#Unfortunately it was like a five minute short and it was a “fuck around and find out” short where Archie was the antagonist

[childofaura]

It’s been a hot while since I’m here but just like with the Sonic VA ask: Which is your favourite Pokèmon VA (for the human characters that is)?

Pretty much all the 4kids actors, I unfortunately haven’t engaged much with Pokémon media for a while so I haven’t kept up on the Masters VAs or the anime/shorts VAs.

Though the one thing I’ll give to the Pokémon Company dub was Jason Griffith playing Cilan. You cast Jason, you automatically win my approval.

[oceantornadoo]

ch7 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: oral sex both ways

masterlist | next

John Price thrives on routine. His days are filled with meetings and bloodshed, negotiations and betrayal. Routine keeps him sane.

Unfortunately, that resolution crumbled the moment he gained a wife. It’s getting harder and harder to leave in the morning, to ignore the fluttering of your eyelashes as you feign sleep. That’s what he blames for this break in routine.

The morning after, he stays for ten minutes instead of five. Counts the ticks of the old clock in the corner of his room as he memorizes the scent of your skin. You always end up with your head in the crook of his neck, legs tangled around his torso. He’s never been much of a back sleeper, but now it’s the last thing he cares about. It’s the sound of your breathing, the plushness of your skin, the brush of your chest against his. When he eventually gets up, he doesn’t look at the bed until he’s ready. If he glanced back at your eyes in half-slits, shifting closer to his pillow to soak up the remaining warmth he left in the bed, he would never leave the room. 

At night, though, he succumbs to his weakness. He creates a new routine.

It’s the start of a new week after the getting-off confession. John had business in Glasgow over the weekend, lonely and cold in his hotel bed, but now he’s back.

“So Laswell sent me the contract. I definitely have enough to pay in full, but I’m thinking of paying half and then doing installments for the rest so I can have enough for immediate repairs. What do you-John?” John’s nodding along to your rant, disappearing under the covers to the place he’s been thinking about all weekend. The blanket’s a bit heavy, limiting his breathing, but it’s worth it for the sight of your clothed cunt, waiting for him.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.” Instead of following his orders, you peel back the cover until his head peeks out. “What are you doing?” He rubs circles into your thighs, reveling in their softness. John moves upwards, teasing the fabric of your pajama shorts. “You miss me this weekend?” He murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to his wife or her cunt. Both seem happy to see him, if that’s any consolation.

“No, I actually got the best sleep of my- hey!” He shoves his face into the triangle of your lap, sniffing with wonder. “Fuck, I missed ya.” You’re silent at his admission, but your hand finds a hold in his hair. “You did?” It’s soft and unsure, forcing him to rip his focus away from your pussy. “I did.” You bite your lip adorably. You tug him forward, gripping his scalp hard, until his face is in front of yours. 

“Maybe next time, you take me with you.” Absolutely not. He was meeting with a new prospective manufacturer, shady and dangerous. He was not putting you in any sort of danger. John shakes his head, heart clenching as your face falls. “Not the kind of place fer you, baby. Gonna let me eat you out now?” You nod, but your face is still hard with repressed emotion. He kisses your forehead, trailing down to your cheek, then nose. “Give us a kiss then.” It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him first, the notion sending blood straight to his cock. The kiss is short and sweet. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve gotten him under your spell. Two bloody weeks. He pulls away, a final kiss laid to your jaw. “Keep talkin’. Don’t mind me.”

The new routine continues for weeks. He gets you off a different way every night, from fingers to tongue to plain old grinding. And then he goes to sleep with you tucked to his side, taking care of himself in the morning. John needs you to be the one to ask to fuck, to reciprocate. The alternative leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Plus, every time he gets you off, you fall asleep immediately, like it’s the only way you’ll go to bed. It’s terribly endearing.

A month in, he starts noticing changes. The furniture in the sitting room, for one. They used to be 18th century relics, designed to make sure a guest didn’t overstay their welcome. Except now they’re eclectic, blue and green against the cream walls. The couches look comfortable, like you could spend a whole day there. The paintings change as well, from Rembrandt to Monet and Picasso. The impressionist works, blues and greens and yellows, work well with the new furniture, making his flat seem like a home. When he asks you, all you do is shrug and say something smart about updating his old man apartment. He leaves bite marks on your thighs that night. 

It’s a beautiful Friday night when John gets home early, around 9. He usually gets text updates from Terrance, your commandeered security guard that Price assigned to you full time, about your movements. You’ll usually get home at 7, but nothing yet. Two hours late. He calls Terrance and gets his voicemail. Highly unusual. Calmly, he presses on your contact's name, and it goes to voicemail. Three times.

Fingers shaking, he calls Kyle.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“My fuckin’ wife, Garrick.”

“Isn’t she with Terrance?” “No one’s answerin’ their goddamn phone.” Gaz sighs on the other end, like this is an inconvenience and not his wife they’re talking about. Keys click, then a mouse, before Gaz answers. “They’re at the bookstore. Been there since this mornin’, sir.” John drags a hand down his face, then grabs the keys to the car he barely uses. 

“Garrick, this is the last time you take more than three seconds t’ know where she is. I want a full team on ‘er at all times. I won’t hesitate t’ assign someone else as my Head of Security, someone who isn’t lettin’ their judgement take over their goddamn job. Copy?” He hasn’t dressed down one of his men, especially Kyle, but he’s tired of the man’s judgement on this marriage. What’s done is done. “Yessir.” John hangs up, too miffed to say goodbye. He’s got a wife to find.

-

Your bookstore is coming along well. It’s been over a month since you’ve been married, a month of John’s fingers and tongue loosening you in more ways than one. You swear you’ve developed stronger thigh muscles, simply from the orgasms he coaxes from you night after night. And then he just goes to sleep. You’ve felt his cock in fleeting touches, brushing against your thigh or hard in his lap as you grind on him. He never takes it out, never drags your hand in that grueling way men do with shady eyes and slimy smirks. Every night, he asks you if you hate him, and every night, your lie convinces him less and less. 

And every night, you think of how adamant he was against you joining him. His insistence that it “wasn’t the kind of place for you.” Your old problem with him has faded, a mess of childhood fears rolled into new ones. In its place are your insecurities, the word bastard floating through your head every time you think of his rejection. The clause in the marriage contract. It rolls together into a simple thought: he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s barely let you in on his business, content to stick with late night chats and orgasms. It should be fine, it should be what you wanted, but instead you feel a hollow hole in your heart where the word ‘friends’ lives. Even friends should share their secrets. 

But back to the bookstore. Your new baby. This first month was full of cleaning, dusting out odd corners and greasing creaky door hinges. You listed a hiring notice on online job boards, looking for an assistant to help with the grunt work. Which landed you Phil, a wonderful addition to the team. He was around your age, an American with sandy blond hair. Handsome in a basic way, something you noted and never thought of again. Terrance ran a background check on him, something you gladly consented to, and insisted on helping you interview him. It took a week of recon, but he was officially your new assistant as of two weeks ago. An amazing help around the store, handy with tools. You’d told Phil that you were the daughter of a lord, a minor lie to explain the bodyguard. He shrugged it off, the ex-pat seemingly used to the oddities of London.

Now that the space had been cleared, it was finally time to paint. Terrance insisted that he couldn’t help too much, his main duty too important, but with the help of Phil, you convinced him to paint the walls with you. You all left your phones in the half-fixed office, donning plastic sheets to protect from paint splatter. Your business plan, formed from your downtime during the day and shaped by your late-night conversations with John, was to have a store section and a community section. The community section would be at the front, with a beautiful light blue accent wall, perfect for book influencers. It would be surrounded by comfy couches and warm lighting, complete with a cafe space you intended to build out. Your idea reminded you of the library waiting hours away, with its own fireplace and furniture. You decided to recreate that cozy feeling and bring it to the public.

Farther into the building there would be bigger shelves for rows and rows of books, organized by type. The color scheme was influenced by the one in your home, as you decided to hand paint metal shelves light blues, greens, and yellows. Most would be bought, but you were planning a book drive far out for people to donate old books and get discounts on new ones. It’s an idea you had wanted to do in Manchester but never got around to.

Now that the front of the store was cleared out and bare, it was time to paint. The hours fly by as you paint the light blue wall while Phil and Terrance work on a cream wall on the other side. When you blink, the sun is already down, and your watch is flashing 10PM at you.

“Guys it’s almost ten! I think we ought to lay down the brushes for tonight.” Phil opened his mouth to respond but is cut off by a harsh pounding at the locked front door. It was supposed to be clear, but there was newspaper on all of your windows to prevent the glass from getting paint on it. Frowning, you moved to open the door, but Terrance stopped you with his arm out, his other hand reaching for his gun. “Go into the office, ma’am.” You followed his command reluctantly, Phil following on your heels as you went into the back office. It didn’t have any windows, so it was a space you did not want to be in for a while. Phil looked nervous, running his hand through his hair and tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Phil. Probably one of the neighbors complaining about our music.” You insisted on a jam session as you painted, blasting music from a speaker you stole from the Castle. “Shady things happen in London no matter what time, boss.” You shrug, picking up your phone to quell your nerves. A glance at your notifications explains everything.

Oh no.

You burst from the office, phone already returning one of your many missed calls. That’s when you ran into your husband, face hitting his hard chest with a harsh oof. “Christ, sweetheart, gave me a near heart attack.” John steadied your shoulders with his large hands, anchoring you in his grip. His brow was furrowed, eyes crinkling in worry as he scanned you up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You didn’t answer-” “Everything good out here?” Fuck. Phil.

“Who are you?” It was a tone you’d never heard come out of John’s mouth. You imagined it was his mafia man voice, gruff and short like he had a better place to be. John shoves you behind him, reaching for his gun. You rolled your eyes, hand covering his to stop a potential shoot-out. 

“John, he’s my-” “Assistant, sir. Good to put a name to the face, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You could practically hear Phil winking, laying on the Southern charm. You wrestled out of John’s grip, stepping out from behind his back. Phil’s hand was out for a handshake, but John hadn’t taken it, scanning the man up and down with suspicious eyes. “Funny, ‘cause I’ve never heard about you.” John tore his gaze away to catch yours, eyes slanted in anger. “I don’t have to tell you everything, John. I’ve got my own life, you know.” He looked almost hurt at your words, which couldn’t be true. Sure, you were fucking, but it’s not like this was a normal marriage. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted Phil working with you, just on the basis of him being a man. You didn’t want to be micromanaged by your own husband, so you simply hadn’t got around to telling him. 

“C’mere.” John tugged you towards the office, his grip hard. You could hear Terrance telling Phil to go home and wait for an update. Probably for the best. You imagined Terrance following him out, then debriefing with John’s driver about how much of an asshole their boss was.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John asked, arms crossed and face red. He’d shut the office door but remained standing since there wasn’t any furniture yet. “Because I knew you’d get like this.” You spit out, crossing your arms to mirror his. “Fuckin’ concerned fer the security of my wife? Tha’s a bad reaction?” You took a step back from him, crossing your arms tighter so you could pinch your waist, a reminder to stay strong.

“Controlling and caveman. This is my place of work, John, and you’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworker.” He doesn’t meet your eye, staring at the door so hard it might burst into flames. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, muscles trembling from restraint. “Ya don’t realize how many enemies I have. Every person needs t’ be checked.” Did he think you were stupid? “I had Terrance check him out. I know you don’t want me around your work, but I’m not an idiot, John.”

His rejection of your offer to travel with him weeks ago had stung more than you cared to admit. He clearly didn’t trust you, only seeing you as someone to fuck around with. You didn’t realize how far that lack of trust went.

“He should’ve reported it to Gaz.” John mutters. “He did. I know that for a fact.” John ran a hand through his hair, then dipped down to tug at his tie. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me. Christ, he’s worse than I thought.” You wanted to ask what that meant, but you bit your lip instead. He obviously didn’t want to tell you.

“Look, I know I’m a bastard and you had that goddamn clause in the contract, but you can trust me. I’m not running around behind your back.” That got John’s gaze to snap back to you, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Tha’s wha’ ya think this is about?” You nod, suddenly unsure. “Sweetheart, that was Gaz’s idea. T’ see if you’d argue. I intended for you to ask fer another cheatin’ clause fer me, but ya didn’t so I let it go. ‘S nothin’ like tha’. Plus, I didn’t know ya then. I know ya now.” Oh.

“So you trust me?” What about the trip? You wanted to ask, but you figure that would show your hand too much. John nods slowly, uncrossing his hands to put them on his hips. “Don’t care tha’ yer a bastard. ‘M not fuckin’ anyone else, either. I’m just concerned fer yer safety.” He takes a few steps towards you, gauging your reaction to see if you step back. You don’t, uncrossing your arms and praying they don’t shake. He grabs your hands in his own, blue eyes swimming with openness. There are so many things you want to ask him about: your childhood, his father, the future. They all fall to the wayside when he leans down to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “If I didn’t trust ya, ya wouldn’t sleep in my bed.” He kisses your forehead, then cheek, before pulling back. “I need ya t’ believe me.” He demands it seriously. A sudden rush of affection hits your heart. He looks so truthful, so concerned, and you want to show him that same care back.

You lower to your knees. John steps back, unsure. “Sweetheart, ya don’t have to.” You shake your head, beckoning him to come near. “I want to.”

John tugs off the blazer he’s wearing, folding it into a light pillow. He squats down on his haunches, eyes on yours. A warm hand brushes your knees, urging you up so he can slip the blazer under them. He then stands; blue eyes dark as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Go’on, baby. Take whatever you want.”

You reach for his black belt, unfastening it with trembling hands. It unclips with ease, and John’s hands, hairy and veiny and strong, cloud your vision as he unfurls it from his belt loops. You continue downwards, undoing the midnight black of his button. You unzip slowly, licking your lips in anticipation. His fingers brush back the creases on your forehead, trailing down to brush the shell of your ear. “Feel ok?” You nod at his question, cupping him through his boxers. John releases a sharp exhale, a heady sense of power coming over you. You work the pants down fully to give you room, petting him this way and that.

Finally, you peel down the dark fabric of his boxers. He’s hairy but well-maintained, similar to his fuzzy torso you’ve felt in bed. His cock is thick and heavy, wet with precum as it slaps against his upper thigh. You tuck his boxers down to give you room, then start exploring. Kitten licks to the base of him, his hair tickling your nose. Your hand joins you to squeeze his balls, eliciting a sharp groan. John tugs on your hair, more out of instinct than control. “You feel ok?” You throw his words back at him, a cheshire smile growing as he moans again.

“Christ, those fuckin’ hands.” He responds. You move to start stroking, licking him from base to tip. He tastes like salt and musk, but clean with the scent of pine. It’s the most addicting scent on earth. After he’s wet and leaking, you steady yourself with a hand on his upper thigh and the other on your husband’s cock.

You finally take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his tip. You hum and his grip on your hair tightens. “‘M gonna fuck yer mouth sometime.” You let go of him with a pop, leaning backwards. “Not tonight?” He shakes his head, reaching down to pump his cock in your absence. “I’m a few strokes from cummin’, sweetheart. You look too goddamn good on yer knees.” That earns a grin from you and a renewed sense of vigor.

You suck him hard this time, your hand making up the length you can’t cover. You work yourself into an easy rhythm, up and down as he cradles your face. It’s much softer than you’ve ever experienced from a man, careful and protective. He wasn’t kidding about how close he is, harsh pants emitting faster and faster from his chest. “Where d’ya want me, baby?” You don’t respond, keeping him in your mouth. All you do is blink sweetly, willing your eyes to look bigger than usual. “Fuckin’ perfect, my wife.” That sends a jolt to your heart, and you have to stop yourself from accidentally biting down. Instead of responding, you stroke faster and faster. His abs tense, and you pull back just slightly, letting him coat your tongue and lips. It’s salty but not bitter, a marker of how fucking healthy he is. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly. His thumb brushes off a bit from your nose, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck hard, like you did the night he first fingered you. He continues cleaning you up, careful and quiet in his movements. John tucks himself back into his pants and offers you a hand to help you off the floor.

“Your knees sore?” He whispers. You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed despite not having taken your clothes off. “C’mere.” He tugs you into his arms, tucking you under his chin. “We good?” He asks. You want to say no, want to ask him all the questions swirling around in your head, but all you do is nod and hold him closer.

-

In the car, John’s hand on your thigh, your phone vibrates. It’s Phil.

Everything ok?

Yep! Marital problems, all good.

Your husband is intense.

He’s a sweetheart for me, all that matters 🙂

Good to know. See you tomorrow.

His tone is odd, but you shove that thought from your mind. John squeezes your hand, and you tuck your phone away, content to focus on your husband. Phil is the farthest thought from your mind.

-

um. smut. now they're like friends with problems? idk enemies got boring.

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs 

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[writeriguess]

heey, I really love you writing and I wanna do a request Bakugo x Reader where Reader and Shinso are bff, but Bakugo and Shinso don't like each other, every time they meet they fight, over petty things like: "I know that I'll be at her wedding, 'cause I'm her best friend, but what bout you?" And Bakugo gets angry or every time Reader and Bakugo are in some intimate or affectionate moment, Shinso gets in the way (even without meaning to) and makes fun of them saying it's too much sugar. Basically, Bakugo it's jealous and Shinso loves to tease him, and the reader is between the devil and the deep sea. Just if you can do that🫶

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

You knew from the very first introduction that Bakugo and Shinso would never get along. It was instinctual—like two alley cats hissing at each other over territory they didn’t even need to fight over.

And unfortunately for you, you were the territory.

Shinso had been your best friend since your first year at U.A., back when he was still in General Studies and had to prove himself every day. You were there through it all—his training with Aizawa, the doubts he had about his quirk, the grueling entrance into the hero course. You were ride or die, and he was the same for you.

Then, there was Bakugo. Your loud, explosive, short-fused, absolutely infuriating boyfriend. It was a miracle he had fallen for you, even more of a miracle that he had admitted it. And an absolute disaster that he and Shinso couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without launching into some stupid argument.

Which led you to now—sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, sandwiched between Bakugo and Shinso, who had decided to drop by unannounced with food in hand, as he often did.

"You again?" Bakugo grumbled, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Shinso.

"Yeah, me again," Shinso said with a lazy smirk, setting the takeout bags on the coffee table. "You’re not the only one allowed to spend time with her, you know."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"It means I was here first," Shinso said smugly, grabbing his food and leaning back. "Best friend privileges."

Bakugo’s eye twitched. "Tch. Like I give a shit about that. She’s my girlfriend, dumbass."

"And I’m her best friend," Shinso countered. "So I’ll be at her wedding for sure. What about you?"

You watched Bakugo’s face go from irritated to downright murderous in two seconds flat. His hands clenched into fists, and you could practically hear the way his teeth gritted together.

"You wanna fucking repeat that?"

Shinso just smirked, chewing on a fry like he hadn’t just ignited World War III.

You groaned, slumping in the middle of them. "Can you guys not?"

"No," they said in unison.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You loved them both, you really did, but this constant bickering was going to be the death of you.

—

It didn’t help that Shinso had a habit of showing up at the absolute worst times.

Like now, when you were sitting on Bakugo’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, exchanging lazy, drawn-out kisses after a long day.

"You taste like cinnamon," you murmured against his lips.

Bakugo smirked, squeezing your waist. "Yeah? Maybe you should get another taste, then—"

"God, get a room, you two."

You flinched so hard you nearly fell off Bakugo’s lap. Bakugo, on the other hand, groaned loudly, throwing his head back in frustration.

"For fuck’s sake, Shinso, do you have a fucking tracker on her or somethin’?!"

Shinso leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the ever-present smug look on his face. "Nah, just good timing."

"Good timing, my ass!" Bakugo barked. "You do this shit on purpose!"

Shinso shrugged, stepping further into the room. "I dunno what you’re talking about. I just happen to walk in when you two are acting disgustingly in love." He made a gagging motion. "Seriously, it's like watching a rom-com in real life. Too much sugar."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Hitoshi…"

Shinso only grinned. "What? Just calling it like I see it."

Bakugo’s hand tightened on your waist, pulling you possessively against him. "You jealous or somethin’?"

Shinso raised a brow. "Jealous of what?"

"That she’s with me and not with your smug, sleep-deprived ass," Bakugo sneered.

Shinso actually looked mildly offended for once. "Excuse you, I get plenty of sleep."

"You nap like a goddamn cat all the time. That don’t count."

Shinso scoffed. "Whatever. Point is, I just don’t like third-wheeling in my best friend’s life." He shot you a teasing glance. "You used to be cool before you started dating a raging porcupine."

Bakugo looked ready to explode. "THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

"Guys!" you shouted, slapping both of their arms. "Can you stop? Just for one day?!"

Bakugo grumbled under his breath but kept his arms firmly around you. Shinso held up his hands in surrender but still had that smug little smirk on his face.

—

The worst fight, though, came when Shinso found out about a certain nickname.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night. You and Bakugo were curled up on the couch, watching a movie, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly played with your fingers.

Then your phone rang.

You glanced at the screen. Shinso.

"Hey," you answered, putting it on speaker.

"Yo," Shinso greeted, his voice relaxed as always. "Wanna grab some food? I know this new place that—"

"She’s busy," Bakugo cut in, tightening his hold on you.

You sighed. "Katsuki—"

"What, I’m just answering for you since your dumbass best friend can’t take a hint."

Shinso scoffed. "Y’know, for someone who supposedly likes you so much, he’s kinda possessive."

"Shut up, Brainwash."

Shinso chuckled. "Oh? Cute nickname. But not as cute as Teddy Bear."

Dead silence.

You swore you felt Bakugo's soul leave his body.

"The fuck did you just call her?"

Shinso grinned through the phone. "Teddy Bear. You didn’t know? I’ve been calling her that since first year. It suits her, doesn’t it?"

Bakugo's entire body went rigid beneath you. "Why the fuck would you be calling her that?!"

"Because she's soft and cuddly," Shinso answered casually. "And because she always used to carry that little keychain bear on her bag. You still have that, don’t you, Teddy Bear?"

You gulped. "Uh…"

Bakugo shot you a betrayed look. "The fuck is this?! Why didn’t I know about this?!"

Shinso laughed. "Damn, so she never told you? That’s rough, buddy."

Bakugo shot up so fast you nearly tumbled to the floor. "You motherfu—"

You grabbed his face before he could launch into a full-blown explosion. "Babe. Babe. Breathe."

His eye twitched. "Teddy Bear?"

Shinso chuckled through the phone. "You sound jealous, Bakugo."

"I’M NOT FUCKING JEALOUS!"

"Liar," Shinso sang.

"I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, SHINSO—"

You sighed, already dreading the next inevitable argument.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea, indeed.

[sungbeam]

𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬

jeong yunho x gn!reader

1.1k words, friends 2 friends who cuddle ?, one bed trope, fluff, humor, like two swear words cuz who am i without cursing, snuggling, consequences of yunho being Tall (implied that reader is shorter than yunho)

a/n: im sorry that this kinda sucks ass but yeah,, one bed trope :')

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'm going to hate this,” Jeong Yunho swore as his head poked up into the attic space, eyes wide in horror.

When the inn owners said that the attic was hardly an attic, they unfortunately were not exaggerating. It was close to a crawl space, with just enough room for you to stand up straight, and outfitted with an extra long twin bed, nightstand and lamp, a pillow, and two large sherpa wool blankets. The bed was fitted beneath the slope of the roof because the entire space wasn't even large enough to put the bed in the middle.

You were starting to sweat, and considering there wasn't even heating up here, you raced to calm your nerves. “It'll be fine,” you said with a small, anxious laugh.

Yunho moved his terrified eyes up to you. “Respectfully? I'm gonna go sleep in the storm.”

When he moved to descend the ladder, you slid on your knees to grab hold of his wrist. “Come on, big guy. It's one night.”

“Yn, what if I said I was claustrophobic, huh?” He whined, but reluctantly followed you all the way up the ladder and into the attic. He straightened—big mistake. You heard the loud thump as his head met the roof, and grimaced. “Oooow!”

You hissed and reached over to gently rub the place that began to smart when he leaned down. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whimpered. “Can I sleep in the lobby?”

Around ten minutes later, after many trials and tribulations and head bonks, you and Yunho somehow transferred your duffle bags up the ladder and into your glorified crawl space. They took up the space just beside the ladder and at the foot of the bed, and as you stared at said twin bed, you wondered if Yunho's legs would even fit on it.

Most likely not.

In fact, you were certain that two people couldn't even fit on the bed unless they were either on top of each other or packed together like sardines.

You reminded yourself that it was only going to be one night. This was what the two of you got for leaving five hours after everyone else, just to get caught in tonight's awful storm and stuck with the only “room” available for miles. In retrospect, it was your fault. Yunho had been generous enough in offering to stay behind with you until you finished your last exam.

“You can have the bed,” you told him as you were both crouched by your bags to grab clothes to sleep in. Despite your realization about your counterpart's long limbs and the bed's shortcomings, you wanted to extend an offer of chivalry.

Yunho twisted around and sent you an incredulous look. “What?”

“You drove us up here,” you replied with a shrug. You swiftly draped your sleep clothes over one arm and gathered your bag of toiletries in the other. “And you waited for me to finish my exam and you're kinda being dealt the short end of the stick with this room.”

He sat down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, and though his face was still pulled into the same expression, he laughed. “Yn, I hate to break it to you, but I think you're gonna fit better on that bed than I will.”

You pursed your lips, gazing over at the narrow slot on the floor between the other sloping roof and the bed. That was the only other place someone could sleep in this room. “I don't want you to sleep on the floor though.”

“I know I was complaining, but don't worry about it,” he reassured as he turned back to dig through his duffle. He flicked his wrist blindly in your direction. “You can wash up first; I'll set everything up.”

Since he left little to no room for argument, you resolved to do as he suggested. There was a community washroom on the floor below that you made your way toward. As unfortunate as your accommodation was for the night, you were eager to head back up and go to sleep. Yours and Yunho's friends were all waiting at Seonghwa's cabin already, and perhaps it wasn't just exhaustion that made you antsy for this night to get a move on.

You and Yunho just needed to get through tonight. It would be fine.

When you returned to the attic crawl space, Yunho had everything set up as he said he would. He'd found an extra set of sheets from one of the downstairs closets and laid it on the ground by the bed, then rationed one of the blankets for himself and the other for you on the bed.

You let out a tired sigh and trudged over to the bed to grab the pillow from where it rested on the headboard. You set the pillow instead at the head of Yunho's sleeping situation, then balled up one of your jackets to use as your own pillow. Once satisfied, you climbed into bed, and you were out like a light.

Everything was hazy as you emerged from deep sleep to confused half-consciousness. The room was descended into darkness, the sounds of light rain drumming steadily against the sloped rooftop above your head. Your brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton—why had you suddenly woken up?

Then you heard it.

“Achoo.” Then another one. And another one.

Even half dead, your brain could put two and two together. You rolled over slightly to wave your arm over the side of the bed, hand flapping around until you bumped Yunho's shoulder. “Hey, Yunho.”

Another sneeze.

“Yun, get your butt up here.”

He grunted. ��'m fine.”

“You're gonna get sick,” you grumbled with your face half squished against your jacket zipper. That was definitely going to leave a mark in the morning. “Come up here, for fuck's sake.”

He made another noise, perhaps of acknowledgment, before you heard sounds of movement.

You kept your eyes half-lidded to keep as much light out as possible, and rolled over again. As he crawled onto his knees, and then his feet, you opened up your blanket to him so he could join you.

“Pillow,” he slurred—you whined when it hit you in the face. “Sorry.”

In a drowsy drugged tango, you swapped your jacket out for the pillow and Yunho wormed his way onto the bed beneath your blanket. You scooted as close to the wall as you could, but even then, Yunho was pressed flush against you. His arms came around your waist, his nose wedging itself between your neck and shoulder until he was comfortable.

“Your feet are cold,” you muttered. “Get them under the blanket.”

“Too tall.”

“Show off.”

He huffed out a puff of air against your neck like a laugh, then tucked his knees up slightly to fit under the blanket. Your legs were now tangled among his, your bodies curled tightly together. In the morning, you would rationalize it out as creating body heat to prevent either of you from getting sick.

When movement stopped, you voiced into the darkness, “Better?”

A content sigh. “Better.”

Maybe this accommodation wasn't so bad after all.

ateez m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍

Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 

He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 

As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 

Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  

Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 

Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.

For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 

This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.

That was until Zoe came into his life.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.

Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”

Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 

“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 

“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”

“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.

Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.

They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.

Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.

“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”

“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.

“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.

She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”

“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.

“Something like that,” she chuckled.

There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 

But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.

Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”

She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too baby.”

Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 

Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.

“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.

“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”

“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.

“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.

“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”

“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”

Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”

His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.

There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 

All fucking night, that was for damn sure.

[ggirlthatgotaway]

Purple Necklaces (Death Kink, Fontaines DC)

summary: if there’s a perfect word that can describe what you feel towards Aemond Targaryen, that is ‘hate’, and you are perfectly aware that he feels the same. Still, it was 1971 when The Persuaders published ‘Thin Line Between Love and Hate’

trigger warning: hate, violence, explicit and sexual language, degrading terms, hate again, choking, slapping, bruises, deep throating, use of a belt, etc…

word count: 3.5k

supposed reading time: 15 minutes

note: short story no glory. BEEN TOO LONG I KNOW! unfortunately for you, i have an obsessive behaviour towards men, and this WHOLE MONTH has been dedicated to Grian Chatten, whose spit i want in my mouth <3. but Aemond’s always in my thoughts, so here’s something for ya. also, i feel like this should have more trigger warnings, but i don’t know what to put.

-💎

‘i’m there in five’

That’s what you texted Aemond Targaryen. He usually wouldn’t have received anything: you would have just showed up at his house with a grimace that reflected his own, and he would have made you come into his flat, pretending reluctance, before grabbing your hair into his fist and crushing your lips together with a hatred you had rarely ever felt.

That word was the preferred one to sum up your relationship: hatred.

You were completely fine with it, to be honest, and he seemed to feel the same. Three months ago it happened for the first time, him taking you. You recalled the batting rain outside the sweaty London pub, the too many drinks, and the usual way he looked at you- through furrowed brows, his mouth threatening to curve into a grimace in front of everyone. Of course, your friends knew about the strong feeling you felt towards one another, reason why, when that night you both disappeared into the crumpled bathroom for ten minutes, they didn’t really notice.

Would have you, in their position? Would have Aemond? You didn’t think so.

That night, which was majorly deleted by the countless drinks consumed- it had been Aemond’s birthday, and he had said that he would have payed for everything; you simply could not lose the opportunity to get plastered with the money of someone who never even offered a cigarette- hadn’t even touched the memory of the way he had taken you: fast, hard, with a fist curled around your hair and the other hand printing his fingertips into the flesh of your thigh.

It had been silent, with your forehead on the mirror in front of you, and your mouth opened in a pain and a pleasure you had had no clue your mind would have played over and over again. It had been the complete opposite of all your other encounters, which filled his almost empty bedroom of your cries, muffled by his hand, and the scarily strong words he directed towards you.

Today, you had texted him for the mere fact that you knew it would have made him angry. Exactly like you had expected, when he opened the door with a grimace, his first words were: “What the fuck do I care what time you arrive?” he said, then tutted and let you come in, “Move.”

You rolled your eyes and walked past him, leaving your bag and coat on the nearest chair, “Was just tryna be nice.”

“Talk properly,” he hissed, slapping your ass so hard you gasped and covered the hit spot with your own hand. You didn’t even have time to say something among the lines of: I talk however the fuck I want, that his hand moved to grip your face, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. “Why do you insist on coming back if I hurt you this much?” he whispered, his breath hitting your lips.

You didn’t have an answer for that. The only reason your mind could master up was that your bodies were made for each other. That there was this invisible pull you felt towards him you just could not ignore, a pull you believed he also felt.

After all, you and Aemond were complete opposites: he was methodical, meticulous and sharp-edged where you were disorganised, disoriented and soft, with sensitive skin that always carried the signs of his touch, days after you had been together.

Certainly, though, you were not going to tell him that you believed you two to be tied spiritually- he would have spat in your face even harder than he usually did. So, you looked him in the eye, trying not to take your gaze away, trying not to show how much of an effect he had on you, although he already knew.

He tutted and moved his hand to your neck with a momentary gentleness you knew would disappear in the nearest future. His thumb grazed your pulse point, his eyes following the movement, “You saw your mother last week?”

You nodded, the movement meccanic and nervous, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “She’s alright.”

“Hmm…” he murmured, his grip already tightening, “Did she see your neck? Or did you cover it up?”

You knew he was referring to the marks he always left around your throat, that amethyst necklace you saw each time you looked in the mirror. “I covered it up.” you answered, your tone low for the shame he provoked- unfortunately, it all made you even wetter.

He scoffed out a laugh, his lips curving into a cruel smirk, “Good girl…” His grip on your neck tightened further, his thumb pressing onto your pulse point more forcefully before releasing it. He took a step back, his hands finding the button of his jeans. “Knees,” he ordered, his eyes on his movements, “I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

You looked at him as he lowered his trousers to his knees, and complied as quick as you could when his eyes found you again. Hands joined behind your back, as he liked it the most, you prepared yourself at what was to come.

Aemond let out a breath, his cock now free of his boxers. Taking a step closer to you, he massaged it slowly, as if he wanted to show you he wasn’t craving you, he could wait as long as he pleased, but the rugged breath he let out said otherwise.

He brought his tip to your lips, traced them, and nudged them, silently ordering you to open your mouth. When you obeyed, he let you close your lips around him, taste his precome, without pushing his cock deep inside right away.

But when your eyes met his, he was quick to ball his fist into your hair and pull you so close your hand went to his thigh for balance. “Hands behind your back.” he grunted out, starting to pound his hips into your mouth.

Only when you obeyed he pulled away enough to let you breathe, but his harsh movements still had you choke around his cock, salivating like a dog in the deepest summer.

“Fucking slut,” he hissed, voice venomous as he thrust his hips forcefully, “Take it all.” He fixed his grip on your hair, pulling it tighter and away from your face, so he was sure to see your eyes as he made you do what he wanted to. His free hand went to your throat, massaging its length as he pounded, feeling his cock stretch it out under his palm and groaning at the touch.

He loved seeing you choke, the sight of tears filling your eyes could get him over the brink in a heartbeat, but he always held back, always grounded himself by remembering how much your only presence frustrated him on a daily basis.

He loved seeing you struggle, it fed his sadistic nature in a way nothing else did, and it made him think that keeping you around was worth it, after all. “You like that.” Aemond stated, “Like being my little plaything… Knowing that you’re here only because I love taking it out on you.” he snarled, his hand on your throat moving away momentarily to slap your cheek, before taking his firm hold on you once again.

Still, it wasn’t enough. It had been too long since he had you in this situation, with the whole thing you had to go at your mother’s, and the fire inside of him wasn’t quelling as much as he wanted to. With a groan, he bent to pull his jeans up, the hand on your hair still firm, not letting you take a breath. He slid his belt out of the loops and fastened it around your neck, using it to dictate the pace of you sucking on his cock, pulling you close to meet his every thrust.

Surprised by his actions, your hands gripped the belt, one going over his. “I said hands behind your back, princess.” he grunted out, slapping you across the cheek with his free hand, harder than before. “Don’t make me say that again.”

The desire you got of apologising to him was only refrained by the fact you could not speak, because the sensation wasn’t new, despite the way you were treated by him. But the whine you let out around him made him understand what you meant- despite the hatred, he had learned to read your body language quite well.

He let out a small, cruelly mocking laugh at your sound, which made you remember the first time you had apologised to him while you fucked: it was your second time, the one after the bar. It had been the dead of night, his fingers had been inside your mouth as he slammed into you- an attempt to keep you silent. But after a particularly violent thrust, you had bitten his fingers so hard he had grunted, his movements had stopped, his hand retracting after forcing your mouth open again. “You filthy…” he had trailed off, eyes wide. It was then you had apologised, voice shaking and faint, and his mouth had curved into the only real grin you had ever seen on his face.

But this time, there was no grin at your apology. He took the belt off your neck, and with feral eyes brought it down onto your back. It wasn’t extremely hard, nor painful, but it was enough for his cock to slip out of your mouth, your forehead resting against his hip. You didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all how it left you breathless and wide eyed.

Aemond, however, either did not care or did not notice, because his belt found your back once again, faster, more sharply. You fell on the floor, “Stop! Stop it!” you hissed, your back arching as if he were about to hit you again.

Instead, there was a beat of silence, before the sound of the metal on the belt rang against the tiled floor. He fell on his knees beside you, his arms wrapping around you as he held you tight and pressed his cold hand on the red he’d just left on your back, under your shirt. “Shh…” he whispered into your ear, and, only for a second, you thought he was about to apologise, that your roles would have switched for a mere second.

He didn’t. “Let’s go to bed, mh?” his tone was still cold into your ear, and maybe it was his warm breath, skimming against your neck that made you nod and, with the help of his arms, get up and walk to his room.

You hated his room as much as you hated him. You looked around, mouth agape, as he undid the zipper of your jeans and slid the material down your thighs, quieter than usual. You wondered if you had scared him that much when you screamed, but your thoughts were interrupted when his hand collided with your ass, making you gasp.

“You’re so… Pliable, you still have my fingertips on you from last week.” his voice, velvety and quiet, a stark contrast with his cold and sharp hits, said against your ear as you stepped out of your jeans, his hands continuing to squeeze your sides.

“You like it.”

He did, you realised when he did not say anything back. “Never as much as you bent over.” he said, nudging you towards his perfectly made bed. You did, kicking your jeans blindly, knowing the simple act would have infuriated him.

Sitting on the bed, your hands on either side of you and your legs crossed, you looked up at him defiantly. “What if I don’t want to bend over?”

“I will bend you over.” he said simply, taking a small step forward.

“You so desperately want to see what you did on my back?” you asked, taking off your shirt and throwing it carelessly somewhere on the floor.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his side, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. Letting out a soft sigh, he approached, gripping your hips and turning you on your side. You felt the bed sink under his weight as he settled down beside you, his fingers trailing down your back, on the print the belt had left.

“Do you want me to apologise for that?”

“No.” you told him, shaking his hand off of you and moving to stand on your knees on the bed, looking down at him. He was so handsome you did want to turn around, so you did not have to look at him. With a sigh, you reached over sliding his shirt off of him and throwing it next to where yours had fallen.

“Don’t treat my clothes the way you do yours.” he sneered, getting up to take off his boxers and freeing his cock once again. He did not turn you on your back as he had previously stated, but his eyes remained on your knickers, the sides of which he traced with his thumbs.

“You’re better off without.”

“Mh…” Aemond muttered, suppressing a grin at the words that left your mouth. His thumbs hooked the sides of the only piece of thin, wet fabric that was left between you and slid them off, squeezing in his hand, which he fisted beside your head.

With his free hand, he guided his cock to your cunt, brushing the tip against your dripping folds before thrusting inside you in one motion, a grunt coming out of his mouth while yours opened in silent pleasure mixed with pain. His hand gripped your thigh violently, his grip so strong he could stop a hemorrhage with it.

Still buried to the hilt, his lips pressed into a tight line, he said, voice cold and strained, "See how easily you give yourself to me? You're nothing but a whore who needs to be fucked hard."

The whine you let out made him pull out almost completely before slamming into you deep inside again, because your mind had started to crave his words as much as your body had always craved his and his touch. You never had words to speak when he was inside of you, you felt as dumb and as speechless as he made you out to be.

He threw your knickers away, his hand now free to wrap around your throat as his hips started to move into you faster and faster. “Do you like it? Knowing that this is where you belong, under me, taking every single inch of my cock.”

His words made you unable to think of anything, to feel anything, not even the sheets under you, but his hand on your flesh, his cock deep inside your throbbing cunt. “Aemond, please…” were the only words that you were able to get past your lips.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, leaning over you and biting your soft cheek. “Say it again.” he taunted, before straightening up once more and leaving your neck, grabbing and marking both of your thighs with his fingerprints, slamming into your pussy even harder than before. “Say, ‘please, Aemond’.”

You whined, your body jolting forward with each thrust, and back again because of his hold. “Please, Aemond…” you cried, your walls beginning to tighten around him.

“Christ, you’re going to make me cum like that.” Aemond hissed, rotating your leg so he pounded against your arse. He used one hand to steady himself, the other to grip your face, that already fell limply, to angle it towards him. “You want to cum, princess, don’t you?” he sneered, “Do it. I want you to fucking writhe around my cock.”

You cried, the sound muffled by the grip on your face. The new angle, which bent your spine, pushed his cock even deeper inside you, making your body tremble frenetically, and his words, spat into your ear, made you do just that. “That’s it, you fucking whore…” Aemond said as you convulsed around him, which pleased him in ways you could not even begin to imagine.

Once he had carried you through your climax, he pushed you onto your back, taking a step away and staring at you with ragged breaths. Your juices coated his cock, and he wrapped his hand around it, stroking it slowly before he approached again. “…I’m going to fuck you again.” he stated, spreading you and entering you roughly, his hands falling on either side of your head as he leaned in and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, relishing in the gasp you let out.

Your cunt was still throbbing around him, sore, even if he was not moving, and his warm mouth, on you, his lips brushing against your skin as he retracted, made your eyes roll back into your head. “And you’ll cum again… You’ll cum again as I tell you how much I fucking hate you.”

You hated how you nodded fervently, your lips sinking into your lower lip to recreate, however pathetically, the way he had just bit you. Aemond started to pound inside of you once again, a moan escaping his lips as he threw his head back. He pulled your hips up, so you were forced to sink your head onto the mattress. “Aren’t you ashamed? Being so fucking easy…” he said, his breathing accelerating as his hips slammed against your ass.

“You’re so- fuck!” Aemond breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic. When he felt as if he could not hold it in any longer, he pulled out of you, his chest heaving and his eyes closed. You fell onto your back, your arms draped over you as you stared up at the white ceiling of Aemond’s bedroom.

“You’re the worst. I fucking hate you.” you told him.

“Says the whore who just came on my cock…” Aemond said, spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. His hand found your cunt, and he didn’t hesitate to plunge his fingers inside of you, moving them deep and slowly. “Fucked by someone who despises you… Fucked by someone you despise… Very smart.”

“Shut up.” you whined, your hands wrapping around his arm, too weakly to stop his movements. He grinned, pulling his fingers out of you and giving you a slight slap against your pussy, before positioning his cock back at your entrance and slamming back inside.

“How fucking dare you? Telling me to shut up?” he said, taking both your wrists into his hand and pinning them above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing them. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips as he pounded into you, and he leaned in, his breath against your lips. “Who does this beautiful cunt belong to, huh?”

“To you.” you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut. You didn’t fight it anymore, you fucking couldn’t, and it only worsened when he let out a small laugh, and his other hand went to your breast, caressing its underside with his thumb, making your skin tingle.

“Mh… It does.” he murmured, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. He often got like this when he was about to cum, especially when he wasn’t fucking you from behind. “You look yoo beautiful like this.” he grunted, leaving a hit kiss on your neck before pulling away and turning you on all fours. “Like this…” he breathed out, “Like this you’re gonna take my cum.”

With that, he slammed inside of you again, his strides purposeful and his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. He loved the sight if you like this, as you stretched yourself out like a cat, your sweet pussy tightening around him. “You’re mine.” he groaned, his hands holding you tight against him, “I love… You’ll always be mine.”

He let out a groan, his thrusts becoming erratic once again. But this time, he didn’t stop, continuing to pound inside of you until he emptied himself completely, a cry exiting his lips.

Aemond fell onto the bed beside you, his hand resting beside your hip. Looking down, he let his fingers graze your soft skin while he regained his breath. When you let out a laugh, short, breathless, your mind still enveloped in the haze of all that had just happened, his jaw tightened.

He got up, grabbing his boxers from where they lay on the floor and sliding them on, “Get dressed and leave.” he spat, not trusting himself to look at you. He had to bite the inside of his cheek again when another laugh left your body. He loathed you even more when you were like this- you seemed fucking drunk.

“I love you, too, Aemond.” your sweet voice reached his ears, making him stop dead in his tracks. When you laughed for the fucking third time, he tutted and shook his head.

“Move that arse of yours, and leave my fucking house, Princess.”

[forsworned]

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME ft. LOGAN WALKER

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Solo Sex (f.), Usage of Sex Toys, Voyeurism, AFAB!reader,

Author's note: @keegansshark because you inspired me!!!!

Being the Walker brother's third roommate is awfully quiet. In fact, half of your time here is spent apologizing about any ruckus you might be causing them whether it be your music, the loud clattering in the kitchen, or having a friend or two over. But they insist that it's fine. Giving you grand, boyish, heartthrob smiles that make you melt like a popsicle on a hot pavement.

Unlike Logan, Hesh is more outgoing, and talkative, and not staring you down from across the room when you're attempting to complete your work. He's asking you about your day, telling you to tag along with him and his brother when they go gyming and somehow is always sitting on the opposite end of the table when you're going out to eat, leaving you next to Logan every time.

And sometimes there's a sneaky, mischievous glance sent Logan's way followed by a pained expression that's stifled with laughter on his older's brother face.

But that was neither here nor there. However, upon finding out that the Walker brothers were going to spend the weekend out camping, you took it as an opportunity to be as noisy as you wanted. As much as you adored them, you felt relieved not having to walk on eggshells around them when it came to your sonorousness.

A deep exhale leaves your chest as your body hits your mattress. It had been a long week and you wanted nothing more than to unwind. Unfortunately, you didn't have a boyfriend to fuck your brains out so you settle for the vibrator in your locked drawer. You fish out the keys from your pocket and unlatch it. It wasn't a stellar collection of sex toys, more like just the essentials.

You decide upon your favorite, old reliable, first Eve's thruster and tug off your shorts and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side of your bed. It's a little depressing that you have to resort to such methods, but it was going to be a long weekend, so what better way to start it off then with some solo sex?

You turn it in and slowly work yourself up and the image of Logan flits into your mind. How good he would feel between your legs right now, filling you up with his cock and gazing down at you with those pretty hazel eyes of his. It's hardly been a few minutes before you feel yourself sopping at the mere notion of him touching you, and you're sliding the vibrator past your folds imagining that it's him inside of you.

His name spills from your lips over and over again, so sticky sweet, and delectable to the ears of any man if they had the pleasure of listening in on you.

So luckily for Logan, he's back at the apartment complex, fumbling with his keys to unlock the door after Hesh had forgotten to pack propane fuel. It isn't a huge deal, certainly not enough to sour his mood. An earnest mistake that Logan is more than willing to make up for for his older brother.

Too entranced by your own euphoria, you don't hear the door unlocking, nor it opening and the footsteps that follow, but Logan certainly hears your wanton breathy moans, reverberating into the hallways leading to the living room. He halts dead in his tracks and he's pondering about how he should approach the situation. He's thinking that maybe you happen to be watching a movie with a sex scene and it will pass at any moment. But it's past five minutes now and he's thinking otherwise.

His heart thuds against his chest as he stands there completely paralyzed, but his body isn't the only rigid thing. If it weren't obvious to you yet, Logan had a raging crush on you, and Hesh would be happy to take any opportunity to tease him about it. So the sound of you moaning is definitely getting him riled up. His eyes dart to the propane that sat on the kitchen island where stupid Hesh had left it and he's quietly making his way over to grab it and leave without alerting you, but then he hears you calling out his name. And then, again, and again and again.

As each passing second ticks by, the urgency in your whimpers intensifies, and Logan's legs seem to act autonomously, losing sight of their original purpose. He silently stalks to the ajar door of your bedroom and his eyes ream at your sopping, wet pussy out for display, hammering away at it with your hot pink, dildo that's thrusting into you. You're throwing your head back in pure rapture and his dick fully bricked up on sight. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, swallowing thickly as he absentmindedly palms at his dick.

It's so fucking wrong. And he's so aware of that, but it doesn't stop him from burning the image of you getting yourself off to him in his mind. His desire to step into the room is magnifying by the minute, but he holds himself back. The way your mouth is parting as you reach your climax is so, so, so delicious. The salacious sighs that escape you drive him wild and honestly, he could cum right now. It wouldn't even take long. One touch from that pretty mouth of yours and he would be coloring you a pretty, ivory white.

And just when you're about to orgasm, the creak of your door jostles you, stopping you mid-thrust and you could almost die when you see Logan's form leaning against the doorway. The blood drains from your face as you take in his unbuttoned jeans, undone zipper, and his hand slipping into his boxers. His hazel eyes might just be as wide as yours and the embarrassing sound of your machine is still going off and you practically rip it out of you, but your unexpected orgasm reels you in for a moment. It halts you as your bach archs and you gasp out in a fervent daze. It's humiliating as you gawk at your pulsating, drenched pussy in horror and you're scrambling to get up and somehow apologize??? But by the time you can even catch your breath to pull on your shorts, you hear the front door slam.

You make a dash for the window to see, Logan climb into Hesh's truck and they seem to be having a brief conversation before they're back on the road. The blood is rushing to your face as you watch them pull away. Oh God. What were you going to do!?

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions of child abuse. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

Master List

Chapter Ten

You knew from the moment Billy left that there was nothing stopping you from going into the bathroom and removing your cum-stained panties. But you didn’t. In fact it only crossed your mind as a fleeting thought, not because you were scared Billy might find out and certainly not because you felt like you had to obey him, but for some other third, more nebulous reason.

As uncomfortable as you were, as much as you hated it, some part of you... enjoyed it.

It was that same strange and conflicting mix of emotions that you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him; that feeling that you weren’t supposed to enjoy rough sex as much as you had. Shame. That was it. You felt ashamed, but every time you thought about your panties, you remembered the way you’d felt, bent over the table and at his mercy. You remembered how good it had felt.

So, you didn’t remove your panties and you didn’t think twice about slipping into the bathroom after closing while Jenna emptied the cash register. 

It took you a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to stand in front of the mirror and pull up your skirt to snap a picture, though it took you a lot less time to grip your phone in such a way that you could flip him off in the process. When it was done and sent, you deleted the photo from your phone and, once again, found yourself glad that you still had Billy’s number blocked.

That feeling of conflict, of knowing how you should feel versus how you did feel, followed you home and had your stomach tying itself in knots when you thought about his other demand.

At first you told yourself that you wouldn’t call him, slipping out of your clothes and straight under a hot shower, but the longer you were left to think about, the more your stomach seemed to coil itself in knots. 

Did you want him to show up? Did you want to finish what you’d started with him earlier? 

No.

Yes.

Fuck.

Finally, you settled on calling him - but you were only going to allow it to ring three times before you hung up. If Billy missed the call, that was his own fault.

Unfortunately, he answered on the second ring, as if he’d been sat there all night, just waiting for your call.

“Hey,” he said, and you could almost hear his smile in his voice, “you get home safe?”

“Yeah,” you answered, wanting to keep things short and sweet.

“You’re late.”

There wasn’t any accusation of malice to it, it was just a statement of fact; the bar had closed almost an hour ago and you only lived a few blocks away.

“I needed to take a shower.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Billy said.

You were grateful that he held back his laughter, but you didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.

“How was your night?” He asked.

“Really? That’s really the game you want to play?” You said, unable to stop the irritation from filing your tone.

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

“This - getting me to phone you, feeding your ego, thinking you can make me do whatever you want. I -”

“That’s not why I asked you to call.” He interrupted.

“You didn’t ask, Billy. You told me to. You threatened me.”

There was another few seconds of silence and then you heard a sigh from him.

“Fine, whatever, but that’s not why I wanted you to call me.”

“Then why?” You asked, barely biting back a sigh of your own.

“I wanted to know that you got home safe.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that strange feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach again, but you did your best to tamp it down. You were confused. More than that, you were still angry with him, even if you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reasons anymore. 

Because he kept pushing, kept taking you by surprise.

Because one minute he was sweet and gentle, and the next minute he left you wanting to strangle him.

“Why?”

“I told you. Because I care about you.”

The comment caused the feeling in your stomach to get worse.

“How can you care about me? You hardly know me...”

In the moment of silence that followed, you steeled yourself for whatever argument he’d try to make, hoping that you could finally take some control of the situation. 

“I’m trying to get to know you, kitten, but you’re not exactly making it easy,” he said. You remained silent, so Billy decided to push the matter. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You let out a forced and particularly loud sigh, sinking back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, not sure what you could tell him or if you even wanted to tell him anything at all. He’d been right earlier when he’d said you didn’t like honesty - you didn’t like anything that let people get too close.

The longer the silence dragged on, you knew you had to say something.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you felt the need to talk just to fill the silence and placate Billy, or if it was because you felt shitty for refusing to answer when he was making such an effort to get to know a little more about you.

You took a breath, not sure what you wanted to say until words started to pour from your mouth. And, by the time you realised what you were doing, it was too late to stop yourself.

“When I was twelve, my dad died. My mom had no money and there were debt collectors just waiting to take everything away, so she took my and my siblings back to her family home in Virginia.” You took a breath, stomach churning. “Her family was loaded but my mom had been cut off and taken out of the will for marrying my dad.”

Billy remained silent, as if he was hanging on your every word, so you continued.

“Our grandfather was a cruel old bastard - or so our mom told us. Her plan was to win him round, but she couldn’t do that with kids in tow. So, her and our grandmother hid us in the attic. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days while she fixed things with her father, but... we ended up stuck up there for three years, never allowed to leave the attic until we eventually managed to run away.”

You hated yourself as you finished speaking and, this time, allowed the silence to hang in the air. Billy let it linger for almost a minute before speaking again.

“Nice try, kitten, but that’s the plot to Flowers in the Attic.”

The worst part was that he didn’t even sound angry about catching you in another obvious lie. He just sounded resigned, almost hurt.

“You’ve read Flowers in the Attic?” You weren’t sure why that was the question you chose to ask. 

The feeling in your stomach continued to get worse, as if some part of you felt bad about lying to him and pushing him away. The worst part was you weren’t even sure why you did it, why you couldn’t just offer him some watered down version of your past, something that was true but only to a comfortable extent.

“What can I say? I’m a man of hidden depths.”

“Yeah?” You asked, doubling down on your course of action. “They have a lot of VC Andrews in the prison library.

“No, I came across a copy on base in Afghanistan,” he answered, pausing for a beat before; “... have you just been assuming I was an ex-con all this time?”

“Wouldn’t exactly be the only one to drink at Sam’s,” you offered, feeling a little silly at your assumptions. Military made more sense, though you supposed you’d only given fleeting consideration to him being an ex-con as yet another reason not to get close to him.

Again there was a silence and, then, another soft sigh.

“Why do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Lie like that?” When you didn’t answer he continued. “What is it about your past that has you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you said automatically, like a reflex kicking in. You weren’t weak. You weren’t going to let him think you were weak.

“Then why have the go-bag?”

You felt a chill run through your body when you thought about the backpack nestled in your wardrobe. You still hated that he’d seen it, that he understood what it was.

“It’s in case I need to get away from my stalker who spent weeks breaking into my apartment without my knowledge,” you answered coldly. 

“Cute, but I know it’s been there longer than that.”

He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask him to explain, already knowing you wouldn’t like any answer that he had to give you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he said softly after a few moments of quiet.

“I don’t need protecting, Billy. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He asked and you were sure his lips were pulling into a smirk on the other end of the call.

“I could kill someone if I had to.”

“Really?” His tone shifted and that hint of playfulness that you were used to started to creep back in.

“I’ve killed before,” you said casually, leaving him to guess if it was just another one of your lies.

“Did he deserve it?” Billy asked, not seeming at all bothered that you might potentially be a murderer.

“Who said it was a he?” 

“Educated guess. So, did he deserve it?”

“Yes.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

You heard the sharpness slipping back into his voice as he asked the question.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it.”

Your mouth felt dry and you could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, practically knocking against your ribs. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a response like that.

Again, there was a pregnant pause while you tried to think of what to say.

“Is it really that black and white for you?” You asked.

“No one who hurts you should ever get away with it,” he said, quickly adding; “but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve got me for that.

“Right...” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Honestly, you should have expected that answer from him.

“You never asked how I hurt my hand,” Billy said, seemingly changing the subject.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking the time to wonder if he was trying to set you up and walk you into a trap.

“How did you hurt your hand?” You finally, reluctantly, asked.

“I paid a visit to the guy that spiked your drink.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and a part of you worried that Billy could hear the way your heart was racing through the phone. Even though it had only been two days since it had happened, you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about what had almost happened.

And, now, you didn’t want to think about what Billy might have done to protect you.

“Is he -” you started to ask, words coming out as little more than a whisper.

You weren’t even entirely sure what you were asking and, worryingly, you weren’t sure what you wanted his answer to be. It was hard to care too much about the fate of someone who’d spiked your drink, someone who might have done it to other women before you and planned to do it to other women after you. He didn’t deserve any sympathy. 

But that didn’t mean you wanted Billy to be hurting people in your name.

“He’s still alive,” Billy answered. “He might be eating through a tube for a while and, if he’s lucky, he might walk again, but I don’t think he’s ever going to think about messing with someone’s drink again.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that sent a shiver down his spine and, when you didn’t respond immediately, Billy asked; “you okay, kitten?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “Besides, I couldn’t let him keep doing that to people. He needed to be stopped.”

There was that edge in his voice again, a pain that you were certain he didn’t realise gave so much away. Maybe it didn’t around other people, but to you it was a punch to your gut, a feeling of like recognising like.

“Someone hurt you,” you said softly. Again. 

All Billy offered was a grunt.

Another lull in the conversation had you rolling onto your side and letting out a sigh, the phone still clutched tightly to your ear - though when you’d started holding the phone like that, you honestly couldn’t say. Despite how you’d felt when you’d dialled his number, there was no part of you that wanted to hang up now.

Later you might blame it on exhaustion or loneliness, but right then, all you wanted to do was keep talking.

But Billy wasn’t saying anything and that left it to you to fill the void.

“When I was nine my mom started dating her dealer,” you offered quietly. “She moved us into his place. He used almost as much as my mom did, and when he was wasted...”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat, forcing you to stop.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy finally said.

“You said you wanted to know me.”

“I do, but not if it hurts you.”

Again, the butterflies took flight in your stomach, and the feeling was enough to prompt you to continue, to finally share a piece of you that was real.

“He was violent. With my mom and with me,” you continued, hearing the way Billy’s breath caught through the phone. “Then, one day, my mom went out and didn’t come back. She just upped and left me with him. About a week later, he got wasted and I... I hid from him in the basement.”

Billy didn’t say a word, you couldn’t even hear him breathing, but you could picture the look on his face; that expression of barely contained rage.

“When I refused to come out, he locked the door from the outside, and left me down there.” At some point your voice had turned quiet, almost like you were whispering a secret to Billy, something that you needed him to guard with his life. And, somehow, you knew that he would. “I was trapped down there in the dark and cold... with the spiders...”

You heard a sharp inhale.

“There was this sweet old lady across the street... if she hadn’t called social services, they never would have found me...”

“How long?” Billy dared to ask, though you knew that wasn’t really the question that he wanted to ask you.

“Four days,” you answered. “Felt like longer.”

You expected more questions, pity - or one of those perfunctory I’m sorry’s that those kinds of events tended to garner. Instead you were met with nothing but another gentle sigh.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for telling me. It means a lot to me.”

Despite being on the phone, your response was to nod, pressing your head further against your pillow.

“I should let you sleep,” Billy continued. “It’s getting late.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep soon.” He said and you were almost disappointed that he didn’t offer to come see you (though that thought was definitely one you’d chalk up exhaustion). “Goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

And, like that, the line went dead.

For the longest time after the end of the call you stared at your phone, some part of you expecting it to light up with a message or for him to call back, even though you knew you still had him blocked.

It was strange, you felt somehow lighter for having been honest with him, even if what you had told him had only been scratching the surface.

Falling asleep, you felt like things had finally reached a turning point.

But you had no idea just how right you’d turn out to be.

The next evening you arrived at the bar to find it mostly empty, save for a well dressed woman sitting at the bar, talking to Jenna. The suit she wore screamed law enforcement and the subtle look that Jenna flashed you confirmed it.

It wasn’t often that cops dared set foot in Sam’s, and it definitely explained why the place was so empty. But you and Jenna had dealt with this sort of situation before, and you knew exactly what to say. Or what no to say, as the case may be.

You took your time ditching your coat in the back before stepping out to start your shift and getting a proper look at her.

The moment her eyes lifted to meet yours and she cast you something of a forced smile, you changed your mind. Definitely not a cop. Her clothes alone looked like they were worth more than you made in a year. And she was - well, stunning was the first word to come to mind. 

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she said, flashing you her ID before placing it in her pocket again.

You offered your name. Just your first name.

“What can we help you with?” You dared to ask, ignoring the roiling sensation in your stomach.

“Yeah, no offence, but having a cop sat at the bar isn’t exactly good for business,” Jenna added.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, lifting her phone from the bar and bringing up a photograph. “Have you seen this man? His name is Billy Russo. There have been reports placing him in the area.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at the photo; it was him, but it wasn’t. Those dark eyes were unmistakable but his hair... his face. The man in the photo was every bit as beautiful as you’d assumed Billy used to be when you’d first gotten a good look at him.

Without the scars he had been perfect but, somehow, you found you preferred your Billy more. There was something about the eyes; the man in the picture looked soulless, but your Billy... his eyes gave away so much.

Despite your shock, your face remained neutral.

You spared Jenna a glance and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in here, but we get a lot of people passing through.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agreed, taking a closer look at the phone. “Though I’d remember serving someone that hot. What did he do? Looks like one of those Wall Street guys...”

“He’s wanted in relation to several murders,” Madani stated,  and you damn near threw up in your mouth.

“Several murders? Is he a serial killer or something?” Jenna asked, keeping Madani’s attention away from you while you regained your poker face.

“No, not as such...” she shook her head, dropping her phone back into her pocket and placing a business card on the bar. “But if he comes in -”

“Is he dangerous?” You asked before she could finish.

“Extremely.”

“If we see him, we’ll be sure to call,” Jenna was quick to answer.

There were more words exchanged and you simply nodded along, feeling like you were spiralling into some dark abyss that you might never escape from. The Homeland agent kept glancing between you and Jenna but, if she noticed you were freaking out, she didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, neither you nor Jenna spoke for at least a minute.

“Fuck,” Jenna said, “you don’t think -”

“No,” the word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about it. “No, it - I mean... she must be wrong. He couldn’t...”

“Wow, not like you to jump to his defence.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on her lips, instead focusing on the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

It felt wrong, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. You’d always assumed that Billy was dangerous, that he could hurt people if he wanted to - hell, he’d put someone in the hospital for spiking your drink - but murder? Murders, plural?

“It’s just... you don’t think he’s -”

“A serial killer? I doubt it... unless he’s really good at hiding how much of a psycho he is,” Jenna answered.

Ah. That was it. Billy was good at hiding it, at pretending to be some sweet and charming guy to everyone while simultaneously stalking you.

“But, look... maybe you should stay away from him until we know for sure?” She carried on, and you nodded.

Jenna was talking, saying something, and you barely even realised you were stepping back.

“I... I need to -”

You didn’t even finish the thought before heading into the back and pulling out your phone, calling Billy. As it rang, you steeled yourself for him to answer and for all the questions to start pouring out. Part of you felt betrayed, lied to, while another part just couldn’t accept anything that Madani had tried to tell you.

It felt like you were falling, like you’d been hanging off the side of a cliff for so long, looking for something stable to cling to. The last few days had made you dare to think that maybe Billy could be that for you. But, now, the rockface was crumbling beneath your hands and you were falling.

“Kitten?” 

His voice was a dry rasp, like he’d just woken up, and just hearing him again had your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“You - you can’t come to the bar anymore, Billy. It’s not safe for anyone and I just think -”

“What? Kitten, slow -”

“There was a Homeland Agent at the bar. She was looking for you,” you tried to explain, word fast and frantic, almost running into one another. “She said you killed people, Billy. She’s looking for you, and we can’t -”

“Hey-hey, take a breath.”

You did as you were told but it didn’t help. Your heart continued to pound wildly in your chest while you struggled between what you thought you knew about Billy and what the Homeland Agent had told you.

Was he capable of murder?

Yes.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Billy could and would kill someone if he had reason to. That alone should have been enough to make you end the call, enough to go home, grab your bag and leave the city. But, really, were you in any position to judge him?

“Tell me what happened,” Billy said, breaking through your racing thoughts.

There wasn’t much to tell really, just that the Homeland Agent had been there and she’d told you and Jenna that Billy was a killer, that he was dangerous. But you also made sure to tell him that you and Jenna hadn’t said a word - though you had no idea why that piece of information felt so important to share.

Then came the pregnant pause, the silence that you couldn’t stand.

“Did you do it? Was she telling the truth?” You asked in little more than a whisper, not sure you even wanted an answer.

“I...” he trailed off into an uncomfortable sigh, “I don’t know. I still don’t remember.”

You nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t me or that I had a good reason but I don’t remember,” he continued. “Fuck. I wish I remembered, just so I knew, just so...”

“I... I think you should stay away from me, Billy.”

“Kitten...”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to stay away, how many times you’d told him to leave you alone but this was the only time you’d heard him sound so broken about it, like your words had finally hit home. Just hearing the pain in your voice had you wanting to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn’t.

“Even if you didn’t do it, I... I can’t have cops - or Homeland Agents - sniffing around,” you said, and there was no hiding the way your own voice seemed to want to break and betray you.

Billy paused and you dared to hope that he was actually thinking about what you’d just said, thinking about how he could ruin your life if he persisted. 

“I can’t,” he said softly, “please... don’t ask me to give you up.”

“You said you wanted to keep me safe. You being around me, bringing law enforcement to the bar - that puts me in danger.”

Silence fell again and you heard Billy take a ragged inhale and it reminded you of the panic attack that you’d witnessed him having, and it made your heart ache all the more.

“I can’t,” he said again. “I won’t. I’m sorry, kitten. I won’t let any of it come back on you, but I can’t let you go.”

“Billy -”

The line went dead.

He’d hung up on you.

You felt sick and you spent the rest of the night feeling like your stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots. Of course, Jenna noticed and tried to talk to you about it, tried to help convince you that it was probably for the best if you didn’t see him again until everything blew over. If it ever blew over. But all you could think about was Billy and how he’d sounded on the phone.

Jenna tried to convince you not to worry and that, one way or another, the truth was bound to come out.

There were so many questions and thoughts, but no answers to be found. If he didn’t remember, was he even the same person who’d done it? Was it fair to blame him for things he couldn’t remember? Were you in any position to judge him? Is that why he’d been hurt so badly by a man who’d been his best friend?

Each question only brought with it more uncertainty, and you had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. All you knew was Billy, the person he was when he was with you.

Jenna offered to let you stay with her that night but you turned her down, not wanting to spend the night being scrutinised every time you mind wandered to Billy and the chaos you’d invited into your life.

No, you just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, hoping that in the morning everything would be back to normal.

Some time around four a knock at the door startled you awake.

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, staring at the door, your heart beating a mile a minute. For a second you expected the door to be knocked off its hinges and for armed cops to swarm your apartment.

The second knock had you tensing, ready to grab your go-bag and make a break for it down the fire escape.

But then you heard him.

“Kitten, it’s me.”

It didn’t exactly make you feel any better that Billy was at your door at four in the morning, but you still let out a sigh of relief. You kept the chain on the door as you opened it and heard him sigh.

“Let me in, kitten.” It wasn’t quite a demand but you already knew that saying no wouldn’t end well.

“It’s four in the morning,” you said, not moving. “What do you want, Billy?”

“I want to see you.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you answered back.

“Just let me in before I kick the door down and disturb all your neighbours,” he said. As firm as his demand was, he sounded tired but, given the time of night, you didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t just an idle threat, you knew him better than that now, and you couldn’t risk your neighbours calling the cops. So, with a frustrated huff, you took the chain off the door and took a few steps back, making sure there was plenty of space between you and him.  

His movements were slow, closing the door and locking it behind him. He looked tired, exhausted, and it was almost enough to spark a hint of sympathy inside you. 

Billy immediately took a step towards you, unhappy with the space you’d created, his eyes taking in the sight of you and the light blue satin slip you were wearing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “you’re gonna drive me crazy, kitten.”

“What do you want, Billy?” You asked again, folding your arms in an attempt to cover the way your nipples were poking through the silken fabric. “I told you... you need to stay away from me.”

“I can’t. I needed to see you.”

“It’s four in the morning. What could you possibly want to see me for?”

“I -” there was a noticeable hesitation, something you’d never really seen from him before, “- I want to stay the night. With you.”

“No,” you answered flatly. “No, I’ve told you, I don’t want -”

“Just to sleep,” he interrupted before you could complete your rejection of him. “I just want to sleep next to you.”

“Billy, they think you’re a murderer,” you said, hugging yourself all the tighter. 

“I don’t remember,” he told you, equal parts frustration and pain. “I don’t know what I did or why I might’ve done it. All I know is that I’d never hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing you could say. There was no figuring out the truth of the matter and, if there was one thing you did believe, it was that Billy wouldn’t lie to you and he’d never hurt you.

“Please,” he tried again, “I’m... I’m so tired, kitten. If I knew about any of it, I’d tell you. But it’s all still jumbled up. And I - I don’t even know if I’m that person anymore. This - me, now - I’ve never been like this before. That Agent, Madani, I think we used to sleep together... she used to visit me in the hospital, used to taunt me every single day... I don’t know why.”

The more he spoke, the more confused things became, but Billy made no attempt to move any closer to you.

“I just want to sleep,” he said again.

Common sense told you to say no, to stick to your guns and tell him to leave but, seeing the state of him, the thought of turning him away made your chest ache regardless of all the uncertainty surrounding him. Without a word, you sighed and turned back towards your bedroom, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over your face.

You heard him slowly follow after, heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor before you felt the mattress dip behind you. Billy waited a moment before shifting closer, pressing himself against your back and draping his arm over you. He let out a soft sigh as he buried his face against the back of your neck.

He felt warm against you, cosy - though you tried to ignore it as best you could.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked quietly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“No, I mean why are you doing any of this?” The million dollar question. “Why me? Why are you dragging me into this shit, Billy?”

“Because you’ve been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you,” he told you, his fingers softly tracing patterns on your stomach through your slip. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about that night in this bed with you. You’re under my skin, you haunt me.”

“It wasn’t that mind blowing,” you muttered.

“Right,” Billy grumbled, sounding half-asleep already “‘cause you still want to pretend that I’m the only one that enjoyed it...”

“Why would I lie?” You answered back, not willing to give him the last word.

“‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you like the way I touch you,” he answered. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you might actually like me.”

“I don’t like you. All you’re doing is making my life more difficult,” you huffed. “I must be fucking crazy to have you in my bed like this, not knowing if you’re some psychotic killer...”

You didn’t expect him to pull away, to roll on to his back behind you and let out a sigh. More than that, you didn’t expect to feel the loss of his embrace so acutely.

Had you managed to hurt your stalker’s feelings?

And why did it bother you if you had?

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you tried to ignore the feeling of awkwardness that was starting to gnaw at you, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew he was right there, not when you didn’t know what was running through his mind.

You weren’t even sure what was running through your own head anymore. It was almost enough to make you laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was; you had a man who was wanted for murder in your bed but, still, you felt safe with him, comfortable in a way you hadn’t for a long time, despite what your protests might have suggested.

And he was right. You were scared that some part of you liked him - that some part of you still liked him, even after everything you’d learned.

It was all such a fucking mess and you had no idea how to deal with any of it.

But, now there was something, some feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt so wrong but, at the same time, it felt like it was the only thing in your life that made any sense. 

Cautiously, you rolled over, your heart skipping a beat at the way the heel of his palm was pressed against his eye. It was another headache. He’d come to be with you because he was in pain, because he’d needed comfort and, for whatever reason, you were the only person he thought he could find it with.

Everything you knew about him seemed to twist and alter, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Without a word, you got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, running a washcloth under the cold water before returning to him.

Billy hadn’t moved, he didn’t even look at you as you climbed back into bed beside him. His eyes didn’t open again until he felt you press the cold cloth to his brow. A relieved breath slipped from his lips but, the moment he looked like he was going to say something, you silenced him.

“Don’t say a word.”

Defiance flashed across his face, but exhaustion quickly overtook it. His eyes shut and you continued to gently press the cloth against his forehead, trying to soothe him, watching as the tension slowly seemed to leave him and he fell asleep. 

Once you were certain he was asleep, you laid back down beside him, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, not sure what the morning would bring.

End Note : 😅 this is slowly starting to move towards the endgame now, I think there's about four chapters left? Maybe five depending on how I decide to do the ending.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl @lincerad

@benbarnesprettygurl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @whereismymindnow @danzer8705 @judig92

@everything015 @unlikelystarlightcowboy

[stop-talking]

No thoughts, only Derek Danforth sending you nudes while you're at work...

(Thanks, Holden. 🙄) @freak-accident419

Tags: 18+ g!n reader, mentions of drugs, no real smut, just dirty talk and nudes

---------------------------------------------------------

Your phone buzzes in your pocket for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is.

Who it always is.

With a sigh, you try and discreetly look at your phone underneath your desk. Opening messages from Derek while you're at work is always a gamble, considering he spends 90% of his time high, horny, or a mix of both.

As soon as you tap the notification, your screen is overtaken by cock. The tip red and glistening with need, his hand wrapped around the shaft, mid-pump...

Fuck.

You quickly turn your phone off, shoving it between your thighs and sitting up straighter. That bastard. He knows you're at work.

Of course, now he also knows you've opened his messages. Your phone vibrates angrily between your thighs, and you start to wonder if putting it there was a smart move.

Fucking Danforth. You try to physically shake the image of his throbbing cock out of your mind, literally shaking your head as you stare at the computer screen in front of you.

That is, until your co-worker in the cubicle across from yours shoots you a glance and asks if you're alright.

"Yeah, just, uh... Tired. Trying to stay awake."

You stand up straight, causing your still-buzzing phone to fall to the floor.

"I'm gonna go make a coffee," you announce.

In your scramble to pick up your phone, you knock your chair over and onto the floor. Damnit, stop making such a scene.

You scurry away, trying desperately to silence your phone. Unfortunately, the last thing you had pulled up was... well, cock.

With a yelp, you turn and duck into the nearest bathroom, praying no one saw your screen.

Once you finally have some level of privacy, standing in a cramped bathroom stall, you start to look over your 50+ notifications from Derek.

He's been sending you messages all afternoon, mostly nonsense texts, with nudes interspersed between them.

11am:

Babe? Baaaaabe. Babe I miss you Come home When is work over

12pm:

Are you ignoring me? Babe I got a new robe Do you wanna see Baby

[A short video of Derek in his robe]

He starts the video making a concerned face at the camera, muttering to himself. Once he realizes it's recording, he sets it down on the bathroom counter and takes a few steps back, showing off his robe.

It's green silk with gold trim, and a gold tie around the waist. He takes a hit of his vape and does a quick 360, twirling for the camera.

"You like it?" He asks, beaming and carding a hand through his blonde curls.

He stares at the camera for a minute, seemingly waiting for a response, before snapping out of it and reaching to turn it off.

"Sorry. Just smoked a few." he mumbles, and the video ends.

1pm:

Babeeeee I need youuu Come home already Come sit on my lap

[A picture of Derek's lap]

He's still wearing the robe, and his hand is wrapped around his hard cock through the thin silk fabric. No skin is showing, but you can clearly see the familiar outline of his dick.

2pm:

Fuck If you don't come home soon I'm dying asjkdakdjha skdjhfskjdh aksjdkadjs Baby Can I send you Pics Baby asdasjdghask It misses you

[A shakily-recorded video of Derek from the waist down.]

He tugs at the golden strip of silk tied around his waist, slowly unravelling the loose knot.

Eventually it completely falls away, and his rope opens, exposing himself completely for the camera. His dick is standing at attention, twitching and leaking pre-cum down his shaft.

The video pans to his face again, and he absentmindedly gnaws at the end of his vape. Sweat drips down his forehead and he mumbles out a plea you're unable to hear with your volume off. The video ends.

2:30pm:

Baby Oh my God I can't wait Come home Looking at your old pics again Miss you so muchh Fuck work I need you

[A short close-up video of Derek's cock]

He's in bed, his animal-print bedsheets peeking through his legs as he lies back and strokes his cock. Slowly, he bucks his hips up into his hand, clearly trying not to finish just yet. You recognize this as the video from earlier, the one you opened at your desk.

2:45pm:

YOU OPENED IT BABE ARE YOU IGNORING ME BABY I'm so hard right now Please Fuck Fuck Fuck I need you to sit on me Please asajshdas hdsjdhfahd asdasjdk sljkdfls Answer Please Babyyyy

You blink at your screen, finally reaching the bottom of Derek's endless sea of messages. Fuck. You really should be angry with him, but he's so goddamn hot when he's needy.

Not that he needs to know that.

Is this what you do all day while I'm at work? Get high and play dress-up?

FUCK Babe Don't go or I'll die Please

I still have two hours of work left, Derek.

You wouldn't need to work if you'd just move in with me already <3

Your house scares me. No one should be exposed to that much animal print.

I'll buy us a new one. Just come home, pleaseee?

This bastard. He isn't going to give up, is he? You glance at the time, and bite your lip. Maybe you could make up the two hours later? Work overtime this weekend?

Babe?

I'm here. Brat.

Are you on your way over?

Yeah. I'll be home in ten.

Suddenly you feel very, very sick. Too sick to work. You explain this to your boss, who shoos you off and tells you to go home.

One thought plays over and over in your mind as you pack your things and scurry to the car...

Derek better still be wearing that slutty little robe when you see him.

[edablair]

Hi!! Just silly little thing with Logan (⁠⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

(English is not my first language! There may be grammatical or/and punctuation mistakes)

.•★•.

"No fucking way."

"Logan, please!"

★ The school mansion wasn't boring: there was something going on almost every day. But you missed the hustle and bustle of the city. And you also wanted to go shopping to satisfy your almost claptomaniacal nature.

"I don't need ballast."

★ He often went back and forth, stealing borrowing Scott's bike. You, on the other hand, couldn't drive. That's why you had to beg Logan to take you with him.

"Please? Pretty please?"

"Don't try my patience."

"I'll pay for the gas."

His mouth opened as he wanted to say something in protest, but the words didn't leave his lips. After thinking for a few moments, he noisily let the air out through his nose.

"Five minutes. If I don't see you at the mansion door, I'll leave without you."

★ The sound of the road and wind filled your ears as you both raced down the highway. Logan's body tilted forward against the handlebars as you held onto the back of the bike. He insisted you wear the helmet that came with the bike. And it was the only one. He didn't need it anyway, for obvious reasons, but you were unfortunately not lacking in the quick regeneration ability.

★ Logan was driving fast, overtaking many cars. And you loved that feeling of speed. The way everything around you blurred with how fast the two of you were going. A thought crossed your mind. Dangerous and a bit childish. You slowly let go of the part of the bike you were holding onto and spread your arms out to your sides. The corners of your lips lifted in a smile as the bike tilted slightly from side to side, overtaking another car.

★ Your action was cut short by the bump the bike hit. You nearly flew off the seat, quickly grabbing onto Logan.

"Hold the fuck on!" Because of the wind, you could barely make out his words.

Your arms wrapped tightly around Logan's body. Out of harm's way.

★ "Pull anything like that again and I won't take you with me anymore." He muttered as you stopped for gas.

(Masterlist)

[froggywritesstuff]

dysphoria | angel dust

ship/pairing: Angel dust x trans!male!reader (reader has a uterus and still gets his period)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: Can I request Angel Dust comforting his trans boyfriend when he gets his period and is extremely dysphoric and depressed about the whole thing. This whole week has been a shit fest of dysphoria and crying.

warnings: maybe ooc idk , I didn't clarify in my writing but first confession of love i guess, periods, gender dysphoria, swearing, crying, emotional breakdowns, petnames (reader gets called baby), rushed ending, bad sex joke

word count: 758

A/N: sorry this is really short i have zero motivation to do anything 👍 fem and cis readers dni

You didn’t even need to tell Angel what was happening, nor did he need to ask. The second he saw your face contorted into one of discomfort, he was all over you. He hung up a dozen ‘do not disturb’ signs on your hotel room door (though it was basically a shared room at that point), prepared to verbally or physically attack anyone trying to disturb you. Before you could even mention cramps he had a heat pack fresh out the microwave for you, checking every five minutes if it was still warm or if you wanted it reheated. He would cuddle you tightly, him and Fat Nuggets doing their very best to cheer you up. Angel showed how much he truly cared for you. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend than him. However you felt nothing he could do would make the dysphoria you felt go away. He’s an amazing boyfriend but unfortunately he can’t stop your period or give you a dick. (he could do the second one if you asked him nicely)

”Ok I think this is all the chocolate in the entire hotel, I refilled your water, and I got you some of those snacks you like.” Angel listed as he sat on the bed beside you, dumping the food in your lap before readjusting the pillows wedged between your head and the wall, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

”Ange, you didn’t have to do all that.” you mumbled despite knowing it was pointless and he would continue to insist on helping you. 

He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “I told you it’s fine. I want nothin’ more than for you to be happy.”

You lazily snuggled up to him. Dealing with your period and the gender dysphoria that tagged along with it tended to drain your energy, "Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me with this."

Angel's arm snaked around your waist, holding you close to him, "Of course baby. But of the list of things I'd do for you, this is pretty mild. If your period was a person I swear I'd fuck 'em up real bad. Make 'em regret ever makin' you feel this way."

You couldn’t tell if it was just your hormones going batshit or not, but Angel’s words had you burst into tears. You quickly buried your face in the crook of his neck as he pulled you into a tight but comfortable hug.

”You’re ok babe, I’ve got you, just let it out,” his whispers comforted you as his hand gently rubbed up and down your back soothingly, not even caring that your tears were staining his shirt. 

Shaky breaths left your lips as you cried, “I'm grateful you're helping me. But I hate this. I hate my body. I hate it so fucking much.” your voice cracked as more tears rushed down your face. Angel was quick to pull out of the hug and cup your face, his eyes on you as his thumb caressed your cheeks. “It’s not fair.”

Tears brimmed Angel’s eyes, his heart breaking at your words, “I know baby. And you're right, it’s not fair. And you don’t deserve to feel this way one bit.” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “You hear me?" you gave a small nod as his thumb wiped away your tears, "And you're not your body. You're the hottest, the funniest, the kindest, the strongest, and the most handsome - yeah you're the most handsome and hottest man I’ve ever met, who also happens to be the best boyfriend in the world. And I wanna do anythin' to help you with this pain."

A small smile grew on your lips as you listened to him. He was so genuine and sincere, a big contrast to his usual sarcastic and snarky demeanour. On a day you felt like dying only he could make you feel like living, "I love you. So much."

He smiled ear to ear, feeling his heart swell at your words, "I love you too baby." he handed you one of the snacks he had brought, "Do you wanna eat something? And then you can talk more about what's botherin' you, or we can watch movies, or we can just nap. Whatever you wanna do."

You nodded, taking a bite of the snack, "That sounds good." Angel shifted on the bed so he was beside you again, one arm around your shoulders, while the other wiped your remaining tears.

[kitchenisking]

April Fic Rec

Hello everyone! happy spring! I just want to say thank you to everyone who enjoys my recs. I was thinking of taking a break from posting the last two months but then I thought 'fuck it'. the response that I got from you guys showed me how much my recs are enjoyed! so to everyone that reblog and likes the recs - I see you! I see your names pop up every months and it brings me such joy! and to all the new follower - it makes me happy that new people are finding my recs and are enjoying these amazing stories written by these amazing authors!

please don't forget to kudos and comment for our authors and ill see you soon😘

Knot My Favorite Smell by KnottheWolf - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,470, sterek)

Day 1-Scent Marking: Derek just missed his mate, Stiles, so he decides to visit Stiles at college. Only to grow upset when his mate’s room doesn’t smell like him anymore.

Just Stopped Working For Me by dedougal - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,447, sterek)

Stiles never expected to meet Derek Hale. He definitely never expected the movie star to slide into his cab and ask for his help.

Clueless by IgnorantofTime - (Rating: G, Words: 1,775, sterek)

Scott comes to the realisation that his best friend is in love with Derek Hale. Now he just needs to make them realise it.

an awful curse by blinkiesays - (Rating: T, Words: 6,253, sterek)

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

"That’s fate." by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 2,256, sterek)

…the one where Stiles meets his future husband.

That I Miss You by Noname109 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,741, sterek)

The pounding of the water against the tenseness of his muscles makes Stiles let out a long, drawn out groan of pain and pleasure. After a hard day’s work, the proof of it is shown in the coil and rigidity of his shoulders, torso, and legs. 

And it’s not like he doesn’t love interning under his dad and getting to help out solving crimes and chasing down the bad guys, but at the end of his shift it leaves him gone to the world unless it involves a shower.

He’s so relaxed five minutes into it that he doesn’t even jump when two arms snake around his waist. Stiles just hums contentedly and lets his body go slack.

Things We Know, Unsaid by uraneia - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,036, sterek)

Inspired by this Tumblr post, and written for lupinus's birthday.

Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

*

If he thought Derek would be angry or embarrassed at Stiles finding a trunk full of quality BDSM gear in his closet, he’d have been wrong. “I used to do it professionally, in New York,” Derek says easily, and Stiles—Stiles doesn’t know how to process that. Because he’s seventeen and has eyes and an unfortunately vivid imagination, and if he lets it go there he’s not going to get any use out of any body part except his dick for several hours.

Cravings, Pack and Angry Sex by Jumping_Jess - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,953, sterek)

It's a Pavlov response okay?! Pregnant Stiles + Angry Stiles = Horny Derek

Little Red Prince by SterlingAg - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 48,974, sterek)

Running from a group of bandits, Stiles finds himself injured and on the land of none other than the Shifter Derek Hale. But what is a Shifter? Is this Derek a friend or foe? What about the secret Stiles himself is keeping? What will become of the odd pair in this tale set in a fantasy world?

Basketball Shorts and Highlighters by sffan - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,720, sterek)

The UST between Derek and Stiles finally reaches a tipping point.

[fuckedupfate]

﹔ ✧ BUSY WOMAN ˚ ༘

〉MDNI ! 18+ ONLY ! SENSITIVE CONTENT AHEAD ! MDNI ! 18 + !

! WARNINGS : smut . pet names (baby girl, sweetheart, baby, etc.) . sexual language . teasing . oral sex . PROTECTED soft p in v (always wrap it up!!) . ALL IS CONSENSUAL ! (please let me know if i missed any!)

❛ busy woman, unless you call tonight. ❜

boring.

that's what tonight was. so utterly boring. having to sit around, watching whatever movies that come on the tv. you were supposed to be a busy woman, no? one that had a multitude of things to do, play hard to get, lead men on. but now, you're sat on your lounge, legs propped up on the arm rest, hanging over the edge. and what in the flying fuck is this movie? you have absolutely no idea, and you haven't really been bothered to even check.

ugh. you really do wish you had something to do, or better yet, someone, to do. someone to touch you. feel you. praise you—but no. you're here, all alone, bored, needy, and running out of patience at time itself.

though, it feels like a miracle had been made, or your inappropriate prayers had been answered, when your phone began to ring. hoping that it's one of the many men you have attained a number from with the promise of seeing them again, and not just a spam caller asking if you needed some internet. seriously, who is falling for those?

anyway. to your delight it is in fact one of the men who you got a number from, and to your further delight, it happens to be one which you actually decided to put in a contact name for. give yourself a pat on the back for that one—it saves you the guessing game, and the disappointment when you realise it isn't a man who did you good.

dean.

dean, dean, dean.... dean....

ohhhh, dean.

you remember him. how could you have possibly forgot? he was damn good. so, so good. fucked you good, to say it blunt and short. his touch, incredible. his lips, incredible. his body, incredible. his dick, even more incredible.

you answer the phone bringing it to your ear as you're already beginning to make yourself ready to get your ass over to wherever he is currently staying. if you remember last time, he was staying at a motel... oh fuck. a motel? the bed? fucks sake.

"dean." you greet shortly, getting yourself ready.

"hey, sweetheart. you remember me?" he asks, that signature cockiness and sarcasm dripping through his tone—yes, you remember that, too.

"i might've had to jog my memory for a few moments. but ultimately, yes. i do in fact remember you." you respond, reciprocating the sarcasm and playfulness he has in his tone.

"i'm so honoured." he states, and you can basically hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks. it isn't hard to tell. "well, baby girl, are you able to fit me into your calendar tonight?"

"well... my openings are a little tight.. but i'm sure i can fit you in, i suppose." you say, feigning busyness—the busyness which you, unfortunately, did not have for this night, but... he doesn't need to know that you're not busy. that's all apart of the act. don't ever tell men what you're truly doing, lead them on. that's the fun part.

"oh yeah? well, get your pretty ass over here." he's quick to say, the smugness still remaining in his voice.

"and where would 'here' be?" you ask in response, raising a brow despite him not being able to see it.

"the red bar inn, room 11. and how long do you think it'll take you to get here?" is what he asks, and you let out a quiet hum—acting as though you're thinking.

"...forty-five minutes?" you say, and it isn't a debatable time, it's a 'that's how long it'll be, don't ask for anything different' sort of time. he knows that, and he doesn't push it.

"i'll see you then, sweetheart. look pretty."

the phone call ends. leaving you to get ready to leave. to get ready for him.

god, there is so much you need to do. so much to shave. lipstick to reapply. but.. you suppose for him, you can accommodate.

once you arrive at the motel, glancing around while you sit inside your car before getting out and making your way to room 11. where dean had said he was. god, why are some motels so sketch looking?

you knock on the door gently before letting your hand come to rest by your side, awaiting for the door to open and for the sight of dean to be visible. it isn't long until that indeed is happening—the door opening, and dean stands there for a moment. but it escalates quickly.

before you know it, you're pulled into the room, the sound of the door shutting and clicking locked behind you, all while your lips are met by his. you gently drop your handbag, letting it meet the floor, before your arms are looping around dean's neck and his hands are holding your waist. he brings you over to the bed, which must be acclaimed his, him sitting down on the edge before bringing you into his lap, straddling him. holding you there while his hands explore your body, feeling the skin of your torso, stomach, and chest beneath his fingers.

now that is a way to touch a woman.

you hum softly against his mouth, unable to keep that from happening when you find yourself enjoying the touch. he then is proceeding to take your shirt off, pulling back from the kiss to do so, and to also admire you—both with his hands and eyes. and then with his lips and tongue.

your hand instinctively drifts to the back of his head while his lips and tongue, practically worship, whatever inch of skin they can. your neck. collarbone. chest. breasts—which he then creates more access to by unhooking your bra and letting it join your shirt on the floor. taking advantage of the current situation, your hands move down to find the hem of his shirt, beginning to slide it up once he's moved in a way to allow it to be fully taken off. and that too joins your shirt and bra on the carpeted floor.

it doesn't take long until his lips are back onto yours. tongue sliding into your mouth, intertwining it with your own. his hands explore your body, feeling the soft skin underneath his palms and fingertips.

he most certainly missed the way you felt.

he then coaxes you to lift yourself up onto your knees so he is able to slide down the waistband of your pants, before he then moves you, making you lie on your back on the bed while he sits beside you, allowing himself to be able to fully take of your pants now, letting them join the rest of the clothes now on the floor.

it isn't long until you're now both naked, his hands exploring your body, just completely losing himself in the way you feel beneath his fingertips. your body beneath his, lips on his before they're not. before you're feeling them trail down your body, going between your breasts, down your stomach, down to your hip, and finally, to your thighs.

oh, wow.

you let out a soft gasp, one hand coming to rest in his hair, fingertips entangling with the short strands. as soon as he heard that soft gasp, the soft noise falling from your lips, he's quick to continue kissing up your inner thigh, his lips touching the skin so gently, as if you're a sacred thing to touch. as if you'll break beneath his touch if he isn't careful enough. as he becomes closer, getting a few centimeters away from your core, his breath brushing against it causing a wave of heat to rush up your spine, your hand gently gripping at his hair.

he's quick to respond, pressing a kiss against your clit before pressing his tongue against it, which then follows by his lips wrapping around it, sucking it. when he hears you whine, feels your hand tightening in his hair, and the involuntary jerk of your hips, he knows to keep going—if the fact you were soaking wasn't enough already.

one of his hands comes to rest on your hip while the other holds your thigh, keeping you in place, and keeping up his ability to please you in the way he knows you like.

he's sucking at your clit before he lets go of it, which earns him a whine in protest from you, but it's quickly taken aback with a soft gasp when his tongue slides through your folds, and he lets out a soft groan at how you taste upon his tongue.

his ministrations continue, tongue working it's magic against your soaking pussy, earning moans and gasps in response—which he fucking loves, along with the taste of you—and it also earns him hair tugs. that simple movement telling him to keep going, even if you do voice that through your shaky and broken voice, he takes into account the hair tugs as well. don't worry.

"dean—" you moan out, hand tugging at his hair. "please—please don't stop—"

he almost lets out a scoff in response. stop? god, he'd be a fucking idiot to stop. at least to stop right now, when he has you right where he wanted, and how he tastes you on his tongue. not to mention the sounds you're making for him. he swears the sounds you make are just as beautiful as you are—like, seriously. he loves them, if you couldn't tell already.

he can feel the way you're beginning to squirm beneath his hold, and thankfully he is holding you, or else you wouldn't be staying still enough and he wouldn't be able to do his job the way he wants to. but, he knows what it means when you're beginning to squirm, and how your moans are becoming breathy, and how your hand is holding his hair tightly. he knows what that means, and he's quick to quicken the pace of his tongue, eating you out like he's a man starved.

"oh my g—dean—" your moan is louder this time, a loud cry out of his name falling from your lips as you fall apart. cumming right into his mouth, painting his tongue, chin, and the tip of his nose, with your release. which is also mixed with your arousal which was already painting his face.

and, just like any man should, he is licking up every bit of it. cleaning it up with his tongue, just relishing in the way you taste, as per usual.

he then slowly moves up, kissing up your stomach and chest, allowing you a few moments to collect your breath, before his lips meet yours once again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. on his lips.

dean kisses and sucks at your neck as his hand reaches over, opening the drawer of the nightstand to grab out a condom. he moves his head away from your neck for a few moments to unwrap the condom, tearing the wrapper with his teeth before rolling the condom on.

dean's eyes lift up to yours, watching as you bite your lip and nod. "use your words, baby." he coaxes gently, wanting to hear your approval. your consent.

"yes." you whisper in response, giving him the consent he is wanting.

he doesn't know why, but your words send a spur of arousal through him, a soft groan falling past his lips before he's adjusting himself, and you, for him to be able to align the tip of his dick to your vagina. his eyes meet yours as his dick is now sliding into you, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head slightly, lips falling open as a soft moan falls from them.

he's taking it slow. fucking you gently, just loving the way you feel around him. how your hands are gripping onto him, how your legs are wrapped around his hips. and, of course, how you sound.

those sweet, soft moans. the ones falling from your lips. the ones which mingle with his groans. your breath mixing with his, each inhale slow and mixed with a moan each time he's filling you up.

his head finds your shoulder, resting against it as he feels your nails digging into the skin of his back, creating crescent shaped marks. your moans fill his mind, he just listens to them. listening to the way his name falls from your lips, the way you stumble and stutter over your words, but he knows what you're saying.

"oh my—pl—dean—please don't stop—" you practically beg him through your broken and shaky voice.

he kisses at your shoulder, all while continuing to pump in and out of you. "i'm not going to, sweet girl." he reassures, his voice breathy but his tone just adds the extra mile you needed. you didn't know that a tone could make you feel so much more pleasure, but it does. because, well, mixed with how he's fucking you so gently, the tone does a lot more than it probably does in a regular situation.

broken words, unfinished sentences, praises, moans, whines, groans, and laboured and heavy breaths all fill the room.

the sound of your sweet sounds filling dean's ears and mind, unable to focus on anything other than the way you sound and feel. he's undeniably obsessed, truly. hooked.

"god.. baby, you feel so good. sound so sweet.. all for me, huh?" dean says into your shoulder, pressing kisses against the bare skin between every few words.

you're unable to do anything than nod, and moan—of course—unable to keep your mind off of the way he fills you up. the way he speaks. the way he kisses you. the way he makes you feel. goddamn. his hands, which explore different parts of your body, then find their specific spots. one of them holding your hip while the other is on the mattress beside your waist, holding himself up. his lips now find yours, the kiss sloppy and unsynchronised, moans muffled by his mouth, but god, he cannot complain about that.

dean then feels your pussy clench around him, which makes him let out a groan, and it happens a few times, all while your nails claw at his back, creating scratch marks and crescent shapes.

"dean—" you cry out, having came again. coating his condom wrapped dick. and just as you cum, he does too. a groan of your name falling from his lips as the tight knot which had formed snapping, filling up the condom in his sperm.

you're laying on the bed, dean rested beside you. well, okay, to your very surprise, he did in fact clean up. and you showered. and now, now, you're in bed. lying there, one of his arms around you.

this isn't ever how your hook-ups ended. well.. usually you don't want to stay around for that long, because, well... some of them aren't worth it. but dean? okay, okay. he may—may—be your favourite.

....maybe.

01 . JADE YAPS: i did in fact write this while listening to busy woman on repeat, so... authenticity, right?

02 . TAGLIST: @littlesoulshine, @multiversefanfics

03 . JOIN THE TAGLIST!

04 . SEND IN REQUESTS!

05 . DIVIDER BY: @anitalenia

[ham-st4r]

𝓦𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓟𝓽.2 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, mature content, no smut, bold is texting, green text is sunoo.

Genre: fuck buddies-ish, toxic relationship. little bit of comedy.

Summary: After you promised yourself you’d never contact heeseung again, you stayed true to your word, but, all of a sudden, he’s showing up out of nowhere at your apartment, but why?

Number of words: 3k+ I’ll update Masterlist and word count tomorrow.

Trying something new with this story, so please bear with me here’s pt.2 of wasted time I hope you all enjoy.

Find your way around!

Pt.1 Pt.3

“Come over,” Heeseung texted you a couple of days after your last hook up.

It was nearing four in the morning, and he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep, so he texted you to come over. He knew if he had a quick little session with you, that’d be more than enough to make him sleepy.

He kept his messages open cause he knew you’d be replying as soon as you got his text. You always did.

Little did he know you were on the opposite end, chuckling dryly at the recent text he had sent to you.

If that was a few days ago, you would have already been out of the house to go take care of him, but you promised yourself you were done with him, and you weren’t going to take that promise back just so he could get his dick wet and his ego boosted.

He waited about a minute or so, but you still hadn’t replied. “Hmmm,” he hummed in thought, wondering what was taking you so long to reply after the first three minutes had passed.

“Are you awake?” He double-texted you, and still no reply.

“She must be asleep,” he said to himself and tossed his phone on the bed next to him.

He looked down at his length that was straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he let out a loud groan, out of all nights. Why did you have to be asleep? He needed to feel you so bad right now.

He placed his palm over his shaft, lightly stroking it the way you always did before you gave him head. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine that you were lying between his legs, tracing your skillful fingers over his cock. Still, that image was hard to achieve when there was a huge difference between the feeling of your delicate touch compared to his rough eager one. Still, he tried to cause. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be coming over to see him tonight. “Y/n,” he whispered your name as he circled his tip over the fabric, and that’s when he realized it just wasn’t going to work out, and he felt utterly ridiculous after trying to emulate you. “Why is she asleep?” He whined and flailed in his bed like a baby.

He cut his temper tantrum short, and despite not hearing his phone go off, he still checked just in case you might have left a message, but there was none.

He sighed loudly and got out of bed, going to take a cold shower to get rid of his not-so-little problem down there.

Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

-

Even though he had no luck last night, he knew you were always free on Saturday nights, so there wasn’t a chance you’d be asleep, especially when it was only ten.

“Come over,” he sent the same repetitive text to you. He dropped his phone on his bed and rid himself of his clothing, getting ready for you when you came over.

Five minutes later, and he was starting to get agitated. It’s not like you had friends or anything going on, so why were you acting like you didn’t want his dick all of a sudden.

An idea popped into his head. You always came over faster when he sent you pictures of himself, so he opened the camera in his phone and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, showing a little more than the base of his cock to tease you and make you want him even more.

He took another one squeezing the outline of his cock and showing the protruding veins through the boxers he had on. There’s no way you could resist him after seeing those.

He sent them and set his phone down to the side, just waiting for your arrival.

-

The club music was far too loud, and you were way too drunk to even pay attention to your buzzing phone on the table as you held your throbbing head in your hands.

You were out with your best friend Sunoo, enjoying the weekend while he was in town, and it was definitely the most fun you’ve had in a while, especially when you weren’t planning your day around that thing that called himself heeseung.

You both drank a little too much and danced way too hard, but you didn’t regret a single ounce of it.

Well, until right now when you felt like you were going to pass out any minute. “Your phone is b-buzzing like crazy,” sunoo yelled to you over the blasting music, and you just looked at him for a few seconds before dropping your head back down in your hands. You couldn’t even comprehend what he had just said to you.

He was a little less drunk than you, so he picked up your phone and checked the messages just in case it was an emergency, and he almost threw up when he saw what it was. “What are you doing with this in your phone?” He tsked when you didn’t bother looking up at him.

An evil yet hilarious idea popped into his head. He figured he might as well do it because he wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.

Ewww🤮😷 he giggled after he sent the text.

“What are you laughing at?” You mumbled.

“Oh, nothing,” you just groaned in response, hoping that the pounding in your head would go away so you could leave soon.

Heeseung snatched his phone up, unlocking it right away, and his brows creased together in confusion. It was a message from you, but it wasn’t your usual response, and it made him a little uncomfortable.

“???” He sent back and anxiously awaited your reply.

“Why does it look like that?🤭” sunoo smiled as he hit the send button.

“Like what?🥺”

“Idk, it looks tiny and squishy.🍤”

Heeseung couldn’t control the blush that crept up his neck. He was feeling thoroughly embarrassed right now, even though he didn’t show it to you.

“Cause you’re not here to make it hard 😐 stop playing games, y/n I know you like when it grows inside your mouth 😏”

Sunoo literally gave you a death glare. He didn’t know this was what you got up to in your free time. Well, it was none of his business anyway. “Get it, I guess.”

“What?” You replied groggily, but Sunoo ignored you. You would have fought him for not paying attention to you, but you didn’t even remember what you were supposed to be angry about in the first place.

“No, and why is it so veiny?” Sunoo covered the lower half of his face as he continued to giggle uncontrollably.

Heeseung was more than confused. He thought you liked it when it was veiny. You always seemed to enjoy licking them before giving him head.

“I thought you liked that😕 guess not” he quickly unsent all the pictures, and suddenly he was feeling all self-conscious and insecure about himself.

Sunoo literally laughed out loud when he saw the attachments had been unsent.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said to Sunoo cause his laughter was literally ringing in your ears. He patted your head softly, and you just laid back down.

“Just are you coming over or not?” Heeseung texted back after that conversation. He wasn’t even sure if he could face you right now.

Sunoo giggled, and by now, you had started to sober up a bit, so he dropped the act so you both could head home soon.

“Y/n can’t make it. She’s like totally wasted right now.”

Heeseung squinted his eyes at the screen, rereading it over and over again, and no matter how many times he read it, it still didn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean y/n can’t make it? You’re literally her.”

By now, he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. This whole conversation was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened between you two.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot to tell you I’m her friend, sunoo. She’s too drunk to talk right now, but I’ll let her know you texted after I take her home.”

Heeseung was absolutely mortified. He dropped his phone out of his hands in utter horror. He can’t believe someone else saw those pictures.

No wonder those texts didn’t seem like you. He should have known something was wrong as soon as he saw the stupid puke emoji.

On the bright side, that meant that you did like his dick when it was like that, but on the other side, this friend of yours literally just saw his dick not once but twice. “Fuck” he wiped his hands over his face.

But what friend? Sunoo definitely didn’t sound like a girl's name. When did you get a friend, especially a friend, that you’d pick over getting dicked down by him?

He shook his head slightly. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t even in the mood anymore, anyway.

-

Another week went by of you and Sunoo clubbing cause he decided to stay with you longer than just the weekend, and you were thankful to have some company after being alone for so long.

Heeseung was still helplessly texting you every day.

For some reason, over the last couple of days, he felt weird about not hearing from you or seeing you.

He had grown accustomed to seeing you often, and your absence was definitely getting to him.

He can’t count how many cold showers he had to take when you stood him up. It had been so long since you and him had sex that he felt like his dick was going to shrivel up if you didn’t come over and wet it for him.

He knew there was no way you could avoid him, so maybe something important came up, but what did you find that you thought was more important than pleasuring him? He wondered.

“You okay?” He texted just to make sure you were alright, but when you didn’t respond, it wasn’t surprising to him anymore.

He scrolled through your socials. Maybe there’d be something in there letting him know about your recent activities.

“Someone come over here and take care of me. I’m sick,” heeseung read the caption below a picture you had taken. It was of your lower body. You were lying down in bed with rolled-up tissue paper and a tv remote beside you.

He pouted slightly at the picture. No wonder you weren’t answering him. It was cause you didn’t feel well.

You had posted that picture a few hours ago, so hopefully, you’d still be awake once he arrived at your place.

He took a quick shower and changed into some comfortable clothing before grabbing his car keys and heading to the store to buy you some medicine.

He saw a cute vase of flowers that would look good at your bedside, but he decided to skip that cause your guys' relationship wasn’t like that.

To be honest, your guy’s relationship wasn’t one where he’d come over and take care of you when you were sick either, but over the weeks, he started to miss your presence, and for some reason, he just felt like he needed to see you it was confusing to him cause he never felt that way before he never felt like he missed you.

He went to the freezer aisle and grabbed some vanilla ice cream that always made his throat feel better when he was sick, so maybe it’d help you too. He grabbed some cough syrup the nighttime one, so you could sleep the cold away, and he also bought some pills for any types of aches or pains you might be having, and the last two items he bought were, of course, soup and lotion tissues cause the regular ones hurt.

He paid for everything and got back in his car, driving to your place. It wasn’t that far, but he went a little over the speed limit so he could get there faster with the medicine.

Once he made it there, he grabbed your bag of goodies and headed up to your apartment. He looked at the apartment number, and he remembered you were number one on the floor. He knocked softly and waited at the door patiently in case it took you a while to make it to the door. To his surprise, it flung open right away, and he stood there a bit stunned when he saw someone other than you answering your door.

“Hi!” Sunoo chirped.

“Hi?” Heeseung replied, confused, and looked at the number on the door, making sure that he had the right room, and sure enough, it was the right room but the wrong person. “My apologies. I think I have the wrong number.”

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” Sunoo smiled softly, hoping he could point the confused gentleman in the right direction.

“Umm.. y/n, I haven’t been here in a while. She must have moved. Sorry for disturbing you” heeseung was ready to take his leave, but Sunoo spoke up again.

“Moved? No, she’s still here, but she’s feeling unwell,” sunoo pouted.

“Well, could I see her?” Heeseung said, feeling a bit annoyed cause what the hell was this nerd doing alone with you at your apartment?

“Who exactly are you?” Sunoo eyed him suspiciously. It was kinda odd for this unknown man to be asking for you at this time of night.

“A friend we met a while ago,” sunoo hummed.

“How come she’s never told me about you” he squinted his eyes at the stranger.

“She’s never told me about you either,” heeseung glared at the shorter male in front of him.

“Name?”

“Heeseung,” he rolled his eyes.

Sunoo shut the door and went to your room. “There’s some guy says he’s friends with you, and his name is heeseung. Does that ring any bells?”

Your eyes widened in shock after hearing what sunoo had just said.

There’s no way you heard right. You had to be hallucinating.

“Y/n?” Sunoo called you, snapping you out of your daze, and that’s when you realized you weren’t hallucinating and that this was all too real.

“No, no, no!” You said, panicked. “Don’t let him in!”

Unfortunately, it was already too late heeseung had invited himself in and was standing in your doorframe, looking you dead in the eyes, and he didn’t seem all too happy to see you despite you being the main and only reason he was there in the first place. “I’m sorry, but you have to go” Sunoo tried to grab heeseung’s arm, but he didn’t budge.

“I-it’s fine, sunoo, we’ll only be a minute” sunoo gave you an are you sure look, and you nodded weakly. “What are you doing here?” You said coldly.

“Obviously, to see you,” he said just as coldly.

You scoffed as you folded your arms. “So obvious,” you rolled your eyes. The last time he came to your place to see you was at least five months ago.

He stood there and looked at you for a while, wondering where your attitude was coming from. You usually were excited when he came over. “Who is that?” He asked, referring to the guy that answered your door. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“None of your business, just what do you want?” You replied in annoyance.

He sighed. “I saw that you were sick, so I came over,” he stated as if this was something that he did regularly. He lifted up the bag in his hand, showing it to you.

“I didn’t ask you to,” you said without looking at him.

“Can I not come to see you for once?” He chuckled dryly.

It’s not that he couldn’t come to see you. You just didn’t understand why after you cut him out of your life, he was showing up to your apartment cause you were sick. What would he care? He never showed any ounce of care for you before.

“Well, I was coming to take care of you, but I see someone else already is” his tone was laced with annoyance as he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

You were beyond upset with him right now. What right did he have to be annoyed that you had somebody that actually cared about you and was willing to take care of you?

“And? Heeseung, I don’t get it. I stopped answering your texts because I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole, and just when I try to move on from you, you show up talking about taking care of me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You know that I fucking like you, and now you pull this shit. Are my feelings just a fucking game to you?” You said what you had been thinking for a while. You didn’t mean to lash out at him, but in your fit of disbelief and rage, you couldn’t help it.

“No!” He yelled. “But apparently, mine fucking are to you.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you even talking about?”

“I came over 'cause I fucking c- you know what, never mind seeing how I’m nothing but an asshole to you” he clenched his jaw and slammed the bag of groceries in your trash bin before slamming your bedroom door on his way out.

Sunoo was listening by the door the whole time, and he stumbled back when heeseung barged through and bumped him out of the way with his shoulder.

Heeseung walked out of your apartment, and he made sure to slam the front door as well.

“Y/n…” sunoo walked in to see you crying softly, and he immediately wrapped you up in his arms. “Are you okay?” You shook your head no and encircled his waist in a hug as you sobbed with your head resting on his chest. “I can beat him up if you want” sunoo smiled sadly as he stroked your head.

You shook your head again, and Sunoo took the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Being the good friend that he is, he stayed with you until you eventually fell asleep, and you were so thankful that in a time like this, you had someone like him.

-

Heeseung left your apartment and went to the nearest convenience store to buy himself every type of alcohol known to man.

Once he got back in his car, he opened the first bottle of beer while he drove home, downing it in one go. One turned into many, and he was already on his sixth beer once he reached home.

He went straight to his bedroom and laid down. The beer wasn’t quite strong enough to dull the pain in his chest, so he opened a bottle of liquor, drinking it like it was water. He didn’t give a fuck about how he’d feel in the morning right now. He just wanted to forget. “You’re nothing but a selfish asshole,” he chuckled as he repeated the same exact words you said to him earlier.

Worst part is he knew it was true hell. You calling him an asshole was going easy. He was every bit of a fucking loser. He was a pathetic no, good excuse for a person that played around with your feelings just cause he could. He knew you were into him for more than just sex, and instead of reciprocating your feelings, he ignored them cause somehow it was amusing to have you running over to his aid whenever he wanted.

But after those first few days without you, reality hit him like a truck, and he realized just how much he took you for granted. He accepted that after all this time, he, too, had started to feel something for you, but he didn’t want to admit it because it was easier not to and he didn’t want to make things complicated.

But now it all made sense why he felt jealous when he found out you had a guy friend, why he was nervous whenever he texted you, and why he felt scared when you didn’t answer him.

It was because he was afraid of losing you. He couldn’t believe it only took a few days of not hearing from you to make him admit to himself that he was head over heels for you, but it did.

And when he was finally ready to face the fact that he missed you and not just sex, it was too late. You’d already given up on him and moved on.

But it was better this way. That sunoo guy looked nice. He protected you and took care of you when you were unwell, and that was more than heeseung ever even thought of doing for you in the time he’s known you for.

He knew you deserved better than him, and in his drunken stupor, he convinced himself that he was happy that you found better.

FIN

@heej43 if anyone wants to be tagged in future works just let me know.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you who made it to the end. - 🐹

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you do a sfw (or NSFW if you want) if Smoke and reader having an argument and Smoke tries to make things right with the reader?

A/N: oh absolutely I will! Also mentions of JohnShi and RaiLao!! (We stan MK1 ships here)

Warnings: pretty much chill except a few harsh words

A Little Smokey

Tomas, you, Hanzo, Kuai Liang, and Harumi were spending the hot summer afternoon on the training floor of the building, as it was the only room with no walls and a roof over with shade. Kuai wasn’t having it, being that he was burning both on the outside and on the inside. Tomas was dying from the heat as well, both him and Hanzo on the other side of the room to stay away from Kuai’s heat. This was bad even for you, and having Bi Han around would make it easier but sadly no, he’d gone rouge and left you all behind to work with Shang Tsung. The heat was bad today, the five of you practically out of commission for today. Even Liu Kang wasn’t having fun either, he and Geras were burning up too.

“What I would give to find a giant pool of water right now.” You spoke out loud

“Yeah I’d feel so much better and not like I’m burning inside.” Kuai added

“Hold on I have an idea!” You hear Raiden say from a distance away

“What is it?” Tomas asked

“Let’s go ask Johnny if we can use his pool! He’s always saying we can use it since he’s almost always never around.”

“Fuck it I’m in.” You answered sitting up speed walking to Raiden and Kung Lao

“Me too.” Kaui added as he got up and sprinted over with Harumi behind him

“Alright fuck it we need an off day.” Tomas replied

And sooooo…

It took a little time to get to Johnny’s place, with the group also trying to see if Kenshi wanted to go as well. Unfortunately they couldn’t find him, so they resorted to going anyways.

“Ah yes finally free cooling!” You cheered as you, Kung Lao, Raiden, and Tomas went running through the door and into Johnny’s open door

“Oh hey guys I heard you-“

You four didn’t get far, crashing into someone a little ways into the house and falling to the floor. You fell on Tomas while Raiden and Kung Lao rolled to the side but right on top of each other. To your surprise, it was Kenshi, swearing a pair of white swim trunks patterned with pineapples, no shirt while having dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Kenshi” You shouted

You shot up from Tomas’ grip, going to hug Kenshi since it’s been awhile since you two interacted at all.

“Hello Y/n it’s good to see you too. I see you brought the whole team.”

He gently elbowed your side, noticing he was looking in the direction of who was at the door.

“So let me guess… it’s Raiden, Kung Lao, Y/n, Tomas, Kuai, Harumi, and Lord Liu Kang.”

“Good guess my friend you know us all too well.” Kuai responded back to Kenshi

It took a few minutes for everyone to get their clothes off, most of the boys just walking around shirtless with some sort of shorts on. You could see Harumi gawking at her husband Kuai, and you felt the same about another brother of the Shirai Ryu.

“Hey Y/n come on! You’re so slow!” Kung Lao shouted

“Cannonball!” Both you and Raiden shouted as you both ran to the edge of the pool before jumping in

“Incoming!” Johnny shouted as him, Kenshi, and Hanzo jumped right on top of you both

Almost everyone was in, except Harumi, Kuai, and Tomas. You couldn’t see what they were doing very well or hear what they were saying but it seemed like Tomas was nervous and asking a question. What you didn’t know at all was that Tomas was asking questions, about you.

“Just go to her and say ‘I like you’ to Y/n. That’s all you gotta do!”

“But-“

“Your brother is right Tomas you just have to say those three words to her and she’ll fall on her knees for you.”

“And what makes you so sure she will?”

“Just trust us.”

And so Tomas bid Kuai and his wife a quick farewell before slowly walking to the edge of the pool, quickly spotting you in the middle with Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi around you like they were fawning over you. It made him frustrated, after all he did like you but it was a pain to deal with four different guys at your feet as well.

“Y/n!” He shouted

You quickly looked behind you, spotting the handsome assassin looking right at you from outside the pool. You quickly swam over and pulled yourself out of the pool, standing in front of the grey haired man you admired.

“Can we talk over there?” He asked pointing to an open area behind him a few feet away

“Sure!”

You followed him to the spot, your eyes drifting to his ripped chest and bulky arms. He was attractive, and your eyes couldn’t stop staring at all of him. However, his attitude quickly turned when you didn’t expect it too.

“What are you doing with those four?” He grumbled

“They’re my friends Tomas I like talking to them and joking around with them.”

“Well I don’t.”

Where was this coming from? You’ve never known Tomas Vrbada to have clashing personalities with anyone else in the Shirai Ryu… well except Johnny. Yes he was Tomas’ favorite actor and Johnny’s even asked Tomas to star in things with him, but there are times where Johnny oversteps like he did before with Kitana and her sister Mileena some odd months ago.

“So?”

“So? I know for a fact Johnny and Kung Lao will try for any girl within ten feet of them, while Kenshi and Raiden will get to you slowly, hoping you slip one day.”

“And we’re just friends! What wrong with that?”

Now you were confused and annoyed, you’ve always been friendly with the champions of Earthrealm long before you realized you’d have feelings for Tomas. Were those feelings a lie now? This wasn’t normal of Tomas, to be angry and annoyed with someone.

“What’s wrong with it? Y/n the four of them like you why else would they always be around you?!”

“For your information Tomas they don’t. I know that for a fact, and there’s no reason to speculate it. Why are you mad about it? You know I don’t like them either! I like you!”

Before Tomas could even react, you started to turn and walk away.

“Wait Y/n!”

Tomas shot an arm out, holding onto your wrist as you both stared at each other.

“You like me?” Tomas asked

Oops. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Yeah?”

“I-I thought that-“

“Tomas how blind are you?”

“What?”

He let you go, and you smacked yourself in the face with your hand. Oh so Tomas wasn’t as observant to other relationships as well as he said he was.

“Tomas… oh my god.”

“What? What’d I do?!”

“You are so clueless.”

“To what? What’d I miss? Clearly they like being near you cause you’re a girl!”

How were you gonna say this since Tomas’ perception of a “relationship” was a boy and girl… but that was not the case with the four guys you were both talking about.

“Tomas… Kenshi is in a relationship with Johnny and Raiden is with Kung Lao.”

The weight of his own stupid assumptions hit Tomas in the face. Well, there went his bragging rights of saying he knows everyone and everything about everyone there.

“Okay… I see… my bad.” He answered covering his face with his hands

Poor Tomas had just been hit with the classic “the four guys are gay and the girl is actually not any of their crushes”.

“I am so dumb aren’t I?”

“Yes you are Tommy.”

“H-Hey! Don’t call me that in front of others!”

You just laughed, even though you felt a little hurt at Tomas’ blind views of how you felt about him and your friends.

“How can I ever repay you back?” Tomas asked moving his hands away from his face

“You don’t have to Tomas. Just know it’s always you.”

He smiled, feeling heat in his cheeks as you went and grabbed both of his hands in yours.

“I feel bad and I want to fix what I said.”

“You don’t have to. We both messed up in this situation, I should’ve told you a while ago when the boys came out of the closet.”

Tomas held back a laugh. You felt better knowing you made Tomas smile and laugh, forgetting about your small disagreement from earlier. You didn’t regret telling Tomas your feelings, not one bit.

“Ready to cool off?”

Tomas held your hand in his, taking a step past you to bring you both back to the others. You heard someone go “called it” and someone else add “Johnny” in the crowd of your friends. Kuai Liang and Harumi were smiling at you, Kuai holding in what seemed like a perfect joke.

“About time brother.”

“I hope it went well?”

“It went just perfectly.” You joked

And so Tomas and yourself walked over to the edge of the pool, right before Tomas grabbed your waist and jumped in with you. You could feel his grip on you even under the water, you knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. You both came up for air, Tomas shaking his head to get the water out of his short grey hair, while you pulled back your hair. He treaded water next to you, smiling as his grip got a little lighter. His smile was wide, quickly looking to the four boys mentioned earlier and sighing.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

The end…