#While we’re on it stop writing smut fics for the characters

[fuqnia]

VERONICA! OPEN THE DOOR

☆kyle broflovski x fem!reader

☆ A/N | hii, so recently my long fic 'most wanted' reached over 100 kudos on ao3 which is so crazy to me! thank u everyone for the support regarding my works <3 i reached out to the first commenter on the platforms i write for, and they wanted me to write a mean kyle smut... im gonna be honest, this piece is from my stan x reader x kyle self indulgent fanfic that is a 600 page google doc, and WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY. .

☆ C/W | nsfw (18+) fem. afab reader, unprotected sex, hate sex, p in v, squirting, all characters are aged up!

☆ god this is so cringe, everyone is so ooc, and frankly i'm sorry </3 but kyle running and screaming after the reader while she is crying is so funny.

The warm glow of fairy lights strung across the walls softened the chaos of Red’s dorm room. Piles of clothes were scattered across the bed, a mixture of bold patterns and edgy leather pieces that screamed confidence. You sat cross-legged among the mess, a pair of black tights clutched in your lap, while Red fussed with her hair in front of the mirror.

Her signature straight red locks—bright enough to catch the light like a flame—fell in perfect sheets over her shoulders as she adjusted a strand with practiced ease. “Alright, babe,” she said, turning to assess you with a critical eye. “This party isn’t just any party. It’s Kenny’s twenty-first, which means we’re pulling out all the stops. And you’re going to look hotter than the bonfire.”

You laughed nervously, glancing down at the sleek black mini skirt and turtleneck already laid out on the bed. “I don’t think Kenny’s going to care what I look like, Red. He’ll be too busy shotgunning beers and getting Cartman to do something stupid.”

Red tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing as she pointed a hairbrush at you. “Correction: Kyle will care. And if Kyle cares, then it’s my duty to make sure you look so good he can’t think straight.”

The mention of Kyle made your cheeks warm. Kyle, with his steady presence and rare, quiet smiles, had been your anchor in the chaos of college life. He made you feel safe, wanted—like the world slowed down when you were with him. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the tight knot in your stomach when you thought about tonight. Not just because of Kyle, but because of Stan.

Red must have noticed your expression because she put the brush down and crossed her arms. “What’s that face? Don’t tell me you’re freaking out.”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m not. It’s just… it’s a lot. Parties, people, you know I’m not great with this stuff.”

Red softened, sitting beside you on the bed and squeezing your arm. “You don’t have to be the life of the party, babe. You just have to show up, have a drink, and let me make sure you look amazing while you do it.”

She nudged the skirt and turtleneck closer to you. “Come on, try it on. You’ll look classy, but you’ll still turn heads.”

With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the outfit and headed into the tiny bathroom. The black turtleneck was snug but comfortable, the fabric skimming your curves without clinging too tightly. The mini skirt sat perfectly at your waist, flaring just enough to feel stylish without being too much, and the tights gave it an edge that balanced the whole look. You stared at yourself in the mirror, half dreading and half anticipating Red’s reaction.

When you stepped back into the room, Red’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” she said, dragging out the words as she circled you like a fashion critic. “You look… incredible. Kyle is going to combust. And honestly, if he doesn’t, Stan definitely will.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of Stan, but you forced a smile. “It’s not about Stan.”

“Sure,” Red said with a smirk, brushing past you to grab her eyeliner. “And I dye my hair this color to blend in.”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing lilt in her voice was hard to ignore. Stan wasn’t supposed to be a factor tonight. You’d worked hard to put that one messy night with him behind you, the one that lingered like an unwelcome guest in the back of your mind. It didn’t matter now. You were with Kyle—steady, kind, Kyle—and tonight was about Kenny.

“Sit,” Red commanded, gesturing to the desk chair. “We’re doing your makeup.”

She worked with quick, practiced precision, blending shadows and lining your eyes until you barely recognized yourself in the mirror. Your cheekbones looked sharper, your eyes more dramatic, and your lips shimmered with a soft gloss. Red stepped back, tilting her head as she admired her handiwork. “You, my friend, are a walking goddess. Now grab your shoes. We’re already late.”

The drive to Stan’s ranch was filled with Red’s animated chatter. Her energy buzzed as she recounted Kenny’s most ridiculous party moments. “Last year, he got Cartman to wrestle Butters for the last slice of cake. And by wrestle, I mean Butters just let him have it because he’s Butters.”

You laughed, but your mind wandered to the ranch, to Kyle, and to Stan. It was ridiculous to feel this nervous. Kyle adored you, made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected. But Stan… Stan complicated everything, even when you wanted to forget.

When you pulled up to the ranch, the sprawling property was already alive with music, laughter, and the warm glow of string lights crisscrossing the yard. A massive bonfire crackled in the center, drawing groups of people closer for warmth. Red parked the car and turned to you with a grin. “Alright. Let’s go break some hearts.”

You stepped into the chaos, the sound of music and chatter enveloping you immediately. Somewhere in the crowd, Kyle was waiting, probably with a beer in hand and a bemused smile on his face. And somewhere else, Stan was here too. The thought made your stomach twist, but you shoved it down.

Red looped her arm through yours, steering you toward the bonfire. “Let’s find your man before I have to fend off everyone else.”

The crowd was thick, and you weaved through clusters of people, the heat of the fire warming your skin. Then you saw him—Kyle, standing just on the edge of the firelight, talking to Kenny. His smile lit up when he spotted you, and for a moment, all your nerves melted away.

But then, just beyond Kyle, you caught sight of black hair and a familiar profile. Stan was there, leaning casually against a fence, a drink in his hand. His blue eyes flicked toward you, widening slightly when they met yours. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but the brief look on his face—an unreadable mixture of surprise and something deeper—was enough to remind you of everything you were trying to leave behind.

The knot in your stomach tightened as Red tugged you forward, her arm looped through yours with unrelenting determination. You tore your gaze away from Stan, but the image of his eyes on you lingered, an unwelcome weight in the back of your mind. The warmth of the bonfire grew stronger as Red plopped you right in front of Kyle, her grin as bright as the flames behind her.

“There,” Red said, giving Kyle a pointed look. “Don’t say I never deliver.”

Kyle’s green eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, the noise and movement of the party seemed to blur into the background. He tilted his head slightly, as though he was trying to process something, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t either. You just stared at him, your chest tightening as his gaze lingered, taking you in like he’d never seen you before.

Kyle shifted slightly, his hands sliding into his pockets as he looked at you with a casual smile. “Hey,” he said, his voice light, but the simple word carried enough warmth to pull you from your swirling thoughts.

You blinked at him, your mouth opening slightly as you tried to summon a response. Nothing came. Your chest felt tight, and all you could do was stare, your eyes wide and unblinking, like you’d forgotten how to function.

Kyle’s brows furrowed just a little, though his smile didn’t falter. He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You good?” he asked, the casual tone in his voice softening around the edges.

You opened your mouth again, but no words followed. Instead, you just stood there, rooted in place, feeling every second of silence stretch unbearably long. Your hands fidgeted at your sides, but your brain seemed incapable of stringing together a coherent thought.

Kyle’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of confusion flickering across his face. “Uh, Red?” he called over your shoulder, though his eyes never left yours. “Did you break her?”

“Not my fault if she short-circuits when she sees you, bro,” Red shot back, her voice light and teasing as she disappeared into the crowd. “You’re on your own!”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as Kyle gave a small, nervous chuckle. “Okay,” he said, dragging the word out as he took a half step closer. “Seriously, are you alright? You look like you just got hit by a truck or something.”

You forced yourself to nod, though it felt jerky and unconvincing. “Yeah,” you croaked finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Kyle raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting again as he tried to make sense of your reaction. He didn’t press, though. Instead, he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Alright, well, I’m glad you made it. I wasn’t sure Red was actually going to drag you here.”

His words were warm, and his steady presence should have been enough to ground you. But your chest felt heavier by the second, your thoughts scattering like dry leaves in the wind. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and before you could stop yourself, you glanced toward it.

There, just on the edge of the bonfire’s glow, Wendy strolled up to Stan. Her posture was relaxed, but the way her hand brushed his arm as she leaned in closer made your stomach twist. She said something to him, her voice too low to carry over the crackle of the fire, and he nodded, his blue eyes fixed on the ground.

Your gaze lingered too long. For a brief moment, Stan’s eyes flicked toward you, catching yours with an unreadable expression that made your chest tighten further. Then, just as quickly, his attention snapped back to Wendy.

Kyle shifted again, drawing your focus back to him. He was watching you closely now, his expression a little more serious. “Hey,” he said softly, the single word cutting through the noise of the party. “You sure you’re okay?”

Your lips parted again, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. The warmth of the fire pressed against your back, and Kyle’s steady gaze felt like both a lifeline and an anchor you couldn’t grab hold of. “I’m fine,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow and brittle.

Kyle hesitated, his brows knitting together as he searched your face. “If you say so,” he murmured, his voice quiet and careful, like he was trying not to push too hard.

You shifted awkwardly under his gaze, desperate to break the tension. “How’s the party been so far?” you asked, your voice wobbling slightly.

Before Kyle could open his mouth, Kenny popped up at his side with the kind of timing that made you wonder if he’d been eavesdropping. “Oh, you know, it’s been a shitshow—so, the usual. Cartman’s being a fat bastard, Butters is crying because the punch is too strong, and I’m pretty sure Craig and Tweek are off somewhere trying to one-up last year’s public makeout record.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, tension easing a fraction at Kenny’s typical over-the-top delivery. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and Kyle rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out of his skull.

“Great summary, Kenny,” Kyle muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Really insightful.”

“Hey, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” Kenny shot back, throwing an arm around Kyle’s shoulder like he didn’t notice—or didn’t care—about Kyle’s withering glare. “She’s been here for two seconds and already looks like she regrets it. You’re really putting on the charm, dude.”

Kyle shrugged Kenny’s arm off with a sigh. “Yeah, thanks for the feedback, Kenny. Always a pleasure.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Kenny said, raising his hands like a saint wronged. Then his attention shifted to you, his grin widening. “You, though. You look like you need to loosen up before the existential dread kicks in. Let’s get you a drink.”

Kyle groaned, cutting him off. “She doesn’t have to drink, you dumbass. Not everyone wants to pour shitty vodka into their system and call it a personality.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re the designated buzzkill tonight,” Kenny snapped, crossing his arms mockingly. “It’s not like I was telling her to chug Everclear and start a conga line.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at their bickering, which only seemed to fuel Kenny. He jabbed a finger in Kyle’s direction. “I’m trying to help, but you’re over here cockblocking her from a goddamn cup of punch.”

Kyle glared at him, deadpan. “I’m not cockblocking her from punch, Kenny. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kenny ignored him entirely, turning back to you. “Look, the punch isn’t even that bad. You’ll barely taste the regret.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t know. ‘Barely taste the regret’ isn’t exactly selling it.”

“It’s not,” Kyle said firmly, crossing his arms. “It’s literally just vodka and juice in a bucket. Kenny probably stuck his dick in it for flavor.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Kenny shot back. “Second, that only happened once.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was reconsidering his life choices.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest easing a little more. Kenny beamed like he’d just won a prize. “See? She gets it. I’m the fun one.”

Kyle groaned, but the faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, well, fun or not, you’re an idiot.”

Kenny clapped you on the back, ignoring Kyle entirely. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink. At least then you can say you’re embracing the full Kenny McCormick party experience.”

You glanced at Kyle, who sighed but gave a small shrug. “Your call,” he said, his tone resigned. “Just don’t let him talk you into doing shots. Or listening to anything he says. Ever.”

Kenny smirked, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Relax, she’s in good hands. Mostly.”

You let him guide you through the crowd toward the makeshift bar near the barn, the chatter and laughter of the party buzzing in the background. His energy was infectious, and for a moment, the tension in your chest began to ease.

“You know,” Kenny started, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “you’re looking dangerously good tonight. Like, borderline criminal. Don’t tell me you did all this for me?”

You blinked, caught off guard, before letting out a giggle. “For you?”

“Obviously,” he said, his grin widening. “It’s my birthday. You’re supposed to make me feel special. And here you are, walking in, looking like that. Babe, I’m blushing.” He exaggerated the last part, pretending to wipe away a tear of pride.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, laughing now, feeling yourself relax.

Kenny nudged you playfully. “Nah, but seriously, don’t tell Kyle I said this, but if you did dress up for me, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m fucking adorable, and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “If it’ll make you happy, Kenny, sure. I’ll say it’s for you.”

“Hell yeah,” he said, pumping his fist in mock victory as you both reached the bar.

The setup was chaotic but functional—a plastic table laden with mismatched bottles of cheap liquor, stacks of red Solo cups, and a massive punch bowl that looked suspiciously sticky. Kenny grabbed a cup and started toward the punch, but before you could even decide what to drink, Wendy appeared beside you.

“Hey,” she said casually, reaching for a cup and filling it with punch. Her calm presence felt like a jolt of electricity straight to your chest.

You froze, your eyes widening as your breath hitched. She didn’t even look at you, her focus entirely on the drink in her hand, but that only made the moment worse. Images of that night with Stan—the heat, the whispered words, the sheer wrongness of it all—flashed in your mind like a car crash you couldn’t look away from.

Your stomach twisted painfully, and you quickly turned back to Kenny, trying to shake the panic clawing at your throat. “Kenny,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended, “make mine strong. Like, strong as fuck.”

Kenny blinked at you, taken aback by your tone, before a sly grin crept across his face. “Oh, shit. Someone’s on a mission tonight.”

You shot him a look, your wide eyes betraying your calm façade. “I’m serious. Just… make it so I won’t have to worry about anything I do later.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but sensing the urgency in your voice. “Alright, alright. One existential-crisis punch coming right up.” He reached for the vodka, pouring a generous amount into your cup before topping it off with the sticky, overly sweet punch.

He handed it to you with a small flourish. “There you go, babe. Now drink up before you start hyperventilating or something.”

You took the cup without hesitation, downing a large sip as the mix of sweetness and burn hit the back of your throat. Kenny was still watching you, his grin softening slightly into something more genuine. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. Wendy was still there, just a few feet away, completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. You gripped your cup tighter, willing the alcohol to do its job before you completely fell apart.

Kenny patted you on the back with a grin, his touch light but grounding. “Alright, babe, I’m heading back to the bonfire. Don’t drink yourself into a coma before the fun really starts, yeah?”

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely above a murmur as you said, “Happy birthday, Kenny.”

He winked at you before disappearing back into the crowd, his energy as boundless as ever. You stood there, gripping your cup like a lifeline, trying to pretend that everything was fine. But Wendy was still there, just a few feet away, finishing her drink with a practiced ease that only made her presence more suffocating.

She caught your eye as she set her cup down, giving you a polite, almost-too-sweet smile. “You look nice,” she said, her tone light but distant, like she wasn’t entirely sure if she should say it.

You froze, managing only a nod in response, and she didn’t linger. Wendy turned and walked back into the crowd, making a direct line toward Stan, who was still leaning against the fence, his posture casual but his eyes sharp as he spotted her approach.

Your chest tightened painfully as you watched her step up to him, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in to say something. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, and you looked away before you could absorb any more.

The sharp edge of panic started creeping back in, and you downed the rest of your drink in one long gulp, the burn barely registering as your mind spun. The alcohol wasn’t working fast enough, so you poured yourself another cup, filling it to the brim with the sticky punch and vodka concoction. You didn’t care how it tasted anymore; you just needed the edges of your thoughts to dull.

With the new drink clutched tightly in your hand, you stumbled away from the bar, seeking some kind of reprieve from the noise and the people. You found it against the front wall of the barn, the wooden planks cool against your back as you slid down to the ground, clutching your cup in one hand and your head in the other.

The world around you blurred, the sounds of laughter and music muffled as you tried to quiet the storm inside you. You sipped from your cup in rapid intervals, the alcohol’s heat settling in your stomach but doing little to loosen the knot in your chest. The image of Wendy walking back to Stan looped in your head, sharper than you wanted it to be.

You pressed your fingers against your temple, your head swimming, and closed your eyes. The chaos of the party felt far away now, replaced by the all-too-familiar ache of guilt and regret. Your grip on the cup tightened as you whispered under your breath, “What the hell is wrong with me?”

With a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes and glanced toward the bonfire. Kenny had made his way back to the group, slipping seamlessly into the gathering of familiar faces. From where you sat, you could just make out Kyle’s green hoodie standing out against the golden glow of the fire. He was with Cartman, Butters, Red, and Heidi, their figures illuminated by the flickering flames.

Their voices carried faintly on the breeze, and it didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that they were arguing. Well, not arguing, exactly—bickering in that way they always did, where it was hard to tell if they were genuinely pissed off or just having fun at each other’s expense.

“…because you’re the one who always ruins these parties!” Cartman’s voice rang out, as loud and grating as ever.

“Me?!” Kenny shot back, his tone dripping with mock offense. “Oh, sorry, I forgot I’m the one who drinks the punch and cries about how no one appreciates me—oh wait, that’s you, Fatass.”

“Don’t call me Fatass, you poor piece of shit!” Cartman barked, his voice carrying above the crackle of the fire.

“Guys, stop it,” Butters interjected nervously, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s Kenny’s birthday! We’re supposed to be celebratin’, not fightin’!”

“Oh, I’m celebrating,” Red chimed in, her tone sharp and amused. “I’m celebrating how much I hate both of you. It’s the real theme of the night.”

Kyle’s voice cut through the chaos, dry and unimpressed. “You all sound like assholes. Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to not be embarrassed to exist here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect,” Heidi shot back, clearly joining in on the fun. “Is our peasant-level banter beneath you? Should we hold a lecture on philosophy or something?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up at the sound of Kyle’s groan, even though your chest still felt tight. The snippets of their argument floated over to you, loud enough to catch, and there was something strangely grounding about their familiar rhythms. It was chaos, but it was their chaos—a strange kind of comfort even from a distance.

Kenny’s voice rose again, playful and theatrical. “For the record, I am officially declaring myself the King of This Party. And as your king, I command everyone to shut the hell up and pour me a drink.”

“King of What?” Red snapped. “Being a jackass?”

Kenny’s laugh echoed across the field, followed by more laughter from the group, and for a moment, you felt your chest loosen. You took another sip of your drink, letting their banter wash over you like a balm against the storm in your head. You didn’t move from your spot by the barn, but you let yourself sink into the sounds of the party—their voices, the crackle of the fire, the hum of music in the background.

Time had slipped away in a haze, and now, after what must have been thirty minutes—or maybe an hour, you weren’t sure—you were positively drunk. The warmth of the alcohol coursed through your veins, loosening the tension in your chest but leaving a distinct heaviness in your limbs. It didn’t help that you hadn’t eaten anything before the party, and your low alcohol tolerance had ensured that the punch hit you harder and faster than you’d expected.

The barn wall felt solid and cool against your back, but it couldn’t steady the spinning in your head. You took a deep breath, swaying slightly as you pushed yourself up to stand. The world tilted for a moment, and you gripped the wall for balance before shaking your head and muttering to yourself, “Get it together.”

You couldn’t help but notice that Kyle hadn’t come to check on you, which struck you as odd—he was usually the type to hover when he thought something was wrong. But you shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being caught up in the chaos of the party. You’d probably been sitting there longer than you realized anyway, and it wasn’t like you’d told him where you’d gone.

Taking one slow, wobbling step forward, then another, you began making your way back toward the bonfire. The light grew brighter as you approached, the warmth from the flames hitting you even before you reached the edge of the group. You could hear the faint hum of their voices—laughter and banter still carrying on, the kind of noise that felt both overwhelming and strangely comforting in your current state.

You didn’t say anything as you stepped closer, your focus zeroing in on the fire. The golden-orange flames licked upward into the night, the crackling sound filling your ears as you came to a stop just on the edge of the group. Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, and you swayed slightly, planting your feet wider apart to keep your balance.

The flush on your face was unmistakable, a mix of the alcohol and the heat from the fire. Your body posture screamed drunk—your shoulders slumped, your arms hanging loosely at your sides, and your head tilting just a little too far as you stared at the flames with glassy eyes.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice. “Well, look who decided to join us,” Kenny’s voice rang out, light and teasing as always. “Damn, [Y/N], you look like you’ve been through it. How’s the punch treating you?”

You blinked at him, your mind sluggish as you tried to come up with a response. Instead, you let out a half-hearted laugh, lifting your cup slightly in a gesture that was supposed to look like confidence but ended up more like a wobbly toast. “It’s… strong,” you mumbled, your words slurring slightly.

“Strong, my ass,” Cartman chimed in, his voice carrying above the others. “She looks like she just tried to keep up with Kenny’s bullshit and failed miserably.”

“Shut up, Cartman,” Kyle’s voice cut through, sharper than you’d expected. He stood a little off to the side, his arms crossed as he watched you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Kyle’s gaze shifted back to you, and his expression softened, though concern was written all over his face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded a little too quickly, the motion making your head spin. “M’fine,” you said, though the way you swayed on your feet betrayed you.

Kyle sighed, stepping closer to steady you before you could stumble. His hand brushed your arm lightly, and the touch sent a small jolt through you, grounding you for a moment. “You don’t look fine,” he muttered, his tone somewhere between worried and exasperated. “Did you even eat before you started drinking?”

You didn’t answer, your focus drifting back to the fire. The flames danced in your vision, blurring slightly at the edges, and you felt the faintest pang of guilt as Kyle’s hand lingered near your arm, waiting for you to acknowledge him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

Kyle’s hand moved from lingering near your arm to softly grabbing yours, his grip firm but careful. His fingers were warm against your clammy skin, grounding you despite the alcohol swirling through your veins. Slowly, reluctantly, you looked up at him.

His green eyes were filled with concern, his jaw tight like he was holding back a lecture. The weight of his gaze made you feel heavy, your chest tightening under the guilt bubbling up inside. You finally spoke, your voice low and slurred. “No, I didn’t eat anything,” you admitted, looking back toward the fire. “But don’t worry about me, alright?”

Kyle’s frown deepened, his lips parting like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance. You dropped his hand and let yourself fall back onto the grass with a graceless thud. The cool ground pressed against your legs, grounding you in a way that felt more effective than his touch. You leaned back on your hands, staring at the fire’s erratic glow.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, standing over you like he wasn’t sure whether to sit or say something else. Before he could decide, the atmosphere around the fire shifted as more people began crowding closer. The noise grew louder, voices rising in drunken excitement.

“Alright, you fuckers!” Kenny’s voice boomed above the chaos. You glanced over to see him perched on a log near the fire, his arms spread wide like he was addressing a crowd of idiots—and let’s be honest, he was. “It’s my birthday, and that means it’s time for some goddamn party games. None of that weak-ass, middle-school bullshit. We’re talking real games. The kind that end with someone crying, puking, or reevaluating their life.”

The crowd roared in approval, a mix of laughter and groans rippling through the group. Red, standing near the edge, smirked and crossed her arms. “Great. Because this shitshow wasn’t chaotic enough already.”

“Exactly,” Kenny shot back, pointing a finger at her like she’d just proved his point. “Chaos is the fucking point. Now shut the fuck up and listen, because we’re starting this off right.”

He paused dramatically, letting the tension build before his grin turned wicked. “Truth or dare.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Cartman barked, his voice loud enough to rival Kenny’s. “Truth or dare? Are you fucking serious, McCormick? What is this, a goddamn slumber party?”

“Shut your fat fucking mouth, Cartman,” Kenny fired back, laughing. “Nobody invited your whiny ass anyway. You don’t wanna play? Good. Go crawl into a snack bag and die.”

“I’m not fucking fat, you goddamn poor piece of shit!” Cartman shot back, his face already red. The group erupted into laughter, a mix of drunken jeers and amused groans.

“Whatever you say, Cartman,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes. “Now, for the rest of us real people who know how to have fun, the game starts now. Who’s up first?” He pointed dramatically at someone in the crowd, his grin growing as the first victim stammered something unintelligible.

You stayed where you were, seated on the grass, watching the chaos unfold. The firelight flickered in your vision, blurring slightly as the alcohol swirled through your system. Kyle finally sat down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours. He didn’t say anything, just leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, watching the unfolding chaos with a tired expression that made you smirk.

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle muttered under his breath as Cartman and Kenny continued to lob insults at each other across the fire. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowing again as his concern resurfaced. “You sure you’re alright?”

You nodded, though your head felt heavy. “Yeah,” you mumbled, staring at the fire again. “Stop worrying about me.”

The game carried on, growing louder and rowdier with each passing turn. People were getting bolder, the dares increasingly ridiculous, and the truths edging closer to outright humiliation. You stayed quiet, sipping from your cup and staring into the fire, the warmth of the flames doing little to steady the spinning in your head.

Eventually, the attention shifted to Kyle. He was sitting stiffly beside you, clearly dreading his turn, and when Kenny grinned like a predator zeroing in on his prey, you could feel Kyle tense up. “Alright, Broflovski,” Kenny said, drawing out his name like a taunt. “Truth or dare?”

Kyle sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Truth.”

“Fucking coward,” Cartman snorted from across the fire, but Kyle ignored him, his glare fixed firmly on Kenny.

Kenny’s grin widened. “Okay, here we go. If you had to date one person at this party, other than [Y/N]—” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “—who would it be?”

Laughter erupted around the bonfire, a mix of catcalls and jeering encouragement. Kyle groaned audibly, his head dropping into his hands as a flush crept up his neck. “What the fuck kind of question is that?” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“Answer the fucking question!” Kenny crowed, clearly reveling in Kyle’s misery. “And don’t say some bullshit like nobody. You have to pick.”

Kyle sat up, glaring at Kenny. “This is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the game, dude,” Kenny shot back, shrugging like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Now spill.”

Kyle looked around the group, his expression somewhere between exasperation and resignation. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “Wendy.”

The group burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help it—you barked out a laugh too, the sound sharp and unexpected as it slipped past your lips. Kyle turned to you with a glare, his face still red. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said dryly, but you barely heard him. Your laugh died in your throat as your gaze swept across the fire and accidentally locked onto Stan.

He was leaning back against the log he’d claimed earlier, his arms folded loosely across his chest. The firelight flickered across his features, making the shadows under his jaw and cheekbones more pronounced, but it was his eyes that stopped you cold. They were locked onto yours, sharp and unreadable, the kind of look that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. He wasn’t laughing like everyone else, wasn’t even smiling. He was just… watching.

The noise of the party dulled for a moment, everything else fading into the background as your heart hammered against your ribs. Your face burned, and you quickly broke the eye contact, focusing back on the fire as if it could swallow you whole. The warmth in your chest from the alcohol turned heavy and suffocating, and you gripped your cup tighter, your fingers trembling slightly.

Kyle didn’t seem to notice your sudden shift, his attention already drawn back to Kenny, who was busy milking the moment for all it was worth. “Wendy, huh?” Kenny teased, wagging his eyebrows. “Better hope Stan doesn’t beat your ass for that one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Kyle snapped, his voice tinged with irritation. “It’s a stupid game.”

“Sure, sure,” Kenny said, waving Kyle off with a shit-eating grin before scanning the group like a game show host about to unveil a new contestant. “Alright, who’s next?”

The group erupted in suggestions, but it was Red who cut through the noise, pointing toward Stan with a devilish smirk. “Stan. Let’s hear it.”

Stan, who had been leaning back against a log with his drink in hand, raised an eyebrow, looking more amused than anything. “Fine,” he said lazily, sitting up and brushing some ash off his jeans. “Truth.”

Kenny’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. He clapped his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement as he leaned forward. “Oh, I got a good one for you, Marsh. Same question I gave Broflovski over there.”

Stan tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Which was?”

Kenny leaned forward, grinning like a wolf. “If you had to date one person at this party, other than Wendy,” he said, the emphasis on Wendy sharp enough to make a couple of people snicker, “who would it be?”

Laughter rippled through the group, and even Red groaned. “Jesus Christ, Kenny. Get a new bit.”

“It’s a fucking classic!” Kenny shot back, gesturing wildly. “You gotta admit, this is prime entertainment.”

Stan looked unimpressed, taking a long sip from his drink as he mulled it over. The group leaned in, anticipation crackling in the air as they waited for his answer. Finally, he lowered the cup, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable as they scanned the group.

And then they landed on you.

“[Y/N],” he said simply, his voice steady but clear enough to cut through the noise.

The laughter around the bonfire stuttered into stunned silence. You froze, your body going rigid as his words sank in, and when your gaze snapped to his, you found him watching you. His expression was calm, almost casual, but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach flip.

Your mouth fell open, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, wide-eyed and completely dumbfounded. The world around you seemed to blur, the crackling fire and the murmurs of the party fading into static as his answer replayed in your head like a broken record.

Kenny, of course, was the first to recover. He let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest like he’d just heard the most scandalous confession of his life. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, dragging out the words as he whipped around to look at you, then Stan, then back at you. “Did Stan Marsh just shoot his fucking shot? On my birthday?! This is better than anything I could’ve planned.”

Cartman cackled. “Oh my God, Wendy’s gonna kill you.”

“Seriously, Stan?” Red chimed in, her tone sharp but laced with amusement. “You could’ve picked literally anyone else, and you chose the most loaded answer possible?”

Stan just shrugged, his gaze still locked on you. “What? It’s the truth.”

Your heart was pounding, your face burning as you continued to stare at him, completely at a loss for how to respond. The weight of his words—and the way he said them so effortlessly—left you spinning. You couldn’t tell if the alcohol was making it worse or if this moment would’ve floored you regardless.

Kyle, seated beside you, had gone uncharacteristically quiet. You could feel him stiffen next to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him—not with Stan’s gaze still pinning you in place.

The silence stretched for a beat too long, and Kenny, sensing the tension, clapped his hands together again. “Alright, that’s enough heavy shit for now! Let’s keep the game moving, huh? Who’s next?”

The group exchanged glances, but all eyes eventually turned to Wendy. She raised an eyebrow, her calm confidence practically radiating as she shrugged. “Fine. Dare.”

Kenny’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh, now we’re fucking talking. Let’s make this interesting.” He paused dramatically, rubbing his hands together as he scanned the group like a conductor preparing for a symphony of destruction. Then, with a wicked grin, he pointed at Wendy. “I dare you to kiss the person here you’d never want to kiss otherwise.”

The crowd erupted into a mix of gasps, laughter, and a few groans.

“Jesus Christ, Kenny,” Red muttered, shaking her head, though even she looked curious to see what would happen.

Wendy didn’t flinch. Instead, she rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing dirt off her jeans like this was just another Tuesday. “Fine,” she said coolly. Her eyes scanned the group with practiced ease, and for a moment, you thought she’d go for Cartman or Kenny for the joke. But then her gaze landed on you, and her smirk twisted into something sharper.

You froze as she took a step toward you, her movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, the world tilting slightly from the alcohol and the sudden realization that she wasn’t backing down.

Wendy stopped in front of you, leaning down just enough to be intimidating. “Guess this makes sense,” she said, her voice low enough that only you and Kyle, sitting beside you, could hear. “Since you’ve been eyeing Stan for weeks now. Might as well make it official.”

Your stomach dropped, and before you could react, she leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek. The crowd around you erupted into cheers and whoops, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears.

The moment she pulled back, you were on your feet, your cup forgotten as your fists clenched at your sides. “What the fuck is your problem, Wendy?”

She straightened, tilting her head like she couldn’t believe you were making this a thing. “My problem? You’ve been making eyes at Stan every time we’re in the same room. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Your jaw dropped, heat rising to your face as anger bubbled in your chest. “Are you kidding me? That’s not—”

“Oh, please,” Wendy cut you off, crossing her arms. “You can’t even deny it. You’ve been waiting for something to happen, haven’t you? Poor Kyle doesn’t even see it.”

“Wendy, shut the fuck up,” Kyle snapped, standing now, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. But the damage was already done.

“Why don’t you keep Kyle’s name out of your goddamn mouth and worry about your own relationships?” you fired back, stepping closer.

Wendy let out a humorless laugh, her smirk returning. “Touchy, aren’t we? Guess I hit a nerve.”

The tension around the bonfire had reached a boiling point, the crowd silent now except for the crackling flames and the sound of your heavy breathing.

Before the situation could spiral further, Kenny shot to his feet, stepping between the two of you with his hands held up. “Alright, alright, let’s not turn my birthday into a fucking WWE cage match, okay?” He glanced at Wendy, his grin dimming slightly. “Wendy, chill the fuck out. It’s a dare, not a declaration of war.”

Wendy’s eyes flicked to Kenny, and after a long, tense moment, she let out a frustrated sigh and stepped back. “Whatever,” she muttered, turning and heading back toward her spot near the log.

Kenny turned to you next, his tone more playful as he gestured toward the punch table. “Go refill your drink, babe. You look like you need it. And maybe skip the part where you throw hands at my party.”

You hesitated, the anger still burning hot in your chest, but Kenny’s teasing smile and Kyle’s steady presence beside you finally pulled you back down. You nodded stiffly, muttering under your breath as you turned to grab another drink.

You made your way to the makeshift bar with heavy steps, your hands trembling as the adrenaline from the confrontation still buzzed through your veins. The party continued behind you, the hum of voices and laughter blending with the crackling of the bonfire. But all you could hear was Wendy’s sharp, cutting tone echoing in your mind. Her smirk, her words, the smug satisfaction in her eyes—they looped like a broken record, refusing to let you breathe.

Grabbing a cup, you poured an obscene amount of vodka into the punch, not bothering to measure or mix it properly. You downed a long sip, the liquid scorching your throat and making your eyes water, but it did nothing to dull the fire raging inside you. If anything, the alcohol only stoked it.

Wendy had no right—no fucking right—to call you out like that in front of everyone. Sure, what she said wasn’t a lie. You had slept with Stan a few weeks ago, back when he and Wendy were on a break and you weren’t dating Kyle yet. It had been messy, impulsive, and wrong, but it had happened. And now, standing at this goddamn party with her stupid smirk haunting you, you couldn’t help but wonder if she somehow knew.

That thought made your stomach churn. If Wendy had pieced it together, if she knew about that night, why hadn’t she just said it outright? Was this her way of testing you, of dangling the secret in front of you to see if you’d crack? And why the hell did she get to play the victim when she was the one who’d broken things off with Stan in the first place?

Your grip on the cup tightened as you took another long drink, the vodka hitting hard and fast. It wasn’t just guilt swirling in your chest anymore—it was anger. The nerve she had to humiliate you like that, to use the game as a platform to dig at you. Wendy Testaburger always had to act like she was above the drama, but tonight, she’d drawn first blood.

You weren’t proud of sleeping with Stan, but it wasn’t like you’d gone out of your way to hurt anyone. He’d been vulnerable; you’d been vulnerable. It had just happened. And now, weeks later, with Kyle’s steady presence pulling you out of your mess, you’d tried to move on. But Wendy wouldn’t let you.

You took another drink, the alcohol numbing the edges of your better judgment as your eyes drifted back toward the bonfire. Wendy was still there, sitting near Heidi and Bebe, her legs crossed as she casually sipped her drink. The group was still playing truth or dare, the atmosphere around the fire buzzing with drunken excitement and misplaced bravado. She looked so calm, like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t just turned your world upside down in the span of thirty seconds.

And that made you furious.

Your chest tightened as you thought about the way she’d spoken to you, the deliberate jab about your feelings for Stan. She’d laid it out for everyone to hear, exposing you in a way that made your stomach twist. But she hadn’t said everything. She hadn’t called you out on the one thing you were sure would light this party on fire. Maybe she didn’t know after all. Or maybe she was saving it for later, keeping it in her back pocket like some kind of trump card.

Either way, you weren’t going to sit back and let her win. You hadn’t wanted any of this—hadn’t wanted the feelings, the mess, the fallout—but if Wendy thought she could humiliate you without consequence, she was dead wrong. She wanted to play games? Fine. You’d give her a game to remember.

Your hands trembled as you drained the rest of your drink, the alcohol swirling through your veins and fueling the anger rising in your chest. You glanced back at the bonfire, at Wendy’s cool, composed expression, and a sharp grin tugged at your lips.

With unsteady steps, you made your way back to the bonfire, your head buzzing and your emotions teetering on the edge of control. You plopped down next to Kyle without a word, your cup dangling loosely in your hand. He gave you a concerned glance but didn’t say anything, and you didn’t acknowledge him, your focus entirely on the game as it carried on.

Time blurred as the dares grew wilder and the truths edged closer to outright humiliation. The tension in your chest built with every turn, and finally, Kenny’s mischievous grin landed on you.

“Alright, [Y/N],” he called, his tone dripping with anticipation. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, your voice louder than you’d intended but steady enough to catch everyone’s attention. The alcohol had stripped away every filter you had, leaving only the raw, simmering anger you could no longer contain.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. “Ooh, big talk. Alright, let’s see—”

You stood up abruptly, cutting him off. The group fell silent as their attention snapped to you, the crackling of the bonfire the only sound breaking the stillness. With deliberate steps, you made your way toward Wendy. She looked up at you as you approached, her expression still maddeningly composed, like she couldn’t be bothered to care.

You crouched down to her level, close enough that she couldn’t ignore you, and locked your eyes on hers. When you spoke, your voice was calm—deadly calm. Each word was deliberate, sharp, and unwavering.

“You want a truth, Kenny?” you said, not breaking eye contact with Wendy. “Here’s one: I slept with Stan. A few weeks ago. While you two were on a break.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You didn’t flinch, didn’t waver, your calm tone making the confession hit harder than if you’d screamed it.

Wendy’s eyes widened, the composed mask she always wore cracking for the first time. For a split second, she looked stunned, her lips parting slightly as though she were struggling to find the right words. Around you, the party had gone completely silent. The laughter and chatter were gone, replaced by the soft crackle of the fire and the sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears.

You stood up slowly, stepping back from Wendy as her expression twisted into something you couldn’t quite name—betrayal, fury, and disbelief all swirling together. Your eyes flicked briefly to Stan, who sat frozen, his face pale and his jaw tight as he stared at you. Kyle was staring too, his green eyes wide and confused, his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, your legs unsteady beneath you, and began walking away from the bonfire, heading toward Stan’s house in the distance.

You didn’t get far before Cartman’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Holy shit, did that actually just happen?” he barked, his tone a mix of disbelief and glee. “I mean, I knew you were messy, but this? This is next-level soap opera trash.”

You froze mid-step, your shoulders stiffening as the murmurs around the fire grew louder. Before you could respond, Kenny jumped in, his voice rising over the din. “Alright, alright, everybody calm the fuck down,” he said, his usual amusement tinged with something more serious. “This is my goddamn birthday party, and I did not sign up for a telenovela, so can we not?”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” Wendy snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. You turned just in time to see her stand, her eyes blazing as she fixed her glare on you. “You’re just gonna drop that and walk away? That’s it?”

Before you could say anything, Stan finally spoke up, his voice low and strained. “Wendy, stop.” His expression was tight, his blue eyes darting between you and Wendy with an almost desperate edge. “This isn’t the time for this.”

Wendy let out a harsh laugh, her anger bubbling over. “Not the time? Are you serious, Stan? She just admitted to sleeping with you, and you—” Her voice cracked slightly as she gestured wildly at him. “You’re just gonna sit there?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Stan said, his tone defensive but quieter now. “We were on a break.”

“Didn’t think it mattered?” Wendy hissed, her voice climbing. “You didn’t think it mattered to tell me that you slept with her?”

You flinched at the venom in her tone, but before you could react, another voice rang out—Kyle’s. “What the fuck is going on here?” His voice was colder than you’d ever heard it, his expression a storm of confusion and hurt as he stepped closer to the fire. “Are you fucking kidding me, Stan?”

Kyle’s words seemed to ignite something in the group, and the party dissolved into chaos. People whispered and shouted all at once, their overlapping voices rising in a cacophony of disbelief and speculation. Kenny tried to cut in again, his arms raised as if to physically halt the train wreck unfolding before him. “Hey, can we maybe not burn this party to the ground, you psychos?”

But Kyle wasn’t listening. His focus was locked on Stan as he began walking toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. “You slept with her?” he demanded, his voice cold and unyielding. “You knew I liked her, and you—” He stopped short, shaking his head as his words caught in his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Stan stood up slowly, his hands raised in a placating gesture, but his face was pale, his voice strained. “Kyle, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t planned, okay? It just—”

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence,” Kyle cut him off, his voice dangerously low now. “You didn’t ‘plan’ it? You’re supposed to be my best friend, Stan.”

Stan’s face fell, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Kyle’s words. But before he could respond, Wendy stepped forward, her voice razor-sharp and trembling with fury. “Oh, don’t even start, Stan,” she snapped, her arms crossed tight against her chest. “You didn’t ‘plan’ it? That’s your excuse? You didn’t tell me because you thought you’d get away with it. Just admit it.”

Stan’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with something close to panic. “That’s not what happened—”

“Isn’t it?” Wendy cut him off, stepping closer, her words growing colder with every syllable. “You didn’t even stop to think about what it would do to me—or to her. You just did what you wanted, and now you’re standing here like you’re the victim. Is that what you’re trying to do, Stan? Make yourself look innocent?”

“Okay, everyone take a fucking breath,” Kenny interjected, stepping toward the group with his hands raised like he was refereeing a match on the verge of bloodshed. “This is my goddamn birthday party, not a therapy session. Can we all just chill for five minutes?”

Wendy ignored him, her fiery glare locked on Stan, but her words were aimed at you now. “And you,” she hissed, her tone like ice. “I expected this from him. But you? What the hell were you thinking? Were you just waiting for me to be out of the way? Waiting for the perfect moment to stab me in the back?”

You flinched under her words, the venom in her tone cutting deeper than you thought possible. “It wasn’t like that,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Wasn’t it?” Wendy shot back, her voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you couldn’t wait to take your shot.”

“Seriously, guys,” Kenny interrupted again, his voice growing louder as he stepped between the two of you. “Can we just not? Take a deep fucking breath and talk this out later—not in front of fifty people.”

“Stay out of it, Kenny,” Wendy snapped, her focus still on you. “This isn’t your business.”

Kyle’s voice broke through next, louder and more desperate than anyone else’s. “How long has this been going on?” he demanded, his green eyes wide and filled with disbelief as they flicked between you and Stan. “How long have you two been lying to me?”

Your chest tightened painfully, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The guilt and shame were too heavy, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

Kyle turned fully toward you now, his voice breaking. “And you… why?” he asked, his tone raw and pleading. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why let me think—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as his hands trembled at his sides. “I thought you cared about me. I thought—” His voice cracked, and he let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

The tension in the air was unbearable, suffocating. Kenny waved his arms dramatically, his voice rising in a last-ditch effort to cut through the chaos. “Alright, that’s enough! Everybody shut the fuck up and drink some goddamn punch before you kill each other.”

But no one listened. The fire crackled loudly in the silence, and all you could do was stand there, your chest heaving as Kyle’s words echoed in your head. Finally, the weight became too much. Without a word, you turned and started walking toward Stan’s house, your vision blurring with tears. You couldn’t stay here—not with Wendy’s accusations and Kyle’s heartbreak clawing at you from both sides.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Kyle’s voice cracked behind you, sharp and desperate. “I’m fucking talking to you!”

You froze mid-step, your shoulders stiffening. Slowly, you turned back to him, tears streaking your face. “And what do you want me to say, Kyle?” you asked, your voice trembling. “That I’m sorry? That I made a mistake? You think I don’t already know that?”

Kyle’s expression twisted, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer. “A mistake?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief and anger. “That’s what you call this? You didn’t just make a mistake—you lied to me. You hid it from me. You let me think—” His voice broke, and he ran a hand through his hair, his movements frantic. “You let me think there was something real here. But you didn’t care enough to tell me the truth.”

“I do care!” you shouted, your voice cracking as the emotions you’d been holding back came spilling out. “You don’t think this is killing me too? You don’t think I know how badly I fucked up?”

Kenny groaned loudly in the background, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Cool, yeah, let’s all just scream at each other! Definitely the vibe I wanted for my birthday, you assholes.”

Tears blurred your vision as you turned away again, picking up your pace toward Stan’s house. The sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out Kenny’s frustrated muttering and the stunned murmurs of the party. But then you heard it—Kyle’s footsteps, fast and determined, chasing after you.

“I said don’t walk away from me!” Kyle yelled, his voice raw and furious. “You don’t just get to run away from this!”

You quickened your pace, your legs moving faster as panic surged through your chest. “Just leave me alone, Kyle!” you shouted over your shoulder, but his footsteps didn’t falter.

“I’m not letting you run from this!” he shouted back, his voice breaking as he started running. “You don’t get to fucking run from me!”

The adrenaline coursing through your veins pushed you into a full sprint, the night air sharp and cold as it tore against your skin. Behind you, Kyle’s voice roared, raw and furious, cutting through the darkness like a knife. “STOP FUCKING RUNNING, [Y/N]! YOU DON’T GET TO RUN AWAY FROM THIS SHIT!”

“FUCK YOU, KYLE!” you screamed back, your breath hitching as your legs burned with each desperate step. “I’M NOT RUNNING FROM THIS—I’M RUNNING FROM YOUR ASS!”

The words flew out of you like a challenge, fueled by the anger and panic boiling inside. Every step you took felt heavier, your lungs straining to keep up, but you didn’t dare stop. Kyle was faster, taller, and his longer strides were closing the distance fast. The only thing keeping you ahead was sheer desperation and the miracle of your head start.

“FUCKING BULLSHIT!” he roared, his footsteps thundering closer. “YOU THINK THIS IS RUNNING AWAY? YOU’RE JUST TOO FUCKING SCARED TO FACE ME!”

Stan’s house loomed ahead, the porch light dimly flickering like some cruel beacon of hope. Your heart pounded harder as you pushed yourself up the steps, the voices from the party still faint in the background. You could just barely hear Wendy’s biting tone and Stan’s weak attempts at damage control, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting inside and putting anything between you and Kyle.

You hit the porch at full speed, grabbing the screen door and yanking it open with so much force you nearly ripped it off its hinges. Throwing yourself through the threshold, you spun around and slammed it shut with a deafening bang. The latch clicked weakly—it wouldn’t hold for long, and you knew it—but it was better than nothing.

Kyle’s voice exploded from just outside. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, [Y/N]!” The sound of him pounding against the screen door followed, the flimsy frame shaking violently under his grip. “YOU CAN’T FUCKING HIDE FROM ME!”

You stumbled through the dimly lit living room, your chest heaving as your legs struggled to carry you further. The familiar space blurred around you as you tore toward the stairs, the sound of Kyle wrenching the screen door open sending a fresh surge of panic through your veins.

“STOP FUCKING RUNNING, GODDAMMIT!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the house.

Your foot hit the bottom step, and you practically launched yourself up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Your muscles burned, and your breath came in ragged gasps as you reached the landing. Behind you, Kyle’s footsteps pounded against the hardwood, the sound of his pursuit growing louder and angrier with every passing second.

Without thinking, you darted into Stan’s room, your trembling hands slamming the door shut behind you. The heavy thud echoed through the space as you fumbled with the lock. The room smelled like a mix of sweat, cologne, and weed—a painfully familiar scent that grounded you for only a split second before the panic returned.

Your eyes darted around the room, wild and desperate, until you spotted the narrow space between Stan’s bed and the wall. Without hesitation, you dove into it, curling up tightly and pressing your hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing.

The house was filled with the sound of Kyle’s wrath. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” he yelled, his voice dripping with fury as he stomped through the upstairs hallway. Doors slammed open one after another, each loud bang making your heart jump into your throat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. Your breathing was shallow, and your chest felt like it was going to explode from the tension coiling inside of you.

Kyle’s voice came again, sharper and louder now, directly outside the door to Stan’s room. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, YOU FUCKING COWARD!” The doorknob rattled violently, and then came a hard bang as he shoved against it. “YOU CAN’T FUCKING HIDE FOREVER!”

Your entire body tensed, your back pressed hard against the wall as the room fell silent except for the sound of the door shaking under his force. You clamped your hand tighter over your mouth, willing yourself to disappear as his voice rang out again, venomous and enraged.

“When I get in there, we’re finishing this,” he spat, the edge of his voice so sharp it sent shivers down your spine. “You’re not fucking running away from me again.”

Your chest heaved as you pressed further against the wall, every muscle in your body trembling. Kyle’s voice was a storm, each word crashing against the fragile barrier of the door like waves threatening to break through. The doorknob rattled again, harder this time, followed by a loud bang as his fist collided with the wood.

“You can’t keep hiding from me!” he shouted, his tone raw, his words drenched in desperation. “You think this is gonna fix anything? You think running upstairs and shutting a door is gonna make this shitstorm disappear?”

Your breath hitched as his voice grew quieter, his tone dropping into something unnervingly calm but no less intense. “I thought we had something real,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “You—me—we were supposed to be solid. You were supposed to be mine.”

His voice cracked, the sound making your chest tighten painfully. “I fucking trusted you, [Y/N]. I trusted you with everything, and you—” He paused, his breathing heavy as his fists collided with the door again. “You didn’t just break my heart. You fucking shattered it.”

The door shuddered under his assault, and you curled further into yourself, your hand clamped over your mouth to keep your sobs silent. But Kyle wasn’t done.

“You can’t just throw me away!” he screamed, his voice breaking completely. “I don’t care how much you hate me right now. I don’t care if you’re scared. You don’t get to pretend this didn’t happen. You don’t get to fucking leave me!” His words came faster now, unhinged and desperate, each one sharper than the last.

He banged on the door again, his fists pounding with such force you thought it might crack. “I’ll make you see, [Y/N]! We can fix this—I can fix this! We’re supposed to be together. You, me—it’s us against the world, right?”

Kyle’s words grew even louder, echoing through the house. “Don’t you fucking get it? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” His voice softened for a moment, but the edge was still there, sharp and cutting. “You’re all I ever wanted, and you think you can just walk away? That’s not how this ends.”

The intensity of his voice reminded you of something unhinged, like a switch had flipped inside him, and now there was no going back. He slammed his fist against the door one more time, harder than before. “Fine. You want to run? You want to keep pretending I don’t matter? Guess what, [Y/N]—you do matter. To me. More than anything.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you thought he might give up. But then his voice came again, softer but laced with a chilling resolve. “I’m not going anywhere. You and me? We’re meant to be. So open the fucking door before I do it for you.”

His words echoed in your mind, their weight pressing down on you like a vise. You knew the door wouldn’t hold much longer. Each pounding strike made the hinges groan and the thin wood shake. His voice was louder now, raw and filled with something that teetered between desperation and fury.

“[Y/N], OPEN THE DOOR!” Kyle bellowed, his fists slamming against the wood so hard you flinched with every hit. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, PLEASE!”

You bit your lip, tears streaking your cheeks as you tried to steady your ragged breathing. Your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest, the fear and adrenaline crashing over you like waves. But Kyle wasn’t stopping.

“DON’T MAKE ME COME IN THERE!” he yelled, his voice cracking as the force behind his pounding increased. The doorknob rattled violently under his grip, but you didn’t move from your spot behind the bed. “I SWEAR TO GOD, [Y/N], YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME DO THIS!”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your sobs, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening anymore. He was consumed, his voice growing louder and more unhinged with every word. “I’M GOING TO COUNT TO THREE,” he shouted, his tone now more of a command than a plea. “ONE!”

The door groaned as his fist slammed against it again, a loud crack following the impact. Your entire body tensed as you buried your face against your knees, praying it would hold just a little longer.

“TWO!” he yelled, the sound reverberating through the house. The doorknob rattled harder now, and you could hear the wood splintering under the force of his blows.

Then there was a pause—a brief, suffocating silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity.

“THREE!” Kyle roared, and with one final, deafening crash, the doorknob gave way. The door swung open violently, slamming against the wall behind it. The sound echoed in your ears, and your stomach dropped as Kyle stormed into the room.

His chest heaved with every breath, his face red and contorted with a mix of anger, frustration, and something deeper—something broken. His green eyes scanned the room wildly, and when they landed on you, curled up behind the bed, they softened for the briefest moment. But the softness was fleeting, quickly replaced by the same burning intensity that had driven him to break the door down.

“Why the fuck are you hiding?” he demanded, his voice trembling as he took a step closer. “You think I’m going to let you run away like that? You think I’m just going to let you go?”

“Kyle, please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. “Just… please stop.”

“Stop?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “You don’t get to tell me to stop, [Y/N]. Not after all of this. Not after everything you’ve done.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pacing a few steps before turning back to you. “You don’t get to shut me out. Not now.”

Your tears blurred your vision as you shook your head, your back pressing harder against the wall. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Sorry?” he said, laughing bitterly as he looked at you with wide, manic eyes. “You think sorry fixes this? You think it fixes the fact that you lied to me? That you—” He stopped, his voice cracking, and clenched his fists tightly at his sides. “That you chose him over me?”

You pushed yourself further into the corner, your body trembling as his words washed over you. There was no escape, no way to run, and the reality of that sent a fresh wave of panic crashing down on you. Kyle stood over you now, his towering frame blocking out the dim light from the hallway as his eyes bore into yours.

“We’re going to finish this,” he said, his voice calmer now but no less intense. “You’re not running. You’re not hiding. Not anymore.”

Your chest heaved, and your breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps. Tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting, as the weight of everything bore down on you. Words tumbled from your lips in a desperate, frantic ramble, your voice trembling with hiccups and sobs.

“I—Kyle, I didn’t—” you stammered, shaking your head as you tried to form a coherent thought. “It was before—before us. I swear, I—I didn’t mean for it to happen. We weren’t even… we weren’t together yet. I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t think—”

Your words broke off in a sob, and you buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled but no less frantic. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted this, Kyle. It just—it just happened. He—he was there, and I wasn’t thinking, and—”

You trailed off, choking on the lump in your throat, your hands shaking as you clutched at your knees. The tears blurred your vision, making Kyle’s looming figure appear like a hazy shadow. Your entire body trembled, the adrenaline mixing with the overwhelming guilt and fear coursing through you.

“I should’ve told you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, your words punctuated by hiccuping sobs. “I should’ve told you, but I was scared. I didn’t know how to say it, and then we… and then we happened, and I thought—” You shook your head again, your voice rising in pitch. “I thought it didn’t matter anymore because you were the one I wanted. You’re the one I love.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence, your ragged breathing the only sound breaking the stillness. You dared to look up at him, your tear-filled eyes meeting his.

Kyle just stared at you, his chest heaving as he processed your words. His green eyes were wide, the fury in them unmistakable. But there was something else there too—something deeper, more fractured. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, his face frozen in an expression of shock and disbelief.

“Kyle,” you said softly, your voice trembling, but he didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. The tension in the room was palpable, pressing down on you like a crushing weight.

His silence felt worse than any yelling could have, worse than any accusations. It was as though he couldn’t even find the words to express the magnitude of his hurt and rage. And that silence, that heavy, suffocating silence, filled the room like a living thing.

“Kyle,” you tried again, your voice cracking, but he still didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at you with wide, furious eyes, his emotions storming just beneath the surface.

Then, suddenly, he laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t humor. It was anger. Pain. Madness. He ran a hand through his hair, his laugh breaking into a scoff as he shook his head.

“I really loved you, you know?” he said, his voice dripping with something raw and dangerous. “Like, actually fucking loved you. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To care about someone so much, it drives you fucking insane?” His words were fast, spilling out like a dam had burst, his green eyes wild as they locked onto yours. “To think about them every second of the day? To wonder if you’re good enough? To hope—no, to fucking pray—that maybe they’ll look at you the same way?”

“Kyle, I—”

“Don’t.” He cut you off sharply, his tone like a slap. “Don’t fucking say you loved me too. Because if you did, this?” He gestured wildly around the room, his hand trembling. “This wouldn’t have fucking happened. You wouldn’t have done this to me.”

You felt your back press harder against the wall as his voice rose, the anger bubbling up and spilling out in waves. His words hit like punches, each one sinking into your chest and leaving you gasping for air.

Slowly, shakily, you pushed yourself up from the floor, your knees trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “Kyle, I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to go. We can talk about this later, but right now, I need to—”

You started to move toward the door, but before you could reach it, Kyle stepped in front of you, his hand slamming against the wood with a deafening bang. The door rattled under the force, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as he turned to face you, his eyes blazing.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and venomous. His chest heaved with every breath, his entire body tense as he blocked your path. “Not until we finish this.”

“Kyle, please,” you said, your voice trembling as you took a small step back. But before you could say anything else, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm with a grip that wasn’t painful but firm enough to make your heart race.

“Don’t ‘Kyle, please’ me,” he snapped, his voice rising again as he pushed you back. Your legs hit the edge of Stan’s bed, and you stumbled, falling onto the mattress as the breath was knocked out of you. The room spun for a moment, the adrenaline in your veins making it hard to focus as Kyle loomed over you.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” he demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. “Do you even care? Or is this all just some fucking game to you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Your body shook as his shadow stretched over you, the weight of his presence suffocating. The tears streaming down your face blurred your vision, but you could still see the storm of emotions in his eyes—anger, heartbreak, betrayal.

Kyle took a deep, ragged breath, his shoulders shaking as he seemed to catch himself. He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair again as his jaw clenched. “You don’t get to run,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Not after everything. You owe me that much.”

Your chest tightened, his words pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t bear. “I’m not running, Kyle,” you stammered, your voice trembling, tears streaming freely down your face. “I swear, I’m not. I just think—maybe we should talk about this when we’re not so—so worked up. When we can actually—”

“Shut up,” Kyle snapped, cutting you off, his voice sharp and dripping with venom. He didn’t let you finish, didn’t let you explain. Instead, he surged forward, his hands grabbing your face roughly, and his lips crushed against yours.

The kiss was harsh, desperate, and filled with everything Kyle was feeling in that moment—anger, betrayal, heartbreak. It wasn’t tender or loving; it was raw, almost punishing, like he was trying to make you feel the depth of his pain through sheer force.

For a moment, you froze, overwhelmed by the heat of his lips and the intensity of his grip. But as tears streamed down your face, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands rising hesitantly to press against his chest. Even now, even with the fear gripping your chest, you couldn’t stop yourself from responding. Because you loved him, even when he scared you, even when his touch felt like fire.

Your lips moved against his, your tears mixing with the saltiness of his skin. But his anger didn’t fade—it was there in the way his lips moved, rough and demanding, in the way his hands held your face like he was claiming something he believed was his.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his green eyes burning with fury. “You kissed me back,” he said, his voice low and biting. “You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that? Crying and acting scared, but you still kissed me like you think it fixes this.”

Your breath hitched at the venom in his words, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Kyle, please, I—”

“Don’t,” he snarled, his hands dropping from your face as he stepped back, looking down at you like you were something disgusting. “You don’t get to fucking beg me. You don’t get to cry and act like you’re the victim in this. You did this, [Y/N]. You. You’re the reason we’re here.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you choked out, your voice breaking as your sobs grew louder. “I never wanted—”

“You never wanted?” he cut you off, laughing bitterly as he ran a hand through his hair. “What the fuck did you think would happen, huh? That you’d sleep with Stan, and everything would magically be okay? That I wouldn’t find out? Or were you hoping I’d be so fucking in love with you that I’d just forgive you? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

His words hit you like a slap, each one sinking deep and leaving you gasping for air. “I was scared,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the lump in your throat. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Scared,” he repeated, scoffing as he glared at you. “Yeah, well, now I’m fucking terrified. Terrified of how much I hate you right now. Do you get that, [Y/N]? I fucking hate you.”

Your knees buckled slightly at his words, your hands trembling as they clutched at the edge of Stan’s bed for support. “Kyle, I—”

“No,” he snapped, his voice rising again as he pointed at you. “Don’t. Don’t you dare try to apologize. You don’t get to make this better. You don’t get to act like this is fixable. You’re just—” His voice cracked, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re just a fucking liar. And I’m done.”

His words cut deep, each syllable slamming into you like a blow. Tears streamed down your face as you trembled, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. But something in his words—the venom, the finality—ignited something in you. Your sobs hitched, and your body moved before your mind caught up.

“You think you’re the only one who’s hurt?” you snapped, your voice cracking but louder now, shaking with both anger and heartbreak. “You think I wanted this? That I chose this? I hate myself for what I did, Kyle. You don’t have to keep reminding me!”

Your breathing was uneven, your tears falling freely as your voice rose. “But don’t stand there and act like you’re the only one who’s broken! You think you can just scream at me and throw all this shit at me, like I’m not already drowning in it?”

Kyle froze, his eyes narrowing as your words hit him, but you didn’t stop. You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you reached up and grabbed the collar of his hoodie. “You hate me? Fine,” you said, your voice trembling but filled with fire. “You hate me? Then hate me. Show me.”

Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked him down, crashing your lips against his in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was angry, desperate, a collision of every unspoken word and unrelenting emotion between you. Your tears mingled with the heat of his skin, the salt mixing with the raw intensity of the moment.

For a second, he didn’t move, his body tense and rigid against yours. But then his hands shot up, grabbing your arms roughly, and he kissed you back with the same fire. It wasn’t tender or loving—it was harsh, bruising, filled with anger and pain. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if he was trying to consume every part of you in the chaos.

Your fingers curled into his hair, your tears spilling faster as your emotions poured into the kiss. It was messy, frantic, and full of everything neither of you could say. You could feel the hatred in his touch, in the way his hands gripped your arms, holding you in place as if you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, your faces were inches apart, your breaths mingling in the charged silence. Kyle’s green eyes burned into yours, his chest heaving, his hands lingering on your arms like he didn’t know whether to hold you closer or push you away.

Something inside you snapped. The tears on your cheeks burned, your emotions a chaotic storm of anger, pain, and something deeper you couldn’t name. Your arms slipped from around his neck and grabbed his shoulders instead, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you glared up at him.

“I hate you,” you hissed, your voice trembling but forceful. “I hate you so fucking much right now, Kyle. You don’t even understand.”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, his lips parting slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. “You think you can just yell at me, tear me down, like I’m the only one who fucked up? Like I didn’t already know how much I ruined everything?” Your fingers gripped his shoulders harder, your voice rising with each word. “I hate the way you look at me, like I’m nothing. Like all the good between us never even existed. I hate how much I still care about you, even when you’re tearing me apart.”

As your words spilled out, you leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, rough and desperate, like you were trying to anchor yourself to him even as your anger boiled over. Kyle stiffened under your touch, but he didn’t push you away.

“I hate that you have this power over me,” you whispered against his skin, your voice breaking as your lips moved to the hollow of his throat. “I hate that no matter how much you hurt me, I still love you.”

Kyle’s breath hitched, and his hands twitched where they gripped your arms, but he still didn’t speak. You pressed another kiss to his neck, harder this time, your tears wetting his skin. “I hate that I can’t let you go,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I hate that even now, when you’re looking at me like you’d rather I disappear, all I want is to be close to you.”

Your kisses grew more frantic, more desperate, as your emotions spilled out in broken, gasping words. “I hate you,” you said again, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw as your hands clung to him. “I hate you so much it hurts.”

Kyle finally moved, his hands gripping your arms tighter, his breathing ragged. “Stop,” he said, his voice low and uneven. “Just… stop.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your lips pressed against his neck again, softer this time but no less insistent, and his hands trembled against you. His body felt like a live wire under your touch, tense and coiled with emotions that mirrored your own.

“Why should I?” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears fell. “Why should I stop when you’ve already destroyed me?”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed Kyle by the front of his hoodie and yanked him down, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His body fell heavily onto the mattress, his green eyes wide with shock as you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with trembling legs. Your hands shot up to cup his face, your fingers gripping his cheeks firmly as your tears continued to stream.

“I hate you, Kyle,” you said again, your voice quieter now but no less sharp. “I hate you so much, and I hate myself even more for still wanting you.”

You stared at him, your tear-filled eyes locked onto his as a new wave of emotion surged through you. The anger and hurt bubbling in your chest broke free, spilling out in words you didn’t even know you were holding back. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” you spat, your voice shaking. “You’re acting like I cheated on you or stabbed you in the back when I slept with Stan before we were even dating.”

Kyle’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as you kept going, the words coming faster, sharper. “We weren’t together, Kyle! And now you’re chasing me down, banging on doors, screaming like a goddamn lunatic, and for what? To scare the shit out of me? To make me hate you even more?”

Your chest heaved as the words left you, and Kyle’s gaze flickered, his hands still gripping your wrists tightly. Then, without warning, he pushed you backward, his hands releasing you as your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. Your eyes went wide, your breath catching in your throat as his body hovered over yours, his presence overwhelming and intense.

Your heart raced as his hands planted on either side of your head, his green eyes boring into yours with a mix of fury and something deeper, something darker. For a moment, you froze, unsure of what he was going to do next. But instead of pushing him away, your hands moved on instinct, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer.

Kyle’s breathing was heavy, his chest brushing against yours as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “You don’t get to justify it like that,” he said, his voice low and sharp, trembling with emotion. “You don’t get to act like what you did doesn’t matter just because of timing. You broke something in me, [Y/N]. You fucking broke me.”

Tears welled in your eyes again as his words sank in, the raw emotion in his voice cutting deep. “And what about me?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Do you think I’m not broken too? Do you think I don’t hate myself for what I did to you?”

His eyes softened for a split second, but the tension between you didn’t ease. His face hovered close to yours, the heat of his breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. You tightened your grip around his neck, pulling him even closer until your foreheads were almost touching.

“I hate you, Kyle,” you whispered again, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But I love you too, and I don’t know how to stop.”

Kyle’s eyes burned into yours for a moment, his chest heaving as if he were trying to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was loud, forceful, and full of anger. It wasn’t soft or loving—it was bruising, demanding, almost punishing, as if he was pouring all of his rage and frustration into the kiss.

Your tears mixed with the heat of his lips, your mind racing as you felt the intensity of him overwhelm you. Instead of pulling away, you leaned into it, your body moving on instinct. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie.

The kiss was frantic, messy, and raw, fueled by the storm of emotions that neither of you could control. His hands gripped the mattress on either side of your head, his knuckles white with tension, as though he was holding himself back even as he gave in. You could feel the heat of his frustration, the sting of his anger, but beneath it all, there was something else—something desperate, something broken.

Your hands moved up to his hair, your fingers curling into the strands as you tugged lightly, a sob catching in your throat as the kiss deepened further. You didn’t know if this was love, hate, or some twisted combination of both, but you couldn’t stop. His lips moved against yours with bruising intensity, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if he wanted to leave his mark on you.

Kyle’s grip on the mattress loosened, his hands moving to your waist, his fingers digging into your sides as if to anchor himself. His movements were rough, almost desperate, as though he was trying to make you feel every ounce of what he was feeling. And you let him, your body responding to his with the same intensity, the same fire, even as the tears continued to fall.

But then, something inside you snapped. The heat, the intensity—it all became too much. You pushed against his chest, your palms firm, and he stumbled back slightly, his green eyes wide with surprise. Without saying a word, you sat up and swung your legs off the bed, your hands moving to the laces of your shoes.

Your breathing was ragged as you yanked at the knots, your hands shaking from a mixture of anger and adrenaline. You muttered to yourself under your breath, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “What am I even doing… What the fuck is this…”

Kyle stayed where he was, his chest rising and falling as he watched you, his expression clouded with confusion and frustration. “What the hell are you doing now?” he finally asked, his voice sharp but uncertain.

You ignored him at first, tugging your shoes off and tossing them to the side. Rising to your feet, you wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, your lips curling into a sneer. “You want to know something, Kyle?” you said, your voice low but full of venom. “I bet you wish I was Wendy.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as your words hit him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you spat, your hands trembling as they moved to the waistband of your tights. “Back at the bonfire, when we were playing truth or dare—remember that? When Kenny asked you who here you’d date if it wasn’t me?” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed through it, your anger flaring higher. “And you didn’t even hesitate. You picked Wendy.”

Kyle’s face twisted, his expression shifting to one of frustration mixed with guilt. “That didn’t mean anything,” he said quickly, his voice hard but defensive. “It was a fucking game, [Y/N]. You know that.”

“Do I?” you shot back, your voice rising as tears burned in your eyes again. “Because it didn’t feel like a game, Kyle. It felt real. And now I can’t stop thinking about it—about how you said her name like it was nothing.”

Kyle’s fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with anger now. “You’re being ridiculous,” he snapped. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

“Am I?” you snapped, your hands shaking as you grabbed the waistband of your tights and pulled them down in one swift motion, letting them pool at your ankles before kicking them to the side. “You hate me, right? You hate me so fucking much, so why are you still here? Why are you still looking at me like that?”

His eyes flicked over you, his expression stormy and unreadable. The air between you was heavy, suffocating, as the silence stretched. His green eyes locked onto yours, a volatile mix of fury and something else—something he wouldn’t admit, something neither of you could name.

“You want to talk about Wendy?” you pressed, your voice trembling but unwavering. “Go ahead, Kyle. Tell me how much you wish I was her. Tell me how much easier all of this would be if I was Wendy fucking Testaburger.”

Kyle’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. His chest heaved as he stared at you, his face twisted in frustration, his hands trembling at his sides. “You’re fucking insane,” he said finally, his voice low but biting, his tone matching the storm in his eyes.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curling into a bitter smirk as the anger bubbling inside you broke free. “You’re fucking insane,” you mimicked, your voice low and mocking, throwing his words right back at him. You took a step closer, your bare legs brushing against his knees where he sat on Stan’s bed. His eyes followed you, his green gaze seething with frustration as you loomed over him.

“You want to call me insane?” you said, your voice rising as your emotions spilled out, hot and sharp. “Fine. Let’s talk about what you are, Kyle.”

You jabbed your index finger into his chest, your hand trembling as you pressed your point. “You’re a liar. A fucking hypocrite. You run after me, you bang on doors, you act like you own me—but you’re the one who said Wendy’s name without even blinking.”

His breath hitched slightly at your words, but you didn’t stop, your finger pressing harder against him. “And let me tell you something, Kyle,” you said, your voice dripping with venom. “Stan would never do this to me.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, his body stiffening as the words hit him. His chest rose and fell heavily, his jaw tightening further as his fists curled against the edge of the bed. “What the fuck did you just say?” he asked, his voice dangerously low, his tone trembling with restrained fury.

“You heard me,” you snapped, your sneer deepening as you leaned closer, your face inches from his. “Stan wouldn’t chase me down like a fucking maniac. He wouldn’t bang on doors, screaming at me like a lunatic. He wouldn’t make me feel like this.”

Kyle’s hand shot out suddenly, gripping your wrist tightly, his green eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to say that,” he growled, his voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t fucking get to say that after what you did.”

You yanked your wrist free, your own tears brimming again as you refused to back down. “Why not?” you shouted, your voice cracking. “Because it’s true? Because Stan was good to me, and you can’t stand the fact that you’re not?”

His hands trembled in his lap, his face twisted into an expression you couldn’t decipher. The silence between you crackled with tension, your words hanging heavy in the air like a weapon waiting to strike again.

Kyle finally looked up at you, his green eyes ablaze with anger and something darker, something sharp enough to cut. His lips curled into a sneer, and his voice dropped to a low, venomous growl. “You’re such a fucking slut,” he spat, each word landing like a slap.

You froze, blinking at him owlishly, his words ringing in your ears. The air seemed to shift around you, colder now, heavier, as his insult settled into the space between you. Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing as you tried to process what he’d just said, tried to think of something to say back—something equally as sharp, equally as venomous.

Your jaw tightened as the weight of his words pressed down on you, and your lips parted, your voice trembling but filled with fire. “And you’re pathetic, Kyle,” you shot back, your tone low but dripping with venom. “You’re pathetic for still chasing after me, for wanting me so badly that you can’t even let me go.”

His sneer deepened, his fists curling tighter on his lap. “You think I fucking want you?” he snapped, his voice rising. “After everything you’ve done? After Stan?”

“Clearly you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking with the force of your emotion. “Or you wouldn’t be here, sitting on this bed, saying this shit to me!” You leaned closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “If I’m a slut, then what the fuck does that make you, Kyle? Huh? What does it make you?”

Kyle’s face twisted further, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought it might snap. “It makes me fucking stupid for ever thinking you were worth it,” he hissed, his voice shaking with rage.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your hand shot out and struck him across the face. The sharp crack of your palm against his cheek echoed in the tense room, reverberating like a thunderclap. Kyle’s head snapped to the side from the force, his hands frozen in his lap.

Your breath came in heavy gasps, your chest heaving as your tears spilled over, hot and unrelenting. You didn’t say anything, your body trembling as you stood there, the aftermath of your anger ringing in your ears. Kyle didn’t move. He didn’t react. He stayed completely still, his head tilted slightly, the red imprint of your hand stark against his pale cheek.

Something inside you shifted then, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders like a tidal wave. You stepped closer to him, your breathing uneven as you slowly climbed onto his lap, your legs straddling him again. His body remained rigid beneath you, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white.

Reaching up, your hands found his face, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the cheek you’d slapped. His skin was warm under your touch, the red mark of your anger standing out vividly. You didn’t speak. You didn’t try to explain yourself. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against the same cheek you’d struck.

The kiss was hesitant at first, tender and uncertain, but you pressed harder, your lips lingering against his skin as your tears continued to fall. Another kiss followed, then another, your mouth moving gently over the flushed, reddened skin. It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t meant to be. It was something else—something raw and desperate, an unspoken plea that you couldn’t put into words.

Kyle’s breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, but he still didn’t move. His hands remained at his sides, his fists trembling, as you kissed the anger and heat from his cheek. His jaw tightened as your lips brushed against the edge of it, but he didn’t push you away.

Tears dripped from your chin onto his shirt as you kissed him again, your hands sliding to cradle his face, your thumbs brushing against the line of his jaw. “You think I’m nothing,” you whispered softly against his cheek, your voice trembling but filled with fire. “But I don’t care what you think. I’m not afraid of you, Kyle.”

His green eyes flicked toward you, his expression still stormy, still filled with unrelenting anger. But there was something else in his gaze too—something you couldn’t name, something that made your chest ache.

“You can hate me all you want,” you murmured, your lips brushing over the edge of his cheek as you spoke. “But you don’t get to break me. Not like this.”

Before you could say anything else, Kyle turned his face sharply, and his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was frantic, uncoordinated, and filled with so much heat and anger that it left you breathless. His hands shot up, gripping your waist tightly, almost bruising, as though he was trying to ground himself—or keep you exactly where you were.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was messy and desperate, full of everything neither of you could say aloud. Kyle’s teeth sank into your bottom lip, biting hard enough to make you gasp. The sound escaped you before you could stop it, and the moment your lips parted, his tongue slipped inside, exploring your mouth with an almost aggressive fervor.

Your hands found his shoulders, clutching him tightly as he kissed you harder, his movements rough and unrelenting. Heat bloomed in your chest and spread like wildfire, your entire body tingling with the intensity of the moment. You moaned softly against his lips, the sound muffled and involuntary, and immediately felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your face.

The heat between you became overwhelming, your bare thighs pressing against the rough denim of his jeans. His body was so hot against yours, every movement sending a jolt of sensation through you. You shifted slightly in his lap, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the motion only made things worse. The friction, the closeness—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Kyle’s grip on your waist tightened as you moved, his fingers digging into your skin as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away. His lips moved against yours with bruising intensity, his teeth grazing your lip again before pulling back just enough to murmur, “Don’t fucking stop.”

His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t find the words to respond. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to. Your hands slid from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as your lips met his again, your bodies pressing together as the tension between you boiled over, unrestrained and undeniable.

Kyle pulled away from the kiss, his lips swollen and red, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. His chest heaved, and as you looked at him, you noticed the flush spreading across his face, creeping up his neck and into the tips of his ears. It wasn’t just anger anymore—there was something raw and unguarded in his expression, something that sent a pang of uncertainty through your chest.

You squinted your eyes at him, your breaths still coming in short gasps. “What?” you muttered, the word sharp but shaky, your voice cracking from the whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

Kyle scoffed, his eyes narrowing as though your reaction irritated him. “Nothing,” he muttered, his tone defensive. He reached for the hem of his hoodie, yanking it up and over his head in one fluid motion. His shirt underneath rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of his stomach before he fixed it, tossing the hoodie carelessly to the floor.

Your gaze darted to the door, your mind racing. For a brief moment, you wondered if this was your chance—if you should just leave before the intensity between you spiraled even further out of control. The thought of staying, of seeing where this might go, sent both excitement and fear coursing through you. Your thighs twitched slightly against his lap as your heart pounded harder in your chest.

Kyle caught the flicker of your eyes toward the door, and his jaw tightened. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and commanding. His hands moved back to your waist, gripping you firmly but not harshly, like he was grounding you in place. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You couldn’t deny that part of you wanted to bolt, to escape the intensity of the moment and the mess of emotions swirling between you. But there was another part—a stronger, more desperate part—that couldn’t move, that didn’t want to move, no matter how much your mind screamed at you to go.

“What if I do?” you challenged, your voice quieter now but still defiant as your eyes met his. “What if I leave?”

Kyle’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his green eyes burning into yours. “You won’t,” he said, his tone confident and edged with something darker, something possessive. “Because you’re still here. You’re still on my lap, aren’t you?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your hands, still resting on the back of his neck, flexed slightly as your breath hitched. You hated how much he was right—how much you didn’t want to leave, even as your mind screamed at you to walk out that door and never look back.

Kyle’s smirk deepened, his lips curling into something smug and infuriating. “That’s what I thought,” he said lowly, his voice a mix of arrogance and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken.

His fingers moved to the hem of your black long-sleeved turtleneck, toying with the fabric as though testing your resolve. You stayed still, your hands trembling slightly where they still rested on the back of his neck. Then, without warning, he tugged the turtleneck up and over your head, the cool air hitting your skin as the material was pulled away.

“Are you fucking serious?” you hissed, your eyes narrowing at him. “Stan could walk in here any second, and you’re—” You gestured vaguely, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You’re being a fucking weirdo.”

Kyle scoffed, tossing the turtleneck to the floor beside his hoodie. “Stan’s not coming back anytime soon,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “And even if he did—” His eyes roamed over you, a glint of something possessive in his gaze. “Do you really think I care?”

You bristled, your cheeks heating under the intensity of his stare. “You should care, Kyle,” you snapped, your voice rising slightly. “This isn’t exactly—” You faltered, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “This isn’t normal. You’re acting like—like this is fine, like this isn’t completely insane.”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning as his fingers grazed your waist, his touch light but deliberate. “I never said I was normal,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “And let’s be real—you’re not exactly running for the door, are you?”

His words hit a nerve, and you scowled, your hands tightening slightly on the back of his neck. “Because you’re a manipulative asshole,” you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration. “And I’m—”

“Still here,” Kyle interrupted, cutting you off with a knowing look. “Still on my lap. Still letting me do this.” His hands moved higher, his touch tracing along the bare skin of your sides. “Admit it, [Y/N]. You’re just as fucked up as I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a fresh wave of anger and something you didn’t want to name surging through you. You opened your mouth to retort, to tell him off, but the intensity of his gaze held you in place, your words faltering as the tension between you grew thicker, more suffocating.

Unable to hold the weight of his stare, you turned your head, your eyes landing on the room around you. Stan’s bedroom. His guitar leaned against the corner, scuffed from years of use. Sports posters lined the walls, the edges curled from tape and time. And there, pinned haphazardly on the wall, a cluster of Polaroids. Your chest tightened as you scanned them—Stan with Kyle, their arms slung around each other, grinning at the camera, moments frozen in time that felt impossibly distant from the chaos you were living now.

You turned back to Kyle, your lips curling into a scowl. The sight of those Polaroids, their memories, only fueled the fire burning in your chest. Your fingers drifted to the hem of his shirt, toying with it idly as you leaned closer, your lips finding his neck. The kisses you pressed against his skin weren’t tender—they were open-mouthed, loud smacks, each one deliberate, each one meant to provoke.

Kyle’s body tensed under you, his hands pausing where they’d been gripping your waist. His breath hitched as your lips lingered near the hollow of his throat, but he didn’t pull away. Not yet.

“You want to know something, Kyle?” you murmured against his skin, your tone deceptively soft, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “Stan didn’t have to chase me. He didn’t have to scream or bang on doors to get me to give him what he wanted.”

His hands twitched on your waist, his grip tightening slightly, but he said nothing. You pressed another kiss to his neck, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt just enough to graze the bare skin beneath.

“Do you want to know where it happened?” you continued, your voice low and taunting, dripping with venom as your lips moved higher, brushing against his ear. “In the bathroom. At that shitty little performance venue. Stan leaned against the sink, and I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kyle growled, his voice low and dangerous, trembling with barely restrained fury.

You ignored him, your fingers digging into his sides as you pressed your lips to his jaw, your words unrelenting. “I knelt right there in front of him, and he—”

Before you could finish, Kyle shoved you back, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you down onto the mattress. His green eyes burned with fury, his chest heaving as he loomed over you, his face twisted with an anger so raw it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think this is fucking funny?” he spat, his voice sharp and venomous, trembling with rage. “You think you can just say that shit to me and get away with it?”

A bitter smile played on your lips as you looked up at him, defiant even now. “Why not?” you shot back, your voice trembling but steady enough to cut. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Or does it hurt too much to hear?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening where they gripped your shoulders. His green eyes burned with something unrelenting, something harsh and cruel that you hadn’t seen from him before. The silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally broke it, his voice low and biting.

“You really think you mean anything to Stan?” he sneered, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “You’re nothing to him. He loves Wendy—he always has, always will. You? You were just… easy. Convenient. Available.”

His words hit you like a blow, each one sinking deeper than the last. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Your chest heaved as you struggled to keep your composure, your defiance flickering like a candle in a storm.

Kyle leaned closer, his grip tightening as he glared down at you. “You think you’re special? You’re not,” he spat, his tone laced with venom. “You were just something to pass the time, [Y/N]. You’re nothing.”

The tears pooled harder in your eyes, and your lips quivered despite your best efforts to keep steady. You opened your mouth to retaliate, to throw something—anything—back at him, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak.

Before you could react, Kyle’s hands moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he yanked your skirt down in one swift motion. The movement was harsh, almost careless, and the fabric slipped from your body, pooling at your knees.

Your breath hitched, the tears finally spilling over as his words echoed in your mind, cutting deeper than any touch ever could. You hated him in this moment, hated the power he had over you, hated how much you cared despite everything. But most of all, you hated yourself for not stopping him, for letting his words sink in and make you feel small, even when you wanted so badly to be strong.

Kyle leaned in, his lips brushing against your chest with a deliberate slowness that felt cruel, almost taunting. His weight pressed into you now, pinning you against the mattress as his hands moved to your bra, his fingers toying with the fabric before sliding it down to your waist. His touch wasn’t tender—it was firm, almost dismissive, like he wasn’t trying to be careful with you.

Your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers clutching at the strands as tears streamed down your face. Your breath came in ragged gasps, each one shaky and uneven as your body reacted to the closeness despite the anger bubbling inside you. His lips pressed against your skin again, warm and purposeful, as if mocking your tears.

“You’re really crying right now?” he muttered against your skin, his voice cold and biting, dripping with disdain. “What did you think was going to happen? You think you can just say all that shit to me and expect me to care?”

The words cut into you like a blade, and your fingers trembled in his hair, your grip faltering. Tears blurred your vision as his hands moved, his touch rougher now, his actions filled with the same anger that laced his words.

“You don’t get to cry, [Y/N],” he continued, lifting his head to look down at you, his green eyes narrowed and blazing. “Not after everything you’ve done. Not after Stan.” His words dripped with venom, each syllable deliberately cruel, designed to hit you where it hurt most.

You tried to respond, to say something—anything—but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Your tears came faster, your chest heaving as his gaze bore into you, unrelenting and cold. He scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your waist. “You’re sitting here crying like you’re the victim. You’re not. You’re nothing.”

His words cut deeper than you thought possible, but you refused to let them break you entirely. As his hands left your body, you watched through blurry, tear-filled eyes as he leaned back, pulling his shirt off over his head. His movements were sharp, deliberate, and his green eyes raked over your form pressed against the mattress, lingering like he was trying to unravel you completely.

For a moment, you just stared up at him, your chest heaving as tears streaked your face. The tension between you was suffocating, the weight of his words still heavy in the air. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, you let out the only thing you could manage.

“I hate you.”

The words trembled as they left your lips, but there was no hesitation, no doubt. Your arms moved on instinct, finding their way around his neck, pulling him back down toward you. Before he could react, your lips crashed into his, your kiss filled with anger, desperation, and something deeper that neither of you wanted to admit.

Kyle didn’t hesitate to respond. His lips met yours with bruising intensity, his hands returning to your waist, gripping you tightly as his knee pressed between your thighs, forcing them apart. The pressure was unrelenting, his weight heavy against you, grounding you in the chaos of the moment.

The kiss was messy, frantic, and filled with all the things you couldn’t say to each other. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you kissed him harder, your tears still slipping down your cheeks. His knee shifted slightly against you, the movement deliberate, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as you broke the kiss, your breath hitching in your throat.

Kyle’s green eyes burned into yours, his expression unreadable but no less intense. His hand moved to your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your face up toward him, forcing you to hold his gaze. His lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as the tension between you built to an unbearable peak.

“You hate me?” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, his tone daring you to repeat it. His knee pressed harder against you, sending a shiver down your spine as your hands clung to him, your body trembling beneath his.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice shaky but defiant, your fingers tightening their hold on him. “I hate you.”

Kyle’s lips twitched into a smirk, his grip on your jaw tightening slightly as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “Then prove it,” he murmured, his voice a challenge, the storm between you threatening to consume you both entirely.

Your hands trembled as they moved to the waistband of his jeans, fingers deftly working to unbuckle the belt. The metallic clink of the buckle breaking free echoed in the charged silence of the room, but you didn’t falter. Your eyes stayed locked on his, your faces mere inches apart, every breath shared, heavy and heated.

Kyle’s gaze bore into yours, unrelenting, as if daring you to stop, to back down. But you didn’t. You tugged at the denim, forcing it down over his hips and thighs, the fabric bunching awkwardly until he shifted just enough to help you slide them lower. The motion was sharp and impatient, his weight shifting over you as the material slipped away.

Your breathing was uneven, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the tension crackled between you. His smirk didn’t waver, his hands returning to your waist, gripping you tightly as he studied your face. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist, but you refused to look away, refused to break the fragile connection that tethered you to this moment.

The discarded jeans landed in a heap on the floor, forgotten, as Kyle leaned closer again, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost bruising intensity. His lips hovered near yours, his green eyes scanning your face as though searching for something—doubt, hesitation—but finding none.

“You really think you can handle this?” he muttered, his voice low, his breath brushing against your lips. It wasn’t a question so much as a taunt, the sharp edge in his tone daring you to respond.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling but steady enough to meet his challenge. “Why don’t you find out?” you whispered, your voice quieter but no less defiant, the weight of your words daring him right back.

Kyle’s smirk faltered for just a moment, his green eyes narrowing as his grip on your waist tightened. His breath was warm against your face, heavy and uneven, but he didn’t move. The tension between you crackled like static, unbearable in its intensity. You didn’t look away, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers clutched the material of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

And then you pressed your forehead against his.

The shift was subtle, a flicker of movement that left his breath hitching. His weight bore down on you, pinning you to the mattress, but his hands loosened their hold just slightly, his eyes searching yours. Your lips parted as you closed your eyes, your mind spinning as the storm inside you raged on.

How had it come to this?

Your mind spiraled, replaying everything that had led to this moment. Not long ago, things between you and Kyle had been good—so good. His sarcastic jokes, his smirks, the way he’d touch you, so careful and light, like you were something worth holding onto. You’d never felt like that before. Like you mattered.

But the memory of the bonfire crashed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out the warmth of those moments. Kenny’s laughter, the teasing smiles, the heat of the fire. And then Kenny’s stupid question, the way the group had leaned in, waiting for Kyle’s answer.

“Who would you date here if it wasn’t [Y/N]?”

The way he hadn’t even hesitated. The way the name had rolled off his tongue like it didn’t mean anything. Like it wasn’t a dagger to your chest.

“Wendy.”

And your own confession—an open wound you’d thrown into the night, heavy and brutal.

“I slept with Stan. A few weeks ago, when he and Wendy were on a break.”

The pain in Kyle’s eyes that moment still lingered in your chest, sharp and relentless. You didn’t know why you’d said it. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the way Wendy had been looking at you all night, her gaze cutting through you like she already knew. Maybe it was the guilt that had been eating at you, clawing its way out no matter how tightly you tried to hold it back.

The weight of those moments pressed down on you now, suffocating. Your fingers gripped Kyle’s shirt tighter as your forehead stayed pressed against his, your breaths mingling in the tense silence.

“Thinking about him?” Kyle’s voice broke the stillness, low and cutting. His tone was sharp, laced with venom, as his hands shifted on your waist. “Thinking about Stan? Or maybe you’re just regretting everything.”

Your breath hitched, and you opened your eyes to meet his, the anger and frustration in his gaze burning into you. “I’m thinking about us,” you said softly, your voice trembling but steady enough to be heard. “About what we had before I ruined it.”

Kyle’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “Before you slept with him,” he corrected coldly. “Before you decided to blow it all up.”

The words stung, his voice carrying the weight of every ounce of anger he’d bottled up since that night. But you didn’t pull away. Your hands slid from his shirt to the back of his neck, your touch trembling but resolute.

“I didn’t know we’d turn into this,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of your own emotions. “I didn’t think we’d ever… be anything.”

Kyle let out a bitter laugh, his jaw clenching tightly. “Right. Because you didn’t think about it, did you?” His grip on your waist tightened, his frustration radiating off him like heat. “You didn’t think about me at all, [Y/N].”

You didn’t respond, your chest heaving as his words cut through the thick air between you. The anger, the frustration, the overwhelming tension—it all made it impossible to speak. Instead, you stared at him, your breaths coming in uneven gasps as his green eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer you couldn’t give.

Your hands slipped from his neck, your fingers trembling slightly as they moved lower. You didn’t think about your next move; it came from somewhere deep in the storm of emotions raging inside you. Your hands found the hemline of your panties, and without breaking eye contact with him, you began to tug them down, your movements slow and deliberate.

Kyle’s gaze flickered, his green eyes following the motion as the fabric slid down your thighs, pooling at your knees. His grip on your waist tightened even further, his knuckles turning white as he sucked in a sharp breath. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out—his anger mingling with something unspoken that hung heavy in the charged air between you.

You tilted your head slightly, defiance burning in your chest as you met his gaze, daring him to say something, to stop you, to acknowledge the whirlwind of tension that neither of you could seem to escape.

The silence stretched unbearably long, the weight of your actions and his unrelenting gaze pressing down on you like a vice. Still, you didn’t waver, your expression holding firm as you refused to back down. If he wanted to challenge you, if he wanted to lash out, you weren’t going to stop him. But you weren’t going to back away either.

Kyle’s jaw tightened again, his breath coming faster now as his eyes flicked back to yours. The intensity of his gaze burned into you, and though his frustration hadn’t eased, there was something else there now, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to break through.

You stared at him, the weight of his silence pressing heavily on your chest, your breathing uneven as you tried to make sense of the moment. The emotions swirling between you—anger, regret, bitterness—felt like they would crush you both. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice quiet but tinged with bitterness.

“Are you going to do something?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. They weren’t sharp or mocking, but they carried the weight of your frustration, your confusion, your hurt. “Or… are you just going to sit there?”

Kyle’s green eyes narrowed slightly, his hands still gripping your waist, the tension radiating off him like heat. He didn’t respond right away, his jaw clenching tighter as he studied you, his gaze flickering across your face like he was trying to decide what to say—or what to do.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, your body trembling under the weight of the moment. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how the silence between you seemed to magnify every unspoken word, every lingering doubt.

“I just… I don’t understand,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly as you tried to steady yourself. “Why are you still here, Kyle? Why haven’t you just walked away?”

His scoff broke the silence, low and bitter, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You think I haven’t thought about it?” he muttered, his tone sharp but quiet, almost like he was talking to himself. “You think I haven’t wanted to?”

Your chest ached at his words, your breath catching as the weight of everything threatened to overwhelm you again. “Then why haven’t you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, the question lingering in the heavy air between you.

Kyle didn’t respond right away, his green eyes dark and unreadable as he stared at you. The silence felt suffocating, the tension stretching between you, heavy and unbearable. You couldn’t take it anymore—the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his silence—and you shifted, scooting away from him. Turning onto your back, you let yourself sink into Stan’s pillows, your hair fanning out across the fabric as you stared up at the ceiling.

The cool fabric brushed against your skin, grounding you for a fleeting moment. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to steady your breathing, the storm inside you still raging. You couldn’t think about what the pillows smelled like, couldn’t let your mind wander there—not when the reality of Kyle loomed over you, heavy and unrelenting.

Before you could settle for even a moment, Kyle moved. His hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and pulling you sharply down the bed, away from the pillows. The sudden motion left you gasping, your hands instinctively gripping at the sheets as your heart raced.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and uncertain, but he didn’t meet your gaze. His other hand moved with deliberate intent, tugging down his boxers in a single, sharp motion. His expression was hard, unreadable, his green eyes fixed on you as the weight of his presence bore down on you again.

Your gaze faltered, dropping briefly to his cock—his tip red and leaking—before darting back up to his face. A flush crept up your neck and bloomed across your cheeks, your body betraying the calm you were trying to hold onto. A small frown tugged at the corners of your lips, your emotions tangled in a storm of apprehension, anticipation, and the undeniable absurdity of the situation.

Your thoughts spiraled as the reality of it hit you. The two of you—tangled up in frustration, anger, and something messier—were really about to fuck. Here. On Stan’s bed. The thought made your chest tighten, your fingers curling into the fabric of the sheets beneath you as you tried to steady your racing mind.

Your lips parted, and before you could stop yourself, a soft, trembling murmur slipped out. “I hate you.”

Kyle’s eyes flickered, the faintest hint of something crossing his expression—something almost softer—before it disappeared, his jaw tightening once again. His lips twitched, curling into a faint smirk as he leaned forward, his hands bracketing your sides against the mattress.

“No, you don’t,” he said lowly, his voice steady but edged with something deeper, his green eyes boring into yours. “But you can keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

He shifted his weight, positioning himself directly in front of you on the mattress. Your grip on the sheets tightened, your knuckles whitening as his hands moved with deliberate intent. His firm touch spread your legs open, the action slow and calculated, his movements charged with a confidence that sent heat rising through your body.

Kyle’s gaze lowered, trailing down your form before stopping at your embarrassingly wet heat. His lips twitched into a smirk, that infuriating, smug expression that made your stomach churn with a mix of anger and something you didn’t want to name. He leaned in slightly, his hands firm on your thighs, holding you open as his sharp green eyes flicked back up to meet yours.

With a mocking tilt of his head, his voice rose in a high-pitched, exaggerated tone. “I hate you,” he mimicked, the words dripping with derision as his smirk deepened. His tone was biting, deliberate, throwing your earlier words back at you with venomous ease.

Your face burned, the heat crawling up your neck as you struggled to keep your composure. Frustration and embarrassment clashed inside you, your chest tightening as you glared at him. “You’re such a fucking asshole,” you muttered, your voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

Kyle chuckled, his laughter low and rough as he leaned in closer, his smirk unwavering. “Maybe,” he said, his tone calm but cutting, his hands pressing firmly into your thighs, holding you in place. “But you’re still here.”

You rolled your eyes, parting your lips to say something—maybe a retort, maybe to throw his words back at him—but before any sound escaped, you felt a sudden shift in the tension. His body moved closer, the heat of him radiating against your skin, and you froze as you felt the unmistakable press of his tip against your wet folds. The smear of his precum against you made you want to claw out your skin.

A sharp breath hitched in your throat, and whatever you’d been about to say dissolved into nothing. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets tighter, your chest heaving as you choked on your own words, unable to form a response. Your gaze snapped to his, your wide-eyed expression meeting his confident, unyielding stare.

Kyle’s smirk deepened, his green eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched your reaction. “What’s the matter?” he murmured, his tone low and laced with mockery. “You had so much to say a second ago.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling against the sheets, but you refused to look away from him, your breathing uneven as you tried to gather your thoughts.

Kyle shifted slightly, pushing into you more firmly as if to force a response, his movements deliberate and unyielding. The unexpected sensation of him penetrating your walls made you gasp, a small whine escaping your throat before you could stop it. Tears began to pool in your eyes, the overwhelming tension and intensity between you building to an unbearable crescendo.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, an attempt to ground yourself amidst the storm of emotions and sensations. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him; his smirk, his unrelenting gaze—it was too much. Instead, your eyes darted around Stan’s room, taking in the familiar details as if to distract yourself. The posters, the scattered belongings, even the faint scent of him still clinging to the air—it all felt surreal, grounding you in the absurdity of the moment.

Kyle’s hands tightened on your thighs, his grip firm and confident as he loomed over you. “Still not talking?” he murmured, his voice low and edged with mockery. “Maybe you’re finally out of things to say.”

You bit your lip, your vision blurring slightly from the tears welling in your eyes. The sound of your own uneven breathing filled the room, mixing with the tension that seemed to vibrate in the air between you. You didn’t answer him, couldn’t answer him, your thoughts too scattered as you clung to the sheets beneath you, trying to steady yourself.

But the reminder of where you were, of Stan’s bed, sent a wave of unease through you. With a shaky exhale, you loosened your grip on the sheets, your hands instead finding Kyle’s bare back. Your fingers curled into his skin, clawing lightly, desperate for something to ground you amidst the overwhelming intensity.

The movement caused Kyle to shift, just slightly, the motion unintentional but enough to draw a soft whimper from you. The sound escaped before you could stop it, heat flooding your face as embarrassment settled heavily in your chest. You hated it—hated how your body responded, hated how you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting to him. You didn’t want to feel good. Not like this. Not when every fiber of your being resisted the idea of giving in to him.

Kyle, however, didn’t move further. He stayed there, perfectly still, his weight pressing into you, his green eyes sharp and unreadable. The realization hit you slowly, frustration mounting as it dawned on you that this was deliberate. He wasn’t moving. This was some sort of punishment, some twisted game meant to make you squirm.

Tears pricked at your eyes again, your breathing uneven as you tried to steady the storm raging inside you. A flicker of defiance rose in your chest, and you leaned up slightly, pressing your lips softly to the cheek you’d slapped earlier. Your breath was hot and unsteady against his skin as you lingered there, the gesture hesitant but deliberate.

Kyle didn’t pull away, but his body tensed slightly beneath your touch, his hands tightening on your hips. You finally looked up at him, your gaze locking with his piercing green irises. He stared back at you, unrelenting, but in the stillness, you saw it—he was affected too. The tension in his jaw, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the faint flicker of vulnerability in his eyes—it was all there, just barely hidden beneath the surface.

Your own eyes softened as they wandered over his face, taking in the details you’d seen countless times but that now felt different, sharper. His freckles dotted across his skin like constellations, standing out against the faint flush of his cheeks. His red curls were messy, disheveled from the chaos of the night, and his lips were swollen and bitten, a stark contrast to the sharpness of his expression.

He looked so different from the Kyle you knew—the Kyle you loved. The realization hit you like a tidal wave, your chest tightening painfully as tears began to stream down your face. You hated this. Hated how far you’d both fallen, how this mess of emotions and bitterness had pulled you both into something neither of you seemed able to escape.

Kyle’s gaze flickered as he noticed the tears, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. For a moment, his expression softened, his green eyes searching your face as though he wanted to say something—something kind, something that could bridge the impossible gap between you.

But then his lips curled into a humorless smirk, and his tone turned sharp, cruel in a way that felt calculated. “You always make this about you, don’t you?” he said, his voice low but cutting, like each word was meant to sting. “You think your tears are gonna fix this? Make me forget everything?”

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress with deliberate force. The weight of him made you gasp softly, your fingers curling into the sheets as his words cut through you.

“You act like you’re the only one who’s hurt,” he continued, leaning in closer, his voice quieter but no less biting. “But you never stop to think, do you? About what I’m feeling? About what you did to me?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, his frustration spilling out like a dam breaking. Your breath hitched as tears continued to fall, your chest aching under the weight of his anger and your own guilt.

“Kyle,” you choked out, your voice trembling as you tried to find something, anything, that could cut through the moment. But his gaze stayed fixed on you, hard and unrelenting, daring you to challenge him, to push back against the torrent of emotions swirling between you both.

He didn’t answer, didn’t soften. His jaw tightened, his green eyes narrowing as though your voice only fueled his frustration further. The tension in the room felt like it was about to snap, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he leaned closer, his weight pressing down on you. The stillness between you broke with sudden intensity, and Kyle shifted, his actions sharp, his frustration spilling over in his hard, punishing thrusts into you.

Your legs instinctively tightened around his waist, the motion grounding you even as heat rose to your cheeks. The sound of your high-pitched moans filled the room, and in a moment of embarrassment, you moved your hands to your face, covering it, trying to stifle the sounds escaping your lips. Tears blurred your vision, your chest heaving as the tension and intensity of the moment overwhelmed you.

Kyle’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrists with a firmness that made you gasp. He pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him. His green eyes burned with something raw, sharp, and unyielding as his grip tightened just enough to hold your attention. His lips curled into a bitter smirk, his voice low and cutting. “Don’t hide now,” he muttered, his tone mocking. “What’s the point? Everyone already knows how pathetic you are.”

The words stung, sharp and biting, but you didn’t flinch. Your tears continued to fall, and as you stared back at him, your breath hitched, the storm of emotions inside you threatening to break. “I really do hate you,” you whimpered, your voice trembling and barely above a whisper, the words cracking as they left your lips.

The truth, however, sat heavy in your chest, unspoken. You didn’t hate him—not really. If anything, the emotions swirling inside you felt far more complicated, tangled in ways you couldn’t begin to unravel. And you knew, from the way Kyle’s grip faltered just slightly, that he knew it too.

The moment his grip slackened, you acted without thinking. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him so close that your bare chests pressed together, the heat of his skin igniting a spark that made your breath hitch. You tilted your face up, your lips crashing onto his with an urgency that was impossible to control.

The kiss was wild and chaotic, a clash of desperation and anger. Your lips moved against his in a rhythm that was anything but smooth, loud and uncoordinated. The sounds of it filled the room, every broken breath and muffled gasp a reminder of how far you’d both fallen.

You pulled back just slightly, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “I hate you.” The words came out shaky, almost lost in the heat of your kiss, but they weren’t enough to stop you. You repeated them, louder this time, as though trying to convince yourself.

“I fucking hate you,” you muttered, your voice cracking, but then your lips found his again, cutting off your own words as your body betrayed you. “I—” You gasped, your breath catching as a sharp sound escaped your lips. “I fucking—oh, God—hate you.”

Kyle didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could feel his smirk against your lips, his confidence oozing through every thrust as his hands moved to your waist, holding you firmly in place. It was maddening, the way he didn’t need to say a word to remind you how much he had you, how much control he had over this moment.

“Fuck, Kyle,” you stuttered, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you tried to find something, anything, to ground yourself. “You’re—shit—you��re such an asshole. I hate you, I hate you so fucking much.”

But even as the words spilled from your lips, they felt hollow, breaking apart as your voice trembled. Tears pooled in your eyes, blurring your vision as the storm of emotions consumed you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, each one hitching as his hands dug into your waist, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

Kyle pulled back slightly, his green eyes burning into yours, and you could see the smug satisfaction on his face, the faint curve of his lips that made you want to scream. “You sure about that?” he murmured, his tone low and taunting, his breath brushing against your skin.

You opened your mouth to respond, to throw something sharp and bitter back at him, but all that came out was a soft, broken moan as your hands fisted into his messy curls, pulling him down into another heated, desperate kiss. Each whispered “I hate you” melted into his lips, the words losing their meaning even as you tried to hold onto the anger that was slipping through your fingers.

Your body was betraying you completely now, the tension in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter until you felt like you might snap. Your breaths came out in uneven gasps, your legs instinctively tightening around Kyle’s waist as the sensation built to an intensity you couldn’t ignore. Your fingers trembled against his skin, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

Kyle’s sharp gaze locked onto yours, his eyes glinting with smugness as if he already knew. His movements were unrelenting, his hands gripping your hips like he could pull every response from you, every tremor, every sound. It was maddening—how focused he was, how much control he seemed to have over the moment while you felt like you were falling apart.

You bit your lip hard, trying to muffle the noises threatening to escape, but it didn’t stop the pressure building in your core. The sensation was overwhelming, foreign yet undeniable, and it hit you all at once. Your body trembled as heat rushed through you, a sudden wave of release leaving you gasping for breath.

And then you felt it—a surge of wetness that left your face burning. The realization hit you like a truck as you froze, your body still trembling in the aftermath. Your wide eyes darted up to Kyle, who paused for a brief moment, his expression flickering between surprise and something else—triumph, satisfaction, you couldn’t tell.

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze for long. Your face burned with embarrassment, the heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks. Before he could say a word, you buried your face in his neck, trying to hide from the reality of what had just happened. Your voice was muffled against his skin as you choked out, “Oh my God… Kyle…”

His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he shifted his weight. “What’s wrong?” he muttered, his tone edged with amusement. “Didn’t think you had that in you?”

You groaned softly in embarrassment, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pressed your face further into the crook of his neck, refusing to acknowledge his words. The dampness between you only made your cheeks burn hotter.

“Still hiding?” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on, don’t get shy now.” His tone was laced with mockery, his green eyes gleaming as he glanced down at you. “You were loud enough a second ago.”

His words made your chest tighten, frustration bubbling up alongside the heat coursing through you. Your lips found his neck, teeth grazing his skin as you bit down softly, muffling the whimper that escaped your throat. Kyle let out a low growl at the sensation, his fingers pinching your hips, forcing you to feel every deliberate thrust

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered, his voice rough and edged with sarcasm. “Bet you’d fucking lose it if Stan walked in right now, huh? You think he’d recognize you like this?”

Your face burned hotter at his words, embarrassment and anger twisting in your chest, but you couldn’t find the words to respond. Your mind was too fuzzy, too clouded, your thoughts consumed by the heat and tension radiating between you. 

Kyle’s movements grew harsher, his breath uneven as his frustration spilled into his actions. “Jesus, you’re a mess,” he hissed, his tone sharp but dripping with smug satisfaction. “You can’t even keep quiet, can you? Bet the whole fucking house can hear you.”

The sharpness of his words sent a shiver through you, leaving you clinging to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. Your voice broke through the haze as another soft whimper escaped, your lips pressing harder into his neck, desperate to muffle the noises spilling from you.

“Fuck, Kyle,” you murmured against his neck, your voice shaky and trembling, barely audible over the chaos around you. “I—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted, his voice low and snide as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re just dying to tell me how much you hate me again, right?”

You whimpered, your body trembling as his movements became sharper, his breathing uneven and heavy. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands dug into your skin, holding you in place. He was chasing his own release now, every motion a reminder of just how tightly wound this moment was.

“You’re gonna lose it, aren’t you?” Kyle taunted, his voice rough and punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. “Go on, then. Show me just how much you fucking hate me.”

His words sent another wave of heat coursing through you, leaving you shaking beneath him. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the overwhelming sensations, but it was useless. Everything about him—his sharp tone, his relentless pace, his mocking words—consumed you entirely, leaving no space for control, no space to hide.

When your name slipped from his lips, low and ragged, it broke through the haze, grounding you for just a moment. Everything about this—the way he gripped you, the sound of his voice, the intensity in his movements—was maddening, unrelenting, and utterly consuming as the tension between you reached its peak.

Kyle’s movements stilled suddenly, his body shuddering against yours as his grip on your hips tightened. You froze as the unfamiliar warmth of his cum filling you up, the sensation foreign and startling. The room seemed to grow quieter in that moment, the only sounds left were the sharp inhales and exhales of your shared breathing.

Your wide eyes found his, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in the look on his face. His gaze, so often sharp and cutting, was softened now, but his lips were pulled into a small frown. His green eyes flicked downward, toward where your bodies were still connected, and he seemed lost in thought, the tension of the moment lingering between you both.

The heaviness in your chest grew, your breath uneven as you tried to process what had just happened. You bit your nails, a nervous habit you couldn’t stop, as you stared up at the ceiling, trying desperately to ignore the sensation of him still inside you, the way he had filled you completely.

Neither of you spoke, the silence deafening as it pressed down on you both. Kyle’s hands stayed on your hips, his grip lighter now but still present, as though he wasn’t ready to let go. The storm of emotions inside you threatened to bubble over, but you didn’t dare say anything, the weight of the moment too much to shatter with words.

Finally, Kyle exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly as his gaze flicked back to yours. His frown deepened, but there was something else in his expression now—something you couldn’t quite place, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Kyle’s hands shifted slightly on your hips as he pulled back, the sudden movement making you wince. You could feel his cum trickling out of you, the sensation adding to the wave of emotions crashing over you. The warmth against your skin was impossible to ignore, and when you glanced down, the sight of it on Stan’s sheets sent a fresh flush of heat up your neck.

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, you sat up abruptly. The sharp soreness between your legs made you falter for a moment, but you forced yourself to push through it, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t think about what had just happened, couldn’t process the weight of it. Not now.

Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding Kyle entirely as you searched for your discarded clothes. The tension between you both was palpable, the silence thick and heavy as he remained where he was, his gaze burning into you. You refused to meet his eyes, your hands trembling slightly as you searched the messy room, desperate for anything to ground yourself.

Finally, your eyes landed on your panties, crumpled in a heap near the edge of the bed. You reached for them quickly, your fingers fumbling as you pulled them back on, cringing at the discomfort of the dampness between your legs. A sharp wave of embarrassment washed over you, your face burning as you adjusted the fabric, trying to ignore the mess left behind.

Behind you, the bed creaked as Kyle got up. You felt his movements without looking, the sound of his footsteps against the floorboards making your shoulders tense. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grabbing his boxers and jeans from where they’d been discarded. He pulled them on with practiced ease, his movements slow and deliberate, each one punctuated by the thick, suffocating silence.

Your tights were crumpled at the foot of the bed, and you grabbed them quickly, tugging them on with shaking hands. The feeling of the fabric brushing your legs made you cringe, the soreness between your thighs a sharp reminder of everything that had just happened. You moved mechanically, your focus entirely on getting dressed as quickly as possible.

Kyle let out a short, humorless laugh as he zipped his jeans. “You know, this is probably the most awkward I’ve ever seen you,” he said, his tone flat but with an edge that cut through the quiet. “Guess I should be flattered I actually managed to shut you up for once.”

The remark made your stomach twist, embarrassment mingling with frustration as you grabbed your skirt and pulled it on, your hands fumbling as you adjusted the waistband. You avoided his gaze entirely, your movements jerky and tense as you tried to block out the sound of his voice and the weight of his words.

Kyle didn’t stop. “What?” he asked, leaning back against the bedframe as he crossed his arms, his green eyes fixed on you. “You’re not gonna try to explain this one? Spin it into something neat and tidy?”

His tone was lighter than before, but the bitterness still simmered beneath the surface. You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. 

Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you to clasp your bra, fumbling with the hooks for a moment before securing it in place. The silence between you and Kyle was unbearable, thick with everything unsaid, as you grabbed your long-sleeved turtleneck from where it had been discarded on the floor. You tugged it over your head, the soft fabric brushing against your skin as you smoothed it out, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest.

Behind you, Kyle threw his shirt over his head, with a sharp, irritated motion, his scoff breaking the quiet like a crack of thunder. His movements were clipped, his frustration evident as he tugged the hood over his head, his eyes flicking toward you with something unreadable before darting away again. You could feel his anger simmering, contained but palpable, like a storm waiting to break.

You opened your mouth to say something—to cut through the tension, to find words where there were none—but the sudden sound of knocking made you freeze. It was soft but firm, accompanied by a familiar voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“[Y/N]? You in there?” Stan’s voice called through the door, hesitant and cautious but clear. The sound of your name from his lips felt like a punch to the gut, the reality of the situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave. “You’ve been in there a while… everything okay?”

You glanced at Kyle, your heart pounding as his jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his green eyes burned with frustration and something else—guilt, anger, maybe both. The tension in the room thickened as the knock came again, firmer this time, more insistent.

“[Y/N], come on,” Stan said, his voice quieter now but edged with worry.

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, like a verdict waiting to be delivered. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, suffocating and inescapable, as you stood frozen in place, unable to breathe, unable to move. It felt like the walls were closing in, the door itself a barrier between the chaos inside and the inevitable fallout waiting just beyond it. But you knew the truth—there was no hiding, no escape.

The knocking came again, louder this time, as Stan’s voice broke through the silence. “Just open the door, [Y/N]. Please.”

jesus christ 💀

[swirlingyouintomypoems]

look I am fucking BEGGING yall to stop writing fanfic about the pjo actors. I’ve mainly seen this for Charlie and Dior but it goes for everyone. It’s weird to write fanfic abt any real ppl but especially the pjo cast since they’re so young. It’s just so weird imagine being like eighteen and seeing ppl writing fanfic about what you’d be like to date. It’s creepy and I’m begging yall to let these people live their lives

[rotthepoet]

In love with your writing, specially bsf!theo. I’m in such an angst mood. Everyone knows we’re in love with Theo and he’s in love with us besides the two of us. Longing with fwb to lovers? Maybe some more smut if you’re feeling spicy?

IN LOVE WITH YOU, POOKIE!!! If theres one thing I know how to do its YEARN and LONG so lets hope that translates into writing 🙏 it’s been a hot minute since I wrote an actual fic, and i took a few liberties with your rq, so please let me know how you feel about it!

Notes: i typically write for a gn!reader, but I really hope everyone can forgive me for writing in a FEM perspective today. It just makes writing smut a tad bit easier on me(an afab person)

Content warnings: As always, Hogwarts University AU, Characters are all 18+, Draco Malfoy calls Nott a fat ass(degrading eating habits, commenting on working out), Theo’s mom is dead, mutual pining but being too stupid to figure it out, crying during sex but not in a hot way(no safe word used/tech needed), angstyish to comfort, use of drugs(weed), SMUT, oral(fem receiving), kinda proofread? Please let me know if I miss anything major.

Things only got more intense as the… situation went on. Hooking up had become significantly more common, almost a daily occurrence. You found your mind drifting to Theodore more often than not, thinking about how disheveled his hair looked in the morning, or how the first words he mumbled when he saw you today were “Hello, beautiful”.

Your thoughts never strayed too far from Theodore, and to be honest, it felt like he never strayed too far from you.

In the most recent months, it felt like you two had become inseparable. That’s not to say it was a bad thing at all, oh no in fact, it made you quite happy to know he was around. He was your friend after all. The sex-thing, as you opted to call it, was just a benefit you both indulged in time to time.

Of course, neither of you dared to openly admit your scandalous behavior together. It wasn’t anyone’s business, even as Theodore had started seeing less women and spending less nights out partying. It wasn’t anyone’s business when Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulder while walking around Hogsmeade, or when he smiled at you when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t anyone’s business whenever Theo stopped sleeping around completely, and it certainly wasn’t their business when he beat the shit out of one of the Weasley twins for accidentally catching you in the crossfire of a loose prank.

It wasn’t anyone’s business besides the two of yours, and for the most part people had began to ignore it, except for a select group of close friends.

A day didn’t go by where you weren’t pestered by one of Theodore’s friends. They collectively figured that you were more likely to break under pressure than Theo was. It was ruthless.

Draco Malfoy stands at the front of your desk, glaring down at you. “You know you’re just another one of his phases. He does this. Falls helplessly in love with a girl, dedicates his entire time to her, only to remember he isn’t built for that life. It’s about time you save yourself the trouble. I’m only trying to help.”

Not everyone was as terrible as Draco, thankfully.

Mattheo Riddle would approach you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, putting on his most convincing Theodore impression. “Ciao, Bella,” even his most convincing impression wasn’t very good, “My room or yours?”

Sometimes you play along, running your hands over Mattheo’s in a way that makes his skin prick with goosebumps. “I was thinking we could do it on Matt’s bed again.”

That usually get’s you a hard shove away if Theodore hadn’t already spotted the situation.

Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t as insistent, just staring at the two of you, raising a brow whenever he finds you hand in hand. He draws a huge smirk on his face every time he sees you alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“You mean your boyfriend? I see the way you look at him, don’t play dumb Enzo.”

He doesn’t like that game as much. Usually scoffs and ignores you.

Then there was Blaise Zabini.

Blaise Zabini.

He knows more than he should. Far more than he should. He watches. He listens. He knows. He perceives.

The first time Blaise found you asleep in Theo’s arms, it was early in the morning. Their little clique never missed breakfast together unless something drastic had happened. So, whenever Theodore didn’t show up for breakfast, Blaise volunteered to check on him. Only Draco questioned it when Blaise grabbed a plate and two muffins(“Those are practically cakes, Nott’s fat ass doesn’t need one to begin with, let alone two! Doesn’t even show up to quidditch practice anymore.”). Draco was ignored.

“You’re going to lose her if you keep acting like this, you know that right?”

Theodore tries to ignore Blaise as best he can, he really does. He traces his fingers over your hair softly, watching you dream.

“Just tell her, Theo. What are you so scared of?”

“Drop it, Blaise.”

“No. You obviously love her, you’re obviously in love with her!”

“Lower your voice-“

“Why are you so scared? Is it your father, Theo? Is it your-”

“I mean it Zabini, drop it.”

The room goes eerily quiet as you shift slightly in Theodores arms. It lasts for only a moment before your breathing returns to the deep, rhythmic patterns.

“Get out.”

Blaise didn’t brother bringing it up after that. He knew what was going to happen, and he was going to let it play out. It wasn’t his business, after all.

Your friends weren’t much different. You stopped hanging out with them as much, not on purpose at all, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe one or two of your friends resented Nott for it, “He’s a playboy, everyone knows that. I don’t like how close he’s getting to you.” Or “You aren’t… sleeping with him right? Please tell me you aren’t.”

Both you and Theodore laughed endlessly about every comment. It was silly. I mean yeah, you two fuck, but you’re just friends. You’re just friends, and friends can totally cuddle each other to sleep, and friends can totally kiss without sex. Its not a big deal! Its not a big deal as Theo almost pukes every time he says, “You’re my friend, I’d tell you if anything changed.” And it’s not a big deal when your chest aches as you say “Same here. It’s not that weird when you think about it.”

It wasn’t a big deal the first time you cried during sex. It wasn’t a big deal when he pulled out immediately and held your face, asking what he can do for you to make it better. It wasn’t a big deal when you sobbed in his arms for hours, chest hurting because you loved him so much and you knew you could never say anything. It wasn’t a big deal when Theodore kissed your mouth shut when you tried to apologize. It was a big deal though. It was a really big deal.

It was a big deal when you wrote your name next to Nott like a child. It was a big deal when you kicked your feet in bed thinking about how he called you pretty. It was a big deal when he kissed your cheek so absentmindedly that it felt natural. It felt right.

It was a big deal, and it hurt so bad.

But you could manage. Look at how strong you are. Look at how composed you are. You knew that one day all of this would come to an end, and you were okay with that! It was something you knew you could one day stomach, so for now, you didn't let yourself worry about it.

What you worried about instead, was how fine the object of your affection looked tonight.

Theodore was dressed to the nines. Black slacks, a loose button-up shirt, and those eyes that undressed you no matter where you were. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. You looked wonderful too, showing just enough skin to keep Theo on his toes.

Slytherin winning the house cup was a moment to be celebrated, the common room decorated and loud music playing from every corner of the room. You and Theodore spent every moment together, laughing whenever someone dared approach either of you for a dance.

Smoke curled out of Theodore's lips as he snuffed out the filter of a joint you had shared. He grinned at you, and you smiled at him, and everything else faded away.

Time slowed down, and Theodore's smile fell.

"I want to be with you, this summer."

And you laughed and smiled, nudging his arm slightly. "Well, all you need to do is invite me to your summer home in Italy, and I promise I'll spend every day with you."

"No. I want to be with you."

And for a moment, it felt like everything was still. Theodore looked so scared, and you looked so scared, and your mind was fighting the high to fully understand and process his words.

"With me?"

"With you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost not realizing whenever Theodore groaned and stood up.

"Theo."

"Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Theodore."

"I'm sorry. I knew we shouldn't have."

"Theodore Nott, look at me right now."

And he did. He looked at you so sadly. It made your heart ache.

"I want to be with you, too."

It felt like a brick that sat on your heart had finally been lifted. You laughed at the smile that spread across his face. You laughed as he pressed sloppy kisses against your lips. You laughed as he picked you up, kissing you stupid as he carried you to your room.

The weed still made your mind and body buzz with a high, and fuck, every touch felt better than ever before.

Your back hit the mattress, and Theo climbed over you. He looked so handsome, and you felt so pretty the way he looked at you. His hands worked at your dress, pulling you into a deep kiss as he found the zipper in the back.

Your hands gracelessly unbuttoned his shirt, whining into the kiss as you struggled. Finally, with a small chuckle, Theo offered to help you. His hands worked smoothly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

"You're stunning."

"Take a look at yourself, cara mia."

Theodore pushed you back down, gripping your hips as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You laugh, resting your hands over his, feeling just how wet you are between your thighs. You lean your head back, sighing softly as Theo drops to his knees.

Nothing else mattered when Theodore's tongue found your clothed pussy. His strong and veiny hands pushed your thighs further apart, and pathetic mewls spilled from your lips as he licked you.

Theodore continued to tease you, a grin plastered to his face at every moan and whine you let slip out. He licks over the lace of your panties, daring to suck on your clit through the soaked fabric. Pleas spill from your lips, and Theo can't bite back his groan as you tug on his curls.

Dead eyes look up at you from between your legs, and Theo pulled away just enough to remove the lace hiding your heat from him. He blows on your wet folds, pulling your thighs to his shoulders.

"I think I could stay like this forever, right here."

You roll your eyes and sit up, pulling Theo up just enough to admire his wet face. "I think I'd miss your face too much," you laugh, leaning in and kissing his lips, shivering as you taste yourself on him.

"I have a few other positions that I wouldn't mind staying in."

You push away his smirking face with a laugh, gasping for air suddenly as his mouth finds your clit. Gasps turn into soft whines as his tongue moves across your pearl, your hips jerking and shifting at each motion. You can feel his smirk as he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your arousal on his tongue.

"Theo," You whine out, but he silences you with a long finger prodding at your entrance. He shushes you, planting wet kisses along your thigh. "I know, bella, just take a deep breath. 'Gotta stretch you out all the way."

A needy moan slipped from your lips as a finger slipped inside of you. You could hear how wet you were, and Theo pulled back just enough to watch the digit disappear inside of you. He pressed a second finger in, carefully spreading them inside of you.

"So soft. So pliant."

His whispers made your legs shake as he stretched you out thoroughly. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, and it became almost unbearable as his lips found your clit again. He was slow, savoring the feeling of your legs shaking beside his head, and the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Ecstasy flooded your mind before you had a moment to think about it. Theo groaned into your cunt, committing the taste to memory. He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt until you were shaking in overstimulation, only then finally freeing himself from between your legs.

"You have one more in you, right? Can't get enough of you, cara mia. Will never have enough of you."

[discotitsposts]

Just Ecstasy

18+ bdsm, bondage, kinks, etc so mdni

she her pronouns used

me: i’m not gonna write smut for a while probably

also me: makes this fic

You loved your boyfriend. Really loved him. You would do anything. Well, almost anything.

The idea had seemed fun at first. A kinky little game only you two could know about.

When Spencer had held your wrists together waiting for your permission, you took a breath and said “Go ahead.”

However, the second he clicked the metal cuffs around your wrists you freaked out and tried to pull them off. You hated the feeling. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe with Spencer. That was one of the strongest feelings you felt with him.

In one quick motion he had unlocked the cuffs and held you saying over and over again, “It’s alright, they’re off, you’re ok.”

You two hadn’t spoken of this again.

Until you thought about it. You had wanted that so badly you had just been nervous. Of what exactly? You didn’t know. You wanted to try again.

A week later when Spencer gets home, you’re waiting in your sexiest lingerie smiling, holding up a pair of handcuffs that may work better for you. They had a soft padding on the inside. Not as harsh as just metal. You had picked them up at a sex shop earlier that day just for the occasion.

Spencer walks over to you and kisses you. “What’s all this?” He asks.

“You should know smarty pants.” You tease handing him the cuffs.

“I thought you were nervous. I just don’t want to upset you.”

“No no, we should have started with these. The metal ones just freaked me out.”

“Are you sure? Like are you surely sure?”

“I’m so sure, that I hid the key.” You laugh.

“YOU WHAT?!” Spencer yells.

“I didn’t want to chicken out again!” You shrug.

“Tell me where it is now.”

“Sorry you’re going to have to force it out of me mister agent.” You smirk.

“That’s Doctor agent to you missy.”

You turn around and shake your ass a little, “Come get me and force a confession out of me mister doctor sir.”

That’s just what he did.

Before he handcuffed your hands behind your back, he made sure you were alright. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nod confidently.

He yet again put the cuffs on you. The click of the cuffs made a shiver run down your spine in anticipation.

He breaks character to ask, “Feel okay?”

“Yes. I’m alright.” You weren’t lying. It felt much better this time. You felt no anxiety. Just ecstasy. You practically moan at his hands roaming your body. Then his next move shocks you. Quickly getting back into character, he bends you over the table and spanks you.

“Wanna tell me where that key is young lady?” He threatens dominantly.

“Nope. My lips are sealed.”

“Hmm she’s stubborn.” He grabs your favorite vibrator and a paddle. “We’ll soon fix that.”

He presses the button on the vibrator. Nothing. “How the hell do you turn this on.” He asks.

You giggle. “Shut up.” He sneers. You stop laughing.

“Here let me.” You click and hold the button with your arms behind you. You hear the BZZZZZ immediately after.

“Thanks. Ok now, tell me where you hid it. Or I’ll be forced to use harsher methods.” He rubs the vibrator along your most sensitive spot. It feels amazing.

Moaning, you say, “Never.”

“Oh really?” He turns off the vibrator. You hear the buzzing stop and try to look behind you but you can’t see anything.

Spencer’s hands go up your waist and he starts tickling you. Your weakness. You scream-laugh.

“OH MY GOD AHAHAHAH!! SPENCER NO!”

“Tell me.” He says firmly.

“OK FINE ITS IN THE MEDICINE CABINET!!HAHAHAHAHA BEHIND YOUR EYE DROPS!!”

“Thank you.” He picks you up brings you to the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and leaves you there with the vibrator pressed against you.

He comes back holding the key. You think he’s going to uncuff you so you try to lift your hands.

He walks closer to you until his crotch is near your face. He runs his hand along your hair and says,“Oh I’m not done with you yet sweetheart. We’re just getting started!”

writing this had me 😫💗

this is probably the most sexy time i’ve ever written so hopefully it’s alright for like the first one

literally wrote this in like 20 minutes. how?!

hope anyone who reads this enjoys!! I love feedback!! 💗💗

tags/

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

(if anyone else would like to be tagged in future works don’t hesitate to lmk!)

[morgana-larkin]

Okay hear me out. Ik this might be alot like another prompt from another author but i love it and wanna see ur spin on it. Pure fem! Reader and melissa just dying to corrupt her and have some fun.

Hi! I think I know the exact fic you’re referring too! I’m so happy that you want to see my spin on it. And here it is! So much longer than I expected but I don’t think anyone will complain. Due to me being stuck in bed with a twisted ankle, I’ll be able to write another fic! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: Due to a bit of confusion about who I write for, I will add to my masterlist who I write for. Also, since I will be starting to write for other characters, I changed my taglist to a Melissa and Chessy taglist. If you want to be on my main taglist for when I write for Marilyn, Misty and Moiraine, then let me know!

Italian translations:

Dio mio - oh my god

Mia angelo - my angel

Bella - beautiful

Amo il tuo corpo e voglio rivendicarlo - I love your body and want to claim you

Il Suo Angelo (Her Angel)

Warnings: pure innocent reader, horny af Mel, smut, lots of teasing, fluffy Mel

Words: 8.6k (have fun! 😉)

You walked in the break room and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Wow kid, if you went any faster I’d think you’re a speedster or something.” Melissa said and you looked at her and chuckled. And at that Ava walked in and walked to coffee machine but then stood by it and waited till you were done.

“Caffeine is my saviour lately, I’ve been so stressed lately.” You told her.

“Oh girl, what you need is to get you some. Then all the stress will disappear.” Ava piped up and you looked at her confused.

“Some what?” You asked her and Melissa glanced over at you.

“Some sex.” Ava said, blunt as ever and you blushed.

“Oh um, I don’t know. I want my first time to be special.” You told her.

“You’re a virgin?” Ava asked and you nodded. “Girl, look at you, how have you not had sex yet?” And you blushed and looked down at the ground.

“Um, I- I don’t know.” You said and took your coffee and sat down at a free table near Melissa and Barb.

“Hey kid.” Melissa says and you turn to look at her.

“Ya?”

“Are you one of those people that waits until marriage?” Melissa asked and you blushed.

“Uh no. Just um never got a chance to and wasn’t really a big discussion or something that was talked about in my family.” You told her.

“Are you saying your parents never explained sex to you before?” She asked and you blushed and looked down at the ground. Melissa got up and walked over to you, you saw her heeled boots and leather pants and looked up at her face. “Are you uncomfortable with talking about it?”

“A little bit.” You admit and she smirked.

“You don’t have to be kid. Just don’t talk about it with the students as you’re not a sex Ed teacher. But we’re adults here, and it’s fun to do.” She tells you and your eyes widen at that.

“Melissa!” Barb says to stop her.

“What? It’s not like you’re a virgin.” Melissa says to Barb.

“Well I know but no need to traumatise the poor girl.” Barb scolds her and Melissa sighs then looks at you.

“How old are you?” She asks you.

“Um I’m 27.” You tell her and everyone looks at you with wide eyes. “What?” You ask everyone.

“You’re 27, you’re a virgin and uncomfortable with the discussion of sex.” Melissa tells you and your cheeks go red.

“It’s also a bit hard to find dates when you like women.” You say and she smirks.

“Alright I’ll give you that, but since you’re new to Philly, I’ll just tell you that it’s a little easier to find dates with women here.” Melissa tells you, leaning down towards you a bit and you unconsciously lick your lips and stare at her.

Melissa walks back to her seat and goes back to her phone like nothing happened, while you go back to your coffee.

On the outside, it seems like Melissa isn’t doing anything different, but on the inside, in her brain is another story. She saw how you reacted to her and she finds it very interesting that you seem so innocent. Maybe she can have some fun with you.

At the end of the day, Melissa passes by your classroom like always and sees you sitting in your chair, writing something. She goes over to your door and knocks.

“Hi Melissa.” You say when you look up.

“Hey kid. Whatcha working on?” She asks and you sigh.

“I’m a little behind on grading.” You say with a small pout. “The lessons are a bit difficult for them so I haven’t had a lot of time to grade since I’m answering questions most of the time.” And she nods, then an idea pops in her head.

“Maybe I could keep you company?” She offers and you freeze.

“Wh-what?” You ask her and she smiles.

“I could keep you company if you want.” She offers again.

“Oh that’s really sweet but I don’t want to inconvenience you or ruin your night.” You tell her and she smiles softly at you, you’re so sweet and innocent she thinks.

“It’s not a problem hon. I don’t have any plans tonight and it was just going to be a boring night at home by myself on the couch.” She tells you.

“Well I won’t force you to stay or go, but if you want to stay then I wouldn’t mind the company.” You say with a sweet smile.

She grins at you and then grabs one of the students chair and brings it your desk to sit right across from you. Let the teasing begin, she thinks to herself.

“So” she starts, after about 10 seconds of silence. “How come your family never discussed sex?” She asks and you whip your head at her and blush.

“Oh um. I don’t know, it just wasn’t.” You tell her.

“Sheltered life then?” She asks you.

“I guess a bit.” You say with a shrug and then get back to grading. Melissa leans forward and puts her chin on her hands and smirks.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” She asks so casually. And you look up at her confused.

“Sorry, a what?” You ask and she tilts her head a bit.

“An orgasm hon.” She repeats and you look confused.

“What’s an orgasm?” You ask, and inside Melissa is beaming with mischief.

“An orgasm is a build up of pleasure when having sex.” She says and your face goes red. “And when it’s released, all the feel good hormones and emotions come with it.” She explains and you stare at her like a deer in the headlights. While she has your attention, she moves her arms down to be placed casually on the desk and leans forward. Her arms push her chest up a bit and with the shirt she’s wearing with a v-dip in the front, it gives you a nice view of her cleavage. Melissa pretends to be looking at the paper you’re grading, but she saw you glance down at her chest and lick your lips. “So you never touched yourself?” She asks and it takes a second for your brain to process that she spoke, and then another second to process what she said and you look at her confused again.

“What do you mean touch myself? Touch where?” You ask and Melissa is grinning.

“Touch yourself down there.” She says and points to in between your legs.

“Well I do when I go to the bathroom.” You say, confused to what she’s getting at.

“I meant, touch yourself… sexually.” She explains and your face goes redder than her hair.

“Wh-what? Why-why would I do that?” You say and sit up a bit straight.

“Because, it feels good.” She says with a shrug. “So you’ve never done that either?” She asks.

“No I haven’t.” You tell her and Melissa is beaming with excitement on the inside. Oh, all the ways she can corrupt you.

“So, your little innocent act isn’t an act at all. You’re actually a good girl.” She tells you and your eyes widen a little bit and Melissa notices the effect her words have on you. They say it’s the shy innocent ones you gotta look out for. And you are so innocent, it’s adorable, Melissa thinks.

Melissa stopped so that you wouldn’t be wondering why she’s suddenly curious about that part of your life…at least for today. She just carries on a normal conversation with you. Until the next day…

At the end of the day she stopped by your classroom again. “Still more grading?” She asks and you look up at her.

“M afraid so.” You say. “They’ve done 2 tests and a project in the past 2 weeks and I was starting to get behind but now I’m very behind.” You tell her and she walks in.

“Want some company again?” She asks and you glance up at her. You wanna say yes cause you are attracted to her but yesterday she asks a few questions and you’re wondering why it was on the topic that it was. But of course, your want for her to be close wins over.

“Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you.” You tell her with a smile. Instead of bringing a chair over, she sits on the desk closest to yours. You can’t help but stare as she sits with her legs slightly apart, a bit more than what is considered normal. And she’s also leaning back a bit with her hands on the desk.

“Have you been on dates? Been in relationships?” She asks and you let out a sigh of relief. Glad it’s not on the topic it was yesterday.

“Yes, I’ve been on a few dates. I’ve had one relationship but it didn’t last long. Like maybe 2-3 months.” You tell her.

“3 months and you didn’t have sex with her?” She asks and you groan very quietly.

“Why? Is that bad?”

“Well, not really. I mean it’s the people in the relationship that choose that. But typically people have sex within the first 3-8 weeks of a relationship.” She explains.

“She broke up with me because we didn’t have…you know. And because there was no discussion about it either.” You tell her. On the outside she was nodding in understanding, on the inside, she was smirking. You were so innocent you didn’t want to even say sex. God, she’s going to have a lot more fun with you. It helps that she’s attracted to you and you’re attracted to her.

Melissa got off the desk and leaned on your desk. “I’m not saying that you should have had sex with her, you know. It’s at your pace.” Even though she’s having fun with you, she wants to make sure that you don’t feel bad. You had a difficult time listening to what she was saying as her cleavage was right there. Melissa smirks as she catches on and she gets an idea. She goes to move her hands off the desk and straighten her posture but “accidentally” knocks a pen off your desk. “Oh sorry, I’ll get it.” She tells you and walks the 2 steps over and bends down. She makes sure to bend down so her ass was on display for you. When she bent down, she glanced very quickly at your reaction and you were staring right at her ass like she wanted. She stood back up and put the pen back on your desk. She wonders how else she can corrupt and tease you.

She does this for the next 2 days, just gives you little views of her cleavage, and ass if the opportunity presents itself.

On Friday is when she got a little more mischievous. She visits you in your classroom like normal as you're almost done grading all of the tests. She sits on a desk again and starts up a conversation with you. 20 minutes later and you finish grading with a smile.

“There! Finally finished.” You say and she claps.

“Congrats! Now they can stop pestering you.” She jokes and you laugh.

“Ya, first graders aren’t known for their patience.” You say and she giggles.

“Neither are second graders.” She jokes back with you and you laugh. You put the tests in a basket neatly to be handed back to them tomorrow and you stand up to get your things ready. Melissa gets off the desk and walks over to you without you hearing her.

Once all your things are in your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and turn around. You nearly bump into Melissa and you see her cleavage again. Melissa is smiling as she wore a push up bra and a shirt that makes her tits look amazing while still being appropriate for school. You tilt your head up and look at her. You then step to your left and try to psss by her but she stops you with an arm. She puts her hand on the board to stop you from leaving and she moves a bit so she’s in front of you with your back on the board. Your face goes red with the close proximity and you don’t know what to do.

“M-mel- Melissa? What are you doing?” You stutter out and she smiles.

“Nothing hon. Do I make you nervous?” She asks you and your cheeks turn pink.

“A little bit.” You admit nervously.

“Hmm, and why do I make you nervous?” And you don’t know how to respond to that.

“Um, well I - you… um. You just do.” You settle on that and she smirks at you. You then duck under her arm and speed walk out of there. Melissa isn’t at all disappointed that you found an escape, she’s finding it amusing that you basically bolted out of there while trying to be subtle.

During the weekend, you thought about how close Melissa was to you and then you for some reason felt a wetness between your thighs that only happened one other time before and you’re not sure what it meant. You googled it and most of them say it’s a result of getting turned on and you decide to ignore that fact and try to focus on other things. Try being the important word. Your thoughts keep shifting back to Melissa and her perfect cleavage, her perfect ass, the close proximity, her amazing smile and almost glowing hair that’s perfect for her. You rub your thighs together and then you freeze, why did you do that? And why are you wet again? All these thoughts keep your weekend busy. And then you wake up Monday morning and prepare for another week. Maybe now you won’t have thoughts of Melissa that makes you feel weird things. Oh were you wrong.

You went in the break room and there Melissa was, glasses on and she’s leaning slightly to the desk, writing something. Her perfect cleavage on display and she looks really pretty with glasses on. With or without glasses she looks pretty. You try not to stare at her and go to the coffee machine.

“Hello dear. How was your weekend?” Barb asks you and you turn to her. You go to answer and then you see Melissa smiling at you and your mouth stays slightly open for a couple seconds. And then you remember you were asked a question.

“It-it was good, just a relaxing weekend. Got all my grading done last week so I pretty much just enjoyed the weekend.” You tell her and she smiles at you. You then glance at Melissa and she winks at you, your cheeks turn pink a bit at that.

“That’s good to hear dear. You deserve a stress free weekend.” Barb tells you.

“Thank you. Ho-how was your weekend?” You ask her and she goes into explaining her day out with Gerald. She tried listening but you saw Melissa smiling at you, at some point she took off her glasses and put the tip of it in her mouth. And to top it off, she crosses her arms in a way that pushes her breast up and you lose all brain function. All of that happens in the space of 3 minutes but it feels like much longer. “What about you Melissa?” You ask her when Barb is done.

“It was good, hon. Like you I stayed home, and de-stressed.” She sends you another wink when Barb isn’t looking and you widen your eyes a bit.

After you go to your classroom and continue out the day. When all your students leave, you pack up your things and hear someone come in. Although you know who came in as you recognize the sound of her heels, Melissa.

“Hey hon.” She says and you turn around as she’s walking in.

“Hey Melissa. I don’t need any company today as all my grading is done.” You tell her, you were a littl disappointment, you were starting to like spending that time with her.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. It was a nice little routine last week.” She tells you and you nod. She walks towards you a bit more until she’s 2 feet away from you. “Want to know more about my weekend?” She asks with a deeper voice and you shiver a little bit. You think she didn’t notice as she didn’t react or say anything but she did notice.

“Um sure.” You tell her with a slight stutter.

“Well as I said I stayed home and de-stressed.” She began and you nodded. “Well want to know how I de-stressed?” She said and she walked towards you and you walked back a bit until you ran into the chalkboard. She pressed her body against yours a bit, leaned towards your ear and whispered the answer. “I imagined you in my bed, underneath me. Then I put my hand between my legs, I fingered myself and rubbed my clit until I had an orgasm. And I said your name when I did.” She tells you and then pulls her head back and looks at your face.

Your mouth is slightly open in shock, your eyes wide, cheeks flushed, your breathing deepened, and you rubbed your thighs together. Melissa is smiling at your reaction.

“Hmm, you know you’re cute when you react like that.” She tells you as she tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. Your still frozen in shock and don’t respond to her. She gently strokes down your arm with two fingers. “Hmm, you’re so innocent, hon. Do you like it when I think about you like that?” She asks, and your cheeks turn red.

“I-um…I-you… uh, um, like…” you stutter and she smirks at you.

“Oh hon, did I make you speechless?” She asks with mock sympathy. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you and how she affects you and she’s enjoying it. “Why don’t I make it up to you hm. How about on Friday after school, you come over to my place and I’ll cook you dinner.” She says and you’re speechless again. “You can nod or shake your head as an answer.” She tells you, deciding to take a little bit of pity on you. You nod your head and she smiles. “Perfect.” She tells you. She grabs her phone and presses a couple things then looks at you. “What’s your number?” She asks and you look at her confused. “So I can text you my address.” She explains and you gulp. You then muster up enough courage to give her your number. She then sends a text and your phone vibrates in your pocket with a notification. She looks at you with a smirk. “Hope that’s not the only thing you have that vibrates.” She says and you look at her confused. She decides to not explain it and instead reaches for your phone, she slides her hand down you a bit, sticks her hand a bit in your pocket and wraps her hand around your phone and tugs it out. She then slides her hand up between you both and hands you your phone. “You can look up what I meant. Search what vibrators are for.” She tells you with a wink and then she walks out with a sway in her hips.

You stare at her ass as she walks out, completely mesmerized. At home you look up vibrators and your face goes red at what it says they’re for. She said a sexual innuendo and it went right over your head with your lack of knowledge on the subject.

The rest of the week goes by normally. Melissa doesn’t have an opportunity to drop by your classroom as she’s busy. She still sends winks your way when she can. And she bends over for you to see her cleavage when you’re looking, especially in the break room. And when she walks away from where you are, she sways her hips more so you can stare at her ass moving. On Friday she stops by your classroom briefly at the end of the day.

“Hey hon.”

“H-hi Melissa.”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re still coming over tonight.” She tells you.

“Of-of course. I’ve heard great things about your cooking and wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well good, you won’t be disappointed. A meal you won’t forgot.” She tells you with a slightly deeper voice and winks after. You feel your mouth dry and in between your legs get wet and you gulp.

“Do-” you squeak out then clear your throat as your mouth was dry. “Do you want me to bring anything?” You ask her and she walks closer to you and puts a finger under your chin.

“Hmm, just need to bring your pretty self.” She hums and you blush. You forgot how to English for a second and decide to nod in reply. She smiles at you and hums again. “Good.” She says and sways her hips as she walks out. She stops when she reaches the door, puts her hand on the doorframe and glances back at you. “Show up at 6, don’t be late.” She tells you and winks. She then continues walking to her car, leaving you in your classroom, stunned for a minute. Your body then remembers how to work and you walk to your car to get home to change.

You get home and strip out of your work clothes. You suddenly don’t know what to wear, she said it wasn’t a date but you want it to be a date, and want to impress her as you have a crush on her . You then decide to put a robe on and video chat your older sister.

“Hey you, what’s up?” She says when she picks up.

“Hey sis, I need your help. So I have a crush on a coworker. And she invited me over for dinner to her place. She never said it was a date but I still want to impress her.” You explain to her and she chuckles.

“So you need help choosing an outfit?” She asks and you nod. “Alright, show me what options you were thinking of and I’ll let you know if it’s a yes or no.” She says and you nod. You spend the next 20 minutes showing her your clothes as she said no to everything you were thinking of wearing. You then settled on an outfit you both agreed looks good. You then thank her and she makes you promise to tell her all about it tomorrow, and hangs up.

You then shower, blow dry your hair, and brush your teeth. You put on your outfit, which is a cute dark purple dress that stops mid thigh, with a small v-dip and black stockings, with small heels that are black, and a fancy black sweater to complete the look. You then quickly curl the bottom half of your hair then keep it all down. You then apply a bit of purple eyeshadow, some mascara and tinted lip balm. You realise it’s time to go and you grab your purse and head to her place.

You arrive at 5:57 and you take a minute to breath and calm your heart down and give yourself a small pep talk. “Ok remember y/n, she’s a coworker and friend. She may be your crush but try and keep all thoughts of kissing her out of your head.” You say, then let out another breath before getting out and walking to her door.

You knock on her door and she opens it with a smile. You should have added more to your pep talk then just thoughts of kissing her. As she’s wearing a low cut red shirt, that shows her cleavage more than the shirts she wears at school does. She also has on black leggings and her hair up in a ponytail with her bangs framing her face perfectly. You stare at her and forgot to say anything as your brain is busy processing the outfit.

“Wow, you look nice angelo.” She tells you, and if you paid any attention to her eyes you would have noticed her pupils are a bit blown as her eyes roam up and down your body.

“Th-thanks, so do you.” You say and she smiles.

“Thank you.”

“What did you call me?” You ask her

“Angelo, it means angel.” She says and you smile. “Come on in.” She tells you.

“Are you sure? Your mat says go away.” You say with a smile to show her that you’re joking and she giggles.

“That’s because I only let a few people come inside.” She tells you and you blush. You had no idea that you were one of the select few that she’s invited to her house. You nervously step inside her house and she closes the door behind you and you take your heels off.

“Wow, you have a lovely home. Not at all what I expected.” You tell her and she laughs.

“Oh ya? And what did you expect to see?” She asks you as she leads you to the kitchen.

“I don’t know to be honest. I haven’t figured you out yet. But I guess one that has a little less, homey feeling I suppose.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“If it makes you feel better about your expectation, I have about 5 bats hidden around the house.” She tells you and you smile.

“Now that does sound like you. I’m honestly less surprised you have bats hidden than I was about what your house looks like.” You joke and she giggles.

You enter her kitchen and you’re immediately surrounded with the smell of dinner and your stomach grumbles. “Now are you too innocent for wine or do you drink that?” She asks you with a slight smirk but she’s also curious.

“I do have a glass from time to time. Mostly at family gatherings. Which is about 4-5 times a year.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well is it alright if I pour you a glass?” She says and shows you the bottle.

“That’s my favourite!” You tell her and she beams.

“Really? Mine too.” She tells you and pours some in a glass for you. “I knew you must have good taste.” She says and hands you a glass.

“Thank you.” You tell her and you both clink your glasses together and then take a sip. Then the oven dings and Melissa puts down her glass and walks over to it. She slips on an oven mitt, opens the oven and takes out the food. You see the food and you have no idea what it is but it looks good. “Wow, that looks amazing! What is it?” You ask her and she smiles at you.

“It’s skillet chicken cacciatore.” She tells you and you smile.

“It’s Italian?” You ask her and she nods. Wow, Italian accent is beautiful, you think.

“You think I’m beautiful when I speak Italian?” She asks you and you realise you said it out loud and you blush.

“Did I say that out loud?” You ask her and she nods with a smirk.

“Is there a translation for the last word?” You ask.

“For cacciatore?” She asks and you nod. “Yep, it means hunter.” She tells you and you look at her confused. “I don’t know the story behind the name. That’s just what it’s called and you don’t ask questions.” She tells you as she puts some on 2 plates and you laugh.

“Alright then. No questions, got it.” You tell her and she tells you to bring the wine and guides you to the dinner table.

You two sit down and then you take a bite and you let out a moan at how good it tastes. You look over to see Melissa holding her glass with a smirk.

“What?” You ask her.

“I knew I would like how you sound when you moan.” She tells you then takes a sip of the wine.

“Where else would I make that noise?” You ask her.

“In bed.” She says so casually as she cuts up a piece of the chicken. “When someone or yourself is giving you pleasure.” She tells you and she slides her foot up your leg. You choke on the food as you swallow, from her foot touching you like that or her comment, you’re not sure. She leans back in her chair and takes a bite of the food with a smile on her face.

You watch as a bit of sauce is at the corner of her lips and she licks it off with her tongue. You stare and she smirks when she sees you staring. You realise she’s looking at you staring and you sheepishly go and cut up a piece of food and look down.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about staring at me. I know you find me attractive.” She tells you and you freeze. You were about to take a bite as your fork is right in front of your mouth and your mouth is open. The piece of chicken falls off your fork and lands in a spot with some sauce and some flies to your face.

“Ah.” You yelp as you were surprised and Melissa snorts.

“Here hon.” She says as she takes your chin and turns your head to face her. She uses her thumb to wipe off where it got you and it seems it got you a few times. She wipes off the spot underneath your eye, on your cheek and right under your bottom lip. Melissa freezes and keeps her thumb at your bottom lip and then she traces it. You have no idea what’s going on but you don’t stop her. You start breathing heavier and she pulls back and goes to continue eating. You don’t comment on it and just continue eating. Once you’re both done, you clear the table and give the plates a quick rinse as she puts the leftovers in containers and then puts them in the fridge. She closes the fridge door as you dry your hands.

“Thank you for dinner and the wine Melissa it was really go-” you’re cut off as you turn around and Melissa lips are on yours. You kiss her back after a second when your brain starts working again. She presses you into the counter and you gasp, Melissa takes the opportunity and slips her tongue in and tastes you. You put your hands in her hair and remember she has a ponytail and you whine. She pulls back and laughs.

“Are you upset I have my hair in a ponytail?” She asks and you nod with a pout. “Hmm, well you know, there’s an easy fix.” She tells you and she slowly slides the elastic down and then shakes her head a few times to put her hair in place. “There, better?” She asks you and nod. She smiles then goes back to kissing you. You immediately put your hands in her hair and she moans into the kiss and you pull back.

“Is that the kind of pleasure you were talking about for that sound?” You ask her and she chuckles.

“Oh hon, you have no idea the kind of pleasure I can give you that’ll have you moaning like crazy.” She purrs in your ear and you shiver. The wet feeling between your legs is back and you rub your thighs together and Melissa notices. “Are you turned on hon?” She asks and you widen your eyes. Oh so Google was right about what that means. You nod at her and she smiles. “If you want, I can help you with that.” She tells you.

“How would you do that?”

“Well it would require you to lose your virginity.” She tells you and you open your mouth in shock. “And before you ask, yes, that feeling between your thighs, your pussy is wet cause you’re turned on and it gets wet so it doesn’t hurt when something is sliding in there.” She tells you.

“Sliding in there? You mean like a tampon?” You ask and she giggles.

“You’re so adorable.” She says and boops your nose. “No, I mean like my fingers.” She tells you. “For straight sex, it would be that a dick slides in you.” She tells you and your eyes widen. “I’m not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. But my offer is still available if you want to take care of that feeling right here.” She says and taps on your pussy and you flinch and let out a small yelp. “Either me or your own fingers.” She tells you and you look at her eyes that are full blown. You cup her cheek and trace under her eye with your thumb.

“Where did the green in your eyes go?” You ask her and she smiles.

“My eyes are blown. It’s what happens when you get turned on and want to have sex.” She tells you and your breath hitches. “Your eyes are blown too.” She tells you and you blush. It takes you about 5 seconds to come to a decision about her offer. It took 4 seconds of being distracted by her face and then one second to come to a decision.

“I want you to help me with the feeling.” You said a little embarrassed and nervous.

“Oh hon, you’ll have to ask me properly.” She told you and you whined as she pressed herself against your body. “Come on, you can do it.” She told you as she gently bit your ear.

“I-I want to have…” and you paused. Melissa pulled back and looked at you.

“What is it hon? Why can’t you say the word?” She asked you.

“Because I grew up thinking that you shouldn’t think about it or say it.” You told her and she stroked her cheek.

“Oh hon, it’s not a bad thing to vocalise that you want sex.” She told you. “Come here.” She said and she lead you to her bedroom. “Go sit on the foot of the bed.” She says and you obeyed while she closed the door and then walked over to you. “Now I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, and I won’t touch you unless you want me too but I do want to show you what I look like under my clothes, ok?” She tells you, thinking maybe you’ll be more comfortable when you see another woman’s body naked. You nod at her and she smiles.

She pulls her top off slowly, exposing all the skin of her stomach and you stare at all the soft looking skin and can’t help but touch it. So you do. She lets out a yelp and you pull back thinking you shouldn’t have.

“No no, it’s ok baby. You just surprised me as my shirt was covering my eyes.” She tells you and puts your hand back on her stomach. You feel all over her and you want more so you stand up. You move your hand to the back and hover over her bra clip. “Go on baby. You can unclip it.” She tells you and you do and take her bra off. Then you pull back and look at her. And you’re surprised you don’t faint right there. She looked so, so…

“Sexy.” You slip out and she smiles.

“Thank you, baby.” She tells you and you don’t even care right now about your thoughts.

“Melissa.” You tell her and she looks into your eyes.

“Yes baby?” She asks.

“I want…” you start and she just looks at you, letting you take your time. “I want… I want to have sex with you.” You say and she smiles.

“Well ask and receive baby.” She tells you and she kisses you again.

She then travels down to your neck and starts sucking and you let out a moan. She then starts to slowly lift your dress up and then you pull back and put your arms up, allowing her to take it off. She then unclips your bra and takes it off and looks at you.

“You’re so beautiful, Bella.” She says, remembering you liked it when she spoke Italian. You let out a groan and rub your thighs together. “Hmm, is me speaking Italian a turn on for you?” She asks and you nod. She pushes you on the bed and straddles your lap. “Well then.” She says and smirks, then pushes you more on the bed. “Amo il tuo corpo e voglio rivendicarlo.” She says seductively while grinding on you and you whine. “It means, I love your body and want to claim it.” She says and you put your hands on her.

“I want you to claim me, Mel.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Mel hm, I like it.” She tells you and you blush. She attacks your neck again and you gasp. It feels incredible what she’s doing on your neck. She then trails down to your chest and leaves kisses all over it, worshipping your body as it should be. She then takes a nipple in her mouth and you see stars. She then remembers that you’ve never masturbated either, never touched yourself. So she thinks she should probably go easy on you so you don’t get too overstimulated. “If it becomes too much for you, then let me know, ok?” She says and you nod.

“Keep going please. It feels amazing.” You tell her and she smiles and goes back to your nipple. You continue to let out gasps and moans as she swirls her tongue around your nipples and sucking on them.

“I’m so honoured.” She says as she runs her hands all over your chest and stomach. “Not only will I be your first, but I’ll also be the first person to ever give you pleasure, and that includes yourself. I can’t believe you went this long without it.” She tells you and you buck your hips and whine. “Alright since you’ve never had it before, I won’t keep you waiting much longer. But just know, in the future, I will.” She adds and you look at her.

“So there’ll be more?” You ask her and she tilts her head and looks at you.

“I mean if you want.” She says cautiously.

“Of course, I’ve been attracted to you since I started.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Good, cause I’m attracted to you as well.” She tells you. “I can take you on a date tomorrow if you want.” She offers and you nod. “Alright now, time to make you feel good.” She tells you and gets off the bed and takes your tights off. “You looked so innocent and adorable in that dress and tights. But I think you look better with them both off.” She then puts her fingers on your underwear and looks at you, you nod at her and she takes your underwear off. She then looks at you completely bare for her and she smiles warmly at you. “You look beautiful.” She says with a hum and you smile. “You look even more beautiful with a smile.” She adds and you blush.

She then gets on her knees, pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed, then does a big lick up your entire pussy. You gasp out and she moans at your taste.

“You taste amazing, mia angelo .” She says and licks your entrance while you gasp and moan at the amazing way her tongue is moving on you. You can’t help but grab her hair and run your fingers through her beautiful red locks. You keep bucking your hips so Melissa pins you down and then slides her tongue in your entrance and you let out a loud gasp and she smirks. She then goes to your clit after she slides her tongue in and out of you a few times. As soon as her tongue connects with your clit, you arch your back off the bed, causing her to use more strength to pin you down. You start grinding on her mouth and she doesn’t have the heart to stop you from doing that. She knows you haven’t felt anything like this before and knows it can be a lot the first time. Not that she remembers her first time as it was about 30 years ago, but considering how it feels everytime she has sex, she can imagine how it must feel the first time.

You start to feel a build up in your stomach and you don’t know why. “Mel, why do I have a strangle feeling in my stomach?” You ask and she smiles. She pulls her tongue away but replaces it with her finger and continues rubbing your clit.

“Remember me explaining the orgasm build up?” She says and you nod. “Well that’s the build up. When it’s at its capacity you’ll let go and cum.” She tells you with a breathy voice. She wants to make sure she doesn’t overstimulate you without skin contact so she goes on top of you and looks at you while slowing down the movement on your clit. “I’m gonna stick my finger in you, it’s going to hurt a bit but that’s because your body isn’t used to it. I’ll go slowly but if it hurts too much or if you want me to pause but don’t want me to pull out then let me know ok?” She tells you and you nod. She then gets you to lay further up on the bed with your head on a pillow and she leans down on top of you. “Alright, ready?” She asks and you nod.

She then lines her finger up with your entrance and kisses you. She slowly slides the tip of her finger in and you gasp in the kiss. She then trails down to your neck so you can focus on her kisses on your body rather than the pain. She slides in more and sucks on your neck, you whimper a little bit but you don’t say anything so she keeps going. She slides it in all the way and she looks up at you while still sucking your neck.

“Do you feel pain mia angelo?” She asks when she pulls back and you nod. “Ok let me know when it goes away.” She kisses your neck and nipples for a few seconds and then you call her name.

“Mel, it went away.” You tell her and she nods. She then slowly pulls out then she slides back in again slowly. You gasp at the pleasure and you push her body closer to yours. She smiles at that and then goes a bit faster. You buck your hips to her body but can’t go very far as her body is pushed on yours, by you.

You end bending a knee slightly and accidentally put it between her legs, right up against her core, and the seam of her leggings touches her clit. She ends up doing a hard thrust by accident along with a “fuck.” From the pleasure and then asks you if you’re ok from the thrust.

“Can you do it again actually?” You ask her and your voice is very breathy at this point. She does a hard thrust again and you moan out at the pleasure. She then speeds up and does hard thrusts and your leg stays where it is. She grinds your leg a bit unconsciously and you notice and you smirk.

“Not so innocent now mia angelo.” She teases you when she notices your smirk to what you’re doing to her. She then pulls out of you completely and she quickly takes her leggings and underwear off. You go to whine at the loss of her finger when you see her strip in front of you then stare open mouthed at the sight of her pussy. She then goes back on your leg and sticks her finger back in. You moan out at the feeling of her finger, and then you feel her wetness spreading on your leg and you feel good knowing the effect you have on her.

“You feel very wet.” You tell her between moans and gasps.

“Yes mia angelo, that’s how much you turn me on.” She tells you and you smile. She puts her thumb on your clit when she feels her build up starting and knows it won’t take long. You say a little “aa” from her rubbing your clit and then she adds another finger in you slowly and you wrap your arms around her. You unknowingly press her down more on your leg and she moans out. The build up starts to get stronger and stronger in you and your legs start shaking and you’re breathing faster. “Just let your body do its thing and leg go when you need to.” She tells you when she feels your legs shaking. She’s close as well but wants you to come first.

A few seconds later you come with a high pitched gasp and she comes at the sight of you coming. She then stops and slowly and carefully, removes her thumb from your clit and pulls her fingers out. She then rolls over and lays down beside you, breathing fast. She then holds you in her arms while you shake as your body is trying to slow down your heart rate.

When your breathing slows down, you notice you put your hand on her boob unconsciously, then you squeeze it and rub your finger on the nipple. She lets out a whine and bucks her hip at that. You do the same to the other one and get the same reaction. She looks at you and sees you genuinely curious and interested in her boobs. You then go and lick one of her nipples and she lets out a gasp, you repeat the action and she moans softly. You then put it in your mouth and start sucking and licking. She bucks her hips and gasps. You pull back after a bit and you go to the other one.

“Mia angelo, what are you doing?” She asks before you get to the other one. “If you keep going you’re gonna make me want more.” She tells you and you put the other nipple in your mouth. You do the same thing and she moans and bucks her hips. “Angelo, please. I don’t think you realise how much you affect me.” She pleads and you look at her.

“Oh I do know actually.” You tell her and she looks at you going down her body and she whines. “You see, I felt you on my leg and how wet I make you.” You tell her and rub up and down her legs and feel how soft they are and you hum. “I also realised how much you teased me last week.” You say and kiss her thighs. You get close to where she wants you before pulling away and kissing her thighs again.

“Mia angelo. Stop teasing me.” She says and you look at her.

“Do you know how much I thought of you last weekend? Thoughts of you pushed up against me, and how wet that made me.” You tell her and she groans. You then slide up her body and come face to face with her. “I think it’s only fair that I do that to you.” You tell her and she whines. Of course, she thinks, they weren’t wrong when they say to watch out for the shy and innocent ones.

You then kiss her neck and she brings her hand down to touch herself. You notice it and don’t stop her. You kiss and suck on the other side of her neck and she slides a finger in herself.

“Are you making yourself feel good?” You question and she nods. You then grab her wrist of the hand that’s currently fingering herself and you make her pull her fingers out of herself. You then put her fingers in your mouth and you moan at the taste.

“Dio mio.” She gasps out as your tongue runs all over her two fingers. She definitely corrupted you, that’s for sure. You decide to finally give in and you move back down and put your mouth on her entrance. She bucks her hips as you connect your mouth to where she needs it. You then slip your tongue in her entrance and she squeaks out a moan. She starts grinding on your tongue and you moan. The sound vibrates on her and she gasps. “Dio mio, mia angelo. Your tongue feels so good.” She says and you smile. You then move to her clit and you slide a finger in her entrance. You move your tongue and hopefully you’re making her feel as good as she made you. She lets go of the sheets she was grabbing and grabs your hair instead. You add another finger in her and she screams out. You slide your fingers in and out of her and you love the way she feels inside, her wetness and warmth wrapped around your fingers and keeping you inside. You then feel her clench around your fingers and her legs start shaking. She then screams out as she comes but you don’t stop, too distracted by how she feels around your fingers and her taste. She continues grinding on your fingers and tongue as her build up is already starting again. She comes again not too long later and she then pulls you away. You pull out of her and climb up to lay beside her.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“No no, that felt incredible.” She says, trying to catch her breath. You beam at her words and she smiles at you. “Wow, I can’t remember the last time I came 3 times during sex.” She says and you blush. She wraps her arm around you. “Come here mia angelo.” She says and you snuggle into her. The two of you spend most of the weekend in her bed.

On Monday morning you walk in the break room a little weirdly but no one mentions it. Well not until Ava comes in and sees a hickey that you couldn’t cover due to how dark it was.

“Damn girl, did you get laid on the weekend?” She asks impressed and everyone except Melissa looks at you shocked. Melissa just continues on her phone.

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” You challenge back and Melissa snorts. You then go and sit down with Melissa and Barb as Melissa told you that you could this morning. Barb looks over to Melissa and sees Melissa wink and smile at you. Barb then sees a hickey on Melissa and she shakes her head at the two of you.

Ava sees Melissa’s wink and smile as well and then sees her hickey. “Melissa, I didn’t know you were into the innocent ones.” She tells her and everyone looks confused.

“And?” Is all Melissa says and everyone grins. Melissa then pulls your chair right beside her and wraps an arm around your waist and you lean into her.

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[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (4/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Haven't you heard? It's the end of the world. And what's a small wedding among friends and family? Oh, and Ben is really bad at being a functioning human being. And why does he keep looking at you like he can't decide between kissing and killing you. Wait, what?

Word count: 4.0k

Series masterlist

Warning: drunk!ben, language, angst, fluff (we've got everything!), mention of smut (not the way you think)

Author's note: Still feeling the muse, let's go!

This series was meant to be a three-parter, but while writing this I realized the third part was just the morning after 😅 So, I'm merging everything. Watched S3 after writing this. Just noticed Sloane actually made that dress herself, oops. 🥹 Eight is wearing the dress by Zuhair Murad on the right. For these events, Eight likes to cover her skin due to her powers making her feel sensitive. I figured if Allison can go all out, so can my character. It's the end of the world, what the heck. Please tell me you guys want to read my S4 fic when I start to work on that 🥹🤗 You know how it goes, comments and reblogs feed me.

“Hey, Y/N, where have you been?” The moment you heard Luther’s voice from a distance in the lobby, you turned your head to watch your brother walk arm in arm with Sloane towards you.

You winced at the reminder of the team meeting you had deliberately neglected to show up for. “Oh, I’m sorry. Luther. My body can’t handle the weird tension with Allison and Viktor. I’m all for easing tension, but I’m getting a migraine just being there. The last time I numbed myself was not a good week for me,” you explained, while realizing you were on a rambling roll when you were done.

“I understand. Listen-” Luther started.

“Luther and I just wanted to let you know,” Sloane snuggled deeper into his side before she gingerly raised her bejeweled hand, while pressing her lips together in a nervous but excited energy. “We’re getting married.”

It took you a few seconds to understand what your eyes were seeing. Your giggling eased the tightness in their bodies. “Oh my God. Congratulations, you two.” You had to stretch a bit on your tip toes to reach Luther’s gargantuan shoulders when you tried to hug them both simultaneously.

It was moments like this when you appreciated how Luther always gave the best hugs among your siblings when he squeezed you a tad tighter than you did. Still, no broken bones, no foul.

Lingering in their embrace, you felt like you could breathe again when you said, “I’m so happy for you, Luther. You guys deserve it.”

After finally letting go, Sloane offered you a grateful smile while rubbing the inside of Luther’s arm. “Thank you. It’s tonight, at 6 in the banquet hall. Black tie-” she said, listing off a mental checklist of important information.

“Which is in a few hours, so…” Luther added, chuckling excitedly.

You smiled, letting yourself be swept away by his infectious energy. “Can’t wait. Let me grab a dress real quick,” you replied, pointing with your thumb behind you and secretly hoping there will still some shops open. Or still standing.

Luther nodded in understanding. “Right, you do that. Gotta dash to my bachelor party. Can you believe I just said that?” He already walked a few steps when he stopped in his tracks.

“Forgot something.” With a surprising motion, Luther kissed Sloane, while lowering her into a dip and with such a passion like he didn’t need air. After that public display of affection, he rushed off with an adorable wave.

“You guys are sugary sweet. I feel like I could die just watching you,” you said with a dry tone.

Sloane’s cheeks were blushing when she staggered slightly. “He’s it for me.”

With arching eyebrows, you nodded. “I can see that. Now I gotta think about where to get a dress in the apocalypse.”

While following your steps, Sloane asked, “Do you mind if I catch one with you too?”

You chuckled at their spontaneously planned wedding. “Sure. Let’s make our own bachelorette party, huh? I’ll meet you here later, okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Let’s do that.”

Quickly, you rushed towards the elevator which transported you to the floor of where your hotel room was located.

As soon as you arrived on the floor, Ben’s voice jolted you from behind. “Nice of you to finally show up.”

“Oh God, don’t do that.”

Ben walked by your side as you tried to locate your hotel room. “I told you before, you need to work on your powers.”

“Don’t worry, I felt your cloud of pure bliss when I entered the elevator.” You learned very early on that appearing omnipotent to your surroundings didn’t generally put people at ease.

Ben forced a smile on his face. “You’re hilarious. Did you hear the news already?”

“Judging by your reaction, I can guess which one you meant. Or did another happy event occur which I should know about?” At last, you arrived at your destination when you opened the door to your room and unceremoniously tried to swing it shut behind you.

Ben frowned darkly when he caught it, following after you.

Your eyes wandered over to him, perplexed by his need to continue the conversation. Ben was truly baffling sometimes for calling himself a lone wolf who didn’t need people. Dramatically, you swung your arms around to invite him to your living space.

“Why don’t you enter? Have a seat? Get a drink while you’re at it?”

Almost like accepting the invitation, the mocking undertone ignored for the moment, Ben sat on your made bed. “I mean, getting married? What the hell?”

You grabbed a few clothes from the wardrobe before going into the bathroom to change into them, yet keeping the door slightly ajar.

Feeling like he was being ignored, Ben approached the adjoining wall connecting you. “The apocalypse is right at our door and we’re celebrating a damn wedding?”

“You mean the wedding of your sister? You have to relax with that ‘I can’t stop until I’m at the top’ mindset,” you grumbled in a low voice to imitate Ben’s. “Life doesn’t have to be about missions and constant success.”

“That doesn’t sound anything like me,” Ben grunted. His focus intensified when he heard your clothes rustle as you changed into them. He furrowed his brows, like his attentions focused on what you were doing. “Where are you going?”

“Kind of in a hurry. Going dress shopping with your sister.”

With pursed lips, Ben nodded unwittingly. “Nice to know someone is so damn likable. Having a bachelorette party?”

“It’s a two-way street with us. Sloane is a sweet one and maybe I’m just fun to be around. And it’s not that much of a bachelorette party but …”

Ben felt something soothing stroking his skin.

“Why don’t you just talk to Luther?”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “What makes you think I care about a stupid bachelor party?”

You stepped out of the bathroom after you had changed into looser clothing to adapt to the Kugelblitz absorbing everything around it and with the world going literally up in flames.

“There’s no need to pretend with me, Ben. Maybe you shouldn’t spend time with the person who can feel everything you’re feeling.” You chose to remind him of that little tidbit since he seemed to want to linger within his blissful ignorance. It felt strange that Ben felt safe in confiding in you when he didn’t even like people.

“Luther is just a guy who wants to enjoy his wedding and wants to spend time with the people who care about him.” You implored vehemently, facing Ben again.

With a sarcastic air, Ben scoffed. “So sorry to disappoint that I’m nothing like your precious Ben.”

“You think you’re nothing like him? Sure, you’re way more eager to please daddy dearest. And there’s such a-” Your hands strained around his head in frustration while grunting. Sometimes, Ben’s whole aura compelled you to choke him or at least shake him profusely until some sense would barge into his head. “Dark cloud of wrath surrounding you, it’s insane.”

“You can fool anyone, your family or anyone else. That you don’t want anyone to see that you have goodness inside you. But here’s the thing: it doesn’t matter who you’re not.” You exhaled heavily.

“You’re Ben Hargreeves from the Sparrow Academy. Or what’s left of it. And I’m here for this Ben. I might want to get to know this guy.” You smiled endearingly, knowing that getting to a stubborn Ben Hargreeves proved harder than you’d expect.

Ben calmly stared at you. He pensively licked his lips before quietly admitting with a hoarse voice, “Stop making me like you.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Because I don’t need-” Ben pointed between you and him. “This.”

Well, great. You were dealing with an emotionally stunted Sparrow.

“People are literally dying. Either do something about wanting to be a part of something or don’t.”

Ben shook his head, steeling himself. “Maybe you should work on those powers of yours. You think you know me so well, huh? Because you have no idea who I am.”

His solitude was all-encompassing. How alone he truly felt. After some time you could understand how it could deceive you into feeling like it was a comforting blanket.

“I know you’re the guy who needs people at his side. I know I haven’t said it before, but … I’m sorry about Fei and … you know, Christopher.” Although that grief wasn’t as profound, you could sense that on some level Ben cared. At least, Fei had something fascinating about her even if she tried to kill you with her crow powers.

At the memento of his family’s death or absorption into the black hole, Ben’s features darkened. “Don’t. Don’t pretend to care.”

“Sorry to disappoint then. This is all I can offer.” You shrugged. “Someone has to say it. You know, if someone hasn’t yet.”

Ben leaned forward until you could admire how utterly black his eyes looked. His wrath was wafting in dark smoke around his figure. “What makes you think I care about what you have to say?”

You felt so drained. “Then wh- You know what? Fine. End of the world and all that.” You twirled your finger in the air. “Do what you want.” Your hands made a cutting gesture. “I get to decide how I spend my energy. Just close the door behind you. And, just so you know, I’ll know when you steal something.”

You pointed at Ben threateningly before closing the door behind you.

Ben’s voice reverberated through the threshold. “Why would I steal your stuff?”

You leaned back in the chair, enjoying the taste of champagne in your mouth with the sensation of luxury. “You know, this is actually really nice,” you called out, trying to reach Sloane while she was changing into her dream dress.

You stretched out your legs, trying to relax. “Just us girls, having fun together. No baggage. No worries.” At the memory of impending doom, your eyes widened. “For now at least.”

Standing in the corner of the wedding store, Lila was curiously browsing through the clothes hangers and continued for you, “No annoying boyfriends.”

Through the curtain, Sloane added, “Nothing else to do but try out these gorgeous dresses.” With that, she stepped outside in a high-collared wedding dress.

Seeing her in all her glory, Lila and you hollered in delight.

“You look hot.” Lila draped her leg over your armrest to reach over and pop a small cupcake into her mouth in one go.

You merely raised your glass in silent agreement.

Sloane admired herself in the mirror while swishing with her dress. Disappointment laced her voice when she mused, “Allison could’ve been here.”

“I mean, I could’ve truly convinced her if I wanted her to and make her have fun, but that’s like half the fun.” You poured more liquid into your flute. “Allison wants to hold on to that anger of hers, fine. And just so you know,” you paused. With your glass hanging in the air, you couldn’t help saying out loud, “I’m tired. I don’t have the energy for it.”

“I could have tried my hand at that,” Lila retorted confidently.

You eyed her dubiously. “Are you sure about that?”

Lila shrugged, exhaling. “You’re probably right. Don’t think I want to get inside Allison’s head.” Her body shuddered at the thought of copying your empathetic power before her mood switched when she patted your leg. “Gotta rush to the loo real quick.”

You chuckled deeply. “Your cupcakes will still remain here,” you promised wholeheartedly.

Silently, Lila pointed a finger in warning at you. You merely observed her retreating form with knowing eyes.

Sloane continued watching herself in the mirror when she bit her lip while brushing the garment. You cleared your throat when you felt the stroking happening under the skin again.

“Something you want to ask me?” Your eyes met Sloane’s through the reflection.

“Have you talked to Ben yet?”

You chuckled at the mention of her brother, groaning loudly. “Did I tell you I’m tired already?”

Sloane smiled ruefully. “He took up all your energy?” The following heavy sigh perfectly encapsulated how it felt like to describe someone like him. “Ben, he’s, I think he has so much potential to be something more.”

Silently, you raised your eyebrows before adding, “Are you trying to tell me something I don’t already know?”

“He seems different around you.”

“You mean more intense? Are you trying rationalize him?”

Sloane chuckled while shaking her head. “I think you terrify him.”

“Thank you. That’s the biggest compliment anyone has ever given me,” you said sarcastically before emptying your glass. “You know, I’m over my bad boy phase.”

Excitedly, Sloane turned to gaze directly at you. “Wait, so you’re saying you’re into my brother?”

You shook your head vehemently at the mere insinuation while groaning. Not opening that can of worms.

“Ugh, nope, no. Not doing that. I’m not talking about your brother while you’re looking like a million bucks. Besides, today is about you.” You stood up with a coy smile, waving your hand at the mirage that was Sloane’s body.

“Damn right, it is.” Lila magically appeared to agree. “Are we coming to a decision?”

A sigh of deep regret exhaled from Sloane’s lips. “I think it’s going to be dress number one. What can I say? I liked trying on all these dresses.” She gushed while eyeing Lila and you. “And the company.”

“Aren’t you a doll,” Lila replied softly.

“Yes, Luther and you really deserve each other.”

You were wearing your long-sleeved golden dress when you entered the banquet hall. Despite the time crunch, everything was set up quite beautifully. With the lighting making everything appear almost intimately. You were getting some prom vibes with the balloons and the retro flair, but you didn’t feel like judging them for the quick setting up.

Luther joined you near the entrance, smiling warmly. “Fashionably late?”

You shrugged shyly. “As always.”

“How are you feeling?” Like when you were still kids, Luther patted your hair soothingly, making you feel all warm inside. Knowing how overwhelmed you could get with big events, or as big as they could get with the Kugelblitz absorbing people.

“Don’t worry, I’d prefer a wedding over a funeral.” You smiled warmly, staring up at him with pride. “Look at you, big guy. Can’t believe you’re getting hitched,” you said, playfully nudging his shoulder with your knuckles.

You felt the stirring sensation again. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ben standing in the distance with Allison, sending you an inscrutable expression. Not exactly a scowl on his face, but still something dark remained while he was leaning with his crossed arms against the wall.

Luther’s positive energy pulled you back. He shared a beaming smile at you. “It’s really happening, huh,” he mused, burying his gloved hands in his trouser pockets. “Sloane told me you went dress shopping with her. I really appreciate you taking the time to get to know her.”

“Well, kinda already did that almost a week ago.” After seeing Luther’s blank expression, you continued, “When we were abducted?”

“Right. Feels so long ago.”

“At least our little get-together with Sloane was kinda fun. A small reprieve from the chaotic mess of everything.”

Luther nodded. “I feel you.” He was getting all jittery before he even said the next part. “God, I can’t wait to be married. I’ll see you outside.”

After a very emotional wedding ceremony—also because of Klaus’ flamboyant theatrics—Luther and Sloane were finally husband and wife. Watching them bask in their wedding dance was slowly getting to your sentimental vibes, you realized. Wanting them to have their moment, you joined the table of Klaus and Ben with your cocktail.

“… ridiculously easy to love,” Klaus finished with a fond presence.

“Am I interrupting a heartfelt moment?” You softly asked before filling the seat at Klaus’ side and taking a hearty gulp.

“Beautiful Y/N, join us! We’re reminiscing.” Klaus gushed with absolute joy, throwing his arms around your middle. With a quiet murmur, he whispered to himself, “I think that’s the word. Oh, dad’s holding a speech.” Klaus jumped from his seat.

“Did you know our Y/N loves seafood?” Klaus whispered like he was sharing a secret with Ben. His gaze switched over to yours. “Be a dear and keep sullen Ben company,” he said before sauntering away without a care in the world.

Blinking slowly, Ben’s words were uttered just as slowly. Like choosing them carefully. “Your dress is really … golden.”

“Wow.” You nodded to yourself, with a smile. “And you’re very drunk.”

Ben’s gaze wandered around. “Everyone’s leaving. Even Sloane prefers that big walking ape.”

“She’s not leaving. Your sister just found something else she liked more.”

“You mean liked doing more,” Ben mumbled tauntingly.

You had to restrain from barfing at the idea of your brother having sex. As much as a drunk Ben was kinda hilarious. “Oh, that’s gross, Ben,” you said, trying to stop yourself from laughing.

A solemn sigh exhaled from your lips. “You didn’t ask Luther, did you?” You asked knowingly.

Ben’s shoulders almost appeared too heavy for him to lift when he shrugged them carelessly. “I don’t get an invite and dad just gets to show up to this wedding. What does it matter?”

Ben mindlessly fiddled with the small straw in his drink. The speeches were over for now and people started mingling on the dance floor.

“I think it does to you. How people see you. To be liked. Makes you endearing in a way. We all just want to be accepted for who we are.”

Ben supported his chin with his hand in a casual manner, or at least tried to, when he missed it by a few inches. Instead, he held up the side of his head with his whole palm while observing you through bleary eyes.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He mumbled quietly.

It was moments like these when Ben revealed stuff like this which broke your heart. “Are you not used to this experience?”

“I don’t understand you,” he mumbled. “Sometimes you make it really hard not to like you.”

Inwardly, you felt bliss fill you up at the unexpected compliment coming from someone like him. Even if that little confession delighted you, your concern for his inebriated state was higher.

“Easy there, buckaroo. Maybe you should have more shrimps. Or at least some bread,” you advised, sliding over a glass filled with grissini. “Someone is quite a talker when they’re drunk, huh?”

“Someone cares about my well-being.” With a sing-song voice, Ben taunted and smirked cheekily.

You smiled wistfully, almost bittersweetly. “You know what I think?” You paused, intuitively envisioning a possible future scenario. “I tell you how tonight’s gonna go down. You’ll have fun, lose all your inhibitions. Because you didn’t have to try so hard to be number one. Or be the best at everything.”

Speaking slowly, you added, “Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up, with all your guards up again. No longer chummy with the people around you. And a part of you is going to regret ever being this real version of yourself. All adorable and sweet.”

Ben chuckled suavely. “You calling me sweet? You know what I think?” He took up the empty seat of Klaus, almost toppling over with the effort. “You’re secretly into me.”

You rolled your eyes at Ben’s ability to feed his own ego. With a satisfied smile, you turned it back on him. “And you actually like that thought.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart.”

“Whoa, déjà vu.”

“Okay, then tell me what I want.” Ben smirked confidently, waving to himself.

“It’s been a long time since someone dared me for a party favor.” Trying to keep him in suspense for a bit longer, you bit your lip and tilted your head in mock speculation. But then you whispered conspiratorially, “You want me to dance with you, Ben Hargreeves.”

Blowing air through his mouth, Ben groaned. “That’s what you think? Is this how you get guys—with that little technique?” He twirled his finger in your direction.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then tell me I’m wrong.”

He snorted. “I’m not falling for that trick.”

“Maybe. But now I’m in your head, Hargreeves,” you sang tauntingly before laughter sprang free. “Come on, it’s just one night to let loose.”

You stood up, beckoning him closer while walking backwards towards the dance floor. “I promise, tomorrow you can pretend to be the asshole again. Just have some fun for a night.”

“We can’t all be Little Miss Sunshine.”

You snorted loudly at that description. If anything, as an Empath, you were almost an antithesis to the preconceived notion of an all-caring and always-happy disposition.

“Only you would think that. Come on, Benny-boo. Show me those dance moves of yours.”

“You’re a bad influence,” he mumbled before he gobbled down another shrimp. Ben reached for you and energetically spun you in a circle until your fingers held onto his chest for stability.

“Stop calling me by that name,” he whispered, only for your ears to hear.

You let go of Ben, sending him a smoldering gaze over your shoulder. “Why don’t you make me?” You mocked, strolling over to the bride to dance with her and watched as he joined the fray reluctantly, but no less swayed.

“You owe me,” he mouthed.

In the end, you chose to ignore his little warning by teasingly shrugging your shoulders. “I can’t hear you.”

One hangover later … for Ben

“Did someone ever tell you, you look cute when you’re trying to fall asleep in an upright position?”

You watched in fascination how your words jolted Ben awake while he was leaning against the elevator wall, with his shirt pulled halfway down his muscled torso.

“Excellent workout routine, by the way.” You felt obliged to mention.

Ben grunted, rubbing his cheeks to awaken his senses even more. At the hint, he pulled his shirt down the rest of the way. “Why is Karma coming after me so hard?”

You stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby for show, since Ben didn’t even select a button when he entered.

“It’s not Karma, Ben. It’s a literal hangover.”

Feeling a heated stare linger on you, your eyes met Ben’s whose blinking eyes tried to focus on you. With his arms crossed, his shoulder leaned against the other wall. “Then why do you look so pretty?”

You teasingly nudged his shoulder. “Aww, Ben Hargreeves, what a charmer. My body works in mysterious ways.”

Comfortable silence hung in the air the longer the elevator traveled to its intended destination.

“You know, your brother is a dick.” Finally, Ben decided to end the quiet.

You pursed your lips when several people who fitted that description entered your mind. Especially with a wedding in the past and many lowered inhibitions.

“Uh… which one are we talking about? You’re checking a lot of boxes right now.”

“Klaus,” Ben enunciated with every fiber of his being.

You nodded, comprehending their cautious bond. During the previous night, Klaus and Ben proved to be the tightest of bosom buddies. The fallout was unfortunate. Ben didn’t have a lot of people in his life. Most of your family would rather label him as Not-Ben in their heads instead of getting to know him as his own person.

So, yes, your family could be dicks sometimes.

“Well, he’s trying. The former Ben and him were like the closest for years.” You recalled fondly. Deciding to cheer Ben up a bit, you remarked playfully, “Judging by last night, you two were up to some wild shenanigans.”

Ben reached for your arm. “Wait. What happened last night?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. Almost impressed with last night’s Ben. “You were something else last night. I mean, you were just showing off with your tentacles. They were like really touch-starved. How are they even feeling after that spectacle?”

“Come again?”

The doors opened before you could divulge more. “Uh, you might want to check your shirt again. It’s still backwards. See you at the breakfast buffet.”

“This conversation isn’t over.” Ben exclaimed with great ardor before the doors shut again.

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[buckets-and-trees]

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language; mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit); use of pet names + no y/n; kidnapping

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

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[shadeysprings]

House Arrest

—StepDad!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Your mom goes to attend a work conference for a couple of days, leaving you home alone with her husband.

Warnings: noncon, smut, stepcest, age gap (reader is over 18), threats, and angry Joel. This is a dark fic, heed the warnings and proceed with caution.

A/N: Another piece written for @cockslutpadalecki's Fifteen Sentence Challenge and happy to finally write Joel! Been a fan since the games were released and it was such a treat to dive into his character.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

You whimper against your pillow with your hands clutching tightly onto the sheets as angry tears continue flowing down your face, Joel’s groans echoing off the walls, his chest pressed taut against your back while he thrusts his cock roughly into your cunt. 

He didn’t wait until your mom left the driveway, his footsteps bounding up the stairs almost immediately. Your heart plummets to the pit of your belly when you hear your bedroom door open, his low voice cooing the pet name he’s given you as he stalks inside, fear gripping your senses in a vice while you lay still in bed, the mattress dipping and you feel his hand caress your waist through the blanket and a light kiss being placed on your shoulder. 

“She’s gone—”

You wish desperately that your mom didn’t leave for the conference, or at the very least, wished you made plans to leave the same days with your friends just to avoid being stuck at home with Joel. But with every reason you gave her for you to agree with your made-up plans, Joel had an argument thrown right back.

“There are tons of creeps out there, hon, and we don’t want our little butterfly getting hurt, do we?”

Success shone in his eyes when his words rooted deeply into your mom’s head, having her agreeing in an instant that it was safer for you to stay home with him, her husband, the monster that’s been tormenting you since the day he set foot in your home. 

“It’ll be so nice having the place all to ourselves, butterfly,” he mumbles against your ear, lust swimming in his words as he hooks your leg against his arm, keeping your legs apart and wide while his other hand snaked from beneath you, fingers grazing your breast before taking purchase of your neck, “No more sneaking around in the next few days.”

“Fuck you, old man!” You spit but soon gasp when his fingers tighten around your throat and dig into the side.

“You talkin’ smack now, baby?” Venom laces his voice when he scolds you but it doesn’t stop you from fighting back, thrashing violently against him but stopping all at once and crying in pain when his hand lands harshly against your swollen cunt. “You better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, baby, before I put it to work.”

“Fucking make me!” You cry before cocking your elbow and slamming it against his ribs, Joel choking and yelping in pain, his hold of you slackening and letting you go. 

You roll off the bed and crawl on the floor as fast as you can, darting towards the door, but your body suddenly slams back to the ground when your ankle is yanked hard, the air escaping your lungs when Joel gets on top of you, crushing you against the carpeted floor when he splays his forearm down on your shoulders.

“You fucking bitch—!” He spits and you grunt in pain when he drops his weight on you. “You’re gonna regret doing that.” He threatens, hot breath fanning over your skin when he leans in closer, feeling him smirk when he presses a kiss on your cheek, the tears rolling down your face once again upon realizing that there is no escaping him. 

“We have a couple of days to ourselves, my butterfly, and I’m going to make sure that every hole of yours is thoroughly used before your mom gets home,” Hauling you from the ground, he pulls you with him, forcing you down on your knees with a tight grip on your shoulder before settling himself on the edge of the bed, his cock, hard in his hand as he begins to stroke himself, “And we’re starting with that fucking mouth.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

[wojcheks]

Stuck — Murdoc x F!Reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: NSFW, enemies to fucking, unhealthy relationships, undercover mission gone wrong, reader works for an unspecified organization, sexual tension, rough treatment, tied up, dub!con (?) (reader wants it but physically can't leave), choking, biting, fingering (f!receiving), PIV, unprotected sex, blood, possessiveness, murdoc is his own warning. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k 𝐀/𝐍: first smut i've ever posted!! the david dastmalchian obsession finally got me y'all. while looking for fics of his characters i decided to write my own. i only watched two episodes with this man so i'm pretty sure he's incredibly ooc. hope it's enjoyable regardless! ❤

You were told you’d be working with a wild card during this mission.

They assured you it wouldn’t affect the overall difficulty of the job. In fact, your partner had excellent skills in all the areas useful for achieving your objective. Weapons expert, proficient in hand-to-hand combat, knowledgeable, and calculated in his actions. All good things in your line of work.

What you didn't know was that they assigned you Murdoc.

And that was information that one needed to know prior to running face first into the aforementioned man. Especially during a job that would undoubtedly involve violence. For fuck’s sake, you would tear your handler a new one after this was over and done with.

Your first instinct was to put a fist through the hitman’s face.

A fair assumption was that he was here to derail you or, at the very least, complicate things. It wouldn’t be the first time he showed up simply to cause mayhem and be a thorn in your side.

Snarling, you threw his body against the wall and the assassin’s head hit the concrete with a sickening thud. With a forearm over his throat, you pressed down, immobilizing him.

You could admit that you were being a little too aggressive than necessary about it.

His dark eyes sparked with an unsettling light, something so unthreatened and unalterable about him it made your hair raise. He wasn't intimidated, you could tell. He treated you more like a nuisance to wave away, not an equal.

You felt his throat move against your skin when he swallowed, and it made you wanna press down harder.

“Calm down, sweetheart. The night's just getting started,” Murdoc murmured while leering at you from behind a wall of long eyelashes. They were so pronounced you wondered if he was wearing mascara.

His eyes suddenly grew wider in a mockery of fear, tone climbing to a falsetto, "Oh, dear god, what did I ever do to deserve this treatment?"

His voice grated on your nerves on the best of days, and this was a pretty bad one. A scoff rose up in your throat, but you crushed it before it could escape. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The clear irritation that lowered your tone into a harsh whisper, however, was unmistakable. A small twitch of his cheek indicated that the hitman found your reaction highly amusing. He made a move as if to raise his hands towards you, but you clamped down on his trachea harder, and he stopped. And as the meaning of your words sunk in, you could almost see the gears start turning behind that smug facade of his.

“Murdoc. Stop thinking of ways to make this more difficult for me, and tell me plainly. What’s going on?” 

A shade of disappointment marred his face before disappearing as quickly as it showed. “Come on, agent, you know me. Where would be the fun in that?”

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” the reprimand barely left your mouth before Murdoc’s fingers wrapped around your elbow and painfully bent it at an angle, removing it from his windpipe with a sharp tug. 

Wide-eyed indignation contorted your face as your places suddenly reversed and Murdoc crushed you into the wall, not holding back either.

You weren’t some dainty, fragile damsel in need of rescue–there was hardened muscle hidden under your evening attire. And yet, Murdoc still overpowered you, both in terms of height and sheer strength.

Your nostrils flared in anger, and you threw your body weight against his grip to dislodge it. 

He made a disapproving sound and let his weight fall on the point of contact between the two of you, driving the sharp parts of his slender fingers into the softness of your neck. You tried to suck in a breath and rasped instead.

“Now, now, you’ll either continue to throw your little tantrum, which won't end well, or start being useful by helping me,” as his words caught up to him, a displeased crease appeared between his brows.

“Although, using the term ‘help’ would be a dire exaggeration. I could be finished here long before you pick yourself up off the floor.”

You knew he was aiming to hurt your ego and rile you up, throwing you off balance around him seemed to be the primary goal. If you lost control and started lashing out against his mockery, the man would undoubtedly win.

He usually attempted it when the two of you ran into each other; it was a path well trodden, with various results.

Admitting it never even crossed your mind, but you were aware, deep down, that he was damn good at it. The words he used were one thing, and as cutting and shrewd in his judgements as he was, sometimes all it took for you to lose it was the damned look on his face. Always so superior and above it all. Like he wasn’t even human.

It drove you nuts.

You geared up for another round of verbal sparring before parsing his meaning. You hissed out the next words; the pressure exerted on your throat proved to be a pretty good deterrent from speaking. “Y-you’re the partner, the informant, that I’m... I’m supposed to be working with?”

Something in your face must have betrayed the distaste stirred up by the idea because Murdoc chuckled and then finally let go of your neck to bow with a flourish. 

You coughed loudly, to get rid of the intrusive feeling of somebody being in control of your breathing. You massaged the bruised flesh where Murdoc’s gloves likely left indentation marks in their wake, then rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“I don’t think letting your guard down around me is a good idea,” you said dryly when he finally straightened up from the exaggerated pose.

“Oh, sure it is,” another wide grin split his mouth, and you gritted your teeth in muted frustration. “And oh so thrilling, I assure you.”

You didn’t grace that with an answer.

Ten minutes and one barely civil conversation with your HQ later, you and Murdoc walked arm in arm into the towering building.

With only a few minutes to spare, you didn’t even find time to touch up your make-up. Or double check your gun. And as luck would have it, what you were infiltrating was a ball. With dancing included.

You'd groan out loud, but you knew your companion had a biting comment prepared if you so much as blinked wrong. Murdoc seemed thoroughly entertained by the whole debacle and made no effort to hide it, strutting along with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

It was supposed to be his strong suit, being a shadow or whatever, but driving you up the wall must haven taken priority.

In fact, there seemed to exist nothing that made him giddier than getting a reaction out of you, for whatever accursed reason.

“Now, wife,” his lip twitched at the word, “how about we get this party started?”

“How about you never call me that again?”

“And blow our cover? I would never do that to you.”

You glanced towards him. He caught you instantly, his dark piercing gaze dedicated to not letting you get away with anything.

Those dilated pupils peering from beneath half-open eyelids were anything but easy to withstand, but you held your ground. That is, until he gave you a slow once-over, complete with a too-long pause focusing on your cleavage.

“You are infuriating,” you snapped and whipped your head away in the other direction, barely managing not to raise your hand to cover the gap in your clothing.

The man only drew closer and raised his own arm towards you in an inviting (taunting, something inside you whispered) gesture.

“I have my charm. Shall we?”

—

“Would you let go of me, you animal?” While you tried to keep the hissing to a minimum, he wasn't making it easy.

And Murdoc’s hold on you didn’t release, obviously, the words entirely ignored. You expected nothing less.

The leather of his gloves was smooth and firm against your skin, colder than expected, artificial feeling. The sensation was unsettling, a barrier between you that you'd normally welcome with open arms, but something felt different tonight. Instead, you wished he’d take them off, bare skin on bare skin.

The visual had its… appeal.

Even if the man it centered on did not.

You stopped pulling away to not attract more attention from the surrounding people. A couple on your left already began to whisper while unsubtly pointing towards you. Making everyone think that they were witnessing a domestic dispute was a terrible way of staying unnoticed, even Murdoc had to know that. 

He didn’t seem to care about it at all. 

He pulled harder until you had no choice but to step closer towards him. Your palm fell on his chest, breath catching in your throat.

You never really noticed just how much he towered over you when in close quarters, and you wished you still hadn't. Sticking out your chin was a childish move, but having no control over your present movements brought that out in you. 

Where you stood wasn’t a ballroom exactly, but the lofty ceilings and ornate columns lining the walls gave a strong impression of one. Grandiose was one word for it. Over-the-top was another.

Massive mirrors adorned the sides, and you caught a glimpse of your silhouette, partially obscured by the imposing shape of the man gripping your side. You shivered and turned away, oblivious to Murdoc's curious gaze following.

You skimmed the crowd in an attempt to locate the person you were after. It wasn't just to distract from the heat that image caused. Obviously.

“Enjoying yourself?” The singsong lilt of Murdoc’s voice coming from above drew your attention. You reluctantly looked up, ready to chastise him for his pestering; there were things at stake here more important than his pathological need to feel superior.

With languid steps, he swirled you softly to the side, and then pressed you into his chest, his grasp the very opposite of gentle. His fingers were demanding, leaving no room for physical distance.

It felt like a display.

Like he was showing you off.

He had to bend over to reach properly, the tips of his fingers running over the gap in your dress, moving the red material to the side, exposing more skin. You grabbed onto a lapel of his coat, feeling shaken from it.

Some strange stupor fell over you. Staring up at the length of Murdoc’s neck, watching him breathe in and out, the rhythm was almost hypnotic.

You had to dispel it, needed to focus. There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped he'd take for anger.

“Did you forget why we’re here? It isn’t some fun little outing concocted for your amusement–”

“–I’d beg to differ–”

“–but a mission of significant importance to the security of–”

“–I thought this was a date–”

“–individuals invaluable to not only my organization but society as a whole–”

Murdoc abruptly leaned forward, cutting you off. “Do you even listen to yourself anymore? You’re really starting to sound like a talking head for your little agency, sweetheart, and that’s not very attractive.”

Biting down on a “go fuck yourself”, you turned, lips touching his cheek as you answered. “I don’t recall ever asking for your opinion, Murdoc. I think it’s better if you refrain from sharing it in the future.”

He caught your eyes with an empty smile, a shark showing his teeth. “Zero promises.”

—

You didn’t end up dancing for long before everything went to shit. 

Splitting off from your partner for the night gave you some room to breathe. It also provided a unique opportunity for an assailant to knock you out cold in a deserted hallway.

Later you’d curse yourself for making such a rookie mistake—never split up without letting the other person know—but at the time you weren’t thinking clearly, a little preoccupied with things. You weren’t prepared for it, was the point, and you paid for that mistake dearly.

A sharp acute pain in the back of your skull jolted you awake. There was a building pressure behind your eyes and a pounding headache that turned your stomach.

You felt sick, and that wasn’t a good sign.

One failed attempt to open your eyes later, you realized what must have happened. Your previously done up hair was tangled with a makeshift blindfold, the cloth covering your line of sight. A twin piece wedged into your mouth stopped you from screaming for help.

Trying to push it out with your tongue brought only frustration, alongside a coughing fit.

Too much time couldn’t have passed, right?

You truly loathed the idea, but still dearly hoped that Murdoc was on his way to get you.

If someone told you a few hours ago that you’d ever count on Murdoc for back-up however, you would have laughed at them.

But life has a funny way of fucking with people, and this must've been karma for all the times you talked back to your boss. That's what he'd say, at least.

And with your shitty luck, the hitman was already gone, sporting a martini in some luxurious hotel suite, ogling strippers, or whatever men like him did to relax. Shooting innocents for fun was more likely.

That measly hope was dashed when a small groan reached your ears. A familiar chuckle followed, close nearby.

There was a hand wrapping around your wrist and you scrambled backwards, heart-rate skyrocketing. Trying to get away from the touch proved unsuccessful–your hands were connected to a chain, which was connected to a wall, keeping you firmly in place. 

Deep breaths.

Looking for information was your first priority in a crisis, so you moved a hand over the ground, searching for anything to use. It was smooth but with loose gravel in places, like the coating of an underground parking lot, or more likely, a basement. 

Attempting to calm down the thundering beating of your heart, you leaned back against the firmness, letting long fingers caress the inside of your wrist.

“M–uh–rdoc?” Your attempt at words was muffled and barely audible, but distinct enough.

“The one and only,” the assassin's response came back loud and clear–no obstruction in its way, a luxury you weren't afforded.

For a split second, you entertained the idea that he knocked you out cold and dragged your unconscious body down here to do god knows what. It didn't seem beyond him.

Fingers clamped down on your pulse point, forcefully grabbing your attention. "You're tied up, agent, and I can help you with that, but you'll have to push that ego aside for a moment."

A protest rose in your throat.

“Be a good girl and do as I say, got it?”

With a swallow, you stopped. The near silence of the room made it impossible to tell if the assassin noticed your reaction or not.

You weren't sure how close he was. How much attention he was paying. Dealing with this strange thing that's been chasing you all night was the last thing you wanted to do.

Murdoc's voice was calm and in control, a tone that inspired confidence and trust—emotions you were, as a rule, reluctant to feel towards him. But you had no choice. This was the fastest way to get out of your restraints, so, keeping your worries in check, you nodded assent.

Seemingly able to both move around and see, he hummed his acknowledgement.

“Good girl.”

“Now, scoot over to the right, yeah, just like that, use your legs. Keep going until you hit my side, you're almost there,” he directed, clearly aiming for something.

A stream of soft murmurs of apology filled the air at the pained noises you made when dragging your ankle. Someone clearly bent it at a shitty angle when they were attaching the chain, and you weren't sure if it was twisted or fractured. It fucking hurt though.

The pain must've made you delirious, because Murdoc was not the sort of man to know what an apology even was.

“Now put your leg up, the right one, try to sit up and then turn your body around. God, sweetie, it's been a while since I've seen good old-fashioned chains… not even handcuffs, they have us in chains,” Murdoc's voice ended in a high-pitched giggle, disbelief mixing with mirth at the absurdity of it.

You successfully followed directions and suddenly found yourself sitting on his propped up leg, balancing on it; your dress riding up on either side of your hips from the clumsy movements. Goosebumps rose in the cold air's wake.

Your face heated at the image you must have made, all wobbly and sweaty, desperate for guidance, barely covered up by the torn dress. Everything on display for Murdoc.

It became hard to breathe.

“That's right, just scoot closer, so I can reach you,” the tone of his voice was lower now, not quite a whisper, but close enough to make you shiver.

Keeping balance with arms bent behind you and wrists tied together was not easy. More soft pained noises, more maneuvering into position and you slid down, your ass landing directly on the hitman's lap.

Was that a gun in his pocket–?

“That's perfect, baby, just a little bit closer, so I can get rid of that pesky gag,” he grunted, sounding momentarily caught off-guard. “You do look good in it, though, I have to admit.”

Incapable of hitting him square in the jaw, you resigned yourself to leaning forward instead.

Curious fingers ran through your tangled hair, fingernails catching against your skin in exploratory touches, until finally making their way lower, towards the gag. Moments of fiddling later, the gag was gone and you could speak.

So you did. “What the fuck, Murdoc, are your hands free?”

“Shhh, agent, what if they hear us?” The way his voice caught on a snigger, bereft of any actual worry, threw a gallon of gasoline under the low level rage that's been burning in your chest the whole evening.

“Are you fucking kidding me, you fucker?"

It hurt, just how much he didn't care.

“We could die here, in this stupid basement, surrounded by nothing but trash and bound in some medieval ass chains, because you’d rather play around than do something useful for once!” Your voice grew louder and louder, and being unable to see his no doubt self-satisfied expression made it significantly worse.

“I’m asking you to help me, just once, just this one single time, you asshole. To put my well-being over your own, think of someone else but yourself! And take this stupid blindfold off me–Please–” You were on the verge of begging now, voice breaking on a plea.

A long stretch of nothing followed, disturbed only by your heavy breathing. Then, a light trace of fingertips over your cheekbone. “I didn’t know you trusted me so much, agent.”

“What–?” 

Wet lips crashed into yours and Murdoc grabbed a fistful of your hair, pressing you against him. His smell filled your senses, something sharp and spicy, with an undercurrent of leather. The sound that left you was embarassing.

His palm was so big it encircled the back of your head effortlessly, fingers unkind in their urgency. He jostled your wound and you struggled within his grasp, trying to pull away with a distressed whine. Unable to see, unable to move, your body overcompensated for the lack of senses, making it feel like he was pressing into an exposed nerve. "Mu–urdoc–”

The groan made him pull away, sticky red smeared all over his hand now. He looked at it and chuckled. "Ah, they got you good, sweetheart. Let me make it worse.”

He didn't sound apologetic at all, and stuck his mouth to the underside of your jaw, sucking on the sensitive flesh. Tongue lapping up the saltiness of your skin, he let out a satisfied groan, hand wrapping around your neck to keep you from moving.

You let out another stifled whimper, part of you wanting to pull away from his possessive grip. The other part knew it would leave a mark and craved it more than anything.

Head falling back, your chest rose with laboured breaths, small sounds of exhilaration falling from your mouth. “Fucking hell–Ah–”

His other palm grabbed your breast, kneading it forcefully, wringing more gasps out of you. You felt his lips turn up in gratification against your tender flesh.

“Does that feel good?” His usually airy tone was raspy now, the gruff whisper making you shudder against his torso. “Tell me.”

You couldn't stop it; your hips ground down onto his own, dragging against the growing hardness beneath you. The emptiness inside you was infuriating, and you couldn't even reach down to relieve the pressure. You needed him now.

A loud cry left you when Murdoc bit down punishingly on your throat and gripped your chin between his fingers. He pressed his lips against yours before speaking, as if he couldn't stop himself.

“Fucking tell me, agent. Tell me what I should do with you. So powerless, all tied up, mine to control. I could do anything, so what will it be?”

“Murdoc, please–”

“Please what?” Cold air hit your skin as he pulled the dress up and slapped the back of your thigh, then snapped his fingers twice. “Focus, agent, right here, focus on me.”

This was all wrong; the way his gloved hand rubbed the stinging spot afterwards, his demanding tone, just how wet you could feel yourself becoming the more he touched you. The more he made you his.

“Touch me, please,” the words came out as a whisper, and were met with another chuckle.

“No no no no, sweet girl, that's not good enough. You gotta work for it.”

You couldn't escape, so you lowered your head into his shoulder, hoping to somehow disappear.

“Don't hide.” He yanked the blindfold off and threw it to the side, moving your head up so he could catch your gaze.

Despite everything happening between you, the mercenary looked near unbothered. His hand on your face felt steady, his breathing only slightly elevated, an expression on his face that you could only call triumphant.

It made you burn.

Your lipstick was smeared over his mouth, the red streaks physical proof of the way he crushed your lips together. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh and tear, a visceral representation of what he made you feel.

If your hands weren't bound, you'd be shoving them against his chest and running your fingernails down, marking him as yours too.

As it was, you only had your words left.

"Just fuck me, Murdoc, or do you need written instructions?"

The smug smile he sent your way was answer enough.

He grabbed the dark red material of your dress and tore the bottom part in half, a sharp exhale leaving your chest at the action. Then he stroked your ass, roughly stretched it and parted your legs, toying with the muscle.

You felt beyond exposed, a butterfly pinned to a board. Hair in disarray, flimsy panties not enough cover against forceful fingers and the hitman’s searing gaze. Naked planes of skin kept growing more and more red from the pleasure he wrung out of you. His hand reached between your thighs, and you closed your eyes.

He openly stared, drinking you in. Sharp canines peeked from behind his lips, mouth half open in captivation, and the black strands of hair fell over his eyes.

"What a sight you are," Murdoc murmured and palmed you over the thin material, fingers gathering moisture that soaked through it already.

You bit down on your lip and moved against his broad fingers, your muscles straining from keeping upright for so long.

He kept looking at your face and cataloging every little expression that passed over it, his eyes ablaze with a frenzy, an expression that in any other situation would make you shudder in fear.

Hell, it still did.

Impatiently, he pulled the material to the side and easily sank two fingers inside you, moving them in and out with a beckoning movement, rubbing against your clit until you let out a sob.

His wrist grew still for a moment, watching you grow frustrated in his lap, twisted satisfaction burning in his gaze. Then he added another finger, plunging all three as deep as they would go.

“Fuck, Murdoc, you shit–!”

He giggled and shushed you, "Stay still."

"Fucking bastard–"

"You telling me you don’t like this? You're not a whore who gets off on getting finger-fucked by her enemy?"

You wailed as he hit a spot inside you. “Shut the f-fuck–up–” 

“Aw, but you don’t want me to, do you?” He shot forward, pressing his face to yours, hot breath hitting your lips as he continued, “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers, agent, and then I’m gonna force them down your throat. Would you like that?”

Keening growing louder at the words, you moved your hips faster, panting against him, already nodding your head before realizing.

“I thought so,” the thrusting of his fingers grew quicker and you writhed in his lap, unbothered by what you looked like, only chasing your release with a single-minded determination.

Every once in a while your ass moved over Murdoc’s still clothed cock and he let out a pained-sounding hiss, his grip on your throat growing tighter.

You’d feel victorious if you weren’t so out of it.

Murdoc wrenched his fingers out of you and licked the moisture off, closing his eyes in pleasure. "God, you taste so good. How am I ever supposed to let you go?"

The sudden emptiness made you panic, and you caught his mouth in a kiss, urging him to continue. You could taste the slight saltiness from his fingers, your own flavour.

He pulled away from you with a laugh, then hissed again when you licked the side of his throat.

“Patience, agent, patience.” The grip on your neck disappeared and you heard his zipper open, a relieved exhale following.

The flicking of his wrist kept going for a few more seconds before he pulled out and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear off entirely. With an arm around your waist, he steadied you, before pressing the head of his cock forward.

At first, there was a dull sensation of resistance, Murdoc being bigger than you expected. But before you could protest, your cunt gave way, and he slipped in, the fullness and drag on your insides making you tighten around him.

The man rocked into you, his arm pressing your bodies so close together you could feel every laboured breath he took. You wanted to rip off the coat he was wearing, taste the naked skin over his ribs on your tongue.

You barely even noticed the changing gravity as you got pushed into the ground, your back painfully dragging against the rubble.

“I wanna spread your legs and eat you out until all you can think of is getting filled up to the brim,” Murdoc sounded almost delirious now, his hips speeding up, “wanna bury myself in you and keep going until you’re screaming–”

You encircled his waist with your legs, the pain of moving your ankle getting lost in the white noise that filled your head. You wanted him closer, you needed him closer.

Every time he pushed back in you squeezed him harder, wanting the stretch, urging him to thrust faster, squirming when he hit that spot inside you. It was almost too much, waves of pleasure twisting your insides, breathing near impossible.

"You'll feel me for days, agent, won't be able to look in the mirror without remembering my cock deep inside you," he groaned loudly, pulling you up into his lap without stopping the movement of his hips.

He bit down on your collarbone, leaving a red imprint of his teeth behind.

"Wanna mark you, scar you, make it so no one will ever touch you again–"

Your fingernails bit into the palm of your hand, his rasping voice pushing you over the edge. Knowing that you made him sound that way, that you brought out something desperate and reckless, a frenzied stream of litanies, from a man like Murdoc.

That was what did it.

Your legs tensed and clamped over his thighs, and you let out a string of curses. “FuckfuCKFUCK! Please–M-Murdoc, I–!” 

He covered your mouth with his own and swallowed the shrill sounds, kisses turning brutal as you trembled in his arms. First his tongue ran over your teeth, then he bit down on your lower lip until the skin broke, a small stream of red immediately smudging between your lips. The sting sent a pulse down to your cunt, sucking Murdoc's cock in deeper.

He kept thrusting even as you stiffened, insides clenching around him like a vice, and with a short bark of your name he spilled himself on your inner walls.

Your exhausted body was pressed against his chest and you were empty for a moment. No worries, no thoughts. The aftershocks wiped your head clean of everything.

Your torn dress fell off your shoulders, but you didn't notice.

When you came to, your wrists were free, and the two of you were laying side by side on the floor.

Murdoc was staring at you like the cat that swallowed the canary; strands of hair were sticking out of place and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face, making his skin look glossy. It made him look so young, but you knew better.

His fingers kept running over the red imprint on your chest, eyes occasionally glancing at your scratched up wrists. He seemed... content. Some of that ever-present frantic energy looked to be gone.

You exhaled softly, the man's lips grabbing your attention. There was a redness there, lipstick or blood, and you weren’t sure which option was more appealing. Either way, you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

With an unsteady hand, you ran a finger through it, captivated by the sight, and the feeling of warm, malleable flesh.

Murdoc almost seemed human like this.

In a deliberately slow move, he ran his tongue over the tip of your finger and licked the ruddiness off. Grinned again.

God, you wanted to punch that smug look off his face, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

What a fucking day.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

TWENTY: MISSIN’ YOU.

The next morning, you wake with a smile to the sound of singing birds and stretch your arms to grab your men closer for a morning snuggle…only to feel nothing in return. 

Your eyes shoot open, your bliss and security destroyed.

You immediately shoot up out of bed, the bedsheet falling off of your naked breasts. The spaces beside you are empty and well-made as if the boys got up and straightened them without trying to wake you up during the late hours of the night. 

“Geto?” you call. “Gojo?”

There is no answer. Only the chirping of birds outside that doesn’t sound all that cheery to you anymore. Your body grows cold like you’ve been dipped in ice water as your anxiety peaks. 

“Oh, no,” you gasp, immediately filled with dread. You reach for the telephone, wanting to make a call to Nanami to see if he possibly saw the duo today, but a folded note next to your pistol stops you short. With shaky hands, you pick it up and read it: 

Dear, Y/N, 

If you’re reading this now, we’ve already left. We’re so sorry to have left you to wake up alone. You will probably hate us and we have to live with that forever knowing that we broke your heart.

We broke our own too. But this is for the best. 

Please believe us when we say that our time with you on the road and in Willow Springs have been the best of our lives. We are grateful to have met you and have fallen in love with you. There is truly no one like you and never will be. 

Please try to understand why we left. You don’t know Benji like we do. He is a horrible, violent man who will do more than just tie you to railroad tracks.

We could never forgive ourselves if something happened to you by his hands. We’re doing this to not only get vengeance for us but also for you. 

No matter what happens, please live your life to the fullest and safest. Be happy no matter who you end up with. Take care of yourself. 

Thank you for letting us into your life and your future.

Love you forever, G & G

With a horrified gasp, you drop the letter Immediately, you snatch up your robe and race out of your bedroom down the steps, your feet pounding down each stair.

You hear the sound of your mother’s laughter and hot coffee as you come down the last stair. “Papa!” you shout. “Mama!” 

You run to the kitchen where the two are. Eren is sitting at the breakfast table eating a scone while Yuri is stirring some sugar in her coffee. “Hey, look who’s finally awake,” she announces. “We got home early, so I stopped by a bakery and bought some blueberry…honey, what’s wrong?” 

Her smile fades, concern on her aged face. Eren turns to look at you, looking confused. “Where’s Geto and Gojo?” you hurriedly ask. “Did you see them this mornin’?” 

Eren shakes his head. “They left not too long ago at the crack of dawn,” he replies. “I was out tendin’ to the crops when we got home and they helped me out before takin’ off on their horses. Said they had some business to take care of out of town.” He squints at you. “Why?” 

Anyone would’ve thought he just said Geto and Gojo were murdered with the way you broke down in the kitchen. “Oh, no,” you sob, tears welling up in your eyes. “Oh, no, no, no!” 

Your parents stare at you, alarmed, especially when you bolt out of the kitchen. “Honey!” Yuri gasps. “Y/N, wait!” But you don’t wait. You can’t wait.

You snatch open the front door and race out of the house into the warm sun and unseasonably cool morning air. You immediately run across the field to the farm where the horse stables are.

‘Please,’ you think, desperation making your brain go haywire. ‘Please, please, please!’ 

But when you toss open the stables, you don’t see Geto or Gojo’s horses. You only see Reneigh and your parents’ two old mares who look at you as soon as you open the door. You stagger backward, the realization hitting you: they’re gone. They’ve left you here alone. 

But what about what they said last night? What about what happened between you? They said they would stay. They said they loved you. They— 

“Y/N!” Eren shouts. You turn around, your vision blurred with tears. Your dad comes running up to you, haggard from the quick movement. “What’s goin’ on?” he demands. “What happened?” 

You wrap your arms around yourself, your grief and shock coming in waves. “They left, Papa,” you sob. “They left and they’re not comin’ back! They left me!” You drop to your knees, your raw emotions making you feel weak. 

Eren swoops in to hold you, kneeling with you in the dirt. “Oh, sugar, no,” he shushes you. “They told me they’d be back.” 

You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks in steady streams. “No,” you whimper. “No, they lied! They left to go…to go…” You can’t finish the sentence. You won’t finish the sentence.

Eren presses your head to his chest, holding you close to him. “Shh, it’s alright,” he coos. “It’s goin’ to be okay, Y/N.” You grip onto his flannel, coating the fabric in your salty tears.

But nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.

[beemynumberone]

All The Colours (1/7)

-> In which Idol!Minghao and Actress!OC convey their heartfelt messages through colours.

-> slowwwwburn romance. friends to lovers. no smut.

-> constructive feedback is always appreciated!

All pictures are from Pinterest, I do not own them.

Writer’s note: Hi! I am writing these scenarios to placate my active imagination and hopefully make someone’s day/night. I do not intend to hurt anyone/anything through this fic.

Thank you for picking up my story and happy reading!

Masterlist

*btw, Yile is pronounced as Yi Le (in Chinese pronunciation), it is not supposed to rhyme with Kyle

Part 1: Red

Red had always been Minghao’s favourite colour. Maybe it was due to his Chinese upbringing, in which red was thought to bring good fortune to anyone who wore it.

As he scanned the bustling ballroom of renowned influencers, actors and idols trickling into the room, he wondered, what was good fortune? His parents used to tell him that they met due to good fortune. And while his mind wandered off, his eyes stopped on a moving figure in the crowd.

The figure, clothed in red, had just entered the massive double doors and was now heading towards a group of female actresses. Minghao recognised her —she was the latest trending actress, Wang Yile. Known for her prowess in acting, especially in her debut role as the second female lead in the recent box office hit, many people, including Minghao, admired her talent and were hooked to the screen whenever she appeared. In actual fact, Minghao loved her character so much that when he rewatched the movie, he would skip the movie to only her part.

Yile’s POV:

Yile tried to slow her breathing, closing her eyes and fidgeting with the fabric of her scarlet dress to ground herself. “You can do it Yile, nothing to be worried about,” she self-soothed. At the red light, her manager driving the car turned around and patted her knee. “Don’t worry too much, it’ll be a fun time. You’ll meet people just like you, young and rising celebrities. Besides, it only gets easier when you go to social events more frequently.” Yile could only nod and sip her iced americano for comfort as thoughts of doubt and what ifs clouded her mind.

The drive was short and before Yile could doze off, they had arrived. “We’re here, get ready for the press to take pictures. Don’t forget to smile! You’ve got this Yile.” Yile smiled and took a deep breath.

Lights flashed everywhere as Yile was ushered to the doors of the ballroom. She could not help but gawk at their grandiose appearance. The doors were nearly ceiling high and were embellished with stained glass in the middle. With the chandeliers illuminating them, the view looked picturesque. Turning around, she gave one last curtsy to the eager cameras and headed on.

As she entered the ballroom, her heart raced. She worried the other guests would believe the rumours running around - that she only got famous because of the other cast members and that she acted so well because she was actually a mistress to a CEO in real life. She wished to live a life of meaning, surrounded by people she loved.

A few steps in and she heard the familiar sound of laughter. It was Xinhui, her close friend and another actress who had entered the entertainment industry around the same time as her. Yile met her when she attended her agency’s audition and after bonding over the horrors of the diluted coffee provided while waiting, they had become firm friends. Yile thanked the heavens for placing a social butterfly in her life and headed towards the crowd of people gathered around her.

In the circle of young actresses, Yile felt more at home and could relax a little. Many compliments were exchanged, especially about Yile’s makeup. In middle school, Yile wanted to follow in her older sister’s footsteps to become a makeup artist. However, life took a turn and Yile emerged 10 years later with an acting career and substantial makeup skills. She never lost her penchant for gemstones and a dramatic flair, however.

Before long, Yile’s stomach felt more drawn to the food table than to the conversation going on with the actress she was talking to. She definitely needed to cut down on her caffeine intake. After excusing herself, she weaved through the crowd to the catering table and started to fill her plate with jajangmyeong.

Suddenly, she felt a presence to her right. Yile froze. Why on earth did she pick out the most flamboyant colour on the planet? She did not want to attract attention. She prayed it would not be a random dude who snuck in and make headlines tomorrow on Chinaboo. The last thing she wanted was bad publicity.

In the reflection of the metal chafing dish, she saw her neighbour’s reflection. The person was Xu Minghao, the The8 of Seventeen. She loved listening to the band’s music and laughing alongside their variety show, Going Seventeen. She especially enjoyed their debate sessions, in which she admired Minghao’s logical arguments and how he always stuck to his values.

And now here was Minghao in the flesh, opening his mouth to speak to her! Yile’s brain basically shut down.

Minghao’s POV:

Minghao had nothing to do, if he was being honest. Most of his celebrity friends had not yet arrived and he was not prepared to make more friends yet. He really missed his members who could liven up any sombre atmosphere. So he did what he usually resorted to— finding solace in his stomach.

He approached the table and scanned the food labels. Then settled on jajangmyeong, a comfort food that reminded him of Korea and his family, Seventeen.

However, there was someone else using the tongs for jajangmyeong. And that someone was Wang Yile, who was basically his “celebrity crush” as teased by Junhui. So Minghao waited quietly beside her, not wanting to embarrass himself in case he came across as an annoying fan, or even worse, scare her off. So he stood there. And waited for like 5 minutes. Yile was not moving.

“Um, hi.”

Yile jumped. Minghao swore, startled.

Minghao mentally facepalmed. He blurted out the first thing that his mother taught him: If you do not know what to say in a social setting, compliment people.

“Your makeup looks really nice. And your red dress is very dry- sorry, very eye catching”.

Yile blinked and looked down at her plate shyly.

“Sorry I shocked you. And thank you for your kind words. You look really dashing in your suit as well!” Yile replied, smiling so as to diffuse the situation.

The silence was deafening. Neither party had anything to say.

Minghao cleared his throat and stretched out his hand. “Hi, I’m Minghao.”. Yile put the tongs down and shook his hand. “Hi, I’m Yile.”.

“By the way Yile, I meant what I said earlier. Your makeup is really pretty. Did you do it yourself?” Minghao asked.

Yile inwardly rejoiced, since the topic was something she felt dearly about. “Yeah, I do. I love tinkering around with makeup. It helps to relieve stress and gives me an outlet to express myself.”

“And what does this look express?”

“Good fortune, actually. I know not everyone is very auspicious but I’d like to think I can use red as a way to mark the beginning of a successful acting career.”

Minghao smiled and said back “Well, cheers to a good journey. Hope to see you around!”

“Same to you!” Yile replied.

As the event drew to a close, Minghao headed back home. In the car ride, he couldn’t help but recall the short conversation with Yile. He took out his phone and searched up for colours and their corresponding meanings.

And as he scrolled through the links, a certain colour caught his eye. Yellow.

[sehtoast]

I like your thoughts and interpretations a lot, so I wanted to ask, how can I write Homelander x reader (or anyone) and make it not feel like he’s being put out of his comfort zone or doing something just as a way of coping? It sounds silly but I’ve having thoughts on it and besides having a lot of consent checks and stuff I’m not sure how else to do it. I’m probably overthinking but I thought I’d ask since you write and seem to have good insight on characterization and consent

The thing with this is that you actually have a lot of control over this as the author in subtle and obvious ways (took me a while to answer this  just because there’s a lot, lol).  So much so that it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what may or may not make something feel consensual in your writing.  There’s not really one particular thing that achieves this, you know?  It could be anything from comfort/safety with the person you’re pairing him with, to consent checks (these are just as effective!), to his own enthusiasm in the scene.  I’m gonna talk about smut writings below the cut, so warning for ns/f/w below:

To start, I’m hoping you’re asking this in regards to smut, otherwise I’m just info dumping on smut writing lol.  Consent and boundaries can exist for much more than sex, so apologies if I’m getting this wrong.

If you’re looking to go heavy on a show-don’t-tell way of showing consent and comfort from Homie, think about how he reacts to certain things.  Does he lean into their touch?  Does he shake with need, or is it actually anxiety?  <- This in particular is one that might require a smidge of telling, though your descriptions of him in the scene can indicate the difference too.  Does he touch/cling to them, or try to confine himself to his own sort of space as if to keep away?  A lot can be told just in the way he reacts physically. 

Doing perspective from his pov can also help a ton.  Is he excited by what’s going on?  How’s his internal monologue sounding?  His emotional state?  Fics from his pov can help with being more open about how he feels and you don’t have to pingpong as much between characters.  Readers are generally understood to be consenting (unless otherwise specified) since those types of works are self indulgent, so the focus doesn’t necessarily have to be on both but certainly can be if you’d like!  

‘Telling,’ or just having verbal consent checks (can be nonverbal too!) is still very effective, and is something I’ve done in my own fics before.  That, and the stuff above (and stuff I might have missed) are all really good ways to do it.

I’m going to talk about how I write him with my OC (and, to be fair, readers as I just picture the reader as my OC anyway when I write those types, lol).  With Ben, it's interesting to write smut for Homelander.  The whole shtick with them is that Ben is literally just some guy Homie threatened into joining The Seven that ended up bonding with him and forming a relationship.  The beauty of that is that this establishes a baseline of comfort and safety with one another (as a general rule, this baseline can be understood in fics without much or any backstory in a lot of cases). 

In one of my side fics, I have Ben stop Homelander from initiating sex, and even kissing (pre-relationship, for context) because he recognizes that Homelander is trying to bury his grief with it and doesn’t want to take advantage of him while he’s in such a tender state.  But that scene was written with the understanding that Homelander was trying to do that, and his paired character recognized it.  Again, this is something that you have incredible control of as the writer.

With my Ben x Homie fic “Touch,” I actually have it start with Ben asking if he can touch Homie.  I focused that fic from Homie’s pov and have him ramble some internal thoughts about “duh, we’re dating,” which I did to sort of toy with Homelander’s concepts of explicit vs implicit consent.  Ben asks for explicit consent, but Homelander believed it was already implicitly there.  As a man who has likely never genuinely been asked that question (or at least not in good faith/have it be ignored after), it felt very right to have Ben ask him that.  Throughout the fic, Homelander seeks more and more contact with his body, which I felt shows his eagerness and desire to continue.  

When things are a little more wild, such as with the fic where he’s tongue-blasting Ben’s wrist spinnerets, I wrote from Homie’s pov again to establish that it was his freaky-deaky playful nature that led to him thumbing at Ben’s wrists, gauging the physical response, and getting more and more into it.

Writing him as submissive or bottoming is when I rely heavily on physical queues as well as verbal.  If he’s seeking more on his own accord while trying to follow any rules, this shows his eagerness.  Gasps, moans, and glassy eyes searching for reassurance (that find it readily) are good physical indicators.  And here I think consent checks would be excellent!  Given what we know about him, his abuse by authority figures, and his struggle with power dynamics, it’s not at all inappropriate or out of place for his partner to ask if he’s okay, if he wants to continue, etc while he’s in an especially vulnerable state- especially if his partner also knows about these things.  I think he would actually really really appreciate this.

Want to tie it all together with making sure he’s comfortable?  After care.  Holy moly, after care!!!  After care is under utilized imo, but it’s a wonderful way to have your characters talk afterward and explore how they feel.  Maybe one takes care of the other, helps them clean up, preps a bath and dotes on them (or they mutually dote) while they share the tub.  Maybe it’s just pillow talk.  But it’s very special and can really add that layer of comfort.

Like I said, there's a ton of ways you can do this. Just do what feels right, you know?

I don’t know if this answered everything thoroughly, but please shoot me another ask if I missed anything!  I appreciate you a ton for thinking of me and your kind words about my interpretations <3 

[slytherinsomniari]

Deal With The Devil| Victor Rookwood x F! Reader

Pairing: Victor Rookwood x F! Reader

Summary: 4 years after you graduated from Hogwarts, you have an unexpected reunion with a former enemy and make a monumental decision.

Word Count: 2829

Themes: Smut, overstimulation, fingering, slightly public indecency

A/N: I do still struggle with dialogue, both with adding more of it and with making sure it fits the character. I hope that with time, my writing will be a lot better than it is so I could make fanfics that are good both for me and for the readers. I did get inspired by other Rookwood fics but I really hope its not too similar to the point of plagiarism. If it is, I will gladly take it down. (Sorry for the cliché title lol)

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

Upon your first meeting with Victor Rookwood, you had been intrigued by him from the moment you saw him. He had a certain charm to him, one that was certainly aided by his sleazy yet fashionable attire. There was something in his voice you liked as well. Maybe it was the way he said things in a playful yet serious tone, making him both intimidating and enthralling. When you had dealt a huge blow to his crew in your fifth year, you were disappointed to see him leave but at the time you were too busy trying to stop Ranrok from getting the last repository and destroying wizardkind to really think about it.

 Suffice it to say, you were not prepared nor expecting to meet him 4 years after you had graduated from Hogwarts. You had become an official Keeper and were now working on getting a position at Hogwarts–specifically in the library as it allowed you to learn even more about magic and the world surrounding you. He approached you as you were on your way out of the Three Broomsticks, just as you were saying goodbye to your friends. You were walking away from the pub through one of the side streets when a voice called out to you.

“Y/N was it? What a lovely name for a lovely girl.” You turn towards the source of the voice and find none other than Victor Rookwood. Despite the years, he looked as if he hadn’t aged a day since your first encounter. Meeting him in Hogsmeade was ironic and brought back memories from your first encounter with him. You were younger then and more naive and new to the world of magic, but now, you have changed. You were much stronger now and were not cowed by those who threatened others.

Prowling around you, you feel his eyes pierce your soul. Why is he so interested in me? Is he still after the ancient magic I’m protecting? I sealed it away though…unless he wants to take it back and gain more power than he ever had before?

“What do you want, Rookwood?” You ask sternly, pulling out your wand. Despite your interest in him, for reputation’s sake you had to at least pretend that you outright despised the man–which wasn’t that hard considering all the terrible crimes he’s done.

“Victor,” He replies, glancing your way. “Call me Victor. We’re not strangers now, are we?”

You hesitate for a moment but press on, “Well, Victor?”

“It has come to my attention that we have not been quite as honest with each other as we should have been when we first met.” He gives you a knowing look and continues, “It has been a while, but don’t think I didn’t notice your…longing glances you threw my way all those years ago.”

Flushing and in shock, you try to stutter out a rebuttal but nothing coherent forms.

Chuckling he comments, “No need to worry, your secret is safe with me. I was thinking we could discuss a little transaction that would be for our mutual benefit.”

Approaching you, he took advantage of your frozen state by grabbing your hand and taking your wand away, storing it in one of the wand pockets in his coat. You felt almost naked without it and as you realized what he was doing and tried to get it back, he merely tutted as he put it away, saying, “Come come, that would not be in your best interest dear.”

Without waiting for you to respond, he pulls you into an abandoned alleyway, not too far from the streets but far enough to where no one will see you. Struggling with his pace, you try to keep up when you are suddenly thrown against a wall. You let out a whimper upon impact and do not see him approach you until it is already too late. He surrounds your field of vision entirely, making it impossible to look anywhere else but him. His chest is right in front of you, leaving you free to see his partially unbuttoned shirt and his pale yet slightly sun weathered skin poking out from underneath. It is so deliciously close but Victor springs into action before your thoughts could lead you further astray. With one movement, he pins your arms above your head with one hand, locking you in place and forcing your back to arch and press yourself against him. You struggle to get your arms loose but he doesn’t budge. It is a constant battle between your emotions, torn between wanting him and wanting to escape and pretend nothing had happened. Although both sides struggled equally, one side was quickly winning. 

He grabs your waist with his other calloused hand and, giving up on all sense of propriety, you pull one leg out and latch onto him. His body is flushed against yours, with his erect member prodding through his clothing at your entrance. He grinds into you, making you moan. You shut your mouth in an instant, not wanting to be heard. He rocks his hips into yours, yours promptly responding to his touch. Your eyes become lidded with desire and the craving for complete intimacy with him. 

Victor grinds slowly but purposely, drawing out your response whether you wanted it or not. He moves his head towards your ear and says seductively, “This is but a mere taste of what I have to offer. The question is, how bad do you want it?”

His voice is that of the devil’s, you can be sure of that. You find yourself increasingly becoming hypnotized by him and the mixing of your long-held desire for him. You knew it was wrong and that he was the enemy, but how could something so bad feel so good? With the way your body was responding, you knew it was already too late to run away. The only thing you could do now is give in and receive the pleasure that he had promised.

He lifts up your skirt with the other hand and lowers it towards your drawers, feeling your throbbing area. You part your legs to give him room, which he takes advantage of by teasing you. He rubs circles on your clit, eliciting a shudder from you. You want him to put his finger, his dick, anything in you at this point. He continues to tease you, running his fingers over your clit. His fingers slightly graze your entrance, sending electricity through your body and making you buck into him, barely suppressing a moan. Victor smirks and you pant heavily, already in the midst of pleasure. At the sudden impact of his finger partially going inside you, you let out a loud moan. He removes his hand from your arms and puts it over your mouth, attempting to muffle your sounds so your time wouldn’t end just yet.

He slides his finger all the way in and moves it around. You want to pull him to you but even though he isn’t restraining you, you don’t have enough strength to do so. Instead, you place your hands on his chest and grip his shirt, keeping him in place and attempting to make yourself a bit more steady. Soon one finger became two and both fingers worked their magic on you, inducing more muffled moans from you. After all of the teasing, you let out a whimper as you unexpectedly cum, feeling it cover Victor’s hand.  

As you come to, you can hear more and more people in the surrounding area, leaving the two of you vulnerable and more likely to be noticed. He notices it as well and disengages from you, slowly removing his hand from inside of you and backing off. Taking a handkerchief out from his pocket, he wipes the fluid off and assesses you before speaking.

“How about we go somewhere...quiet to discuss our business?”

Victor grabs you and quickly disapparates with you, taking you Merlin knows where. Once you feel land beneath your feet, you take the opportunity to look around you. On the horizon you could see glittering water and once you looked further down, you could see the beach. The sea is close by and you seem to be on a hilly path leading down towards the beach. He leads you down the path and soon you can see a stone cottage by the seaside.Tannish-grey in hue, you can see that it’s a spacious cottage–and a quite costly one at that.

Once you arrive at the doorstep of the cottage, he opens the door for you and, feeling your heartbeat increase causing it to nearly jump out of your chest, you enter. He closes the door behind you and locks the door, trapping you in there with him. In the middle of nowhere in Scotland. This should frighten you but it doesn’t. Instead, you are greatly excited by it, craving his touch more than you thought you would. Taking your time, you take a look around you as you take in your new surroundings.

Inside, there is a kitchen directly to the left with a long, rectangular table with chairs around it and to the right is the living room with a fireplace and sofa parallel to it with chairs by the sides of the walls. Before you could think about exploring the other areas the cottage had to offer, Victor clears his throat. Clearly taking his time and observing your reaction, he gazes at you with not so hidden desire and with a knowing look. He had never taken anyone to the cottage before. It was his secret hideout and getaway when he wanted peace and quiet away from his men. It was a place where he could escape the more grimy lifestyle he created for himself and live in a more respectable manner that his family name suggested. Although this time, he was there for a not so respectable reason.

Grabbing your arm once more, he leads you up the stairs to his room which is low-lit and decently sized, with a desk with countless papers strewn about and a bed near the center wall of the room. There is a dresser and a few bookshelves lining the room, making it feel cozy and lived-in. While you are trying to burn his room into your memory, he closes the door behind you and approaches. He comes up from behind you and puts his right hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing it and letting his hand run down your arm. 

“Now my dear, there will be no more interruptions. Where were we?”

Flushing, you can feel your vagina pulse in anticipation and begin to quiver. You had already experienced a rush of pleasure in the alleyway but now you are going to experience the pinnacle of it in complete isolation from the world where time would mean nothing. No one would be able to get between you and the mere thought of that excites you further.

“The method of our transaction has not properly been discussed, though there is but one option. Give yourself to me. Give yourself to me and I will show you a world of carnal pleasure. You may refuse, but either way I will have my way with you.”

His words ring in your ears and cause a fire to erupt within your body. Mute and frozen, you can do nothing as he approaches you from the front and grabs at your clothing. He starts to unbutton your shirt and as he gets to your skirt, he drags it off of you slowly, his fingers lingering on the garment as he teases you once more and takes your bloomers down with it. He unlaces your corset, his nimble fingers performing with such ease as if he had done it countless times before. As your corset loosens and falls to the ground, he tosses your shirt off to the side, leaving you in just a chemise. You shiver, both due to the cold and in anticipation for what comes next. 

Glancing at the near naked state of you, Victor is hardly able to contain his mounting desire for you. He grabs onto your chemise with force, tearing it off of you and permanently damaging the garment as it is thrown off. You are now fully naked and gasp at the feeling of the cold air hitting your skin. Standing still, you find your senses on fire as you stand on the cusp of having your every wish fulfilled.

“Well? What do you say?” He asks in a near whisper as his eyes do a cursory glance over your body.

Placing his hand underneath your chin and tilting your head towards him, he murmurs,”Let me in.”

Sucking in a breath, you shakily exhale and respond with “Yes.”

He smirks, knowing he’s got you in the palm of his hand and could make you do anything for him. Releasing you from his grip, he watches as you hazily walk towards the bed and get on top of it, the springy mattress bouncing as you do. Laying flat on your back, you shiver and part your legs, eager for the pleasure that was promised. You could feel his eyes taking in the sight of you in the dim lighting, relishing the effect he’s had on you. He quickly undresses himself, unable to resist your expression and visible desire. The bed shifts with his weight as he gets on top of you, the full weight of him pressed against you. His legs rest on either side of you, arms by your head as he gets himself into position. You can feel his penis press against your entrance and find yourself unable to suppress a shudder.

“Please…” You beg, unable to take it any longer. He complies and thrusts fully into you–hard. The sheer force of his thrust sends jolts through your body, causing you to moan loudly. He was not going easy on you but you didn’t care. All you wanted was him, and that’s exactly what he was giving you. Your arms encircle his body and bring him closer to you. Feeling his muscled body lie against yours, you tighten your grip on his back as he growls and thrusts harder and harder into you. Seeing him focused on pounding into you relentlessly, you grab his face and plant a long and lustful kiss onto his lips. It begins in a calm manner, your lips softly mingling with his, but once Victor takes control it becomes more and more intense. You moan into the kiss, arousing him even further. 

In response to this, he brings his mouth to your neck and bites down, sucking on it and creating a hickey that you would definitely have to cover afterwards. You yelp, feeling the mixture of both pain and pleasure and bask in it. Your nipples, already hardened, rub against his chest, overstimulating you and sending lighting through your body as he creates multiple hickeys along your neck and shoulder. With your body quaking, you feel a tingling sensation as you reach your orgasm. His eyes flick to yours as he feels your body tremble beneath him. 

“Good girl” He lustfully chuckles as you buck your hips into his and release all over him. Your fluids coat him and give him more lubrication, allowing him to thrust easily into you with what should have been a sickening squelch but brought you pleasure instead. Feeling himself about to climax, he speeds up and with one final rough thrust, he spills himself into you. You can feel the mixture of both of your fluids inside you, trailing out on your legs and onto the bed. 

The two of you lie breathless and panting next to each other, allowing your bodies to recover from the whirlwind of desire he had put you two through. Turning on your side, you face him with an exhausted grin and nuzzle into him. He turns towards you and moves a strand of your hair behind your ear, remarking, ”Perhaps I should have bargained with you sooner had I known you would be so pliable”

“I would have given in sooner had I known you felt the same way, Victor”

“Well then, our next business venture shall have to incorporate more...unique methods into our bargain. Something more punishing perchance.”

He looks into your eyes and you see a lingering hunger in his eyes that hasn’t gone away yet. If this was just the beginning, you wonder how much further he could toy with you until you broke completely. It is a thrilling thought, one that you are eagerly waiting to realize when you are under his sway once more. He playfully nips at your ear and you giggle. He kisses you on the neck and wraps an arm around you, allowing you to fall into a peaceful slumber, wrapped comfortably in the arms of your former enemy. 

[loserlvrss]

🌵🍓🥤🛼

— ☆ such a real one for answering thank u <3

1. 🌵: share the link to a playlist you love probs gotta be my everyday one it’s so chaotic ‘n just like me $5 fortnite card

2. 🍓: how did you get into writing fanfiction? okay, so my ex-bsf wrote fanfics about teen wolf & the vampire diaries franchise YEARSSSS ago, so i would actually edit her books bc ive always been writing original stories. but eventually during COVID i thought i’d start writing original character fanfics on wattpad about the mcyt fandom bc i was bored (mistakes were made okay i know) & enhypen’s jay. but i lost motivation to write full-length stories after a couple years, so i naturally branched back over to tumblr/ao3 to post one shots; reader inserts do better on here so that’s why they’re all y/n

3. 🥤: recommend an author or fanfic you love oh there’s so many authors i love so i just gotta make a small list me thinks cccc: @gluion fic req safe haven (how much longer do we have?) leehan x reader apocalypse!au angst. @hoonven anything by mimi i eat up one of my fav enha authors ily <333 honorable mention laundry and taxes sunghoon x reader fluff & angst. @jnnul ‘s nouvelle vague leehan x reader college!au fluff, angst, smut, & comedy. @kimakento my bae everything is so good honorable mention im hurting, but that’s okay koga yudai x reader rich-student!au crazy angst (my fav genre) & so this is how it feels wang yixiang x reader x koga yudai hanahaki!au, angst. anything by @boyfhee gaawwwd esp now that i’m back in an enhypen phase oh em gee. anything by @nicholasluvbot i love saur saur much. @joocomics NEVAAAA misses mark my words laawwd i love xdh. anyways, the list could literally never end bc i read so much on here, so yeah let’s stop while we’re ahead lmfao

4. 🛼: describe your latest wip with five emojis 📸😼🐈‍⬛👠🍷hehe might be titled 90s supermodel idk thoughhhh

- soph 𓆤

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Arrogance Incarnate

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki and you don’t get along, at all. It’s infuriating and frustrating, except in the few moments where it’s pure bliss.  Inspired by @lokisgoodgirl series Hostile F*cks that I stumbled upon a few days ago.

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, dom/sub elements, angry fuck, pet names, open-ended ending

A/N: This post does not have any of my taglist added as my taglist is now 2 years outdated. I hope you all enjoy this piece as I certainly enjoyed writing again. Let me know what y’all think!

This is set as if everything is happy and okay, everyone lives in the compound together. Also, inspired by @lokisgoodgirl​ Hostile F*cks series that I stumbled upon the other day!

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

No one really comprehended how it got like this, some days it was better not to ask and just ignore it. It didn't start out this way, quite the opposite as a matter of fact; all warm welcomes and soft smiles inevitably turned into agitated sighs and annoyed eye rolls. 

You couldn't help it though. He had become absolutely infuriating; too sure of himself, too cocky, too arrogant… Too Loki. 

Nat sat beside you at the kitchen island, finishing up her food as the time neared for her to leave. Majority of the team had been assigned a mission, they wouldn't be gone for long - only 2 or 3 days - but it required a lot of manpower to assure no one got hurt. You'd been on the last few big missions so Tony let you sit this one out, figuring you'd enjoy some peace and quiet.  

But peace and quiet was the last thing you would get. Since this mission requires the most finesse, the assurance that no one would make an abrupt move, that no one would steer away from the plan, Loki had also been chosen to sit this one out. 

"I really hope you guys get back sooner rather than later," you huffed, picking at the last bit of the fruit in your bowl. 

Nat chuckled softly, shaking her head at your complaints, "Try not to kill each other while we're gone. Spiderboy is hanging back too if you need someone to occupy you."

You rolled your eyes, standing up to clean up your dishes and taking hers with you, "Peter is an MIT student, has to travel between here and Boston every 4 weeks, has a girlfriend, is working on suit upgrades, and has friends in the city he hasn't seen in months. I doubt I'm the first person on his list of people to 'occupy'."

Nat followed you, rubbing her hand along your back as you stood at the sink cleaning the dishes. "Well, take yourself out, or have a movie night. Maybe rearrange your room like you've been talking bout. Or find a good lay." She teased at the end. 

You shook your head, turning the water off and shaking your hands of the water, "Yeah yeah, I know. But I'd rather spend my time sitting in the same room as you, playing on my switch, and bitching about the same shit over and over. But I'll live. You, however, need to get going before Steve decides to come searching for you."

She sighed, an apologetic look spreading across her features. "I know. But, we're still on for that brunch and spa spot next week. I'll text you updates, okay?" 

You nodded, watching as she turned and made her way to the meeting room for debriefing. 

This was going to be a long few days. 

You started making your way to your room, intending to grab a book then head out to sit by the pool. But you didn't make it far, hearing Thor's booming voice echoing off the walls. You stopped, hating yourself immediately for being interested in the conversation, but nonetheless you stayed out of sight. 

"Be nice to her, brother. She was the only one kind to you when we arrived. Surely, you must appreciate that enough to think about your actions."

Loki's sigh was sharp and loud, "For the last time, Thor, how I treat our fellow colleagues," there was a tinge of disgust in his voice that turned your face sour at hearing it, "has very little to do with you. Besides, this back and forth between (Y/N) was started by her. For being the one who was kindest to me, she's the only one now who is constantly irritated by my very presence."

It was true. You hated to admit it, but every word was true. Shaking your head, you kept moving, trying you best to make it seem like you hadn't been listening in. 

When Thor and Loki had decided to make Asgard their new home, things were rough. Loki's history with Earth made it so that S.H.I.E.L.D required them to live with the Avengers for two years. Any trips he made outside the compound had to be supervised for the first 6 months, then slowly he could gain trust. 

Their arrival was almost a year ago. You had heard the many stories of Loki, mostly bad with Thor sprinkling in some good. It became glaringly obvious to you that something had to be happening at the time the others had met him, that pieces of information were missing for you to understand fully why Loki attacked New York. Sure, you didn't want to immediately dismiss the concerns, but you wanted him to feel like he had someone there who didn't hate him. 

And it did begin that way, a friendly introduction, showing him books, introducing him to movies and songs. There were countless times in the beginning where Loki and you were almost inseparable. 

Then the missions started, and irritation started. He was too brazen, making bold moves without discussion. More than once he had put you in a predicament where you could have gotten hurt. There was this one mission in particular, you were undercover in a club trying to collect information, Loki was your watch - the person you had been talking to had gotten a little too close, nothing you weren't expecting, but Loki apparently felt it was too much. The two of you had to rush out after Loki left the guy with a broken nose. 

Sure, it became frustrating to work on missions with him, but it didn't become bad at home until after he was able to leave the compound on his own. 

One night, admittedly after too many glasses of wine, you had made your way to Loki's room with the full intention of trying to flirt your way into a date with him. He was tall, stunningly gorgeous, playful, and caring. You had spent a lot of time with him, movie nights that kept you up late, stories being passed back and forth. But just as you were about to knock on his door, there was a loud, high pitched, nasally moan of his name. It was a voice you didn't recognize, your blood running instantly cold as your hand hovered over the door.

It was that moment that things turned bad. You had made an backhanded remark the next day, and Loki being Loki reciprocated. Every day another verbal dagger thrown until the two of you couldn't be in the same room together. 

Tony had even put you two on an easy mission together, hoping that somehow you two would have it out and things would improve, but that didn't work. It just made things worse. 

You did have it out though. The first times of many you would truly have it out with Loki. No one had noticed or caught on, not that either of you were aware of. You truly couldn't stand him anymore unless he was seated to the hilt in you, or if his piercing eyes were darkening between your thighs, or his hands roaming every inch of your body. 

How would anyone catch on? Outside of your bedroom, the two of you barely even spared a glance to each other and the ones you did were out of sheer agitation. No lingering words or flirty smiles. And the only time you found him in your bed was after weeks of build up from bickering and arguing. 

You closed your door behind you, sighing deeply to try to put your roaming thoughts at bay. This was truly going to be a long few days. 

The weather couldn't have been better, but the moment you stepped outside the desire to be anywhere but on a bed or couch went out the door. You stood there for a moment, taking in the warmth of the sunshine and the soft breeze of air that allowed a reprieve from the heat. The jets of the teams leaving soared overhead. With yet another sigh you turned on your heels, heading back inside. 

Opting to head back to your room, you passed the living quarters again where Loki had taken home for the day. Your footsteps passing brought his attention from the book in his hands, watching with slight amusement as you moved through the compound. 

"Having troubles making up your mind?" He called to you. 

Another huff and roll of the eyes, but you kept moving, ignoring the God's taunt. 

You hadn't been in your room long before the door flew open, startling you. Loki stood there, annoyance written on his face. "No one else is here, so must you continue to pretend to hate me to my core?"

Words left you, unsure of what to say or how to feel. This was bold of him, he'd hadn't come to your room without warning before, and truly you did expect to just ignore each others existence for the next few days. 

"I asked you a question." He let himself in, shutting the door behind him as he stalked his way to stand above you at the end of the bed. 

"Pretend?" You asked, voice soft and throat dried. You hated the effect he could have on you - the smell of him, of leather, musk, and mint overwhelming your senses. 

"Are you saying you're not pretending?" His eyebrows were raised. 

You huffed, rising from your sitting position to your knees. "Loki, I can assure you, that pretending would be much less exhausting."

"Darling, don't act like there isn't a part of you that wants me." You swallowed hard, staring up at him. Of course you wanted him, you wanted him in more ways than you would admit. Loki stared back, "If you're not pretending, then why do you hate me?" His voice was almost teasing. 

"You're arrogant. You're arrogant to the point that you are blinded by it." You stated.

"That's it? Did the little pet get her feelings hurt by something I said? Or was it something I did?" He teased, punctuating the end of his sentence by carding his hands through your hair and tugging tightly. 

"I am the God of Mischief after all, darling. You truly didn't think that I wouldn't be a little unhinged, did you?" He tugged your hair back, forcing a gasp out of you as he started to move you to a lying position, him hovering over top of you, "We both know there's a part of you that still loves it. If you didn't, you wouldn't have your legs wrapped around my waist right now, you wouldn't moan my name so wantonly, you wouldn't even let me anywhere near your pretty little pussy." 

Loki used his leverage of his hand in your hair to turn your head, kissing at the sensitive skin of your neck. "Admit it," he said between kisses, "admit you want me, darling."

A chill ran down your spine. You hated it, the second he was on top of you, you had instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands now carding in his hair. You were already getting wet, trying your best to hold back any whines or moans. 

Loki didn't like you ignoring him. He bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, sucking hard and undoubtedly leaving a mark. He pulled back, "if you want me to satisfy you, you need to admit it."

His hand left your hair, both of them moving to roam across your body. The moved under your shift, cold fingers causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. He didn't say anything as he continued on, hands moving to cups your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra. 

He was going to tease until you admitted it. Loki's hips rocked slowly against you, relishing in listening to you whine and whimper, your own hips trying to run against him, your core getting hot with need. His lips continued their assault on your neck, careful not to leave any marks too high up. 

Suddenly, your shirt was gone, Loki using it magic to take it off. His mouth move to your shoulder, leaving an array of purple and blue there, making his way further down and nipping at the top of your chest. 

"Please," you whined, pulling at his hair, "Please Loki."

He chuckled against your skin, hands snaking behind you to undo your bra, taking notice of the goosebumps thay spread across your skin from the feel of his hands on you. "Admit you want it. You know what you have to say."

You whined, squirming as he pulled up some to discard your bra. Immediately, his mouth attached to your nipple, flicking and sucking the sensitive bud as his hand moved to toy with the other one. He switched back and forth, your moans like music to his ears. 

Moans were spewing out of you, hips rutting harder and fast. "Damn it, Loki, stop the teasing and just fuck me if that's what you came in here to do." You managed to choke out. 

Loki pulled away from your chest, both hands playing with your nipples now. "I came here to teach you a lesson. Now, admit you want it." 

"I want it," you finally blurted out, feeling like you were going crazy with need. "I want you, Loki. Please just fuck me."

"Good girl," suddenly, all of your clothes were gone. He sat back on his legs, looking down at you for a few moments. "Heavens, you're still just as ravishing to look at."

His were gone now as well and he leaned back down, capturing your lips in his. It happened so quickly, him moving your calves to his shoulders, lining his cock up with your core, pushing in slowly as your lips moved against each other feverishly. 

Loki pushed himself all the way in, staying still once he was fully seated, watching the look of ecstasy on your face, eyes screwed shut and mouth slightly agape. It was a look he would never get tired of. 

He waited until you looked up at him to pull out and shove himself back in, setting a pace that rattled you inside out. He moved one of your legs down to his waist, angling his hips and moving a hand to rub your clit. 

Loud moans fell from you, echoing off the walls and sounding like songs in his ears. He kept at it, feeling your walls spasm, watching you feeling at him. 

A wave of confidence ran through you, moving your other leg back down to his waist, you sat up as best as you could, carding a hand through his hair and pulling him back down to kiss him. You move your lips to his neck, making sure his would match yours in color. Hands moving along his lean body. 

Pressure began to build, his relentless pursuit of both your high starting to become successful. Your free hand moved to his back, scratching against the pale expanse of skin and leaving bright red marks in your wake. 

Suddenly, a hand was gripping your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye, "you're being so good for me for someone who hates me." A chill ran up your spine, the pressure in your core ready to flood and take over, "I can feel you squeezing my cock, cum for me, darling. Be my good girl and cum for me."

Between his blissfully sinful words and the rutting of his hips against yours, you toppled over the edge, immediately securing your mouth to his shoulder and biting down to muffle your loud moans. The pain spurred him on, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his own high. Loki came, painting your insides white as he collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you too much with his weight as he took deep breaths, both of your hearts racing. 

There was a pleasant quiet that fell between the two of you, something that hadn't happened before. It was always finished and get gone as quickly as possible, but this time he laid there for a couple of minutes, both of you taking in the bliss of not being at each other's throat. 

Loki inevitably pulled out of you, taking the time to get up and get a rag from your connected bathroom. He brought it over, slightly damp, wiping the dried saliva from his own neck before handing it to you so you could clean yourself up some. As you did, he grabbed his clothes instead of using his magic to put them back on. 

Loki slipped his pants on, holding the rest of his clothes in his hand as he made his way to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned to look at you, an almost tired expression on his face.

"When you have decided you're done pretending to hate me, let me know." And with that he walked out, leaving you there to contemplate your every emotion.

[angeltoshi]

Hello! My name is Angel! If there’s any crossover, some of you may know me from my Sturniolo fan account @sturniozo If not that’s okay!

I debated for a while whether or not to put my My Hero Academia fanfics on the same account as my Sturniolo fanfics, and then decided just to make a new account for it.

So, for those of you who don’t know me already (which is probably most of you lol) here’s a few things about me! My favorite color is pink, I love writing, I’m trying to move out of my grandparents house and I have a full time job so it would be slow for fics to come out! (Please be patient!)

I’ve been in the My Hero Academia fandom since I was 14 or 15. Yeah, it’s been a while lol. I never wrote my hero fanfiction before, I only ever read it. Until I turned 18, cos then it felt very weird to me to read fanfiction about minors, even if they were fictional. Well my little brother (who I share very thought and feeling with, we’re literal besties!) has assured me that it’s not weird if I’ve liked the characters and have been reading fanfics about them since I was 14. To me, it’s still a little weird, but I can’t help that I’m in love with Shinsou 😭😭😭

So, all my fanfics and headcannons will be aged up, of course. I’ll probably do collage aus for anyone who requests a school setting as well. I’m still weary about writing about them, so I’m gonna say no smut for now until I get more comfortable (sorry 😔) although I have nothing against people who write smut for the mha universe. From age 14-17.99 I literally ready mha smut almost every day. (I was still reading it the night I turned 18 but after a month or two after that birthday I felt weird about it and stopped, and found the Sturniolo fandom that I have my other account for tehe 🤭)

But anyways, feel free to flood my inbox with whatever you’d like! Questions about what I’ll write, about me, suggestions for fics, requests, and I don’t mind if anyone wants to give me their opinion about being 19 and writing mha fanfiction because I myself am still torn about this 😭

I love you all so much!

Xoxo - Angel