#and the top of the bin comes off when the show starts

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[sweet-as-an-angel]

hello ! i loved ur hcs for ghost x innocent reader sm, what do you think of könig x innocent reader? love ur writing ♡

König w/ an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Overprotective König, Rizzed-Out König, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

There is nothing König won’t do for you.

Your overall calm, kind demeanour brings him peace he’s never known before.

And because of that – because he adores you beyond measure – he can get very…protective.

He often treats you as more fragile than you actually are.

Horror film playing in the background while you’re talking ? It’s getting switched off.

A picture of someone exposing a shoulder in a swimsuit catalogue? It’s getting thrown into a fire.

A pair of your own underwear left unattended next to the wash bin? König’s stuffing it into the bottom of the basket.

There comes a point where you have to tell him that, yes, while you may be a little naïve, even a bit oblivious, you’re not stupid.

And, as best he can, König treats you as you want to be treated, which is to say not as if you are a nigh-extinct species of flower.

And, given this new ‘power’ as such – this permission to show you the less rounded edges of life – König begins to have some rather self-serving ideas.

Regardless of if you like horror films or not, König will use it against you.

He’ll test your stomach for terror, putting something frightening on whenever you’re having date night to see if you’ll cling to him.

And if you do, irrespective of whether you fear what’s happening on-screen or not, his soul will ascend.

He can die happy when you hold on to him, nuzzling into his side while quietly asking him to “Hold me, Köni. Please.”

Makes him feel all big and important.

Wear his clothes around him, my God–

First time he saw you in his hoodie – after an impromptu visit from the Rain God made your original outfit unusable – he literally did a double-take.

He dropped the plate he was washing, grasped at it as it slipped between his soap-frothed fingers.

He just punched it into the sink, heard something crack, and turned his attention to you. And only you.

“I– You–” König couldn’t even form a full sentence as you stared at him, half-peeking from behind the door.

“You look…” He racked every file, folder and confine of his mind for anything to describe how he felt right now, how you made him feel.

It just came out as a strangled noise. And, smiling, you hurried into his arms.

You didn’t mind that they were soapy and wet. And neither did König.

Though, the only reason he didn’t was because his brain was so positively fried that he quite literally could think of nothing else except you.

The longer you’ve been dating, the more comfortable König becomes with being rougher with you, shall we say.

It all starts when you start doing things you never did before.

Like letting your hands slip lower beneath his waist, resting on his hips; Sitting on his lap when there are no other spaces available – and then eventually when there are seats available; saying his name like that – “Köni,” when you need help.

“I just can’t do it all by myself. I need someone big and strong to do it for me.”

And, regardless of how sincere you sound when you say it, regardless of how you bat your eyelashes and plump your lips when you look up at him, König is far too whipped to say no.

At first, König genuinely doesn’t think you’re doing it intentionally.

And neither do you, until you see the effect it has on him.

Making his cheeks flush and a pillow find its way to his lap when he sits on the sofa, your head placed precariously close to the growing issue between his legs.

Now, König isn’t the type to go throwing accusations around.

But when he catches you wearing his favourite hoodie, balancing on the edge of the kitchen counter to reach something placed on top of the cabinets (and I don’t mean the top shelf; I mean on TOP of the cabinets – like when you’re hiding a Christmas gift), your underwear peeking just below the hem, he can’t take it.

He knows what you’re doing.

And now that you’ve let onto him, with your doe eyes and your exasperated “Köni, I need you–” he’s gone. Snapped.

Just because you’re “innocent” doesn’t mean you’re exempt from König’s wrath.

To put it plainly, König didn’t seem so shy or frightful of damaging that night as he pinned you to the wall and took you for the first time <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[nnight-dances]

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer. 

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing. 

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision. 

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep." 

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now. 

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat. 

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties. 

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him. 

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to." 

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh. 

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior. 

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours. 

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…? 

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin 

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place 

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :) 

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22 

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you 

bin: …

bin: i love you too

[moon7jay]

Now he knows... (p.sh)

"It's not even funny i don't know what the fuck you are giggling about right now to be honest" You sassed hitting sunghoon's shoulder.

"Because you are jealous of my pet puppy I can't breathe baby"

"It's NOT THAT. Stop saying that. It's how you didn't mention me when jake asked you about the cute females in your life ! like fuck you actually"

Sunghoon guffawed and rolled onto the floor while you continued watching him with narrowed eyes. This was serious for you. He wiped the few tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes and sighed, trying to keep his laughter at bay.

"I just wanted to show off how gaeul has been able to use the snack button you know? It's cute"

He honestly found you adorable as you huffed and puffed at his words, a pretty pout forming on your lips "so i need to install a snack button in my room and press it with my paws everytime I need a snack for you to call me cute? Is that what you're implying?'"

Sunghoon wheezed and rolled around holding his stomach again. You didn't even know that you had a straight connection to his funny bone.

"keep laughing, fuck you and fuck your stupid puppy and that stupid snack button and fuck jake" You grumbled throwing a pillow at sunghoon's laughing form.

"MY NAME WAS MENTIONED AND I DON'T LIKE THAT" jake yelled from outside.

"WELL FUCK THAT " You shouted back and could hear jake grumbling something about sunghoon's taste in women.

Sunghoon pulled himself together, catching his breath and made eye contact with you, still lying on the floor.

"actually she also has a potty bin-

"PARK SUNGHOON I DARE YOU TO FINISH THAT SENTENCE"

Unbelievable. You huffed dramatically and plopped yourself on his bed, your back facing him. All you wanted was to be called cute but your boyfriend loved teasing you to the point where you wanted nothing to do with him. Dramatic much? You asked yourself.

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling when you felt the bed dip behind you, his hot breath on your neck and arms manhandling your body onto your back while he hovered over your pouty self, his face inches from yours.

"jake doesn't need to know how cute you are baby, you know why?" he asked, resting his body weight on one arm at the side of your head while with the other he started to grope your body. A gasp escaped your lips when he grabbed your tits tightly, your back automatically arching into his touch.

"because then I'll have to tell him about the cute sounds that you make for me" His words were backed up by his actions as he pinched your nipples harshly from over your thin tank top, making you mewl underneath him. He stared down into your eyes that were beginning to water because of his rough touches.

"do you want him to know how cute you sound for me? How you whine so prettily it drives me fucking crazy?" He grunted, capturing your lips into his own messily while his hand travelled down to part your legs open. He grabbed your pussy from above your shorts, making you moan into his mouth.

"since you're so fucking desperate baby, let's show jake how cute you are yeah?" He asked pulling away from your body, standing on his knees while he unzipped his jeans hastily. You were shaking your head and pleading to him with your wet eyes but sunghoon wasn't listening to you now. "N-no I'm s-sorry-please hoon" you begged softly, little sobs escaping your lips in a shameful mix of humiliation and arousal when he pulled your shorts and panties down your soft legs. "let's show him how cute you are while you're being split open on my cock" your hands came up in an attempt to push him away but you couldn't make any progress. Sunghoon chuckled upon noticing your efforts, you were the cutest little thing and he wanted to ruin you. His big hand engulfed your wrists and trapped them above your head, ceasing all your movements. "You wanna fight me baby?" he asked, tongue coming out to lick your tears while with his free hand he guided his dick inside of your pussy. You gasped and moaned loudly upon feeling the intrusion, he was so big, no matter how many times he'd taken you like this, you just couldn't get used to the painful stretch.

"fuck baby" he groaned and started thrusting into your fuck hole in a frenzy, making it a point to drill his dick deep into your core. You tried to supress your noises but it didn't last long. Sunghoon digging his pointy teeth into your neck was enough for you to start letting your sobs out. You knew jake could hear you, the dorm had really thin walls and that's why you and sunghoon only had sex in the dorm when no one else was around. "Bet he's fisting his dick to your cute little moans baby, getting himself off to us having sex" sunghoon panted on your face, grinding his hips deeper into yours. He cursed upon feeling how tight you clenched around his length at his filthy words. He loved how responsive you were. Like a doll for him to fuck and bend however he wants.

"Now he knows how cute you are for me" He moaned into your mouth "bet he's fantasizing about your cute little cunt right now-ah fuck-wishing he was the one buried in your wet heat instead of me, isn't that what you wanted?"

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

��Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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[bandgie]

Cat-Fight | Ep. 5

MASTERLIST | Kink: Tiddies

🗝 Now there's no doubt in your mind that this Other World is very much real. You're desperate to make your roommates see the truth, but the neighborhood black cat is set on keeping his mouth shut. Yours too.

5.1k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, argument w/ chan, reader has a tiny meltdown in the beginning, fuckin' on the bug couch 😭, PIV, no protection, boobs...lot's of it, nipple sucking/pinching/flicking/etc, seungmin is manipulative if you catch it, cumming inside

notes! little bit of angst in the beginning, but it's okay, bin is there to save the day. there wasn't even supposed to be fight scene with chan (it was supposed to be Seung), but I was angry when I wrote it and I just kinda spewed it out. I think it worked out in the end tho

Jeongin is gone when you wake. There’s not a sign of him in either doll or human form. With your head spinning, last night wants to blur into a dream.

But you know better now.

Rays of the waking sun barely touch your window. The sky is a light blue and the horizon is subtly yellow in the early morning. You’re tempted to close your eyes again, but you will yourself to sit up.

A part of you wishes you never accepted Jisung’s gift. You could’ve brushed off the interaction with Seungmin’s warning as a nightmare, but now you’re cursed with the truth.

There’s no way you can pretend nothing happened. You can’t ignore the little door and the Others trapped behind it. Even if your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the overwhelming thought of everything, doing nothing is not an option. 

The clatter downstairs makes you jolt. It takes a moment for your brain to remember Chan’s message.

They’re finally home.

You throw the covers and swing your legs off the bed. It feels so relieving to hear them come home, even if loudly. From the top of the stairs, you can listen to Chan quietly scolding Changbin about making noise. The reprimands turn hushed when your bare feet pad down the hall.

“You woke her up, man.” “I didn’t mean to! Everything is still in boxes. I can’t just- ack!”

You tackle Changbin into a hug. He topples over, thudding into Chan who catches the both of you. Your feet scramble to find the ground, but your arms are so focused on clinging onto them both that your roommates have to hold you in the air briefly.

They’ve been gone for only hours, but it feels like an eternity. You’ve missed how they wrap their arms around you, bringing you into a confused, but welcomed embrace.

“Hey,” Chan speaks gently. “What’s wrong?” His fingers run in your hair, getting tangled with the knots. He carefully pulls his hand free. “Did you… take a mud bath?”

Changbin leans close to your head, sniffing your scalp. “Did you take a bath in general?”

Chan swats him on the shoulder, giving a nasty glare before his eyes turn gently to you. “You had a bad dream or something?”

And it’s one you wish you could wake up from. You wish you could tell them everything from the start, but the only thing you can do is sob. “Y-you have n-no id-dea.”

Even with the dirt and grime on you, they hug you again. Their lips and fingers smooth over your face and your hair. 

They deserve to know the truth, but you can’t bear the thought of them getting caught up in a mess that feels like your fault.

“We need to move,” you sniff. “We can’t live here.”

Changbin tucks you under his chin, leaving your backside to Chan who trails his fingertips up and down. “Why not?”

“The door. It’s haunted. Or not haunted but...” How can you explain it? "It's just not right."

You feel Changbin tense under you, but in a vulnerable moment like this, he doesn’t let his fear show more than that. “What door, baby?”

Wordlessly, you lead them to the living room. Walking towards the crawl space might have felt heavy alone, but with Chan and Changbin holding each of your hands, the steps feel easy.

You let go of them to get on your knees, digging your fingers through the crack.

“Oh.” Chan turns his head to the side. “The boarded-up door. It’s just bricks on the other side, no?”

You don’t pry it open, not yet. “I…I thought so too, but there are people on the Other Side. One night, there was this mouse-”

“Mouse?” Chan’s eyes widen. “Fuck. I knew something was gonna come out of that door. We need to call someone-”

“No. No, no, no. Just listen,” you shake your head. “It led me to the door. And there was a tunnel.”

Changbin’s eyebrow quirks up. “A tunnel?”

“Yes. Let me finish. And it led to a living room that looked like ours but wasn’t. The lights were different, there weren’t boxes, and people were living on the upper and lower levels.”

You hate how they’re looking at you. Their eyes are full of confusion, and disbelief. But worst of all, they’re looking at you as if you’re just plain crazy. 

But with everything that’s happened, maybe you are.

You’ll just have to show them. Sweat gathers on your fingers when you tug on the door, anxiously waiting to see their expression change to fear when they see what you saw. 

But when it’s open - wide and bare for all to see - it’s only bricks. 

“No. Fuck!” You slam the door frustratingly, yanking it open to see that red stone there again and again. 

“No! No! No!” SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

The house shakes from the force. You can’t hear the echoing from the blood rushing to your ears. Your vision blurs, hot tears streaming down your face for the second time this early morning. 

Strong hands pull you away from the door and right into Changbin’s chest. 

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” But his concern doesn’t faze you. You have to yank from his grip to run past the kitchen, heading towards the front door. 

The sun peeks over the mountains when you’re outside. The air is crisp, biting at your skin that feels too hot. 

If the door won’t reveal itself, you think something else will.

“Seungmin!” Your voice echos. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”

Chan and Changbin follow you outside, their steps thudding until they’re in the driveway. They stand a foot behind you, looking at each other bewildered before something trembles in the bushes. 

A black cat jumps from the leaves, shaking off the stems and stretching nonchalantly. His blue eyes blink slowly, head turning from the men to you. 

What do you want?

“Jesus!” Changbin jumps. “Where the fuck did he come from?”

You ignore his question and stomp towards the cat, angrily wiping your tears. “Tell them.”

Seungmin tilts his head to one side. 

“Tell them! Tell them about the Others, the warning you gave me, anything.”

You can hear the leaves crunching quietly as Chan tiptoes to you. So slow, so delicate. As if you’re a deer that would run off.

When Seungmin says nothing, you scream. 

“Ugh! I’m trying to help you! You stupid fucking cat! Why can’t you just listen!? You guys are stuck and I can’t do anything about it if you don’t let me help!”

“Mrow.”

Chan has a hold on you before you can yell at Seungmin again. The movement makes the cat dash, little paws thudding on the ground before disappearing among the trees. You desperately whine, watching the only thing that could have helped turn into a speck in the distance.

He spins you around to face him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You blink. Chan never talks to you like that. “I…He’s one of them.”

“One of who?”

“The Others. From the Other Side. He-”

“No. This is crazy.” Chan shakes his head. “You…Is this because we've been gone? I told you that we’re busy doing the album and that it’s gonna take until the end of the week to finish things up. Why are you doing this?”

His words make you physically recoil. You stare at him in shock, hurt evident in your eyes. “You think I’m doing this for attention?”

The tick in his jaw is enough of an answer. 

Emotions thicken your words. “You don't know what it’s like. To be alone in this fucking nightmare. You’re gone. You’re both gone all the time. And when you are home, you’re on the computer acting like I’m a nuisance. What did you call me the other day? A distraction?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don't care how you meant it!” Your voice trembles. “I’m alone. I fucking hate it. You have Changbin while I lose my mind in that fucking house. And when I do need you, you’re still not here!”

Chan has you by the elbows as you wipe your tears. You expect his anger to fade into softness. He normally would whenever he sees you this upset, but his jaw hardens and it feels like the next words would only do more harm than good.

Changbin has to tug on his shoulder to break the tension. Chan’s grip loosens and Changbin stands in the middle, protectively in front of you.

“Okay. I think we need a breather. It’s late. Well… early I guess. I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired.” He grabs your hand behind his back and keeps his other hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Hyung, it’s been a while since you’ve gotten good rest. Look at your eyes.”

You dare peek at Chan. You don’t know how you missed it before but the bags under his eyes are darker. They make his face hollow, drained with color.

Guilt eats at your heart.

“And you,” Bin turns around. “It’s been a while since you’ve showered, huh?”

Despite the dried tears, you scoff.

Changbin squeezes your hand. “Then that settles it. Go inside, Hyung. I’ll take care of everything.”

Chan deeply exhales. He lets you go and nods, taking a few steps back. “Thanks.”

Changbin and you are silent when he walks back into the house, the tips of his ears twinged red. Either from the cold or frustration, you aren’t sure. Changbin only turns back to you and brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear when the door closes.

“You okay?”

No, but you don’t want to keep causing stress on your best friends. “I’ll manage. I didn’t mean to make him so mad. I ruined everything.”

Changbin’s thick fingers caress your face. “No. Don’t say that. You didn’t ruin anything. Chan’s just been really stressed. But still, he shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.” You sniff, holding back tears again. You know you have to apologize, but the raw emotions of fear and anger are still in the air. The only reason you’re keeping it together is because Changbin looks as though he might break if you do. 

“I just wanted you guys to believe me.”

“We do.” Changbin brushes his thumb under your eye. “But neither of us has really slept and it all just sounds…complicated.”

“Here.” Changbin intertwines his hand in yours. “We can freshen up first. I honestly need a nap, but I can be in the shower with you if you want.”

You playfully push him and laugh. Even with your knotty hair and dirty skin, Changbin would still make a move. It makes the heaviness in your chest lighter. 

“Eww. No, thank you. I can wash up on my own. You guys go to sleep and just focus on getting rest.”

Changbin pouts, but nods, leading you into the apartment. He kisses you gently once you’re in the kitchen, holding onto your waist and running his hand up and down your back. It’s just lips, but you melt anyway. It feels like forever since you’ve been held so tenderly. You have to fight the urge to tilt your head and deepen the kiss, content when Changbin pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“You know we’re here for you. Always.”

Showering feels like a rebirth. The water scrubs not only the dirt but the emotions with it. You feel rejuvenated in the steaming water, letting the droplets slide down your waist and the curve of your breasts.

Getting out is difficult. You miss the hot shower the moment it’s off, drying yourself and putting on plain shorts and a shirt. 

The sun is above the horizon now, bright and yellow. You stare at it from your window. A small, bitter laugh comes from you.

What a way to start the day.

You’re considering whether you should waste the day sleeping or attempting to do something productive, but there’s still frustration in your heart. Why didn’t the door show itself? 

You’re already walking out of your room and down the hall, intent on confronting it head-on. If you open the door and it’s just bricks, you’ll drop the whole thing. The Others must not want to be found, to be helped. As much as it would pain you to know they’re stuck, their choice to stay is theirs.

Skittering down the stairs, you think of an alternate plan. If the door does reveal itself, they do need help. Or something from you, at the very least. Whatever it is, you’re planning on chewing them out for making a fool of yourself first and then giving them what they want.

Standing in front of the little door with determination is new for you. A part of you is wishing that it's just bricks there. Everything, despite how terrifying it was, can be summed up as a dream. Or a hallucination in the case of the doll.

You get on your knees, shoving your fingers through the crack once again. 

“Okay. It’ll be fine.” You give yourself a quick pep talk. “You’ll open the door, see what’s there, you’ll have to apologize to-”

You open the crawl space mid-sentence, stopping when the blue tunnel unravels. Maybe you’d like to see its familiar pulsing and greeting, but anger that the shower was supposed to wash away resurfaces.

Those assholes.

-

There’s a man on the Other Side that you’ve never seen before. His hair is cut short, buttons eyes a dark blue, and piercing in a way that makes you think he hates you the moment you come out of the little door. 

But the room, the room is unrecognizable. There’s no furniture, no couches, but bugs in their place. Big, lively-looking insects that the man sits on.

A beetle couch. 

“You got a lot of nerve coming here after calling me a stupid cat. Again.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I can’t even talk if I wanted to over on that side.”

He’s the cat. He’s Seungmin. You should have known from his rude sneer and pompous attitude, but seeing him human is baffling.

“You…you made me look like an idiot.” You walk over to the bug couch, stopping at arm’s length. “I was trying to help you.”

He snorts. “Help me, yeah? By what? Yelling at me and calling me names? You dug your own grave doing that.”

He’s trying to spin it on you and it’s working. You’re reminded of how you treated Chan, of how you yelled at not just Seungmin, but a cat. Though you feel somewhat bad, you don’t have the empathy to apologize.

So Seungmin keeps talking. “I could hear you guys yelling even after I took off. Screaming at me then them. Sounds like they aren’t home enough to actually care about anything you’ve experienced.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?” Seungmin sits back, slightly spreading his legs. “Why did I hear you say something about you being alone? That they’re not there when you need them?”

If his goal is to make you feel like shit, he’s succeeding. You sit on the opposite side of the beetle couch, ignoring how the antennas flick upon your weight. 

“I was just… mad.”

Seungmin nods, tilting his head upwards. “I get it, but you must feel that way at least a little to say it.” He turns to you. “There’s always some truth in moments like those.”

You can’t look at him, not with how ashamed you feel. “I wanted them to believe me. I wanted them to help.”

“Help?”

“Help me help you. All of you.” You flail your arms to express the entire apartment. “I know you guys are stuck, Jeongin told me. I put myself on some stupid mission to free you guys, but I can’t do it alone. I didn’t mean to get so mad at them. I just wanted them to see the truth.”

You wrap your arms around yourself for comfort. The tears building in your eyes make your sight watery, and you can’t do anything but try to blink them away.

Seungmin puts a hand on your shoulder, smoothing over the sleeve of your shirt. Finally, you look at him. It’s not a glare or an annoyed look on his face, but compassion. 

Maybe he can be nice when he wants to, just like a cat.

“That is a stupid mission, but it’s kind of ironic.” He smiles. “You want to help us, but we want to help you.”

You use the back of your hand to wipe stray tears. “Help me? With what?”

“What you said earlier. It’s okay to be honest and say you’ve been lonely. The people you love get busy. They can’t make time like before. It hurts, but that’s just how things are.” He squeezes your shoulder. 

“On that side. That’s how things are on that side. But here? Time is all we have. We’re never lonely. We never need to put responsibilities first because you're our responsibility.” 

Seungmin follows the length of your arm to your hand, fiddling with your fingers when he reaches them. “We won’t ever make you feel alone. We never did.”

You let him hold your hand and bring it to his lips. Seungmin plants a gentle kiss on your knuckles, making your stomach erupt in butterflies. You’ve missed this feeling of reassurance, of being doted on. There’s not an ounce of hesitation when Seungmin leans in, inviting him wholeheartedly.

His hands cup your face to bring you closer. Even if your lips are already meeting, he can’t help but angle his head so they interlock deeper. You can taste his passion. You can feel his adoration when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip.

A plea. A quiet ask if he can go further. You love the surprising gentleness of his lips and actions. 

You respond by opening your mouth just enough for his tongue to slip in. Gently, it makes its way between your lips. The warmth has you moaning, parting your mouth even more so he can swirl on your tongue. 

His hot muscle has your eyes fluttering. It’s not desire, but yearning that builds in your stomach. You want to be taken care of. You want to let yourself be kissed and held in the most rawest form. 

Seungmin knows. He can feel your need. He lays you flat on the couch carefully. His lips are still on yours as he moves you, cupping the back of your head to place you down.

He pulls away for a brief second. “Look at you. So beautiful.”

You’d roll your eyes any other time, but you find yourself blushing instead. You didn’t know he could be so mushy. Seungmin laughs at your pink cheeks and kisses your nose, trailing down until he finds your neck.

You bare your throat to give him free roam. Under his lips, you moan and smooth your hands on his upper back. Seungmin lifts the end of your top so it reveals your belly button, looking at you questioningly.

Clothes seem to fly off your bodies. It doesn’t take long until you’re both nude, letting him cup your breasts and pinch your nipples from on top.

Your thighs rub together impatiently, slick gathering between the space but you don’t rush him. You let his buttons gawk at your tits, tongue swiping at the corner of his mouth to collect his drool.

“And these,” Seungmin pushes them together. “Can’t forget about these.”

You giggle. Seungmin’s rough hands jiggle your breasts until you can feel his erection tapping your thigh. You desperately try to get his cock to fit between your legs, but he’s distracted by how your mounds fit perfectly in his hands.

He leans down, lips ghosting over the peak of your breast. “So pretty.”

His mouth wraps around your nipple like he can’t wait any longer. Seungmin sucks and releases quickly, making the gushing between your legs double. You arch into his mouth, panting and running your fingers through his hair. 

“Ohh. Just like that.” 

Seungmin hums appreciatively. His tongue flicks over your nipple repeatedly. The simultaneous smoothness and roughness of it make you tremble. Your other nipple isn’t completely ignored. His fingers twist and tug until you squeal.

And when his teeth come to play, you thrust your hips. Your thighs can only provide pressure, but not direct stimulation. You can’t touch your clit from your legs being so tightly pressed together. Seungmin lets you whine from pulsing need, giggling with your nipple between his teeth.

“You want something?” His cocky smile looks sexy with your bud in his mouth. You’d knock it off his face if you could, but you pout instead. 

He bites harder, making you squeal. “Seungmin!”

“I can’t read your mind, baby. Why don’t you tell this stupid cat what you want?”

He laughs at your red face. Seungmin switches to the next boob to give the same treatment.

Until you answer him, he’ll stay on your chest even with his cock dripping on your thigh.

The swollen nipple that was just in his mouth gets twisted by his fingers. You don’t have to look at it to know it’s red and puffy, but you glance down anyway. Seungmin’s already ravishing your unbruised boob, ignoring your cries of sensitivity from your other one. 

There’s not a chance you can stand another second of his mouth. “Seung.”

His eyes look up, but his mouth doesn’t stop sucking.

“I…I want you to touch me.”

Seungmin pinches your nipple harder. Chills erupt on your skin from the painful pleasure and you have to hold your breath to keep yourself from screaming.

“My pussy! I want you to touch my pussy.”

Finally, he pops off your nipple. Saliva clings to his lips that he swipes with his tongue. “Mhm.”

Seungmin sits up, letting you get a good view of his body. His torso narrows at the waist and doesn’t expand much more at the shoulders. His chest is flushed pink with his nipples erect and dark. The v-line on his stomach is dainty, pleading with you to trace it.

But he’s too out of reach for you to grab. Instead, you rub your breasts soothingly, tapping your nipples to get jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. 

Seungmin grabs the base of his cock and strokes himself. He angles the head so it lines with your entrance, but rather than pushing in, he slides it against your cunt. You look down to watch it grind on your stomach, the tip stopping below your belly button. His thumbs spread your pussy apart so he can properly grind against you.

The stimulation is jaw-dropping. It feels like you’ve been leaking for hours. The pleasure is so good that your stomach aches from how hard you clench.

Seungmin ends up pushing your lips together so they curve around the head of his cock. Your clit can feel every vein and curve. Arousal drips from your hole that clenches emptily. When you said you wanted him to touch you, you meant a lot more than that.

“Please, Seungmin. Just fuck me.”

He grins. “There it is.”

With a hand steading on your hip and the other holding his cock, Seungmin slides low enough for his tip to catch your entrance. You think he might miss a few times from how wet you are, but the glide is smooth.

He opens you up just right. The crown of his head stretches you deliciously, narrowing just slightly before thickening down the rest of his length.

You grab onto the couch, terrifyingly reminded of its insect nature when it twitches in response.

Seungmin takes his time bottoming you out. It feels like miles before he goes as deep as he can get, lifting your legs so he can press his pelvis flush against you.

“Oh, fuck.” Seungmin’s buttons glisten. “Been fucked so many times and you’re still so tight.” 

He pulls out and goes back in, making you switch to your boobs again and squeezing. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape when he tries to set a pace. Your brain has to catch up with the pleasure your body is feeling. Moaning doesn’t yet sound when you can’t even breathe from his cock filling you.

With your legs wrapping around his waist, Seungmin leans down. Now, you finally have something to scratch on. Fingernails find his back and you dig them into his skin, hearing him hiss in your neck.

“I haven’t even started fucking you and you’re clawing me up.” He sounds prideful. “You are a bad fucking kitty.”

Seungmin cackles when he repeats Minho’s words verbatim. You can’t even focus with his cock pounding in your walls, but you do somewhat recall how eager you were to be a pet for Minho and Felix. 

Pleasure finally registers when Seungmin fucks deep. You can feel his tip kissing your cervix, daring to break past the barrier and touch the back of your throat instead. His cock is so hot inside you, searing your insides in the best way possible.

You moan loudly. It’s hard to stop once you start. Sounds of desire tumble from your lips with every thrust. You can feel the veins of his length sliding in and out, the head always staying inside you before pounding in. His hands on your waist have you slam onto his cock, making his dick feel impossibly deep.

His nose touches yours, eyes locking with your mouth agape. Seungmin looks at your drooly lips for a brief second before kissing you again.

It reminds you of the garden yesterday. Where Jisung was messy and desperate, Seungmin is sure and confident. He doesn’t even blink when your teeth clash together. His focus is on keeping your mouth on his while his hips thrust wildly.

You can’t keep your ankles crossed for much longer. Seungmin’s pounds are so strong that they force them apart. He lets go of your waist with one hand and places it on the back of your thigh instead, spreading them further for more access. 

The new angle has you seeing stars. You can feel how your cunt swallows him whole, squelching with every intrusion. His cock hits the upper part of your walls, grinding on a gummy spot that makes you pant in his mouth.

“Fffuucckk. Right there. Right there. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Blunt fingernails dig into the underside of your thigh. Seungmin must feel how hard you're clenching and how much softer your pussy has gotten from his relentless pistons. He can’t suck on your tongue when it’s your cunt that keeps sucking him in.

“Yeah? Yeah, you like it right here?” Seungmin’s hot breath fans over your face. “Gonna cum on my cock?”

You nod, letting your head bobble at will. White pleasure builds and builds in your tummy at a pace you can’t keep up with. It makes you squeal overwhelmingly from the sheer amount but Seungmin doesn’t stop. His cock keeps hitting that spot until your fingers find his hair.

“Oh, fuck yes. I’mma cum so good on your cock. Don’t stop, Seungmin.”

Half of you expects him to pull out. It wouldn’t be out of his character to halt his own pleasure to ruin yours, but it turns out that Seungmin can listen well. 

He groans when you tug on his hair, managing to keep his pace despite the dull pain. You can hear the slap of his balls against you from his efforts. 

Your eyes roll so far your head tilts back. All you can do is gasp when the pleasure bursts from its bubble. Suddenly, his pumps send you on overload. The veiny texture of his cock has you gushing more than you bargained for. As good as he fucks into you, the unbearable slams has your vision seeing black dots.

“Yeah. Yeah. I love that fucking look in your eyes. Makes me wanna fuck you harder.”

You don’t know where his burst of energy comes from. You’re still trying to find your sanity and come down from your high when he pulls so far back that his tip almost slips out before ramming back in.

Your head lifts to see him bullying into your cunt. You clit peeks from under your hood, you can see the messy arousal on your inner thighs, and your lips are so swollen. There’s not much more you can take, but when you feel his cock twitch you know he’s close.

Still, you yank on his hair in desperation. “S-Seung- I’m…I’m-”

“Come on. Take it. Take it. I know you can.” Sweat drips down his forehead. “You’ve been doing so good. Don’t tell me to stop now.”

Seungmin’s praises are like music to your ears. You swallow your words and let yourself moan instead, embracing the fire in your pussy and chest. 

It only grows hotter when his thrusts turn erratic. Your walls feel like jelly when you leak from the overstimulation. Your hips spasm under Seungmin when he fucks harder. He sits on his haunches and puts your legs in the air, chasing his orgasm that’s only seconds away. 

“In your pussy, yeah? Fuck yeah. Just the look in your eyes says it all.” He moans. Seungmin stills his hips inside before his cum pours out.

He puts his hand on your lower abdomen and presses down. You scream from the pressure, feeling his cock tenfold spilling in you. Your legs shake in the air so violently that Seungmin has to wrap his fingers around your ankles.

It feels like slow motion when he pulls out. The head of his cock makes your cunt stretch and pulse one last time before it slips, slapping wetly against his stomach and dripping with arousal.

You’re panting like an animal, eyes unfocused as you watch him catch his breath. His skin feels hot and sticky when he leans down to wrap his arms around you. It’s only a little uncomfortable, but you welcome his touch regardless.

Seungmin waits until your breathing is almost normal, playing mindlessly with your hair. 

You glance at him to see him beaming, smiling ear to ear. It's infectious, and there's a ghost of a grin on your lips. “What are you so happy about?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer. His hand moves from your hair to your arm. “You know. Just that you're staying.”

“Staying?” You draw back. The post-orgasm fades a little too quickly for your liking. “When did I say I was staying?”

His navy-blue buttons aren’t threatening at all, unlike his words. He’s happy, shining with joy. “You didn’t have to say it. I told you; If you come back here again, we won’t let you leave.”

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 15 - Noncon

Ghost x Reader - 4.6k (on ao3)

summary: You find yourself cornered in a Maze of Mirrors. (Reader POV)

cw: noncon everything, face fucking, pussy slapping, degradation, kinda a wedgie? like a front wedgie? is that a thing?, orgasm denial

note: if you like this (or hate it but like the concept) read Halloween Haunt by Harley Laroux <3 her erotica is top tier

You’ve always loved Halloween - always been the kid with the scariest costume in class, always had the house decorated with uncomfortably realistic decorations. When your sorority sisters dressed up as black cats and sexy witches, you spent hours painting the most realistic zombie makeup you could. (Your sisters complained for months that you ruined the pictures, but the frat boys had all thought your makeup was far more interesting than theirs. God, you do not miss college.)

Regardless, you’ve always been known to love any and everything scary. There’s something about the thrill of a scare - the creeping horror as you start to realize what’s coming, the ultimate reveal - that always gets you a little squirmy in your seat. Your first crush was Skeet Ulrich in Scream - specifically the scene where he’s covered in blood, licking his fingers. 

You get all those ooey-gooey good scared feelings as your friend drags you through the decently crowded fairgrounds. The actual fair - the one that comes yearly, that no one ever calls anything but the fair - had left only two weeks ago, so this travelling fair had set things up in mostly the same arrangement and, you suspect, to trick certain people into thinking they were the same company.

You’ve already forgotten what your friend said the event was called. She hadn’t needed to give many details to convince you - you heard travelling circus, horror themed, interactive workers, and you were in. The branding isn’t very strong anyways, the only place the name was displayed was the entrance booth, and none of the workers seem to wear any sort of logo, so you don’t feel too forgetful for letting it slip your memory so easily.

You’re not very impressed with the fear factor so far. You hadn’t done too much makeup (hadn’t wanted to risk being mistaken for a cast member) but since it’s the night before Halloween you’ve got a half-done costume on - a clown. Just some white face paint, black lips, and overdrawn triangles around the eyes, a little smudged to make it look like you’ve been chasing someone down and working up a sweat. Your hoodie and tennis skirt look a bit out of place, but you’d wanted to be comfortable since you hoped you’d be spending your night running from actors.

But even a face full of makeup feels like it might’ve been too much effort for this place. Most of the costumes look like they’re from Party City at best - some of them even look very lazily hand-made - and none of the workers seem particularly interested in scaring people. Still, the crowd is easily amused and even a wave or a feint towards a customer has shrieks ringing in the air every few minutes.

You sigh a little disapointedly as you and your friend linger on the edge of the fairgrounds, off to the side and in the dark so you don’t have to deal with the crowd. She pulls out a cigarette and offers you her light.

“I’m sorry,” she says, lighting the stick between your teeth when you lean forward. “I really thought it would be scarier than this. Some of the posters…” she exagetates a shiver. “I thought they’d at least have better costumes.”

You eye a man in a werewolf mask across the pathway, pissing into the dirt. He’s got a flannel and jeans on, and the mask is a little bit crumpled like he pulled it out of a Walmart bin this morning. You’d bet money the flannel was just a happy coincidence he noticed when he showed up for work.

“Yeah,” you sigh, blowing out a lungful of smoke and watching the actor try not to get his dick stuck in his zipper. “Not really your fault, though, these things always look scarier in the ads. Wanna get out of here soon?”

You pass the cigarette to her. “In a bit,” she replies. “I want to try and find some food first. You hungry?”

You shake your head with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust anything cooked here, honestly. Might just pick up something on the way back.”

She passes you the cigarette for one last breath. “Well I’m too hungry for that. You good on your own for a bit?”

You crouch down a moment to stub out the cigarette, leaving the butt in the gravel. “Yeah, sure. Might see if these fun houses have anything worth seeing in them.”

“You should!” She smiles over her shoulder at you as she starts off to a more well-lit section of the fair. “You never know, maybe they stick the real scares in there!”

You give her a final wave and shout, “Here’s hoping!” at her back as she leaves. 

You linger outside for a little longer, scanning the few structures nearby to decide which one you want to waste a few tickets on.

There’s a Freak Show, but you already know you’d be horribly disappointed if you went in there, something labeled a “House of Horrors” that you’re sure is as much a scam as the freak show, and a few games that have cheap prizes lined up above them.

Across from you, with no lights around it and just one attendant - slumped over, hopefully sleeping - at the front, is a House of Mirrors. Figuring it’s the least likely to be a waste of time (and knowing the kid won’t wake up to charge you), you head over to the building.

The closer you get the more you worry about if he’s asleep or dead, but his snores rattle the little tickets resting on his desk so you figure he’s just a slacker. It’s almost too easy to get by him with all your tickets safe in your pocket. There’s no one else around the darkened corner of the fairgrounds, but you’re quite sure no one would bother snitching on you this late at night. All the parents with little kids left hours ago, leaving mostly teenagers and adults of varying ages left to wander the park.

There’s music playing from speakers that you can’t see, an old clown-themed song that sounds like it’s playing on a scratched up DVD. You’re pleasantly surprised as you make your way through the dusty lobby and into the main section of the building, creatively labeled MAZE OF MIRRORS.

Their branding could definitely use some work, but you’ll give them points for ambience - the lights are turned so low that it’s nearly too dark to see, making all of the mirrors even more difficult to spot. You find yourself a little spooked as you start to make your way through the maze, grinning to yourself.

It’s a shockingly difficult maze, you quickly discover. The music is so loud in some spots that you can hardly hear your thoughts, and so faint in others that you think it might be turned off. The maze itself is a series of either tight, tiny hallways or large open rooms. Whoever designed it clearly knew how to take advantage of the space they were given, the maze feels ten times bigger than it looked on the outside as you wander through.

You know the trick to mazes - keep one hand on the right wall and eventually you’ll find your way out - but it’s fun to just wander around the place, so you let yourself get stuck wandering in circles. You’re glad your friend isn’t here to see how many times you manage to walk into a mirror fully confident that it’s not there, only to whack yourself in the face. For how low maintenance the rest of the fair is, you’re surprised that the hall of mirrors is what they focus their upkeep on.

You’ve been in the maze for about five minutes when you see him.

He scares the shit out of you at first. You spot him behind you in a mirror - one you’d just walked into, which is the only reason you can see well enough to notice him - standing at the entrance to the hallway you’d turned down. He’s clad in all black, except for the skull mask over his face. You think he’s just something taped onto the wall with the way that he blends in, but then that mask titls to the side and you’re struck with the bone-deep knowledge that you’re being watched.

“Shit!” You shout when it first registers that he’s not a piece of paper, one hand coming up to clasp at your erratically beating heart while the other steadies you against the mirror. He doesn’t move past tilting his head a bit further, and after a moment you relax.

You don’t turn around, but you study him a bit in the mirror. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of his body, but he’s big. He looks like he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the mask, and he must be wearing gloves to cover his hands since you can’t see them.

You huff out a laugh as you let both of your hands fall to your sides.

“You got me good,” you call, glancing over your shoulder. You almost jump again - he’s closer than you’d realized, but too far away for you to touch. “I didn’t even see you follow me in here.”

He doens’t say anything. You turn around more fully, leaning back against the mirror and crossing your arms across your chest.

“You gonna start chasin’ me now?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow. You’re playing up the sass, but it’s always fun to mess with theme park employees.

The man takes a few steps forward, heavy boots thudding against the cheap wood flooring. He really is an intimidating bastard, far scarier than any of the other actors you’d seen so far.

“Well?” You call out, standing up from your spot. “Do I get a head start?”

Still no answer. He rolls his head on his neck, then steps to the side and walks into one of the connecting hallways without sparing you a glance. When you step closer to see which direction he’s chosen, he’s already gone.

You huff another laugh to yourself, shaking out your limbs and bouncing a few times on your toes.

Now that you know there’s someone in here with you, the thrill of a scare is starting to get you worked up. You hope they don’t have any rules against physical contact between actors and customers, just imagining the skeleton man tackling you has shivers running up your spine.

You don’t bother to be any quieter as you keep wandering through the maze. You bump into just as many mirrors, continue to question the speaker placement, and keep an eye out for any skeleton masks lingering behind you.

You see him a few more times, always behind you, always just out of reach. He gets progressively closer everytime you spot him. You're reminded of the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who - every time you look away, he gets closer.

It’s fun. More fun than you’ve had all night.

He finally catches up to you what you guess is about half an hour later. Youre just turning another corner, thinking about how it’s been a bit since you’ve seen your shadow, when a hand plants itself firmly between your shoulder blades and shoves.

You’re sent to the ground with a cry, palms scraping against the floor. There’s a gloved hand collaring your throat before you can think to do much more than catch your breath, hauling you up and holding you in the air.

Your eyes fly to the mirror less than a foot away, staring wide-eyed at the image reflected.

There’s you, in your messy clown makeup and hoodie, being held up by a giant swath of black behind you. He’s not ducking down at all, his feet planted on either side of your splayed legs as he towers above you. The way you’re being held up, your head doesn’t even reach his belt buckle. The contrast of your shock and discomfort to his plastic mask has your thighs clenching, just a bit.

He doesn’t duck lower, just tilts his head in that now-familiar way of his and pulls you a little further up. His hand is absolutely massive, thumb resting beneath one ear and his fingers resting below the other. You choke a bit as you’re lifted, knees scrambling beneath you.

This close to the mirror you can see his eyes - bright blue, surrounded by black paint, and staring back into yours.

He lowers his head, his free hand tugging your hair until you lean back and look straight up. The hand on your neck shifts to hold you in that position, his other hand lifting to pull the black part of his mask up.

He’s white, with thin lips and a broad jaw. You pant as you stare up at him, incapable of processing what’s going on.

His jaw works for a moment, lips twitching, and before you realize what he’s about to do you feel something wet splatter against your cheek.

He spit on you. Who the fuck does that? Being tackled and manhandled is one thing but spitting? You recoil reflixivley, lips curling as you reach up to try and wipe disgusting liquid off.

“What the fuck-” You start, but before you can even finish your sentence you’re yanked forward by your neck.

You yelp as you’re thrown from between his thighs, hips twisted awkwardly and head slamming back against the mirror. You cry out at the sharp pain at the back of your skull, but before you can think of doing anything there’s a hand around your neck again, a body crouched in front of you - over you - keeping you from doing anything.

You gape up at the actor, panting and surprised. None of the other employees even got close to touching customers - half of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there - what the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he just take his job way too seriously

He’s far too close to you now, your nose nearly brushing where his shoulder be, his boots on either side of your thighs, his chest pressed so close that you can’t do anything with your hands.

The hand not around your neck comes up to your cheeks, grabbing them both in one hand and pinching until your lips pucker up. You squirm, letting out a noise of surprise and pain when his thumb and pointer finger dig in between your teeth to force your mouth open. One eye squeezes shut at the ache, but there’s nowhere for you to go with him caging you in.

This time when he spits, it lands right in the little hole he’s made for himself. With how close he is, you see the way his lips twitch up in the corners.

You try your best to get out from under him, hands pushing at his shoulders and legs desperately kicking. But he’s like a statute above you, hard as stone and immoveable. 

He leans so close that his lips nearly brush yours, meeting your glare with a spark of amusement. 

“Like how it tastes?” He purrs, chest rumbling against yours.

You make a noise somewhere between offended and annoyed, trying to throw yourself every which way for even an inch of freedom. All you manage is a tighter grip on your jaw and neck, leaving you wincing.

“Lots more where that came from,” he promises.

It’s insultingly easy for him to manhandle you, and you curse all the times you swore to yourself you’d finally start taking self-defense classes. You can barely manage a single blow, and when your hands or feet do make contact he doesn’t even flinch.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do as you’re wrestled to the floor. He gets you flat on your back then kneels over your head, his knees so close that you worry he’ll squeeze them together and pop your head like a berry.

He doesn’t give you a chance to sit up, planting one heavy hand in the center of your chest and leaning his weight forward, knocking the air out of you. You finally regain the ability to speak when his other hand moves to his belt, undoing it right above your face.

“What are you-? No, no, get the hell off me!” You shout, desperately pushing at his arm and trying to get enough leverage with your feet to squirm away. “Don’t you fucking dare- help! Somebody help!”

Your screams go ignored, blending right in with that stupid clown music and bouncing off the mirrors just to come straight back to your ears. Your noise doesn’t deter him at all, and he’s got his belt off and jeans yanked down despite your resistance. 

“No, no, no, don’t- stop, please, you can’t-” you gasp, eyes flying wide as you find yourself staring up at his cock above you. 

He doesn’t give you any warning, just grabs your jaw, holds it open, and sheathes himself down your throat.

Your limbs spasm, every instinct in your body screamin to get away as he slips right past your gag reflex. You’re terrified that you’ll vomit and choke on his cock, the fear dousing you in icy cold and leaving you limp for a minute. All you can think about is breathing around the intrusion in your throat, finding some way not to suffocate and die on a sticky mirror maze floor.

“Finally,” you hear him grunt from above you. He grabs both of your wrists, easily ignoring your weak pulls and tying them together with his belt. “Somethin’ to shut you up.”

You try and make a sound around his cock, yanking your hands away and panicking even more when you feel how firmly tied they are. You make another sound, insitively trying to cry out even with something stuffed in your mouth.

He moans above you, lowering himself to his elbows over your body. “Yeah, just like that,” he pants. “Mouth feel’s fuckin’ heavenly.”

You go silent, determined not to give this piece of shit anything he wants. Tears pour down your temples and across the tops of your ears, and your throat burns.

His hips move slowly against your face, grinding himself as deep as he can get before pulling out just a few inches and sliding back in. He’s got an unfairly large cock, and there’s already an ache developing in your jaw from just seconds held so wide open.

His foreskin catches on your teeth when he pulls the whole way out just to fuck back in, and you’re sharply reminded of the fact that you have teeth.

When his cock bottoms out, his balls resting against your eyes, you bite down, praying it’s enough to break skin.

It’s not. Instead of blood pouring into your mouth and a screaming man falling off of you, you hear the man snarl, pulling his dick out entirely and slamming it back down your throat so harshly that it feels almost like he’s punched you in the face.

“No fucking teeth,” he snaps above you, and you feel his weight shift back onto his knees, then his hands grab at your thighs and throw them open. He flips your skirt up and before you can think to bite down again lands a stinging slap against the gusset of your underwear.

You nearly scream around his cock, hips snapping closed to try and smother the pain. He only growls another sound, using one hand to hold you open and the other to rain down a series of progressively harder smacks.

Your breath hitches as you sob, hardly able to get any air in around his thrusts as he starts them back up again. Every time he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, he lands another hit to your poor pussy. You can’t help but wail around him.

“There it is,” he moans, the sound loud and unrestrained. “God you feel good screamin’ around my cock. Good fuckin’ hole, huh?”

He punctuates the last four words with slaps, leaving his length inside your throat and going back to that horrible grinding against your face. You go silent again, using all of your willpower to keep from screaming. What little thought is left in your head is used to figure out how best to breathe through your nose without choking on snot.

He doesn’t smack you again, but you feel his fingers trace around the edges of your panties. Your hips wiggle against your will, just trying to get away from the violation. One of your legs is pinned to the floor by the thigh, but the other oscillates between going limp and trying to get leverage and force your body up.

His fingers hook around the gusset of your underwear, but before you can even worry about him touching you there, he pulls them up towards your body.

He does it with such force that you’re left squealing, hips flying off the ground to try and lessen the pressure against your clit. His hand pulls so far up that you feel it resting nearly at your belly button. You can’t help the little gasping, gagging noises as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth again.

You hear - you feel - him laugh, swaying his hand from left to right. Your hips try to follow naturally, just desperate to alleviate any of the pressure you can.

“Like a little puppet,” he murmurs, yanking even further up, moaning when you scream.

He lets them go only a few thrusts later, big hand smoothing the fabric down over your cunt. You can feel that it’s stretched out, a little looser around the meat of your pussy, and the thought only makes you cry harder.

But you go silent again. It’s the one thing left in your control - even pinned to the floor, hands tied, legs useless, mouth stuff, you can decide how much noise you make.

He doesn’t like that. He groans a little when you go quiet again, tapping your thigh sharply.

“No, come on, make your little noises again. Feels real nice on my cock.”

This time you’re ready for the smack against your vulva, and you remain silent. You stay silent for the next three too.

His hips work with a little more force again, balls smacking against your face and leaving you to squeeze your eyes shut. After the next slap his hand doesn’t lift again, just rubs over your vulva slowly.

It’s pure luck on his part that he happens to rub over your clit. It’s a pure lack of luck on your part that you moan at the sudden and unexpected pleasure, completely taken off guard.

He stills above you, then slowly repeats the movement. You’re helpless to the little whimpers coming from your throat, and you curse the fact that you’ve always been loud during sex. He zeros in on exactly how to rub your clit unreasonably quickly, fingers sure through the fabric of your underwear.

“That what you need?” He rumbles a laugh above you. “Pain won’t make you noisy, but pleasure will? I can work with that.”

Before you can even begin to question what that means, your underwear are tucked to the side, and there’s a face buried in your pussy.

He doesn’t bother taking any time to explore or try and learn your body, just dives tongue-first to your clit. His technique of lick first, figure out what feels good later unfortunately works on you, and you’re left writhing beneath him, eyes rolled back in pleasure and moans muffled.

He groans agaisnt you, too, lips vibrating against your clit in a horrible and delicious way. “There you go.” You can barely hear him over the sounds of your own choking, especially with his own voice muffled in your folds. “That feels good, keep going.”

You don’t want to, but the magic he works against your clit leaves you no choice. You can’t help the hitched cries spilling from your lips, even if they make you cry all that much harder as you hear them.

He doesn’t take much longer to come, and you’re torn between resenting the fact that it’s your sounds that get him off and being glad that he does so he can get off of you.

He comes with a loud groan, sent right into your cunt and dragging you far too close to an edge you do not want to see, and sends thick ropes right down your throat. It’s almost a kindness that you can’t taste him, only have to swallow as quickly as possible so you don’t choke. The movements of your throat only draw out his orgasm though, and you’re locked in a terrible cycle for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t get you off. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not.

You gasp when he finally pulls out of your throat, taking uninhibited breaths for the first time in far too many minutes. You can’t shut your jaw from the pain, but you also can’t kick your legs when he kneels up more fully.

He’s silent as he takes back his belt, and no matter how much you beg your arms to move, they remain still on your stomach. He shifts off of you, and you whine wordlessly when he grabs a handful of your hair, wiping his flaccid cock off in it.

Still, you don’t move.

He stands and redoes his belt silently, the jingle loud even with the clown music still playing. You stare up at him, and he holds eye contact with you. For some reason, you can’t look away.

He crouches down again before he leaves, and you can’t help but flinch away. He doesn’t touch you sexually again, though, only reaches out and pushes your jaw closed with two firm fingers.

You hate that he still has the mask pulled up, because it means you can see his smirk.

“That was fun. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

He’s gone before you manage to understand what he’s said, and the tears start all over again when you do.

—

It takes you a while to scrape yourself off of the floor. You only catch sight of yourself in one mirror before you stare at the ground.

Your makeup is ruined, teartracks running down your temples and both cheeks. There are smudges along your jaw where his hands grabbed. Your lips are swollen and red. It could not be more obvious what’s just happened to you.

You plant one hand on the wall to your right, and keep your eyes firmly planted on your sneakers as you leave the maze. You feel almost detached from yourself, unable to truly understand what happened, what it means.

The throbbing between your thighs is distracting. You worry you might chafe from how soaked your panties are.

It doesn’t take long to find your friend once you finally make it out. She takes one look at you and laughs, teases you about having fun without her. You can’t bring yourself to correct her, and she picks up on your tone quickly, dropping the subject.

The two of you walk silently to your car. You hate it, but you can’t help but scan every actor. Thankfully - or maybe not thankfully? You don’t know anymore - none of them are even close to as big as the masked man in the hall of mirrors was.

You tuck your hands beneath your armpits as you finally make it to the parking lot, walking as quickly as you can get away with without running. Your limbs go a little looser as you get to your car, mind relaxing as it recognizes how close you are to safety. 

You freeze when you finally make it to the driver’s side door, lungs going still and heart beating so quickly you worry it’ll pound right out of your chest.

There, sitting in the driver’s seat, is a skeleton mask sewed onto a balaclava.

[sweetiesicheng]

s.coups - bakery

word count : 1,612

-

"y/n, seungcheol, want to take anything home?" your manager asked while you two were cleaning the dining area of the bakery you work in.

"oh, if we have anymore of the chocolate expresso cakes, i'll take that," you answered while sweeping.

"my roommates will probably want stuff," seungcheol answered from across the room. he was wiping down some of the tables.

"i'll pack both of you a box," your manager said and grabbed some of the boxes that were used for to pack orders.

you continued sweeping the floor and swept all of the debris and trash into a dust pan. once you were done, you threw the debris away and placed the broom and dust pan in a closet that had a bunch of cleaning supplies inside.

"y/n, bring all of these to your parents. they can give them out to their workers," your manager said while closing a box. you looked over and saw quite a few boxes on the counter and cases.

"oh, sure. thank you!" you said to your manager.

"do you need help? i can drive you," seungcheol asked you after pushing a chair in.

you looked over at him and saw him walk through the dining room.

"are you sure? don't you need to go to the park?" you asked. almost after every shift, seungcheol would play basketball with his friends.

“i’ll just drop them off to them and go back if all of them are still there,” he said to you while passing by you to go behind the counter. “i don’t mind,” he said and you nodded.

seunghceol walked into the back and started putting supplies away. you washed your hands in the sink and checked to make sure that all of the pickup orders were gone. however, you found an order in the fridge.

"hey minhyun!" you called out to your manager. "there's a pickup in here," you said and opened a fridge.

"we still have one? i swear all of the orders were picked up," your manager said and walked out from the back. "let me see," he said and you handed him the order, letting the fridge door close itself. "i'll call them. you and seungcheol fill stuff up in the back.”

"got it," you said with a nod.

you went into the kitchen and noticed that seungcheol was putting sacks and containers of ingredients onto one of the benches.

"i'll refill the chocolates first," you said to him.

he nodded, "okay."

you started opening packages with different chocolates in them and put them into bins. seungcheol started helping you once he brought in the last bag of flour that was needed.

"it's satisfying seeing the bins filled up," seungcheol commented as he started collecting empty containers from a shelf for more ingredients.

"yea, it's really nice," you replied. "okay, this is done," you said and pushed a container to the end of the bench.

"hey, that pickup order is a no show," you manager spoke, walking into the kitchen. "one of you can take it. it's chocolate with strawberries and chocolate ganache in it," he mentioned.

"i’m good. the cake can’t even fit in my fridge anyways," you said, looking at seungcheol.

"i can probably find someone to take it," seungcheol spoke up.

"that works with me," your manager said to you two. "both of you finish up what you're doing and head out. i have to reorganize a bunch of stuff in the morning anyways when the shipments come in," they mentioned.

"do you need me to come in tomorrow morning? i'm free," you offered.

"no, don't worry about it," your manager said before opening a door to a closet. "i'll see you guys on wednesday."

"see ya," seungcheol said throwing his hand up to say bye. “is it alright if we go to the park first?" he asked you while untying his apron.

"that's fine," you replied to him and untied your apron.

seungcheol hung his apron on a hook attached to one of the walls and held his hand out towards you. you took your apron off and handed it to him before walking into the front.

you reached for your bag, which was under the counter where the register was. the leftovers that your manager packed up for you and seungcheol were on top of one of the dessert cases.

"man, we have way too much," seungcheol said as he walked past behind you. he had grabbed a box from one of the counters and headed outside.

you followed him out of the bakery and to his car. he unlocked his car and opened one of the doors to the backseats. then, he placed the box he had gotten inside before reaching out to grab the two bags from you.

"we have enough desserts for like a month," you commented as you two went back inside.

"my friends will make all of this go away in a few days probably," seungcheol replied. both of you grabbed the remaining boxes and bags and left the bakery. "where should i bring you? your apartment?" he asked you.

"i'm dropping most of this off at my parents house," you said, "it's near my apartment if you want to head in that direction."

he nodded, "okay. let's go to the park first," he said.

you placed everything into his car, making sure nothing would tip over before getting into the front seats. seungcheol turned the car on while you put your seatbelt on.

"music's all you," he said to you, handing his phone to you.

"thanks," you replied. seungcheol started driving while you looked at the songs on his phone. you found a playlist and started playing it.

the drive to the park wasn't long, so you got there after about ten minutes. seungcheol parked his car and grabbed his phone from the cup holder you had put it in. he started texting someone before putting his phone down.

"i texted jeonghan, some of the guys should be by soon," he mentioned.

you nodded, "okay."

the two of you sat there silently with music still playing from the stereo. you glanced over at seungcheol and noticed him looking at you.

"something wrong?" you asked him.

he shook his head, "it's nothing."

"nothing? you sure about that?" you asked. "is there something in my face?" you asked, pulling down the sun visor and sliding the mirror open. "oh, there's nothing," you said while looking at yourself.

"i was thinking how pretty you are."

you looked over at seungcheol again. he had a small smile on his face.

"you're lying."

"i'd never lie to you."

you stared at him. "you're still lying."

"you know i'd never lie. even at work, i tell my customers my opinions on the treats. just like that raspberry treat from a few weeks ago," seungcheol said to you.

all of a sudden, someone knocked on the window next to you. you turned your head and saw some of seungcheol's friends that you have seen a few times. seungcheol rolled the window down.

"where's everyone? there's a lot," seungcheol said to his friends, leaning over the center console a bit.

"they're in a middle of a game. we'll just grab it all," junhui said. "hi y/n."

"hey guys."

"y/n, help me sort everything," seungcheol said to you before getting out of his car.

the guys moved out of the way so you could get out of the car. you helped take bags out of seungcheol's car and brought them to wear all of his friends were hanging out.

"hey, y/n's here with seungcheol!" mingyu mentioned the second he saw you walk onto the court.

"i'll grab these for you," chan said as he ran up to you.

"oh, thanks," you said as you handed the bags to him. "be careful with them."

"i will, i will," he said before turning around to walk to a set of bleachers.

"you guys staying for a bit?" joshua asked.

"i need to bring her home. text me if you guys leave," seungcheol said.

"is there more stuff?" seungkwan asked.

"we got everything," seokmin mentioned.

"i'll see you guys later," seungcheol said to them. "vernon! i'm free tomorrow to pick up that bookcase!" he yelled at one of the guys sitting in the bleachers. the latter throws a thumbs up into the air while the other hand holds a cupcake. "alright, let's go," he said to you.

"yea," you nodded.

the two of you went back go seungcheol's car. just as both of you were about to get into his car, he called out for you, "y/n."

"yea?" you looked at him.

"you and me, friday after our shift, let's go out," he said before getting into his car.

you ducked your head down, "what?"

"geez, do i need to spell it out for you? y/n, i like you," seungcheol said to you. he looked away, turning his car on and checking his mirrors, "i liked you since your second week at the bakery..." after he was done fixing his rear view mirror, he looked at you, "get in already."

you were still in disbelief as you got into his car. you closed the door and sat back in the seat, "is this a prank?"

"hey, don't play with my feelings."

"how can i believe—" seungcheol interrupted you to kiss you in the lips.

when he pulled back, he chuckled at you, "you good?"

"aren't you supposed to kiss me like on the second or third date?"

"i don't hear a complaint."

"...choi seungcheol...you're crazy."

"yea, just a little when it comes to you."

[livixcore]

i do every year don’t i? (idol!seo changbin x f!reader)

✮ summary: every year you made a big deal about your boyfriends birthday and this year was no different except you hadn’t seen him much with the ‘Ate’ comeback being so recent so the movie night didn’t go as planned but it couldn’t have been more perfect.

✮ a/n: okay first time writing full fluff… i don’t LOVE it but i also don’t hate it so please enjoy:) i started writing this literally the day before Binnie’s birthday but i was working so much i didn’t have time to finish it but it’s finally done hehe… was aiming for it to just be a wee drabble but that didn’t happen whoops :3

✮ pairing: idol!Seo Changbin x f!reader

✮ genre: fluff

✮ warnings: suggestive, swearing, just some fluffy goodness:) not proof read mb

✮ wc: 2k

You’d been planning for this night for a couple weeks, talking to the other boys to make a perfect birthday movie night for Changbin. Thankfully his birthday was on the day you all usually did your movie nights in one of the dorms so you decided to just make a small party out of it with all 8 of the boys and yourself.

Most weeks you all just busied yourself with making snacks and bringing them all to the livingroom to sit all together with a movie playing on the television but you wanted this one to be special. A special night for your special boy.

The schedule had been absolute chaos all week with award shows and fan signings happening every day so the Saturday night was perfect for some relaxation. Chan had made sure to clear the schedules for the kids so that the night would go smoothly.

“Okay perfect this is looking great guys but remember Hyunjin and Bin are coming home in like an hour so we need to get this finished!” You stood in the middle of the dorm watching the boys all help putting up the silly decorations you’d bought. Balloons and streamers filled the room with bright colours, mostly pink.

Every year on Changbin’s birthday you made a point out of over decorating the dorm because you loved to make a fuss about your boyfriend, helping him understand how loved and appreciated he is.

Technically his birthday wasn’t until tomorrow but since you all tended to watch a couple movies at your movie nights you thought it would be perfect for it to run into his birthday and it means everyone who loves him dearly is with him since he can’t be home with his family.

“I don’t think Hyunjin realises how much cleaning is gonna need to be done afterwards like you’d think he’d want to be here to watch the downfall of his dorm.” Seungmin laughed as he sat on the floor blowing up a couple small balloons.

“He told me to go crazy so here I am going crazy.” You shrugged. “Plus this isn’t the most insane I’ve done remember when we covered the studio and the practice rooms in all this shit? Oh I still remember the look on JYP’s face when he saw them.” A shiver ran up your spine at the mere thought of it.

The room erupted into laughter from all angles. You’d gotten a good lecture after that about trashing the company building and what not. Personally you wouldn’t say it was ‘trashing’, you were just celebrating and decorating. Big difference.

You heard giggling from below you, looking down to be met with Felix and Jisung lying on the floor rolling around in the confetti making snow angels or confetti angels in this case and throwing handfuls of it at each other.

You couldn’t even be mad because those two had done the most work helping you make this perfect.

About 50 minutes had gone by and finally everything was in place. All the movie snacks had been sorted and placed in an arrangement on the table in the centre of the room. A cake sat prettily on the kitchen counter surrounded with a gift from each of the boys and a couple sitting from you off to the side.

Each wall was decorated with pink and silver balloons, streamers running down beneath them and brightening the place up. Maybe it was a little over the top but you highly doubted Hyunjin and Changbin were cleaning this up so you didn’t mind since it would most likely be you dealing with it.

You all stood back and admired your work before collapsing on any available surface even just to lean against.

“He’s for sure going to lose his mind when he steps through that door.” Chan sputtered out a laugh while binning the last few packets from the decorations.

“That’s the goal. I just want him to know how loved he is and what better time than on his birthday with his favourite people.” You smiled at the thought of his reaction, hoping he loves it as much as you think he will.

Before anyone could respond to you the sound of a key snapped all of your attention towards the door, everyone scrambling to stand up and welcome the birthday boy himself.

When the door finally opened and Changbin’s face appeared around the side of it you all erupted into cheers, shouting a plethora of happy birthdays and other greetings.

“Holy shit!” he broke out into a laugh, a massive grin stretching from ear to ear on his face. “All of this for me? You’re crazy!”

You couldn’t help but run into your boyfriend’s arms, crashing against his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. He stumbled back at the contact before dropping his gym bag and reciprocating your hug, his arms snaking around your waist and lifting you off the floor.

The rest of the boys had grabbed the bags of takeout and extra snacks from Hyunjin and taken them to the kitchen, leaving you and Changbin in the foyer of the dorm together.

“Princess you did all of this for me?” He mumbled into your neck, his face pressed there from the hug. You nodded giggling as he put your feet back on the floor.

“Of course, I do every year don’t I?” You smiled before leaning in and littering his face with kisses, the last being a lingering one on his lips as you felt him smile against your own.

He smiled down at you before looking around the room, beaming at all the effort you all put in. All you could do was admire him, the smile on his face was enough for you to fall in love with him all over again.

“Right should we get these movies started? It’s not Binnie’s birthday for another… 4 and a half hours soooo…?” Minho said while carrying the snacks that Changbin and Hyunjin had brought into the livingroom on plates and bowls.

“Yeah but Bin gets to pick the movies, it’s only fair.” Chan shrugged, of course he was the one making sure the kids played fair.

After about 20 minutes of scrolling through every streaming platform possible Changbin finally choose a rom-com to start. It’s one you guys had been wanting to watch for a while but never found the time so now was the chance.

The movie started playing as everyone settled comfortably into the couches and blankets laid on the floor. Limbs thrown over one another either for comfort or to simply annoy each other.

You had your legs thrown over Changbin’s lap as his hands found their place on your calves, kneading the flesh ever so slightly absentmindedly.

Over an hour had gone by but the movie was only 30 in due to the fact everyone kept interrupting for toilet breaks or just to chat about something that happened in the movie that then went off into 3 other conversations before someone mentioned the fact you all still had a movie to finish.

“Yah! Can we get through this movie? I’d like to finish it at some point so we can get onto another one and then go to bed.” Changbin boomed loudly catching everyone’s attention.

No one replied at first until you broke out into laughter, which then caused a chain reaction and everyone was laughing with you.

“Aw I’ve missed this. You guys have all been so busy lately it’s fun to just chat baby.” You said, leaning over to plant a kiss on Changbin’s cheek and place a hand on his which were still holding onto your legs.

“Yeah Hyung come on we’re just having fun, the movies not going anywhere anytime soon. With the comeback being so recent we are just enjoying this time to chill! More importantly to celebrate your birthday.” Seungmin said, obviously making sense which Changbin couldn’t deny.

“Fine fine, I’ve missed it too I just wanted to watch this though.” He pouted. “You’re right though the movie isn’t going anywhere we can easily watch it another time too.” A cheeky smile broke out across his face since he knows he can just play this at the next movie night if he wanted.

Shortly after the movie was long forgotten as you all caught up, mostly the guys catching up with you since you’d only seen them a handful of times in the past month or so.

“Come on y/nnie! You were offered the chance to come to Milan and London too so you can’t be mad at us because you turned it down!” Felix threw his hands up in defeat. “We asked with plenty of time in advance.”

“You literally work with the company! I don’t know why you turned it down.” Hyunjin added, clearly taking the majorities side.

“I didn’t want to distract you guys, those festivals were big deals!” You defended yourself with the first reason you could think of.

“Be so for real, the only person you could’ve distracted was Bin.” Han had giggled, causing Changbin to chuck a pillow at him. “Yah! You know i’m right Hyung.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, I was probably more distracted by the fact I missed you.” Changbin’s face flushed red as his admission. “But it’s over now so it’s fine.” He shrugged.

You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso.

The clock was counting down the time to the big day. Binnie’s birthday. In approximately 32 minutes it would be his day. Your boyfriend’s day. A day of celebrating the entirety of him.

The snacks on the table had slowly been running out and no one had bothered to refill anything, clearly either too lazy to do so or too engrossed in whatever bullshit you all talked about to notice.

Chatter continued in the background as you kept looking at your phone to watch the time get closer and closer to midnight so you could smother your boyfriend like you did every year at midnight on the 11th of August.

“Princess you remember that don’t you?” Changbin has turned to face you, a big smile decorating his face. Truthfully you had been too distracted keeping an eye on the time to know what he was talking about.

“Haha yeah! Uh… yeah I do of course!” You smiled by trying to act all nonchalant about the fact you had no clue what was being discussed.

“Uh oh someone’s distracted.” Jeongin whispered from beside Chan causing the elder to stifle a laugh. They all knew why you hadn’t been paying full attention.

“5… 4… 3… 2… andddd 1…” someone had said under their breath.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BINNIE BABY!!!” You yelled immediately, jumping onto his lap and attacking him with hugs and kisses from every angle.

He didn’t even try to fight it off, instead he grabbed your face between both his hands and crashed his lips onto yours sweetly.

“Ew.” You heard a disgusted voice from behind you. You blindly flung your middle finger out and flipped off Hyunjin since you knew it was him.

“Someone stop them I’m too young for this.” the youngest had said which made you break away from Changbin with enough time to see Chan covering Jeongin’s eyes.

“No but genuinely happy birthday Bin. Since you’re done trying to do whatever the fuck that was can we say happy birthday do our Binnie now?” Seungmin scoffed and laughed at the same time.

“Yeah yeah of course I just wanted to be first.” You smiled and climbed off of his lap allowing him to stand and thank everyone individually.

A silent look was passed around everyone bar you and Changbin as they all started laughing.

“Alexa? Play ‘Birthday Sex’ by Jeremih.” Minho had yelled out.

In a matter of seconds the song started blasting through the apartment which had all of the boys in stitches laughing.

“Let’s leave them to it.” Felix laughed and started ushering everyone to the door.

You could definitely tell your face was bright red at this point.

“Jinnie you live here you fucking idiot.” You said to him hoping it would distract you from being so embarrassed.

“Not tonight I don’t. Have fun.” He smirked back waving before he left the apartment with the rest of the boys in tow.

The door clicked shut and the room fell into silence except for the music still playing.

Well… why waste it?

[hamsterclaw]

Cherished

Your ex-husband shows up, even when he doesn't want to. Part of the Love series.

Pairing: Namjoon x afab! reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, implied sex

Word count: 1.4k

It’s the noises that reach you first. The slam of a bin lid, a gush of running water, murmured conversations.

Distant sirens. Electronic beeping.

Then, an ache in your arm, but further down, a hand over your own.

Fingers interlaced with yours, fitting together in a configuration that you would know anywhere.

A warm palm you’ve traced with your fingertips more times than you could ever count.

You open your eyes to Kim Namjoon glowering at you.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘You’re awake.’

He doesn’t sound entirely pleased about it.

He’s dressed sharply in a three piece suit, waistcoat taut around his waist, chest and shoulders broad. 

You realise he’s let go of your hand.

‘What happened?’ you ask.

‘You’ve hit your head,’ Namjoon replies. He’s getting up, buttoning his suit jacket. ‘You’re in the hospital, but now that you’re awake, we can go.’

You realise there’s a bump on your temple, a cut over your eye.

You try to remember.

The last clear memory you have is of going for a run after work.

Everything after that is hazy.

Namjoon’s called a nurse to check you over.

A bright light is shined into your eyes, making you wince away.

You’re asked if you know where you are, what date it is. If you remember what happened.

‘I went for a run,’ you say, hesitantly.

‘You ran into a sign,’ Namjoon says, filling in the blanks for you. ‘I’m still listed as your next of kin, so the hospital called me when you were brought in unconscious.’

He sounds brisk, impatient.

With a start, you remember the last time you saw him.

The wedding, where he ignored you. His date.

You sigh. ‘Shit. Sorry. I keep meaning to call my insurance and change that.’

You turn back to the nurse, accept the papers she hands you, thank her for her time.

‘I parked down the block,’ Namjoon says, as you leave the building.

You shiver a little in the cold air, realise you’re only wearing a top and leggings.

Namjoon frowns, then a moment later he’s slipping his suit jacket off, draping it around your shoulders.

You follow him to the car, feeling a little sheepish.

‘I ran into a sign?’ you ask, when you’re in your seat.

Namjoon nods.

‘Sounds like something you would do,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it.

He ignores this, pulling away from the curb smoothly, joining the traffic.

He doesn’t say much to you as he drives you home, parks in your underground car park.

You slip off his jacket, hold it out to him.

‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘I’m sorry they called you. Thanks for coming to the hospital.’

Namjoon stares at the suit jacket you’re holding out to him, jaw tensed, a muscle ticking, dimples nowhere to be found.

‘They said I should stay with you overnight,’ he says, finally.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you say. ‘I’m fine.’

You notice again how sharply he’s dressed. ‘Did you have plans?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, short.

He’s getting out the car, coming to your side to open your door. 

You frown as you try to get out, realise your seat belt’s still done up.

You’re fumbling for the buckle when Namjoon leans over you, unfastens you.

‘I’ll walk you up,’ he says.

You try again once you’re in your apartment.

‘You should go,’ you urge. ‘I’m fine.’

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck.

‘Just get into bed,’ he says. ‘I’ll stay for a bit.’

‘It’s fine,’ you insist. ‘Don’t miss your plans because I ran into a sign. I’ll feel guilty.’

Namjoon snorts. Oddly, his scorn makes you feel a little better.

Anything’s better than the complete indifference he’d shown you at the wedding.

Namjoon looks like he’s about to head for the kitchen, but you stop him by grabbing his arm.

‘Hey. I’ll ring my insurance and get it changed tomorrow, ok? Thanks for coming to the hospital and picking me up. You should definitely go, ok? I’ll call my sister if I’m not feeling right.’

Namjoon looks torn, and that convinces you that you’re doing the right thing by sending him away.

Finally he says, ‘look, I don’t give a shit about my plans. I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

You roll your eyes, ignore the twinge of pain in your temple.

‘I ran into a sign. It’s just a concussion.’

‘Dumb fucking thing to do,’ Namjoon mutters.

‘Like marrying you?’ you snap.

There’s a flare of anger in his eyes.

‘Guess you’re a fucking idiot,’ Namjoon says, cold.

Deliberate.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, dully.

You are sorry, what you said was uncalled for.

What’s the point in hurting each other now?

Namjoon’s still angry, you can tell.

Unlike your quick temper that flares and then dissipates almost instantly, Namjoon’s always been slow to anger and slow to forgive.

You don’t think either of you are good at forgetting.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say again.

Namjoon shrugs, picks up his suit jacket.

‘Make sure you change your insurance,’ he says, a parting shot that nearly brings tears to your eyes.

Thankfully, he’s finally going.

***

When you wake the next morning, it’s to a dull throbbing in your head and the realisation that your phone’s missing.

Neither of those things unsettle you as much as the argument you had with your infuriating ex-husband.

You bundle up, go for a walk to clear your head, and on a whim walk to the hospital to ask about your phone.

The nurse who discharged you is at the desk.

‘I remember you,’ she says. ‘And your husband.’

‘Ex,’ you say automatically.

She gives you a look you don’t understand.

‘He seemed pretty upset when we called him — he ran in here panicked even though we said you were fine. I was almost worried we’d have to sedate him!’ 

She chuckles as she gets your phone out of a locked cupboard.

You laugh along with her. She must be confused.

‘Doesn’t sound like him,’ you say.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘The tall drink of water in the sharp suit? Dimples for days. Looks like he’d always want to win an argument?’

It’s such an accurate description of Namjoon you burst out laughing, for real this time.

‘Sounds like him,’ you agree.

She smiles at you kindly. 

‘He was very upset when we were waiting for you to wake up. I told him to get a drink, that I’d call him if you woke, but he didn’t want to leave.’

‘He’s a stubborn guy,’ you say.

Your phone’s dead, out of charge, so you shove it into your pocket as you head home.

Every step in the route you take on your way home reminds you of Kim Namjoon.

The park you used to run in, together, on a Sunday morning, when you weren’t too fucked out from the night before.

The corner coffee shop he likes that’s a shade too smugly artisanal for you.

The deli you always used to go to when you first moved in together, the stupid inside joke you shared about the hostile lady manning the sandwich counter.

When you get back to your apartment to see him, coat still on, phone out, eyes wide with worry, it’s not a surprise.

It feels like every step’s led you back to him.

Before you can both put your masks of indifference back on, you put your hand on his chest, over his heart.

You can feel how it’s pounding, and it gives you the courage to say his name.

‘Joon-ah,’ you murmur.

It’s all you can get out before he’s curling his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

‘Was worried,’ he says, into your hair, the words so quiet they barely carry.

You tip your face to his and like always, he’s waiting.

His kiss is so sweet you want to cry.

‘Wanna fuck?’ you ask, as close to a declaration of love as any you’ve made lately.

‘Can’t,’ he shoots back. ‘Your head’s fucked.’

You punch him in the chest, but he just laughs.

‘On second thought,’ he says, pulling you into your bedroom, ‘that never stopped me before.’

‘You’re fucked in the head too,’ you tell him, already breathless from the way he’s running his hands over your body.

Namjoon pauses with his hands unbuckling his belt.

‘You fuck me,’ he says.

‘I think we fuck each other,’ you reply.

‘Keep saying fuck,’ Namjoon says.

He’s got his jeans halfway off, cocks a brow at you.

‘Take your clothes off.’

You fall into each other's arms. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[paperclip-skz]

Satisfied

fem*Reader x Changbin

YOU have been stressed from work and just life in general....not to mention you've had the hardest time trying to get off for the past few days. But, fatefully, your wifi goes out in your apartment, so you go to your friend just to use his wifi. So, why can't you focus?

*WARNING*

contains: fingering, over-clothes stimulation, teasing, names (bunny), and consent was mentioned, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 1.5k

****

Your muscles tense with agony. The last few days have consisted of you trying your absolute hardest to get off. Porn is a no-go, smut isn’t helping, and your imagination has run blank, it's beyond frustrating. Having to deal with this problem AND having to work is making your body physically shrivel up. 

At the moment you're sitting on the couch with a mindless TV show in the background, you stopped paying attention a while ago, your computer taking up the entirety of your view. The bright glow of the computer consumes you until you hear a loud bang coming from the TV. It was loud enough to lift your head up from your computer to look at the tv, it's another action scene, but it sucks up enough of your attention. 

“What are you doing?” Your head whips around fast to see Changbin in a fitted T-shirt and baggy gym shorts enter the room. Compared to you, both your outfits seemed comfortable. You were wearing a black tank top and shorts and your hair was pinned up in a messy bun, while your glasses rested on the bridge of your nose. It was hot and both of you had no intention of leaving the house. 

“Nothing, just working” you resume to the document you were working on. 

You were just using your friend’s Wifi, for the time being, yours had unexpectedly just stopped working. Your friend offered for you to use his, at least for today, so you could get some work done. 

“You look tense” You are tense, tense from all the denied orgasms, tense from your workload, tense that you can’t get yourself off! His simple words make you verbally groan and close your computer in annoyance. It makes Changbin jump, did he do something wrong?

You look back at him, noticing his worried eyes, “Sorry, I’m just stressed.”

His body relaxes slightly, realizing that he didn’t do anything wrong, but his brain still ponders on how he could help you. 

Maybe he can help you. Hurriedly he comes around to the couch sitting right beside you and slamming his hands on his thighs. You look at him confused. He sighs and grabs you by your feet to guide your legs across his thighs. It makes you yelp and he only giggles at the sound. Your body is completely turned to face him while your back rests comfortably on the couch. Changbin starts to rub gentle circles over your exposed legs. 

A mix of emotions runs through you; confusion and enjoyment battle each other out in your mind. As Changbin's hands gently dig into your skin, all your confusion is thrown out the window and is replaced by pure relaxation. 

The tense muscles in your legs begin to melt away as he continues his tender assault. Your body starts to sink into the couch, the cushions enveloping your body. 

“Feel good?” he asks, and even though your eyes are closed you can hear the cheekiness in his tone. 

You sigh as a confirmation. His hands roam from your thighs to your legs and ride back up to your mid-thigh. Making sure not to reach any place that would make you uncomfortable, but also keeping in mind all your tense spots. 

But it's not enough, his hands feel too good and your muscles are only starting to relax. If you really want to relieve this stress you need to feel it more. “Higher” Your nose scrunches when you feel his movements halt. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Please Bin, I’m really stressed right now and this is actually helping” You can tell he’s still not sure by the way his brows furrow and how he watches his hand on your skin. “If you're not okay with this then tell me now, but please Binnie. This is actually really helping” 

He can see the plea in your eyes, how can he say no when you call him that name? “Okay, turn on your stomach.” 

At first, you're confused, but you comply, taking your bun out and glasses off in the process. Now, you're lying on your stomach, completely facing down, while Changbin cages his thighs on top of you. He presses the palms of his hands down onto the middle of your back and slowly messages. 

The pressure makes you groan, it's a relief you didn’t really comprehend you needed. You can feel his body slowly relax onto your legs as he works pressure into your tense body. Sighs leave your lips and your eyes close shut.

Changbin can see the way your body reacts to his touch and it’s physical torture for him. He can feel you relax and melt into his touch. He wants to keep touching you, but he wants more. He loves the signs that leave your lips, but he wants to hear more than just moans. 

Another small sigh leaves your parted lips when his hand reaches your lower back. “Is it alright if I go lower?” you hum in acknowledgment. 

Changbin wiggles his way down your body, this way his hands have perfect access to the lower half of your body. His hands work their way down your body, rubbing, squeezing, and caressing each muscle. He works his way from your thighs to the curve of your ass, to your hips. 

The pleasure of his hands on your skin overwhelms your senses and the relaxing feeling of the pressure has subsided, now the only feeling you can focus on is the immense need to feel his skin on yours. The thought makes a moan slip.

 Both of you are too stunned to speak. You're too embarrassed to make any excuse, so you just close your eyes and pray that he didn’t hear it. 

But he definitely did. That sound almost made him groan, but he refrained knowing he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. 

So instead of saying anything, he continued meddling with your clothed body. He moved his hands slightly further up to rub where your folds met your thighs. 

The sudden feeling of the pads of his fingers touching your most sensitive area made you gasp. Feeling the tip of his finger slide up and down made you feel just how soaked you were. You didn’t realize how desperate you were until you started moaning and shivering in his touch. He hasn’t even truly touched you yet. 

You can feel the tips of his fingers reach for the rim of your shorts, you lift your hips as a silent confirmation for him to keep going. Within seconds he is ripping your shorts and underwear away from your body and kneading your exposed skin. 

Suddenly you feel the sharp sting of his palm slapping your ass, the pain quickly is replaced by pleasure as he rubs the same spot. You didn’t expect the sound to leave your lips, the sudden gasp turned into a moan, it both surprised you, but it only encouraged Chanbin to keep going.

His fingers dig into your skin, surly he’ll leave marks in the morning. His fingers briskly find their way back to your soaked folds, rubbing them expertly. “Tell me you want me to keep going” 

The thought he still has your consent in his mind add warmth to the pleasure he’s giving you, “please”

His fingers press a little hard against your folds making them slip down to your clit. “Jesus you're dripping. I can feel it through your shorts.” he’s right, you are soaked, more soaked than you have been in the past few days. 

“More. please. More” words are muffled into single responses, the pleasure making your brain foggy. 

“More? You want more?” you nod your head as a simple response. “Then lift this pretty ass” you oblige without a single obligation, lifting your hips so he can glide your shorts off your body, leaving you naked from the waist down in front of him. 

His fingers skillfully find the little thrumming bead, but he doesn’t stay there for long. A single digit tests your flooded entrance, dipping just a tiny only a single finger in. relief washes over you, you didn’t realize how much you needed this. 

Delicately he plays with the insides of your walls, sliding his digit in and out of you, and curling the tip of his finger. His little game is making you squirm in his touch. Without warning he adds another finger and starts pumping the two digits into you. Finding a delicious pace. 

Sigh and moans mix as one in an unforgettable song. 

His thumb comes into play as it finds the desperate bead begging for attention. His fingers and thumb continue their mix while pleasure surges through you. You’ve held out for so long, the tension building up within you for too long, and his fingers play such a torturous game. It's not long before you're barrelling over the edge with a scream of his name. 

His movements slow, but he keeps his fingers securely inside you. Your walls clench around his fingers still feeling the afteraffects of your orgasam. “Oh bunny, did you think I was finished with you?”

You tilt your head to the side, trying to get a better look at him. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to touch you. I’m not letting you go until both of us are undoubtedly satisfied” 

a/n: I know I haven't posted in a while, I've been working on like 8 stories at once. I have no idea when these other ones are gonna get done \_* *_/...but they are in the works! And they are pretty good...and long. This is one I've had on the back burner for a while, I don't know how "proud" I am of it...idk I want to know what ya'll think.

[skipper1331]

Sick // Jessie Fleming

a/n: based off this request.

The moment Jessie woke up, she knew something was wrong. Her head was pounding and her nose was running uncontrollably. Slipping out of bed, she walked in the bathroom. She looked pale, eyes glossy, nose and ears burnt red. She didn‘t feel well either.

"Why are you up?" your groggy morning voice asked, it was way too early to get out of bed. Training wouldn’t be in the next 3 hours. "Nothin-" before she could finish her wording a loud sneeze escaped her, the second and third directly behind. "Nothing, huh?" you asked with raised eye brows.

"I‘m fine, my love" she told you, "just your new perfume. It tickled my nose" grabbing your hand, she pulled you back to the bedroom, making herself comfortable, closing her eyes for at least another hour. Or so she thought. While you slept peacefully next to her, she just couldn’t fall asleep. Every minute, she blew her nose, the bin in the room already full to the top.

When the alarm rang, Jess was the first out of bed, finally able to do something. Normally, she wouldn‘t mind laying in bed with your arms around her body as she could admire you but with her running nose there was no calm second where she could memorize your features. And trying to hide her cough, so you wouldn’t wake up was harder than she expected. Her throat was sore and aching. In the kitchen, out of ear shot, she coughed the dear life out of of her body, drowning glasses of water.

"How are you feeling, baby?" your gentle voice filled the room, sneaking behind her.

"I‘m feeling great!" she answered straightaway. There was no second left between your question and her reply, something she only did when she was lying. "Hm, totally" you said with sarcasm laced in your voice as she coughed again, a sneeze following.

With the back of your hand and palm felt her forehead - scalding hot, "you‘ve got a fever"

"No I don‘t. I‘m fine" her face started to turn redder than it already was as she bit her lip, "on a scale from 1-10 how bad to you need to cough right now?"

The answer came instantly, a nasty cough leaving her throat, eyes blurry. Her hand held the counter as her fist hit her chest, trying to control it with no luck. "10 apparently" you muttered, searching for some throat candy in the cupboard, "you‘re not going to training" handing her the candy, you filled her glass of water again, the midfielder frowning at you. "Why? I‘m totally fine!"

Your face held the 'seriously?' expression as she sneezed again, "answer enough?" She huffed, arms crossing as she stared at you. Pleading eyes looked at you, eyes that told you she would argue about it.

"You didn‘t even give me a kiss" Jess whined, walking towards you.

"And I won‘t" you told her sternly.

"But- you always kiss me"

"Not today. You‘re sick"

"How many times do I have to tell you- atchoo" the loudest sneeze yet left her body, "maybe I am?"

"Go to bed, my love" grabbing her wrist, you pulled her back in your shared bedroom. You handed her a hoodie of yours, the fluffiest and some fluffy socks, then you wrapped her in the duvet. "Don‘t leave" she mumbled as you were about to leave the room, "Please stay" her soft voice whispered, eyes falling shut.

"I‘ll be back"

Loud, sick and heavy breathing filled the room as you left. You made some quick phone calls, reporting that Jess wouldn‘t show up to training and you wouldn‘t either because of the flu. You didn‘t feel sick per se but you didn't want to risk infecting your team mates and you wanted to take care of your girlfriend.

"Baby!" the raspy voice of your lover yelled, a nasty cough following behind.

"What’s the matter? I thought you were asleep"

"I can‘t sleep without you" she pouted, making grabby hands, big brown eyes looking at you, "Come here!" she demanded now, "or I’ll tell Sinc you don‘t treat me right and she‘s gonna be all protective"

You gasped, acting like you’re hurt as Jessie got all bossy and needy. Something she only got when she was sick.

When Jess was sick, she loved you more than already.

She won‘t let you cook for her if she‘s not in the same room.

She won‘t stay in a room if you‘re not there.

She won‘t take painkillers if you‘re not holding her hand or if she‘s not sitting on your lap.

She won‘t go to sleep if you‘re not holding her.

She won‘t let you do anything without her.

Her justification? Because during the period in which she was sick, you wouldn’t kiss her, so she needed a different kind of love.

"You‘re pulling the Sinclair-card? I‘m offended" you giggled.

She scowled, the wrinkle between her brows visible, "baby! Love me"

"Just because it’s you" you replied, walking over to your side. As you slipped under the covers, it took Jessie not even a second to be at your side, hugging you like a koala. Her legs wrapped around your own, arms around your midsection and head resting comfortably on your chest. "I‘m the only one you love" she muttered in your chest, pulling up her running nose. Your hand made its way in her hair, slowly starting to massage her scalp as a yawn escaped her dry throat.

"Will you be there when I wake up?"

"Always"

Wiggling in your grasp, she tried to get more comfy in your touch yet something didn‘t seem to fit right. "what‘re you doing my love?" you whispered, the brunette clinging onto your body. "I don‘t like this" turning her head in every direction, adjusting her body posture, she desperately tried to find comfort. Thinking about how to help her, an idea popped up in your head, "Let go of me for a moment, please" the meanest glare was sent your way, let you go? Why on earth would she do that? your touch was the only thing that made her feel better. As if you could read her mind, you added, "just for a second" she did as you wished and with a quick motion you got rid of your hoodie. You pulled Jessie on top of you, her palms resting on your bare stomach as her head laid on your chest. So instead of hugging like a koala from the side, she now hugged you from the front with skin to skin contact, something she loved and which you discovered early on in your relationship. "Better?"

"So much. I love you"

Pressing a kiss to her head, you replied ever so sweetly "I love you too"

——————

[cerastes]

I will be going to Okinawa at the end of this month! Also gonna hop to the main island and do a weekend in Kyoto. Any advice?

NIIICE

Well, we could speak for hours about advice when it comes to traveling to Japan, really, but in general, keeping it concise and to the point, I'd say:

Don't tip in restaurants! It's seen as rude because they are paid already, there's no tipping culture for eateries over there.

Also, there's a table fee! Consider this the tip if you must cognitize it somehow, but basically, when you go over your receipt, you'll always see 200 yen or something on top of what you ate. Don't start a fight over this, it's just the table fee, AKA the fee you pay for using a spot in the restaurant in the first place. It's usually something small like 200 yen, and it will also include courtesy snacks like water and usually edamame

Don't point at things with your finger, it's rude. This is not Japan exclusive obviously but Japan is one of those places in which it is rude. Also, don't point at things with chopsticks, that's REALLY rude. In general, don't toy with chopsticks, those are tools with which you consume food with, and should be treated with respect.

Buy your deodorant over there. Strong scents, perfumes and deodorants are usually seen as disruptive (as in, you're invading the smelling space of people), so they use odorless, neutral deodorant there. If you use odorless already, you're good to go, but leave the AXE at home.

Keep your voice down in public transport, and don't take phone calls while in it. You can make small talk (in fact, a few times, some Japanese people talked to me in the train to ask me where I was from and some stuff like that!), but don't be loud. Basically, respect everyone's right and pleasure to a pleasant trip or commute. Return phone calls after you disembark.

Have a Map app on you. It will save your life and make it much easier! Likewise, get a 3/4/5G wireless connection rental card for your phone while you're over there! They are very affordable (I paid something like 70 bucks for 31 days of 4G) and having internet on the go is immensely helpful, from translations to maps to calls to just browsing things on the go or looking up something you might not know.

I recommend looking up some cultural things in general before your trip, so you don't make faux passes. Japanese people are in general really kind and comprehensive to foreigners and won't hold you to the same social scrutiny as they would another Japanese person, but in my experience, they really like it when you actually show an intent to engage with the culture. There's passing by, and then there's actually showing you've at least looked into it, and they really appreciate it. I got away with a couple of free drinks one time in Osaka, even, because the master was like "no yeah you've obviously been keenly aware of how to go about things". Even the few times I messed up by going where I wasn't supposed to go or entering a few off-limit places, talking with authority figures and explaining how that happened to them was smooth as butter and they completely understood and didn't mind the misteps, and gave friendly advice on how to prevent that from happening again.

Absolutely carry a bag with you everywhere. There's very few trash bins in Japan so you'll always want to have a bag or some such to store your bottles and empty snack bags and takoyaki sticks and everything else until you can find an elusive bin or go back to your hotel and throw your stuff there. A lifehack here is that you can sometimes find trash bins near vending machines, but do make sure they are not just for cans!

These are my Primer For Japan, really. Have Fun!

[risswirly]

Frayed Edges

SYNOPSIS: The plan was to attend a vortex party to get your mind off the argument you'd had with Warren, but things take a turn when he unexpectedly shows up, begging to talk to you GENRE: Angst and fluff NOTE: It's a bit out of character I can't lie but I just rlly wanted to write something with a bit more conflict T^T (Song inspo: No. 1 Party Anthem, Arctic Monkeys) WORD COUNT: 3.4k

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Typically, this would be the last place you'd want to be. The smell of alcohol, weed and impulse hangs thick in the air as blasting music numbs your eardrums. You'd only gone to a few Vortex club parties in the past and it seemed they never got any less wild. Somehow, your friends' promises of "it'll be fun", "it'll make you feel better", and reassurance to stick with you the whole night successfully got you to come, although, after only a few drinks, she was now nowhere in sight.

You make your way into the kitchen, deciding that if you had to be stuck here until she reappeared, you would at least spend that time drunk. Grabbing and filling a red plastic cup, you gulp down a glass of punch. You wince at the unexpectedly strong concentration of vodka, which you probably should've seen coming.

Perhaps this party wouldn't be so bad, you reconsidered, filling your cup again. Just a few more drinks and you could actually see yourself having a good time, dancing to the music, catching up with people, and.. maybe even meeting someone?

You immediately feel your heart grow heavy as you remind yourself why your friend had thought it would be a good idea for you to come. You chug down another cup.

It had been about two weeks since you last spoke to Warren, no calls, no texts and most certainly no face-to-face interactions, simply spotting him in the hall was enough to make you feel sick to the stomach. It was nauseating how quickly someone you once needed to breathe could make you feel like you were suffocating. The worst part was you really did miss him. His smile, his corny references you didn't understand half the time, his hand on the gear shift in his car, the feeling of his fingertips tracing your-

You shut your eyes tight and knock back your head, letting the alcohol fill your system. What was this, your 5th drink? If it could make you forget for just one night, it was good enough, was all you thought as you stumble to refill the cup. For the first night in two weeks, you wouldn't question your self-worth, you decided tonight would be your night.

You crush the plastic cup in your hands and throw it into the bin with a newfound determination coursing through your veins as you make your way toward the music. The living room is swimming with people, music blaring from a makeshift DJ booth at the front of the room, and coloured lights flicker and illuminate the blurry crowd of dancing students.

You make your way to the dance floor and begin to move along to the music. Although you start a little awkwardly, over the next hour you gradually feel the warmth and haziness from the alcohol engulf you, feeling the thudding of the bass sync with your heart as you become more and more confident.

In your dancing you suddenly notice the empty coffee table that's situated in the middle of the room right next to you. In a moment of impulsivity, you hoist yourself up on top. You wobble a little at the sudden movement, but looking out over the crowd, the world feels like your oyster. You giggle to yourself as you sway your hips drunkenly, trailing your hands over your body and through your hair, showing off, even winking at a cute guy in the crowd, feeling like the hottest girl alive.

You close your eyes as you dance, and the room feels electric, everyone staring at you, cheering, dancing along to your rhythm, their cameras flashing as you feel the best you have in two weeks. You reopen your eyes and feel your breath hitch in your throat, in the corner of the room, standing with a drink, you spot Warren, his gaze fixated on the same thing as everyone else's: you.

You feel your heart begin to pound, now wanting nothing more than to disappear. You quickly try to step off the table, but the crowd of tightly packed bodies gives you no room to escape. You feel as if you're about to throw up and try your best not to panic, looking for an exit from being the centre of attention.

Among the sea of faceless people, you see a hand extending toward you. You look and see it's the guy you had winked at before reaching to help you. You grab his hand and sigh in relief as he pulls you down from the table, holding you steady as you stumble out of the crowd. You look back to try and spot Warren but can't see him through the dancing mass of students. "Woah, you are totally gone", he chuckles as he leads you away from the lounge room. "Yeah, that was the idea", you mumble, holding your head in your palm as he brings you back towards the kitchen.

You lean against the counter and contemplate every decision you've ever made. Why the fuck was he here? Warren never came to these kinds of events, so why, of all nights, did he come here? Tonight? You groan into your hands and feel like crying. "Hey, this might help" You feel a hand on your back and, upon uncovering your face, are greeted with a glass of water. "Thanks", you mutter before taking a sip. Now in the better-lit kitchen you could get a decent look at this guy. It would be a lie to say he wasn't good-looking and he had been considerate enough to help you out, but the thought of Warren just a few rooms away gnawed at you.

He leans his hip on the counter, facing you with crossed arms. "I, uh, saw you wink at me during your little moment" he grins coyly. You bury your face in your palms once again as you remember, "Fuck. I did, didn't I?" You groan, questioning if Warren had seen that or not. "Yeah, you seem pretty wasted" " he chuckles before unashamedly looking you up and down, "How 'bout we ditch this place huh?" he suggests, an eagerness lacing his voice. You shut your eyes and curse your previous spark of confidence under your breath, now being faced with the chore of turning this guy down. "Like you said, I'm pretty drunk and I'm actually waiting for my friend so.." you manage to stammer as you slowly take a step back. "Oh come on. We'll be done before she even realises you're gone," He insists with a smirk, taking a step toward you.

You try taking another step back, but something blocks you. You let out a small gasp and your body shudders as you feel a hand trail its way from your lower back to your hip. You don't even need to turn around to know who the hand belongs to. "She's with me." Warren's voice is sombre and harsh as he glares at the boy who uncrosses his arms and laughs, "Excuse me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I said she's with me, so back the fuck off", Warren repeats, tightening his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You look up at him and your heart stops as you realise how close his face is to yours. You notice the definition in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, eyes narrowed as he shoots daggers into the guy standing in front of you both. Warren was far from intimidating, but in this moment, all traces of his unserious and lighthearted self disappeared. The boy chuckles and brings his gaze back to you, a sceptical look on his face as if to say, 'no way he's serious'. You let out a shaky breath and reluctantly nod your head, facing Warren would be better than leaving with this guy. He scoffs and looks over your one last time before putting his hands up in surrender with a shrug, "Whatever, bitch", he mutters as he turns and leaves.

You let out a sigh and take an unsteady step away from Warren, his hand slipping from your waist. You now stand before him, barely able to look him in the eyes, "What the fuck was that?" you ask, your voice laced with more anger than intended. Warren shakes his head confused "Excuse me? That was me helping you", he states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, thank you Warren, my night in shining armour. Please. do you want a medal?" You snap back. His eyes fill with hurt as you mock him, he takes a shaky breath, "(Y/n) please, I just want to talk. I want to fix this" he pleads. Your throat tightens hearing the ache in his voice and you immediately regret drinking so much earlier, wishing you weren't so intoxicated right now. You sigh, "I'm still here aren't I?" You roll your eyes. You see his gaze soften as you agree to talk but the anxious look in his eyes quickly returns, "Not here", he insists as he looks around at the other people in the room.

Before you can say anything, he takes your hand and begins leading you through the house, taking you upstairs and into a bathroom far from the main action of the party, although you can still hear the music and chattering faintly. The two of you stand alone in the dim light, thoughts racing and hearts pounding, the millions of things you've wanted to say and yell and ask him over the past 2 weeks seem to escape your mind. His eyes gaze over you, taking in every feature and curve of your face as he stands in front of you, breathless. You take a small step back and he snaps back to reality, "S-sorry. I just.. haven't seen you in so long", he mutters apologetically. "Well, you wanted to talk? So talk" You murmur, your tone not so harsh now that it's just the two of you.

He anxiously rubs the back of his neck, clearly nervous, "I don't even know where to start", he whispers quietly. "What you said to me two weeks ago might be a good start" " you reply, a tang of bitterness still in your tone. He places a palm on his forehead, "That stupid argument", he groans painfully.

Your brows furrow, "Stupid?" you echo his words, the anger in your voice raising with your temper. He shakes his head "No- no, that's not what I meant" he tries to correct himself, clearly frustrated.

You turn your back to him trying to hide the pain in your face, "I gave you my ALL, Warren. Every part of me and you just.. it didn't mean anything to you. Do you know how much that hurts? But no, you're right, it's just stupid" You spit back, the alcohol from earlier making it hard to control the shake in your voice.

He takes a hesitant step toward you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort you, but he refrains. "(y/n).. You know that's not what I meant-" he pleads. "Really? Do I know? I thought I knew two weeks ago too, but clearly, I was wrong" Your scolding sounds more like a sob as your emotions bubble over. "I never meant to hurt you", He whispers just loud enough for you to hear.

You take a shaky breath trying with all your might to stop the tears that sting your eyes. You turn and face him, "No, Warren, you don't get to play the intention card. I asked you what we were, what I meant to you and you couldn't even give me an answer. Months of sneaking around and keeping things a secret, I couldn't take it anymore. I want more, Warren. I want us. I want real, genuine love, not this friends-with-benefits bullshit!" You step toward him and point a finger into his chest, "You knew how I felt, and you knew you didn't feel the same. You knew how this would end, but you kept leading me on.. and you wanna say you 'didn't mean to hurt me'?" You sob, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks and onto the cold tile.

He stands with his mouth agape, unbreathing, still and completely silent as he takes in what you said. He inhales shakily before speaking. "Is that what you thought I meant?" he breaths. His question is genuine. You hear the anguish and guilt in his voice as his face melts into despair. Seeing you cry, his hesitancy instinctively disappears, and he begins to comfort you, with one hand, he softly holds your shoulder, placing the other on your cheek, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. "No, no, (y/n)... You can't seriously think that's how I felt, please.." His begs, utterly crushed.

You continue to cry, giving up on holding it in anymore, "'I don't know', that's the only answer you could give me Warren. Do you know how much it hurts to hear someone you've loved for so long tell you they don't know what you are to them ?" You break down into tears, taking his wrists and weakly trying to pull his hands away as you sob. He continues to wipe your cheeks despite your protest "I couldn't even think straight that day. I was scared out of my mind-" You cut him off, "You think I wasn't scared?" You cry, pushing his hand away forcefully

He shakes his head in distress, "No (y/n), that's not what I meant! You have it all wrong!" His retorts back exasperated. His voice is raised, not by a lot, but just enough to get you to stop interrupting him and hear what he has to say.

"God. I feel like everything I say is being misunderstood or comes out wrong!" He holds his head in his hands, taking a step back to breathe. "You think I don't also want more? I want to be so much more. I want to be more than just friends with benefits, I want to be more than just casual hookups, I want to be more than whatever the fuck we were before. That day, in your room, when you asked me what you meant to me, I froze, okay? My brain shut down and I went into panic mode and all I could say was 'I don't know' over and over because in all honesty, I don't know how to even begin explaining just how much you mean to me."

He goes quiet as he calms down and takes a deep breath before continuing, "That day, I was scared if I told you how I really felt you'd get freaked out and I'd end up fucking it all up and losing you. But I lost you anyways.. and on top of that I ended up hurting you."

He rubs the nape of his neck nervously leaning his head back as he finally confronts his feelings, "I've never felt this way about anyone and I don't know how to deal with it. Every time I see you I feel like I'm going insane. You have no idea how much of an effect you have on me."

He rubs his hands across his face restlessly, "These past two weeks without you have been absolute torture- I only came to this stupid party because I hoped that by some miracle you'd also be here and I'd see you. I knew I had to fix this because.. I'd never forgive myself for being stupid enough to lose the person that means the most to me." His breathing is fast as his heart beats out of his chest as he finally opens up to you about how he truly feels, something he's been too afraid to face for so long.

He places both his hands on your shoulders and looks deep into your soul, his eyes filled with longing and need, " I want us more than I've wanted anything else in my whole life.. Please"

You stand in shock, unable to speak. You look at him, instead of the heartless villain you'd convinced yourself he was, you see the boy you'd fallen in love with, vulnerable and honest, giving you his heart. You realise that all this time you'd let your anxieties manifest and cloud your vision, that all along you were just two teenagers in love too scared to admit what you felt. You see the desperation in Warren's eyes as he tries to fix the mistakes he's made, and you feel yourself melt from the inside out. You nod softly as you lean into him.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he gently pats your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in as he squeezes you tighter. You feel him exhale shakily as he holds you, the tension and anxiety slowly dissolving from his body as he grasps the fact you're in his arms again. "I really thought I'd lost you", he quietly whispers into your neck, you hear the tears in his voice as he brings you closer.

You grasp the fabric of his shirt tightly as you finally embrace him after weeks apart. "I missed you so much" " you mutter as you close your eyes and feel his warmth blanket you. He caresses your head softly, "I'm not going anywhere", he reassures you.

You pull away slightly and look him in his eyes. You see his cheeks are wet from his tears and he looks away embarrassed. You softly cup his jaw, pulling him to face you again and begin to gently wipe his cheeks dry. He looks at you through heavy eyelids as he leans into your touch. He places his hand over yours, "I want to be official this time." he says nervously. He pauses and takes a deep breath as he swallows his fears, "(y/n) would you.. be my girlfriend?" his words are quiet and nervous as the questions hangs in the silence between you.

Time stops as you hear the words leave his mouth and you feel his heart pounding through his chest. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes widen as you feel your own heart explode. As the words register in your mind your eyes soften and you smile back at him softly, "I'd love nothing more" you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. You watch as the worry leaves his face as he takes a deep breath and he smiles back at you tenderly.

He slowly brings a hand to your jaw and leans in as you close your eyes you stand on your toes. He erases the gap between you, kissing you gently. He breathes you in, missing every part of you as he's reminded of how addicting you are. "No more secrecy, no more hiding" He continues kissing you as he talks "I want everyone in this town to know I'm yours" " he mutters into your lips, his words muffled by his kisses. You giggle at his eagerness as you kiss him back, "I like the sound of that".

As you laugh you suddenly hear a familiar voice from outside "(Y/n) are you in there?!" you hear your friend call drunkenly from outside the door. You and Warren both become paralysed, your attention snaps toward the world outside the bathroom as you hear her open the door without warning. "(Y/n)! Guess what! Apparently Warren is here tonight an-" she freezes in her tracks, eyes wide and jaw on the floor seeing the two of you in a heated embrace, his hands on your lower back and your fingers in his hair. She blinks in shock before speaking, "Oh, hi Warren..." She says awkwardly, glancing at you with a look that screams 1000 words before she begins to back away. "Okay, I'm just gonna..." she trails off as she closes the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

You stand in silence for a moment, still looking at the door before you burst out into laughter. "Oh my god, I have so much explaining to do", you groan as you lean your head on Warrens chest. He chuckles at your embarrassment, "It'll be okay",  he reassures you as he pats your back, still holding you tenderly. You look up at him, "Yeah, it'll be okay", you echo back. He looks at you, eyes filled with warmth and affection. He was right, it would be okay, because right now in his warm embrace, nothing had ever felt more right.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[ctimenefic]

Just another anon popping in to say that gr63 gets rule 63’d AU is a borderline religious revelation to me 😵‍💫😳 ur a genius

This snippet does not have George in it, blessed anon, but it does, crucially, have tiny baby Lance Stroll

“You should hear what the British guys have to say about her,” Kieran Rivers is saying, as Alex makes his way back to the group from the hotel bar. There’s about a dozen of them, sprawled around four tables they dragged together, blithely ignoring the glares from the barstaff. It’s not like it’s a nice hotel, and they’re all guests, and some of them just won the Eurocup Formula 2.0 championship, actually, so who gives a shit if they’re loud and young. At least they’re drinking. 

And talking about George, of course. She’s yet to join them - thanks to his sisters, Alex has better insights than most into the dark rituals of girls getting ready, and he reckons it’ll be another half hour - but it’s pretty obvious why she’d be the subject of conversation. 

Winning as a wildcard. It’s mad. It’s brilliant. He’s so fucking proud. 

“The F4?” he asks, sliding back into his seat. “She’s smashing it.”

Three of the boys at the far end of the table snort. Boys- men, technically. Most of them. There’s a couple of prodigies, like George, racing as well as any of them at sixteen. Alex doesn’t feel grown up. Ordering a beer without worrying someone will spot the dodgy photoshop on his licence still feels novel. 

Jez Valdo grins too widely for a guy who binned it into the wall at what is technically his home race. “Smashing is one way of putting it.”

“More like they’re the ones smashing it,” Rivers chimes in, and Alex frowns. It’ll be close, sure, but if George drives as well as she did today, the championship’s in the bag. Rivers starts counting off names on his fingers: Braithwaite, Carter, Jones, and that doesn’t make any sense, because they’re nowhere near the top of the standings-

“It’s like they’ve worked out a system to stop her getting clingy, it’s genius. Wish I’d known after Moscow, I’d’ve lined one of you guys up to take her off my hands when she got all mopey.” 

The group around Rivers laughs again. Something cold steals up Alex’s spine. Moscow hadn’t been great for George. He’d got third on the Sunday but still had to coax her out, and she’d vanished off back to the hotel after only an hour or so.

He places the image of George on the plane home, swamped in her giant Lewis Hamilton hoodie, next to Rivers’ face now, his lips pulled back in a smirk that shows his incisors. “No, really, she’s kinda tame but, you know, easy for it.”

“Eh,” Jez Valdo is saying, and it’s like slow motion, the way Alex can see it coming, a shit comment as obvious as debris on the track, “she’s not hot enough to take your sloppy seconds.”

Alex’s end of the table is silent. When he looks up, Lance Stroll is staring him dead in the eye. Alex isn’t even sure why Lance is here - he’s not raced in Eurocup, he’s doing F4 in Italy this year. But his dad owns half the boys at the table, so Stroll Jr must go where he wants. 

It doesn’t matter - the point is, Alex meets his eyes, huddled under stormcloud brows, and has a single moment of pure, instinctive connection. He and Lance Stroll are as one for this bright, shining moment of their shared existence. It’ll never happen again; it’s a miracle it happens once. But as Alex’s grip on his pint turns white-knuckled, and he slides his glass to soak Valdo’s fucking stupid face, Lance knocks his wrist casually against River’s stein and sends it over the pair of them. 

“Oh,” Lance says, flatly. “My bad.”

[rmoonstoner]

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, possibility of people dying, mentions of depression, sexual themes, smut, whump, love triangle, love competition, warnings will change as the story develops.

***

Summary:

You get bad news on your anniversary. Jake is moving away, and he ends the relationship. He does it to keep you safe, or so he says, but you know there's another woman. You don't know who it is. He had come home on too many occasions smelling like hard liquor, jasmine, and cinnamon, a scent you didn't wear. You would find hair on his dirty clothes in the wash bin that wasn't yours or his. Every time you confronted him, he said it was for his undercover job for some powerful guy, and he always had women in his cabs after the bars let out on nights he used his cab for stakeouts. Like was he supposed to refuse rides to paying customers? His excuse was his proximity to others, and he assured you he never strayed.

You didn't believe him.

That still didn't explain the suggestive stains in underwear he never wore around you, which you washed for him. It didn't explain why he would fuck off for days or weeks at a time, and he never would tell you where he went, or what he was doing. He never sent you texts, emails, or letters. He never checked in, and just showed up unannounced, fully expecting to be let back into your life without question.

And you let him, every Goddamn time, because, when he was actually around, he treated you so well. Like a Goddess. He lavished you with expensive gifts and took care of your basic necessities. He had paid for the house you lived in, and the car you drove. You let him, because you loved him.

***

Chapter 1 - Empanada Gallega - Galicia, Spain

This pastry is flour based, and traditionally it is filled with tuna or chorizo, but you can use other meats or seafood depending on your location. Onions, salt, and pepper are a must. Modern day versions favor adding tomatoes. It is square-shaped or rounded with doughy decorations on the top.

***

Today was your technical three year anniversary. Technically speaking, it was three years since Jake had asked you out. You had a rocky history together, with a bunch of breakups and getting back together.

Your boyfriend, Jake Lockley, had been squirrely recently. You knew what was coming, but you didn't think he'd pick today, of all days, to pull this kind of stunt.

He decided, yet again, probably for the tenth time since you started dating three years ago, that now was a great time to break off the relationship.

Why?

He claimed he was going out on a mission, on which he would be gone for at least six months, maybe a year. He refused to tell you exactly where, but he narrowed it down to England when he handed you a P.O. Box address at a post office in London.

What the fuck was this?

Was this his idea of a gift?

A fucking address scrawled on a sticky note?

You barely said a word to him as he kept explaining how this new mission would be too dangerous to have you around. You scowled as he spoke, knowing full well it was bullshit. He'd seen the news recently. He saw how you went toe to toe with many of Spider-Man's foes. He even witnessed in person, while cabbing of course, a few of your assists for the Avengers.

He knew he was spouting nonsense, but kept it up, mostly because you didn't say anything back. You had checked out and he didn't even see it as he wove his own web of lies of omission and half truths. You had decided that you had grown tired of his excuses that he would be back, even though he was now explaining the break up procedure to you, again.

You could go on dates and see people. If it ended up being a spicy night, you could pursue your interests and have sex and be guilt free. He was saying it like he was doing you a favor, or extending you some weird courtesy of freedom.

But even though he offered this every time, you never did.

You naturally assumed that the rule was always made for his benefit. He could go dick down someone, guilt free, and then you couldn't say anything, because he already laid out the rules and you didn't argue with him.

You knew, deep down, that you weren't the only person that felt those rough hands roaming and groping your body…

His thirsty lips kissing you anywhere and everywhere, taking and plundering whatever he desired as he played you like a fiddle.

And that well-endowed package of his that seemed to always make every nerve inside of you light on fire and make you soak the sheets like a puddle of quivering jelly when he was finished with you.

You shook your head to clear it of the heated thoughts. The signs were all there and they were all the small details that told you there was another woman he never spoke of.

Every time he came home, he was drunk or high as fuck on something, and he was sloppy about the evidence you found.

***

You once heard him come home at four in the morning and found him in the kitchen in a pair of boxers you don't ever remember seeing before. He was wasted, and he had white dust on his upper lip as he mucked around in the kitchen causing a mess. A mess you'd end up cleaning in the morning.

You watched him stumble about and make himself a plate of breakfast. He made bacon, sausages, eggs, and toast, then doused the entire thing in a bottle's worth of hot sauce. He left a mess on the stove, the pans in a horrible state, and the sink full of dishes and trash, like eggshells, packaging and bread ties. He didn't even offer you anything, and then when done, the man had the audacity to do rails of ketamine right off of the counter.

That was a shitty night for you. When Jake had eventually gone and stolen your bed, sprawled out like a starfish, and passed out, you went to work on cleaning up his mess.

You took the shells and meat packaging out of the sink and threw them away into the proper bins. You gathered the dishes, set them to soak in the sink, and then wiped the counters, the stove, and the fridge down. He somehow had got egg on the fridge handle, and you huffed while picking up shells from the floor. You swept and mopped the floors, then came back to do the dishes and clean the sink.

Just that alone took an hour. When it was done, you went and picked his stuff up off that he had just strewn about when he came in. His shoes looked brand new, as did his bags, except for one. One was purple, and it had a tag with a woman's name and address, her phone number, and an email address. You took the tag and put it away, then moved his shit to the closet.

One by one, you hung his dress shirts, and only two had blood stains on them. You set those aside to clean, along with a few t-shirts that stunk of cigars, liquor, and sweat. One in particular, a khaki short sleeve button up, had lipstick stains on the collar, and red blood stains on the back in the shape of long scratches. It even smelled heavily of a perfume you didn't wear, and it was a scent he always came back smelling like. Jasmine and cinnamon. They used to be your favorite smells, but now, you despised them entirely, knowing exactly why those scents were there in the first place.

You put that shirt away, keeping it as evidence, and switched it out for one of the same ones that Jake had left behind the last time he showed up. He never noticed. He never did, because he was just that comfortable with you. You went through his clothes, finding condoms in a pair of jeans. A pack of five, and three were missing, but there was one empty wrapper in there, signalling to you what he was doing. He wasn't just handing them out to people.

You found a wallet, which shouldn't have been a big deal, except for it was.

It really was.

Jake's wallet was a thick leather folding wallet and this was a thin card holder that folded. It was canvas, and held a few fake ID cards with the name of Marc Spector, but held Jake's face without his facial hair, his hat, or a smile. It was the first time you'd seen this wallet. It was going to be hard for him to explain that.

Jake also had a backpack and a laptop bag, which you decided to investigate as well. You found sweatpants, baggy shirts, and printed vacation print button ups. You had only ever seen Jake in the sweatpants. That was odd. These clothes were clean, unlike the rest you had found. You folded them up and put them back, only to find yet another wallet inside. It was leather like Jake's, but it had a faded gold Ankh on it and it wasn't as thick. Of course, the identification inside held yet another alias. It said Steven Grant, and that he was a professor of Egyptology.

Well, that explained the tattoos Jake had. Most of them were Egyptian, and the most intricate was the one on his left forearm. It was a series of hieroglyphics inside a white crescent moon with gold lettering. He had told you that he thought it looked neat and never explained it further. It also explained why he had all those books on the shelves, yet never spoke of it or his obvious love of Egypt.

So he had secret lives with secret identities and he didn't think to tell you about it.

You never said a word. You kept your mouth shut and hid your evidence. The shirts, the tag, pictures of it all, and pictures of his IDs.

***

You sighed as the memory passed and Jake was still talking. He was telling you that your car was freshly serviced and had a full tank of gas.

After a few times of him doing this breakup routine, you just waited for his return and picked up where you left off.

Again and again…

But this time around felt different. You felt detached and bored, not to mention numb inside. You needed something new, because you were trapped in a vicious cycle of being loved fully and truly, to suddenly have it wrenched out of your grasp, dangled in front of you, then given back.

You wanted to be happy, but all the time. You didn't want to be waiting on constant alert for Jake to up and leave again. You could never gauge how long he would be gone for, but you found that if you didn’t draw attention to it, he wouldn't go through all the trouble of breaking up with you. He would just leave and come back.

This time though, he was giving you an olive branch, a way to reach him. It was still a shitty anniversary gift in your eyes, when maybe if he had just asked you to come with him, you would have gone. He knew you could protect yourself, and he knew you wanted to travel the world.

Yet he was leaving you behind. Again.

You stared at the scribbled writing in red pen with the address. His words were a dull buzz as you barely paid attention to another excuse about his long haul undercover job, this time to take down an Egyptian cult. You didn't believe him, because he always came home without a scratch on him after he would tell you small details on what he did, which wasn't much to be honest. You did, however, believe he would go pick fights with people, because his clothes always had blood on them.

Lots of guns apparently, and lots of him getting stabbed or shot, beaten up and crashed into, yet he had no proof of such things ever happening, aside from the holes in his clothes that he could have easily put there himself, nor would he tell you how or why his wounds weren't there.

You just assumed he was a Mutant, or maybe one of those other super hero types. You knew he wasn't one of your kind, which was one of the Spider-Folk, and he knew about it. He knew, but never talked about it to your face. Because of this, you never talked about your assumptions, and just dropped any argument the moment it started.

To be fair, you did deserve to know what exactly he did. He had seen you in the news, passed you on the street in his cab while you were in uniform, or when he stood outside of it having a cigarette and just happened to be looking up at the sky at the time. You'd always wave at him, and he'd wave back. That was kind of how you two met…

***

It was a rainy night and you had been chasing a few thugs for a few blocks, when a cab suddenly came out of nowhere, effectively blocking off their escape route. It forced them to funnel themselves into an alley that was a dead end, and you caught them off guard. Of course there was a fist fight, because no self respecting criminal that runs away from you for over fifteen minutes ever just gives up without a fight!

You ended up beating the crap out of one of the guys, but the other two quickly interfered and got the upper hand. You got stabbed three times and slammed against a wall, beforeJake had stepped out of the cab and went full balls to the wall feral on them. You watched him beat a man's face into the curb, blood splattering everywhere. He hadn’t stopped until you pleaded with him not to kill the man.

And that's kinda when you became infatuated with him. He listened to you, did what you asked, and he happily called the authorities. The way he casually leaned against the wall smoking while on his phone, covered in blood, made your lower regions into a damp mess. He casually helped the cops with the criminals and then left.

You ended up seeing him a lot more. Almost every night. And every night, he'd have a bad guy, freshly beaten up for you to take into the police. Eventually he managed to worm his way into your pants while you were on duty, and you ended up getting the fuck of your life in the back of his cab.

From there, he eventually figured out who you were and just showed up and asked you out one day when you were having a coffee with Gwen. He never mentioned your night life, or the fact he managed to bag a Spider. He just simply put on the charm, impressed Gwen enough to get her to gush about him and stay for you, and then that was that.

Then you ended up moving in together in his house. He treated you like a queen, never missing an opportunity to dote on you. Plus, the sex was frequent and fucking amazing. It was refreshing to have that in him, because you could literally crush someone with your strength, yet he was always fine with it.

But that was a long time ago.

***

Now was the present, and the present wasn't making you feel good at all.

Jake was packing his trunk with his meager possessions as he smoked. You watched him, sighing gently as the rain started up. He made quick work of his belongings and slammed the trunk down, before trotting towards you with a sad smile and open arms. You allowed him the embrace, knowing how affectionate he was normally, but you barely hugged him back. He didn't seem to notice as he kissed you on both cheeks and then your lips.

With a wink and quick shove of a wad of cash into your hands, he turned around and left. You watched him drive away, then looked down at the money. He always did that, leaving you with something to help get you by. Usually you used it to pay the mortgage, but you were ahead by six months, something else that had tipped you off to Jake leaving before he told you. You had gone to the bank last week, and they told you it was paid up in advance.

This time you pocketed it and promptly turned around to change into your uniform. It was soothing to think about something else and not the man that just left you again on the day of your third anniversary…

You thought about the costume you were putting on. It was very similar to Gwen's, but in your own coloring. She had helped you make it. You had gone with sort of a space theme, like nebulae and galaxies for the print. The point was to look dark and kind of sparkly. You were a stealthy, yet flashy looking Spider, mostly for distractions and long range combat.

You had higher speed and greater dexterity stats than the other Spiders, but you were a bit weaker than them. They all could lift more, hit harder, and were more experienced, but you could outrun, out jump, and were outright more nimble in every way.

Your reflexes were sharp enough that you could shoot a lid off a drink container, without making it fall over. You could even hit any target at great distances, which impressed Hawkeye of all people. He was impressed enough that he gave you a few private lessons, and even let you use his bow. He reminded you of your brother a lot.

That little kindness Clint had provided made you preen for weeks. At that time, Jake was jealous of the fact another man had made you happy with a simple and platonic compliment and basic archery lessons. Jealous enough to drop out of existence for three weeks, the exact amount of time you had been happy because of the comment. Real fucking mature, Lockley.

You also had the benefits of being able to produce your own webbing naturally, but yours was ten times stronger than that of the original Spider-Man. There was a small problem though. Your webbing took far too long to dry out, so you couldn't exactly use it to make makeshift bags, slings, tarps, safety nets, or instant temporary clothing. That was the price of being able to shoot long distances and still have the webbing stick when it finally got to your target. On the other hand, that made your webbing stronger, because it was basically perpetually moist enough to keep its strength, and not crack under pressure.

The only other thing you could do differently than the others, was that you could control and project lights and use them to stand on, which mostly came in handy at night. It confused the bad guys a lot, which was good, because that meant you were doing your job as a good distraction. Nothing confused a super villain more than a spider using the beam of light from a lamp post or a flashlight to literally stand on air. It was even more confusing to them when you could essentially blind them with just a thought, and be gone a moment later.

But that also had a price. You had a high metabolism, and you were always ravenous after using your powers. That's why you kept a bag with you at all times. It had snacks and drinks inside.

Right now you were going to go meet up with Gwen and the boys for a team patrol to take your mind off of Jake. With a quick text and a thorough lock up of the house, you left with a hoodie, a pair of runners, and your bag.

***

It didn't take long to swing to the meeting point, which was the Sanctum's roof. Peter claimed it was a safe space where everyone would be less likely to be ambushed, due to the fact he personally knew the owner. All that you knew about the man was that he was some grumpy doctor of magic or something and he was an Avenger.

Oh, that, and the man was the last father figure in Peter's life.

You never actually met the man. Sure, you had worked some of the Avengers through Peter, but never this doctor. Maybe it was a good thing. He was an Alpha Level protector of the cosmos and multiverse with powers beyond your comprehension. That, and he was constantly busy. It made it hard for even Peter to gain an audience with him.

Peter was sitting on the roof with Gwen and Miles, all with their masks off and sitting to the side. You landed and rolled towards them, ending up in a sitting position beside Gwen and Miles.

"Heya! Glad you could make it tonight!" Miles giggled and gave you a high five.

"There's our little Galaxy Spider." Gwen chirped happily as she tugged you into an embrace.

"Hey guys." You said weakly while trying not to look so down.

Unfortunately they all noticed, and they all immediately knew why.

"Did that asshole dump you again for one of his stupid trips?" Gwen asked. You nodded with a deep sigh.

"Thought so. Fuck him. He doesn't deserve such a catch as you, anyways." Gwen sounded sassy.

"That guy is nothing but trouble. Yesterday, I saw him threaten a mobster down in Hell's Kitchen, and he didn't bat an eye when he had a gun shoved in his face." Miles offered up.

"Yeah, that's Jake alright." You replied flatly as you brought out a few cans of pop and handed them over. Everyone thanked you and cracked them open.

"So how long do ya think he'll be gone this time?" Peter asked as he fiddled with the tab on the can.

"He said at least six months, a year tops." You said, and everyone made a horrible face of disgust.

"Oh that's so cold. You should just drop him completely. Move out of that old house and go somewhere else." Gwen suggested as she pointed in the direction of said house.

"Yeah, well… This time feels different. I don't care as much. I think I might move on." You shrugged and chugged the rest of your soda down.

"That's good! It will be easier to detach yourself from that gong show." Gwen said as she handed you a protein bar. She was already shoving half of hers down her throat. You giggled and felt a tap to your shoulder and turned to look at Miles.

"I think Gwen is right. Sure, everytime he comes back, you're happy, but the second he leaves, you're a mess. Your crime fighting suffers, too. You almost got yourself killed by Rhino. That guy hates your guts." Miles moved his hands about to express his worry and dismay.

You sighed and hung your head. He was right and you knew it.

"You deserve someone who loves you enough to tell you all their dark secrets. We all know the guy is volatile and flaky. He's definitely hiding something big from you. You don't deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve open communication." Peter piped up as he stood and walked over to you.

"Yeah, you're all right. I need to let go of him. He's just going to keep doing this over and over to me. I have enough shit to worry about with my night job." You sighed and rubbed your face.

"We can help you move, too! We know it's his house you're in." Gwen offered and you smiled.

"Thank you. I just might take you up on that offer." You nodded and went about eating your bar and talking with them for a bit, before the patrol began. The night went on smoothly, with nothing more than a purse thief and a grocery store robber that tried to use a bubble wand as a hidden gun.

***

Series Master List

***

Notes:

Jake leaves a bunch, because Marc is with Layla. Every time Jake breaks up with the reader, Marc has gotten back with Layla. These breakups and returns always happened in America, up until the last one, where the boys fuck off to London to run away from all their problems.

Yes, I found out after giving the reader a galaxy print costume that looks like Gwen's, that Fortnite has a galaxy print for Gwen. I don't play this game. I found it while trying to see if there is a species of galaxy- themed spider. But there is a galaxy named the Spider Galaxy, so…

In this fiction, Stephen knows Peter is Spider-Man.

Actual quote from one of my editors: (@howaboutcastiel )

Them: I'm sorry. I told you I was going to rip into you.

Me: That's okay. I needed it.

***

Tags: If you want to be updated, let me know.

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin