heeseung scolded. 

“Sunoo, I’ll call you an Uber and—,” you started.

“No, he can stay and sleep on the couch, it’s too late. All of you go clean yourselves up and go to sleep,” Heeseung instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Heeseung and Sunoo led Hojung back to her room, holding onto her by the shoulders.  

You were sitting alone at the table now, scattered with empty cans of cheap alcohol and glass bottles of half-empty liquor. It was half past midnight, and although you desperately wanted to sleep, your mind was still plagued with the thoughts of how you were going to break up with the man who was poisoning your life.

You hadn’t even realised that Heeseung sat across from you until you felt him grab the drink can from your hand. He looked over to you disapprovingly, but also worried. 

“Hojung and Sunoo both went to bed, you should too,” he said quietly. His voice was so soft and soothing that it did make you want to fall asleep to the sound of it.

“I don’t think I can.”

Heeseung had heard everything you said, and he was doing a rather good job at hiding just how enraged he was at your scum of a boyfriend. Not to mention how angry he was at the words you said about yourself. It made him want to grab you by the shoulders and tell you in detail just how gorgeous and desirable you were, right after breaking the jaw of the man who made you cry like this.

If it were up to him, you would never cry unless it’s from pleasure from how good he made you feel. 

He snapped out of his crude thought. “Your boyfriend sounds like a real charmer,” he said sarcastically. 

You looked away from him, embarrassed, “So I guess you heard everything?”

“Sorry,” he said all too unapologetic, “I’m not the type to eavesdrop, I swear.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t want you to think I’m pathetic. I swear I’ll break up with him tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all, just misguided. You think way too low of yourself.” His stare made you feel so small. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.”

Your face heated up like crazy. You finally looked back up into his eyes and Heeseung felt amused at your flustered and shocked face. You were adorable beyond your comprehension. 

“You don’t know how many men would do anything to have you.” Present company included, Heeseung thought. 

You shook your head, chuckling weakly, “You don’t have to say that.”

His eyes went dark now, frustrated at how you didn’t believe him. He leaned over the table to grab your hand. It was comforting and far too gentle for you to have reacted by flinching at the sudden touch. “I mean it, Y/N. You deserve so much better than him,” he lowered his voice and whispered, “You deserve to feel good. A man who can’t pleasure his woman is what’s actually pathetic.”

You had no idea what to say at that, your body going stiff at his insinuating words and the feeling of his thumb rubbing over your hand. 

He smiled tenderly at you, trying to soothe your worries. “I could show you what it feels like to be taken care of.” He leaned closer towards you now, and you felt yourself leaning as well. “Come sit over here,” he patted his lap.

You had no idea what you were thinking when you stood up from your seat and began walking towards him, but you felt him pulling you in. In these months of misery and heartbreak, Heeseung’s comforting presence was magnetic and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting close to him.

You stood in front of him, and he gently held your waist to pull you down to sit over his lap, legs scandalously spread in front of his pelvis. You felt yourself heat up even more, especially the in-between of our legs. You were wearing pyjama shorts and a baggy white shirt, no bra. Heeseung snaked his arms up your back and pushed you even closer so your chest was flush with his. 

You were flustered at the feeling of your tits pressed up against him, and your shorts dampening ever so slightly with your arousal. 

“I bet I could be a better kisser than him,” Heeseung whispered. 

Your faces were so close now that one slight push would have your lips pressed up against each other. “We…We can’t do this Heeseung,” you managed to say.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He cupped your face, “you’re going to break up with anyways.”

“No, that’s not it,” you bit your lip and reached up, grasping onto his shoulder, “It just feels…I don’t know if Hojung will be happy with me—”

He placed a finger over your mouth, “Shh, enough of that. She doesn’t matter right now, and you do. What is it that you want?”

You leaned into his palm, ever so hypnotised by his stare. You stayed silent, your mind thinking of all the ways this may hurt Hojung. What if she thought of you as betraying her? You’ve always had feelings for him, but what if you succumbed to your desires as just a means of using him to get over your heartbreak? You cared far too much about Heeseung to do that to him. What if he just wanted to use you? 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Heeseung grabbed you tightly by the hips, making you rub your pelvis against his, not helping at all with your wave of arousal. You held back a whimper. “Tell me, gorgeous. What do you want?”

“I want you,” you finally pushed yourself against his lips. It didn’t take long for Heeseung to hold your head and push his tongue inside your mouth. The way he was using his tongue was making you hazy, not being able to suppress your noises any longer. It was rough and passionate. A fiery passion you weren’t used to. 

“Stay quiet, baby. Don’t want to wake anyone up, right?”

You nodded weakly, but you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to keep that promise. His tongue now latched onto your jaw and you clasped your lips together to hold back your whimper. Your squirming made Heeseung’s cock harden and stand up, and you began feeling sensitive to the feeling of his erection pressing up against you. 

It was almost involuntary the way you began grinding against his crotch, and you felt desperate. His lips were now on your neck and he grabbed a handful of your ass, steadily pushing you back and forth on his thighs. It made you see stars. 

It was embarrassing how you felt yourself nearing your orgasm just by this. You have been so sexually deprived and neglected it made you sensitive to real and passionate intimacy. It was in the feeling of your clit pressing against the fabric of your panties, and Heeseung’s hand inside your shirt playing and palming at your tits. Your nipples hardened at the pressure.

Fuck, you were going to cum practically untouched.

You quickened your pace, your hips beginning to tire as you started chasing the high.

“Are you going to cum, baby?” Heeseung whispered. You nodded meekly, not being able to speak a word. He gripped your hips, halting your movements. “Why don’t you take off your panties and ride my thigh? It will feel so much better.”

Although you were frustrated by having your pleasure taken away from you, you stood up on unbalanced legs in front of him once more. He put two fingers into the hem of your shorts and pulled you towards him. He leaned his head towards your leg and began placing kisses on your thigh as you felt your shorts slide down your legs and eventually pool on the floor.

“You’re fucking drenched,” you felt him place his fingers on the wet spot on your panties and whimpered at the feeling. “Have you ever been eaten out?”

You shook your head. Your boyfriend was the first sexual relationship you had, and he never seemed to be interested in making you feel pleasurable. You weren’t even sure if he knew how to.

“Bastard,” Heeseung murmured under his breath. He was utterly furious at how your boyfriend had practically been using you for his own pleasure like you were some object. He discarded your panties and pulled you back on his thigh.

Your clit came into contact with his thigh. He rocked you back and forth and your mind short-circuited at the friction of his jeans and your sensitive clit. You pressed your lips into his shoulders trying to muffle your moans, not trusting yourself to keep it in.

Heeseung was in bliss seeing you like this, desperate and beautiful and in utter pleasure. He felt his jeans get dampened from where your cunt was drooling on them. 

Because you were already so hot and stimulated, it didn’t take long for you to feel it. The feeling was almost foreign to you since it’s been so long since you’ve pleasured yourself. You were going to cum on his thigh. 

“I-I think…I’m close,” you whined.

“I know, baby,” he cupped the back of your head gently, “cum for me.”

You rolled your eyes back as you felt your orgasm wash over you. You felt it everywhere in your body. You wrapped your arms tightly around Heeseung’s torso, almost like you’d fly away if you weren’t anchored to him. He kept slowly pushing you on his thigh, gently helping you come down from your high.

“Thank you, Heeseung,” you said after you had time to calm down.

“Don’t thank me. Not yet,” he chuckled. You were confused until you felt yourself rise as he picked you up and began walking towards his bedroom.

He laid you gently on his bed and leaned down to press his lips on your forehead. You were prepared for him to fuck you some more, and as much as you were tired, a major part of you was excited at the thought of him wearing you out for the night. You were surprised when he stood back up and grabbed your phone out of his pocket. You had no idea how you got that.

“Open it,” he demanded. You did so, feeling upset at yourself for being so unquestioning and submissive. You couldn’t help yourself though as you had the utmost trust towards Heeseung. 

He went through your contacts and found the man he was looking for. His name on your phone was followed by a sparkly pink heart after it. It made him want to gag. He pressed the call button, surprised at how quickly the man picked up given how late it was into the night. “Babe?” came out of the other line.

He put it on speaker and handed you the phone. You were immensely afraid to take it, still hesitant about your ability to leave this dead relationship. “Tell him. Tell him now or I will,” he whispered spitefully. He wanted to watch you dump that pathetic excuse of a man before he let himself have you fully. 

He couldn’t give a fuck about how the other man felt about his girlfriend cheating on him, but he knew you needed to get this over with. He wanted you to forget your boyfriend and focus solely on him as he took you.

“Y/N, what do you want?” the voice on the phone came out harsh as he was getting annoyed at your silence, making Heeseung clench his fists. How dare he speak to you like that, he thought.

“H-Hi…I called because I wanted to tell you something,” you said gently. Heeseung was sure he did not deserve to hear your soft voice. 

“Okay? Well hurry the hell up, I want to sleep.” Heeseung felt himself holding back from becoming violent.

“I think…I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

“I…,” your eyes trailed towards Heeseung, looking for help. He held your hand to help comfort you, but he wasn’t about to break up with your boyfriend for you so he gave you a stern look to continue what you were saying. You decided to rip the bandaid and said, “I think we should break up.”

There was a silence on the other line until your boyfriend—now ex—began raising his voice and cursing at you, “You’re not fucking serious, Y/N. Is this seriously why you called me in the middle of the night? I mean, what the fuck?” You noticed Heeseung clench his jaw. “Go ahead, leave me. You’re just going to come crawling back when you can’t find someone who can put up with how boring you are. Honestly, you are suck a fucking bitch, too scared to—,” Heeseung grabbed the phone out of your hand.

There were tears welling up in your eyes, but you were trying your absolute best not to cry over this prick. You already embarrassed yourself enough. 

Heeseung knew he couldn’t yell in fear of waking up the others in the apartment, so he said as quietly as he could, “Listen here you fucking cunt. Speak to her like that again and I will rip your throat out with my bare hands, do you understand?”

“Who the fuck are you?” the man on the line spat, but you could hear the slight fear in his voice. Your ex has never been a particularly confident man around men who intimidated him. Heeseung’s strong presence was clearly making him feel inferior, even if it was through the phone.

“I said do you understand? Never call this number again. In fact, don’t step or look or breathe anywhere near her, asshole.”

“Are you fucking—,” Heeseung ended the call and blocked his number for good measure. 

Heeseung leaned down and pressed his forehead against your forehead, “How do you feel?”

Instead of responding you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled his lips on yours. You felt like your body would not function unless he was on you. You didn’t want Heeseung to think you were upset over leaving your boyfriend, because you weren’t. You couldn’t give a fuck about him anymore, but fuck were you embarrassed by your cowardly attitude.

You may have been too weak to take action against your now ex-boyfriend, but you mustered up all of your strength to show Heeseung how much you wanted him, and solely him. 

He grabbed your waist and pushed your back on the mattress. You were moaning into each other’s mouths. It was hot and desperate. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand pinning your wrists above you, the other descending down to your waist and grinding into you. You moved your hips up to meet his, trying to satisfy your craving for getting him inside you. 

He kissed you one more time before trailing his mouth down your throat, eliciting louder moans out of you. “Please,” you begged. You moved your hands to try to take off his shirt, forgetting he had them restrained. 

Heeseung let go of your hands, but instead of undressing himself, he peeled off your white shirt, leaving your bare breasts on display for him. He couldn’t hold himself back from moaning, gripping one with his hands and wrapping his lips around the other. It was practically impossible to keep quiet at the feeling of his mouth flicking and sucking on your sensitive bud. 

You felt his fingers yet again, but this time on your bare cunt, making you flinch in sensitivity. “Heeseung…,” you said breathlessly.

“Baby, you’re drenched,” his eyes were like a predator before it was about to devour its prey. He moved down the bed, placing your legs over his shoulders, thighs resting comfortably on his shoulders. He began lapping at your hole, and it felt like this was all that he was made to do. He was meant to pleasure you and now that he has been given the chance, he won’t be able to live without the feeling of your arousal on his tongue.

He licked up all your juices and then moved up to begin sucking on your clit. You accidentally yelped, despite your desperate effort to stay quiet. Heeseung chuckled, and looked up at you, “Baby, I told you to stay quiet. Or would you rather I shove your face into the mattress and take you from behind?”

You clenched at the thought, not entirely sure if you would mind. It didn’t get past him how positively you reacted to his threat. “Next time,” he murmured before continuing the devouring of your cunt. 

Your hand was tightly pressed over your mouth as you felt yourself cum on his tongue, your body shaking as you began to take in the feeling of overstimulation. You don’t remember a time in your life when you’ve had more than one orgasm in a single night. Heeseung climbed up once more and placed a kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You taste incredible,” he groaned, making your face heat up in flames. You couldn’t believe he could say such intimate and coarse things so calmly. He began kissing your neck again, surely leaving a mark for tomorrow. That’s something your future self would have to worry about. 

He slid off his jeans and groaned as you reached down to cup his cock with your hand, mind going haywire at how massive it felt. You were nervous now to take it in your cunt, but he removed your hand and thrust himself inside you in one quick motion, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

You were both moaning now, your walls blaming around his cock from the pleasure, but partly due to your struggling of trying to take his size. You were still a bit too tight even with the two times he’s already made you cum. He let you slowly adjust to it before increasing his rhythm, pumping his cock more deeply and quickly.

His back was now littered with your scratches from clawing at him. He was pounding into you at a speed that was making it harder to form any thoughts. How could you, when you were having your guts rearranged by the man you’ve been in love with since you were a little girl? You felt his cock throbbing inside your walls, and you knew your climax was coming closer, as well as his.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum baby,” he breathed. He reached down and you felt his fingers playing with your clit, trying to get you to cum at the same time as you. Even if you tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, the sounds of the bed creaking were not going to fool anyone who was awake at this time. 

“Cum inside me, p-please,” you managed to say in between whines. He didn’t object, and you felt your insides become hot as his seed spread inside you, coating your walls. At the same time, you clamped around his cock as you came with him. You gripped tightly at his back, needing him as close to you as humanly possible. 

Heeseung stayed still as he waited for you to calm down, running his hands up and down your waist to help warm you and stop your shaking. He pressed his forehead against yours. It was just you and him in this world, breathing slowly to each other’s rhythm. 

He knew you were exhausted, so he wasn’t about to bring it up now so as to not overwhelm you, but you were his now. You were now forever belonging to him. There is only one thing that will let him live a fulfilling life and it’s to keep you in his life, happy and protected.

While you were sound asleep, you didn’t even notice your phone vibrating throughout your sound slumber.

LEE HOJUNG [09:27]: i’m guessing you’re still asleep but…seriously girl. i’m glad you’re moving on from that garbage bin of a human (please please please tell me u broke up with him) but did you seriously have to do it with my OWN BROTHER????

LEE HOJUNG [09:27]: i’ll kill him if he hurts you i hope you know that.

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: are you guys together now or smth?

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: he’s never allowed back here again don’t argue with me istfg

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: UGH…YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING 🤮🤮 WAKE UP ALREADY SO I CAN BEAT YOUR ASSES 

KIM SUNOO [10:03]: Yeah…I’m not shocked in the slightest.