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i2sunric · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 (s.jy)

PAIRING: alpha!jake x omega!reader (f)

SUMMARY: being an omega was already hard, but being an omega with an alpha roommate was worse. especially during your heats. you’d lock yourself in your room, trying to ignore his strong scent and his presence, but jake has had enough of hearing pained wails. he’ll help you, even if he wasn’t your alpha (yet).

WARNINGS: omegaverse, roommates au, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), breeding kink, doggystyle, dirty talking, riding, cream pie, fingering, pussy eating, knotting (?) , heat and mentions of ruts, pet names (baby, good girl), mentions of pups (this feels strange idk), reader is a virgin, overstimulation, tits sucking (😋), mentions of pregnancy, manhandling, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 28th August 2024

WC: 4.2k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emisloves @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 (oneshot) @nyfwyeonjun @high-and-low-all-the-way @victorylr @jaeyunwon @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @nshmrarki @hchoes @entenen @heeseungshim @seungminsapuppy @starfallia @ratchet-sebooty @jakeyismine @laurradoesloveu @denleave1088 @weebgeek22 @victoriasimm @strxwbloody @love4hee @strayy-kidz @iheartshopping @isa942572 @hazycottagedreams @jky001 @haelahoops @chososloverfr @mitmit01 @icepriincehoon @kaykay11sworld @riribelle @coraldonutmagazine @seuomo @sn03 @hoonwonsoul @pinksweetlittlepiano @jiminie-08 @leiclerc BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED (adding the rest in the comments cause i can’t tag more than 50 ppl)

a/n: why do i always end my jake fics with a cliffhanger? it’s a mistery to me as well. i don’t really like how it turned out but i sincerely hope y’all do. idk much abt omegaverse and i searched on google most of the information, if it ain’t accurate let’s just say it’s caseyverse and call it a day. please REBLOG & COMMENT bcs only likes get me shadowbanned. also, lmk your thoughts on this fic 🫶🫶

You were prepared.

You had your favourite blankets, all your plushies, your phone and your charger.

You had even bought a mini fridge to keep enough food so that you would resist for at least three days.

Your heat was coming, you could feel it in your bones, which was the main reason as to why you were locked in your bedroom.

Taking the pill to stop the heat from coming was a good idea, especially since you didn’t have an alpha of your own, but the doctor refused to prescribe them, saying that they would really damage your health.

Because suffering for two to three days straight wasn’t.

Your skin was hot, too hot, sweat started gathering on your forehead, and sticking you to the sheets.

You laid on your bed, trying your best to even your breaths and willing your mind not to slip away.

You hated being an omega and going into heat, especially in summer. The weather affected it, making the pain unbearable.

As you thought about it, a sharp pain like a sting hit your lower stomach, you could feel your panties wetting with arousal.

A small yelp left your lips, your hips slowly bucking in the air to soothe the ache between your legs.

It was humiliating, the way your mind succumbed to the primal urge to mating, to being bred.

Suddenly, a soft knock came from the other side of the door and you scrunched your nose.

Jake, with his strong hormones scent, minty but musky at the same time. You normally could live with it, he was good at hiding his scent so as not to bother you and you hid your pheromones well too.

But now, it almost suffocated you and he wasn’t even in the room with you “Y/N… can I come in?”

You scoffed, mood already ruined by your denied pleasure. It’s not like you didn’t have toys, they were in your drawer, but most definitely you weren’t to use them while Jake was in the house.

You just needed to keep control of your mind.

“Jake, no.” You hissed, even if he already knew the answer “Not for the rest three working days.”

Jake pressed his forehead on the door. He also went into rut, but he would just find a willing omega or a beta to bury himself and then forget about them.

You weren’t like him, you didn’t want someone you didn’t know to be inside you, to have such a power over your body.

“Three days?” He sighed “Fuck, your scent is so strong.”

And it was true, during your heat you released more pheromones so as to attract other alphas. Fact was, it also drove your roommate insane.

“I can smell how bad your heat is, it drives me crazy.” Jake murmured, making you shiver.

You could hear his breathless voice, the thick Australian accent rolling off his tongue was such a turn on.

“Don’t—“ You groaned when another wave of pain hit your lower stomach, “Don’t talk like that.” You pleaded.

"I can't help it." He said, "Your scent is so strong, you smell so good…”

He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw.

“Please, Jake.” You clung the sheet under you, needing an anchor against your lust “Leave, go outside.”

“I can’t.” He was quick to say “You keep whimpering and I don’t want to hear you in pain.” He stated.

“I’m g-grand.” You replied, “I can manage.”

He gripped the door handle, his muscles tensing up. “I want to help you." He said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I want to take care of you and make you feel good, please, just let me in."

“Don’t complicate things,” You breathed out, your hips moving around the bed “We set boundaries, remember?”

“Boundaries don’t expect me to sit back, knowing you’re suffering.” He bit back, voice strained.

“Still,” You commented.

Jake and you had a nice relationship, you weren’t just roommates but also friends. You loved to hang out with him and you didn’t want him to see you like this. Again, it was too embarrassing, you weren’t sure you’d be able to face him afterwards.

He tried to pull the handle but obviously, you had locked the door “Y/N, open up.”

You turned around on the bed, your hips humping against the mattress, your face flush on the sheets “No.” You said, trying to sound convincing.

“I just want to help you, don’t overthink it.” Jake sighed, pulling the door knob again. “I said no, Jake. Go away.”

At another groan that escaped your lips, Jake couldn’t take it anymore and kicked the door a couple of times until it swung open.

You widened your eyes “What—“ Before you could talk, he pounced on you, his body holding yours down.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that resembled vanilla and peaches, making his head spin “You smell so good, baby.”

You breathed out, trying your hardest not to think about his body so close to you, his skin on yours, “Jake please, get out.”

He planted hot kisses down your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body. “Let me take care of you, I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“No..” You murmured but as his hands yanked off your shorts and panties, you could feel your wetness running down your thighs in the same way your consciousness crumbled.

You wanted it, you wanted Jake to take you, to make you his and calm the burning desire that consumed you.

He cursed under his breath, two fingers gathered your arousal and he put them in his mouth, humming “You even taste delicious baby, can you be anymore perfect?”

“Jake..” You murmured, “Make it better.” Your voice was strained and whiny, making Jake’s pants tighter.

“Say no more.” He said and without any warning he pushed two fingers deep inside of you.

How they even fit was foreign to you, given that nobody had ever dared to touch you there, but you didn’t really care at that moment. It felt good, so good.

You moaned out, gripping the sheets under you, your mind already a puddle of pleasure.

His digits were skilled, brushing and thrusting in every spot that got your eyes rolling.

“So wet for me baby, mh?” Jake groaned, the squelching sound filling the room, imprinting in his ears.

He raised your shirt with his free hand and started groping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

He towered you, his presence dominant behind you, like a shadow swallowing you whole.

Whimpers left your lips, but this time they were a reaction from pleasure, not pain.

“Where is it?” He asked, biting his tongue as he desperately searched for something inside you.

When he felt you moan loudly, he smirked “Got it.” And he started thrusting his fingers in and out, reaching that spot again.

You felt as if your body was being burned, you needed him to continue it, to take you to the edge.

And Jake never stopped, even if his wrist hurt and his fingers grew sore. He lived to hear your cries of pleasure, to be the one making you squirm.

“Close?” He asked when he felt your walls clench around his digits and you nodded.

“Ugh.” You moaned, your eyes squeezing and with one last thrust of his fingers, you fell apart.

Your body trembled, your legs shook. Jake gently helped you ride out of your high before pulling out his fingers and licking them clean.

“If only you could taste yourself, baby.” He took your chin in his hand and raised your body so you were kneeling, back flush to his chest “So sweet, I can’t get enough.”

You felt his bulge brush against your back and it was the moment where your mind went completely black.

Lust winning over reason.

You breathed out “Jake,” Letting one of your hands wander down his chest until it reached his sweats, feeling his clothed hard-on “Put it inside me.”

Jake cursed, his body trembling “You want it inside?” He questioned, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear “Want me to fuck you, mh?”

You nodded blissfully, trying to pull his pants down.

Jake chuckled and let you fall on the mattress, quickly working both his shirt and pants off.

You peeked at him over your shoulder and gasped. His cock was huge, so long and thick it made your mouth water.

Any worry that it might not fit in your virgin pussy was clouded by lust, so you said “Hurry.” Raising your backside in the air.

“Patience.” He ordered, gently pulling your shorts and panties down your ankles, as well as removing your shirt.

He stroked his hard shaft, already leaking precum, he kneeled closer to you and you held onto the headboard.

Jake gripped your backside, squeezing your hips as he teased your entrance with the head of his cock.

You gasped, the feeling so good “I’m going in now.” He had the decency to warn that time and slowly, pushed inside you.

“Ngh.” You moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he put all of his length in you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

Jake sighed, his head thrown back. Your walls hugged him, “You’re so tight.” He grunted.

He was going slow so he wouldn’t hurt you, but it wasn’t enough for you. You needed more, you needed to feel all of him in all of you.

“Faster,” You pleaded, arching your back “Faster, fuck me fast.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” He murmured, his pace still too slow

“You hurt me if you don’t start moving fast.” You groaned, reaching a hand behind you to pull his hips nearer you.

Jake shook his head, amazed “Anything you want.” Like that, he moved faster.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room as well as the squelching ones from your wetness.

“M’gonna fuck you so good,” He said, voice so husky. He took your chin in his grasp and pulled you up, tilting it to the side so he could kiss you.

Finally, he got a taste of your lips, his tongue licking yours, giving delicious strokes.

You moaned in his mouth and he rewarded you with a rather deep thrust that hit your cervix.

He smirked, knowing he had found your sweetest spot, so he kept hitting it repetitively, alternating slow to fast thrusts.

“That’s it,” He snuck a hand on your neck and gently squeezed “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You couldn’t almost see straight from the amount of pleasure you were given.

He licked your ear, then pressed wet kisses down your jaw, occasionally sucking.

Your pussy clenched around him, signalling that you were close to your orgasm.

“Jake,” You breathed out “Jake, m’so close.”

His free hand went to your clit, gently rubbing circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body.

“Ugh!” You moaned, the knot in your stomach snapping, making you cream all over his cock.

Jake gave you slow thrusts, helping you ride out of your orgasms and waiting for you to come down off your high.

Your eyes flickered open as you flopped on the mattress, your body growing tired.

Jake pulled out, making you frown “W-what about you?” You asked quietly.

“I’d love to continue baby, but it’s easier to get pregnant during your heat and I have no condoms.” He explained, pressing a featherlight kiss on your shoulder.

How he wasn’t yet a slave of lust, you didn’t know.

“But..” You wanted to argue but your reason was gone, even the lust, replaced by an immense tiredness.

Jake helped you lay down properly, caressing your sweaty forehead “I don’t want to take advantage of you, if we keep going I won’t be able to pull away.”

He leaned down to press another kiss on your lips “Rest, I’ll clean you up and stay with you, ok?”

You only managed to softly hum as your eyelids grew heavy and his voice grew faint until the world was just black.

⪩⪨.

When you felt the second wave hit, you had half expected to wake up in a pool of sweat and slick.

Definitely, not with Jake’s nose rubbing your clothed pussy, inhaling your sweet smell.

“Jake?” You asked, your voice laced with sleep.

He raised his face and looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot. You couldn’t control your pheromones while you slept and they drove Jake insane, making him lust drunk.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured, giving your pussy another smell “Really need to taste you.”

You still felt groggy from your deep slumber when he slipped your panties down and smelled them again.

“Christ,” Jake groaned, slipping them into his sweatpants’ pocket.

He placed gentle kisses on your thighs and raised your legs, letting them rest on your shoulders.

Jake’s breath fanned against your pussy, making you let out a whiney exhale. He smirked and licked a long stripe out of your wet folds.

He moaned, really moaned, at the taste of you and you couldn’t help but glance down at the man between your legs.

He was drop dead gorgeous, with two deep brown eyes, messy hair and the expression of a starved man ready to dig in for his long awaited meal.

Jake gave you kitten licks again, alternating soft kisses to sucking.

You moaned, throwing your head back. You had always fantasised about how good getting eaten out felt like, but Jake must’ve been the masters of it because lord, if he made you see stars.

Your pussy was dripping with arousal, your juices coating his face, running down his chin.

But he didn’t mind, instead, he tried to gather them all on his tongue so as not to miss anything.

He buried his face between your legs, your feet locking behind his neck.

“You need to keep them open, baby.” He murmured on your clit, “Alright? Can you do that for me?”

You let out a broken hum in response, your mind just filled with unholy thoughts of him. You just barely opened your legs for him.

You needed him to make you cum, over and over again, to teach you everything he knew, in all the positions he liked.

“Good girl,” Jake whispered before downing again, his tongue lapping on your bundle of nerves.

He thrust one finger inside of you, gently curling it to reach your sweet spot, making you a moaning mess.

“Ugh..” You yelped, your back arching, “Pussy so good.” He said between licks “Could do this all day.”

You groaned and put one hand on his head, fingers grasping his locks “Less talking, more licking.”

Jake loved how desperate you were, so different from your usually collected and shy attitude.

You were clouded by lust and all of that was for him, he was really the luckiest alpha on earth.

Your hips bucked against his tongue, you were so close to your orgasm you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Jake...” You breathed out, and he understood what you meant. He removed his finger from you and put his tongue instead, the sensation so new and wet.

His nose brushed against your clit and he patted your waist, signalling that you could start moving.

Both your hands grabbed his hair, riding his tongue, your hips bucking fast against him.

He moaned, sending vibrations all through your body. You rolled your eyes back, “M’so-so close.” You murmured “M’gonna cum.”

If Jake’s mouth was free, he would’ve cooed at how cute you looked, so lost in pleasure you couldn’t even speak properly.

With a few more strong bucks, your legs shook around his neck, your orgasm reaching you like a tidal wave.

You pulled his hair so hard it hurt, but Jake didn’t mind. No, he actually liked it.

“Ride it out,” He murmured “Fuck my tongue, baby.”

You slowly calmed down, your legs fell down on Jake’s sides, your chest heaving slowlier.

You peeled your eyes open, glancing down at Jake.

He had been humping the mattress, as if eating you out was a source of pleasure for him as well.

You could see that the precum leaking from his bulge had stained his sweats, his chest already bare.

“Can I ride you?” You asked such a filthy question so innocently that Jake could’ve cum on spot.

“You want to ride me, baby?” You nodded shamelessly while he chuckled, patting your leg “Get up.”

You followed his lead, getting up so he could take your position. He leaned his back against your bed’s headboard and held out his hands to you.

You took them in yours as he helped you sit on his lap.

Jake’s hands settled on your waist while yours on his shoulders, your hips slowly rocking on his.

He groaned, his head thrown back against the headboard. “You feel so good.” His smirk made you want to do many unspeakable things to him.

Swiftly, he removed your shirt and started touching your warm breasts, teasing your nipples.

He tilted you towards him and latched his mouth on one, kissing and swirling his tongue around your nipple while kneading the other.

You moaned, rewarding him with a rather deep grind, feeling his whole length underneath you.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your blackened mind “Breed me.”

Jake stopped his work on your breasts and looked up at you, his brows furrowing.

Something in his brain was trying to warn him, but he was far too deep to even care “Yeah? You want me to breed you?”

He circled your waist with one arm and pulled you up, pulling his sweats and boxers down and kicking them off his ankles.

“I want your pups.” You murmured, your voice frail and quiet but full of desire.

Jake groaned, his cock twitching “Fuck, baby.”

“I’ll give you my pups,” You pumped his shaft with your hand and held it to your entrance as he slowly lowered you on him “I’ll fill you with my pups.”

The thought of your belly all swollen, your body changing to carry his pups wasn’t such a bad idea… was it?

You wanted everyone to know he was the alpha who took care of you, you wanted— no, you needed him to mate you.

He moved you up and down, slowly at first, so you could get used to him, but then he snapped his hips up into yours forcefully.

He debated whether to let you ride him or to just take the lead and fuck into you, but his control had crumbled long time ago and all he needed was to breed you.

The desire was consuming the both of you, leaving the room only with moans, grunts, heavy breaths and filthy sounds.

You sincerely hoped your neighbours weren’t to hear your late night activities.

You wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You left kitten kisses and sucked on his skin, making his head spin.

You fit so well in his arms and he fit so well inside of you.

“Pussy was made for me,” He grunted, his pace picking up “Mh, Were you made for me, baby? Aren’t you my omega?”

You nodded, your walls sucking him in, squeezing around him “I’m yours,” You cried out “I’m yours, all of me.”

Jake’s eyes lit up “Yeah?” He chuckled, placing one hand on your lower stomach. He could feel the shadow of his bulge under his palms.

“Do you feel it, baby? I’m here.” You felt him press down, earning a moan from you.

You looked down to where his hand was and almost came on spot “So— S’deep.” You threw your head back.

He circled your hips, making your clit brush against his pubic hair.

“You like it deep?” He asked, his voice low, his accent thicker when he was lost in lust. “You like it when I’m so deep you can feel me everywhere?”

You nodded mindlessly, your eyes squeezing as you felt your second orgasm approach “Like it!” You exclaimed “Like it so much, Jake, please.”

Jake groaned in answer and goped your ass, lifting you up so he could fuck into you.

His hips moved fast, his balls smacking on your skin. You grasped his shoulders and bit down on his neck, the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming all your senses.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close.” He murmured, his grip on you so tight it left red marks.

“Jake, oh lord—” You cried out, feeling your orgasm approach “Cum around my cock.” He whispered, his lips so close to your ear it sent shivers in your body.

“Mh— Ah.” You moaned as your euphoria reached you, your legs trembling and body squirming. If it wasn’t for Jake’s iron grip, you would’ve fallen out of your small bed.

But he didn’t care that you needed to calm down, not really, because his hips continued to snap against yours.

His cock was in so deep he hit your cervix with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure all around your body.

Your ears rang from your powerful orgasm, your breath laboured. Overstimulation made your body tremble. But still, you didn’t feel complete.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whisper in his ear, your arms clinging to him for dear life. “Please Jakey, I need you to breed me.”

That was all it took. Jake’s movements altered, his cock twitching inside of you as his balls emptied.

You felt his hot seed filling you up, but soon it was followed by a sharp pain.

“Ugh!” You groaned, tears filling your eyes “J-jake…”

He cursed under his breath, his orgasm still washing over him. It had never happened that he came so much like that time, liquid spurring inside of you.

“Shit baby, I’m sorry,” He breathed out “I may have knotted you.”

“What?!” You widened your eyes, back to your normal self. Your worried and overthinker self.

You tried to move away from him but the sharp pain came back.

“Shh, don’t move.” Jake instructed “It’ll hurt more if I pull out now,”

“It hurts either way!” You groaned, clinging on him like an anchor.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He pressed featherlight kisses on your neck “The first time always hurts, but I swear it gets better.”

“I’m dying here.” You whimpered, but Jake’s touch was soothing and so were his words and a few minutes later, the pain stopped.

Slowly, he pulled out of you and kissed your temples “You okay?”

You nodded, now that there was nothing tied up inside of you, you felt refreshed. Happier. You didn’t even feel any discomfort caused from the heat.

Jake smiled softly and caressed your cheek, he leaned in to whisper “Knotting helps with your heat pain.”

“But it hurts like a bitch.” You frowned, watching as he carefully placed you down on the bed and cleaned you up with a tissue.

Jake chuckled, “I told you, it gets better.”

⪩⪨.

And it did, Jake was no liar.

The morning after he was kind enough to drive you to the doctor who gave you a prescription to take birth control. He said it would be better than fully stopping your heat.

He also reassured that the percentage to get pregnant was high after a knot (nagging at Jake for losing control), but as long as you took the pill within twenty-four hours, it would slow or block the process completely.

You hoped for the latter.

Obviously, he highly recommended to always use protections and to avoid knotting… but, you used a condom just a couple of times, because your heat wouldn’t get better unless Jake fucked you raw and filled you wih his seed.

In fact, he took you in the shower, on the couch and even in the kitchen. Any time was a good time to eat you out and stuff you full.

The only place left ‘holy’ was his room, but he said it’d be filthy once his rut started. Which, by the way, you agreed to help him through.

Jake even skipped his lectures to stay at home with you and provide you whatever you needed. Not like he attended much on a daily basis.

Everything went smoothly, he was so caring towards you, always looking after you when you passed out from the intense sex, even cooking for you (even if he burnt the pan and you two had to order out) and giving you nice massages until your heat completely stopped.

However, it was around a month later, when you came out of the bathroom with teary eyes and a positive pregnancy test in hand that you and Jake realised you had taken it too far.

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taegimood · 9 months ago

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— finally (k.th) ♡ PART 2 of phone sex with bestfriend!taehyun

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 3k warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mean dom / soft dom tyun combo, brat taming??, pet names (baby, good girl, princess, baby girl, angel), daddy kink, degradation (reader receiving), humiliation kink, slight dumbification??, spanking, pussy slapping, light choking, mention of riding his abs, mention of oral (m receiving), fingering, creampie, dirty talk, squirting, lmfao damn wtf

a/n - cranked this out in one sitting just like the first one 💀 please read part 1 here first~! tagging those who requested this 2nd part: @fallingclose2u @mitchko11 @antoncyng @/nonnie

──────────────────────

you sit there staring at your now-blank phone screen for what feels like an eternity. your eyes are wide. your mouth hangs open in disbelief.

he’s gonna WHAT?

as if it wasn’t crazy enough that your best friend just brought you to an insane orgasm with his filthy words alone, he’s now coming over to FINISH THE JOB?

it’s like an invisible string is tugging you forward as you snap back into reality and instantly scramble off of your bed to the bathroom.

“holy shit, should i shower? should i put on makeup? i already did my skincare.. fuck, no, i can’t shower, he’ll know.. he said not to move, oh fuck, he’s gonna know-“ you ignore the fucked out look in your mirrored eyes and rush back out of the bathroom, frantically throwing the clothes laying scattered around your floor into the closet and straightening out your desk.

“this is so fucking stupid.. this is your best friend, y/n, he’s here all the time, you’ve never cleaned for him before..” you’re mumbling to yourself, but when you feel your own wetness that still coats your naked thighs, a deep blush rises to your cheeks.

“but this is different!”

a nervous glance at your phone shows that he’ll be arriving in 2 minutes if his math was right, which it always is, and with a squeal you dash back to your bed. you wince at the soaked, now-cold sheets and push your long-ago-discarded shorts and panties to the floor as you situate yourself. you contemplate removing the little cropped tank top you’re wearing, but with another blush, you remind yourself that he said not to move, which means the shirt should still be on.

i can’t believe i’m doing this.

you lower yourself onto the spot where you laid before, this time on your stomach, and slowly position your ass up as you press your face into the sheets with a groan. this was humiliating, embarrassing, belittling; and yet your pussy clenches wildly around nothing when you hear the beeping of the passcode on your door being entered.

there’s only one person who knows it.

your heart is thrashing against your chest as you hear his footsteps, fresh arousal leaking from your cunt as your bedroom door clicks open.

from where you’re laying, you’re forced to make eye contact, forced to face the humiliation as he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him; his gaze is burning, an intensity like you’ve never seen from him before, even on stage. but despite the controlled manner that he holds himself with, he’s still your best friend after all — and you can tell how he must have thrown himself out the door from the disheveled state of his clothes.

his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as if he’d pulled them up in a hurry; his zip-up hoodie wide open and slipping down one shoulder as if he’d tugged it on without stopping; his brown hair slightly tousled, as if he’d gotten up out of bed and left without bothering to style it. all of which you know to be true.

the realization that he is just as desperate for this as you are makes your thighs tremble.

you can tell he’s trying to keep his labored breathing under control as his eyes rake down your body, and when they stop on your dripping pussy and stay there, you can’t take it anymore. you squeeze your eyes shut with a humiliated whine.

“t-tyun..” you whisper, shamefully, desperately. you need him so bad that you don’t even care how pathetic you must seem.

you clench the sheets in your hands and shut your eyes even tighter when you hear his painfully slow footsteps approaching the bed.

“ass up and everything,” he hums appreciatively, a low murmur, as if to himself; a gasp escapes you at the feeling of a warm palm sliding over your ass.

“still so fucking wet… like the desperate little pervert that you are, huh?”

you whimper loudly, pathetically, at his words — and when a second hand follows the first and he spreads you apart, your pussy clenches hard before you can stop it. taehyun chuckles.

“poor baby, doesn’t even know what to do without a cock to fill her up…” his hand slides slowly, leisurely, up along your spine. “could barely even get herself off without my help.”

you can feel the bed dip and the warmth of his body hovering over yours as he leans down, his breath ghosting across your cheek and making you shiver. “without my voice in her ear.”

there it is. that deep, raspy, sexy voice that had brought you to the edge only 15 minutes ago, and this time, the man that it belongs to is actually here. you can’t take it anymore as your eyes open and you moan wantonly at his words, rutting your ass back against his clothed hips as you beg, “tyunnie, please, just stop teasing and fuck me already, i can’t-“

you cry out as his warmth disappears and a firm smack to your ass shuts you up. you try to look over your shoulder at him, mouth already opening to complain again, when another smack has your head dropping right back into the sheets.

“you really don’t know how to be patient, do you? tsk - you’re talking back a whole lot for someone who wants to cum so bad.”

all you can do is whimper, gripping the sheets with watery eyes. “m’sorry,” you whisper, “just want you so badly.”

he coos at you, hands massaging over your ass to soothe the reddened skin. “i know, baby. but brats don’t get to cum. understand?” you nod vigorously, sniffling, “yes, daddy.”

his hands pause for a moment and you can hear the deep breath he takes to steady himself at that. “good fucking girl,” he utters lowly, and you jolt at the sudden feeling of his fingers sliding up and down your slit. “always so eager for daddy’s cock… you think i don’t notice the way you look at me?” you swallow hard. have you really been that obvious?

“think i don’t notice the way your pretty thighs squeeze together when i sit too close to you?” you moan loudly as he slides two fingers into your sopping pussy, and he hisses at how easily he’s able to move them in and out. “so fucking wet for me, princess.. think i haven’t noticed all this time how much of a nasty perv you are.”

the degradation has you trembling, and when he picks up the pace of his fingers your legs can’t help but buckle as your hips fall to the mattress. immediately he takes his hand away and you’re crying out at the empty feeling. “ass up.” he orders firmly, and you scramble to re-situate yourself as you babble, “m’sorry, m’sorry, i’m- i’m fucking crazy about you, taehyun, just need you so so bad, couldn’t h-help myself whenever i heard your v-voice-“

“shhh, shh, i know..” he leans down to pepper kisses along your spine as you wipe at your teary eyes. “you’re all mine, now, baby. won’t leave until this pretty pussy is fucked beyond what it deserves.”

you spasm at the contradiction of his filthy promise and soft touch, moaning out “please, don’t want anyone but you, only you!”

the last of taehyun’s resolve seems to crack at your words, because with a muttered curse he’s backing off the bed in seconds and throwing his clothes to the floor.

you drink in every inch of his body, not caring about the drool that threatens to spill from your lips at every ridge of muscle; his collarbones, his biceps, his chest, his abs — “wanna ride your abs,” you mumble shamelessly, and for the first time tonight he laughs, eyes twinkling. “oh yeah? maybe we can arrange that if you’re not too dumb on my cock.”

you open your mouth to protest, right as he hooks his thumbs around his waistband and pulls his sweats and boxers down in one go.

you don’t think your jaw has ever dropped so fast.

the thick, veiny shaft that comes up to slap against his stomach is more mouth-watering than you could have ever imagined yourself.

it’s hard and leaking and long, and you lift your head weakly as he once again approaches the bed.

“w-wanna.. tyun, w-wanna suck on it..” you can barely form a coherent sentence and he knows it.

he tsks. “can’t even speak properly and i haven’t even fucked you yet, princess. you wanted it in your pussy so bad — so that’s where you’re gonna get it.” his hand coaxes your head back down as he positions himself behind you, and it takes everything in you not to buck your hips back impatiently when you feel the head of his cock teasing at your entrance.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “nice and patient for me..”

you moan softly as he rubs his tip up and down along your pussy, collecting your wetness achingly slow, making you shake when he catches it on the hood of your clit before bringing it back up to your waiting, dripping hole.

his hands find purchase on your hips and before you can even blink, he thrusts his cock in to the hilt. your legs spasm as you shriek in surprise and he holds you up as you fight to keep from sinking down to the mattress; a deep groan rips from his chest as you clench tighter than you swear you ever have, his hips pressed to your ass as he begins to grind them experimentally.

“so.. so fucking tight, fuck… keep squeezing me like that and i won’t last,” he breathes.

he seems to adjust must faster than you, however, as not long after he’s already picking up into a firm rhythm, skin slapping against yours as he pumps in and out of you.

“f-fuck, slow down, t-too much-!” you squeal, gripping the sheets tightly in your hands, mouth hanging open as he hits particularly deep, jolting you up the bed, and you’re seeing white as he only angles his hips further and fucks you harder.

you’ve never felt so good in your entire life — and taehyun knows it.

“nah, you fucking love it, don’t you?” he pants, “would cry and complain if i actually listened to you.” you can hear the smirk on his lips. “want me to listen to you?”

“n-no, no!” you blurt without thinking, heat rising to your cheeks at the fact that you just proved him right. he laughs, patronizing. “that’s what i thought. so fucking take what you begged me for.”

he pounds into you until you feel like nothing more than a ragdoll, your body going limp from the pleasure, almost too fucked out to even hold yourself up anymore as he pulls you back and forth on his cock. “got me doing all the work here, baby. can’t take it any more?” there’s a taunting lilt to his voice that has you shaking your head weakly in protest. “c-can take it.. promise..!”

suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your middle and you’re being tugged upwards, and you yelp when your back meets taehyun’s chest as he sits you firmly on his cock. “hold onto me,” he says in your ear, and you reach back for the nape of his neck just in time for his hands to rip your little tank top open, clean in half and quickly discarded.

“t-taehyun-!!”

“i’ll buy you a new one.”

you don’t even have time to stay shocked as his arm wraps across your front and his large hand grips your bare breast, his other arm draping over your hips as he wastes no time slamming his own back into you again.

your head tips back onto his shoulder as you moan wantonly, gripping onto him so you don’t fall forward from the force of his thrusts.

“i’ve got you,” he says breathlessly in your ear, as if reading your thoughts.

and he’s right; you obviously knew taehyun was strong, knew that he’s constantly in the gym, but damn-

you’re taken out of your thoughts at the feeling of his fingers sneaking down to circle your clit, and you tug desperately at his hair in response as your hips jump. “yeah? need me right here, baby?”

his voice is low in your ear — fuck, that damn voice — and you’re complete putty in his grasp as he tweaks your nipple with his other hand, pinching it as his fingers work your clit faster and faster.

you know you’ve taken too long to answer when suddenly he delivers a slap to your pussy, nearly making you cum on the spot as you jolt and gasp, and the overstimulation leaves you dizzy as right away he continues his previous ministrations.

“f-f-fuck.. p-please…” you stutter dumbly, eyes rolling back. your entire body is on fire.

“please what? hmm? tell daddy what you need.”

a moan rips through you as the hand that was teasing at your tits slides up to your throat and squeezes; your tongue lolls while the head of his cock is hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed and you’re convinced he’s gonna fuck you right into another dimension when his other large palm presses down on your lower tummy, and you feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge, the pressure too much as your legs turn to jelly and you swear you’re about to explode-

“need to CUM, fuck, please let me cum please let me cum please let me-“

“cum.”

what happens next is a blur; your orgasm hits you so hard that you’re jerking forward, taehyun’s strong arms holding you against him as your whole body spasms, the pressure releasing, his hot cum pumping into your cunt as you soak the sheets, soak his thighs beneath you, soak everything, holy fuck you just SQUIRTED —

you think you black out for a moment as he gently guides you down to the mattress, faintly aware of the way he’s so easily able to manhandle you as he moves you to a spot on the sheets that isn’t as wet — turning you on your back and smoothing the hair out of your face as he takes the wet patch for himself when he cradles you to his chest.

“did so good, baby girl, so good, just relax…”

both of your chests are heaving as you try to catch your breath. you lift your teary gaze to find deep brown eyes searching your face, your best friend’s eyes, comforting and strong and full of an emotion you can’t quite place right now in your disheveled state.

“so proud of you, baby,” he murmurs breathlessly as he presses kisses to your forehead, wiping away the tears that you didn’t even realize were there, your orgasm apparently that intense.

“tyunnie,” you whisper blearily, “wanna kiss you..”

is this okay? is it too much? what if he doesn’t want it, what if he only wanted sex-

his lips melt into you, slow and sensual and warm as you moan against him; his tongue slipping between your parted lips and swirling with your own as his hand smoothes up and down the curve of your waist.

he sucks lightly at your bottom lip before nipping it gently, pulling away with a small smile as you catch your breath again.

“y/n,” he whispers, reaching up to trace his thumb along your lip, “you’re my best friend. but i want more.” his eyes move across your features before finally meeting yours. “i’ve wanted more for a long time.”

your breath catches in your throat. am i really hearing this correctly?

“and i know that you have too. i’m just grateful for that little stunt you pulled earlier on the phone,” he smirks, and your eyes widen as you smack his chest.

“t-that wasn’t on purpose!” you squeal, heat instantly rising to your cheeks, and his head tilts into a laugh.

“oh, believe me, i know. this is just the first time i decided to do something about it.”

you pause.

what? wait. then does that mean….

“w-wait. you- you knew? you knew i- before tonight, you knew that i-“ your sputtering has him rolling onto his back in another laugh, and you shoot up in disbelief.

“taehyun!” you whine loudly, covering your face in sheer embarrassment, his laughter making you want to crawl in a hole and die.

“baby, you really think i wouldn’t notice you touching yourself right in my ear like that?”

despite your humiliation, your heart flip-flops at the nickname.

it feels different when it’s not during sex.

“god, the amount of times you left me rock hard to fend for myself when i had early schedules in the morning…”

you look down at him incredulously. has he really felt the same way this entire time?

you’re stuttering again, which gives him enough time to pull you back down into the pillows, effectively shutting you up when he hovers inches over your lips.

“you have no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he utters, voice low. you shiver.

“no idea how hard i’ve had to restrain myself since i realized your little secret.”

you bite your lip to stop a whimper from escaping — why does it turn you on so much when he points out how nasty you are?

“it’s only been for you,” you whisper sheepishly. “i-i don’t know when it started, but i- i just can’t get you out of my head, tyun. everything about you. i just- fuck.” you groan. “i want to be more too.”

his eyes flicker between yours for only moments before he’s closing the gap to kiss you again, and your hands fly to his soft hair when he tilts his head to a deeper angle. you suck on his tongue eagerly when he parts your lips with it, and you’re addicted to the taste of him, to the feel of his body pressing into yours, the scent of his cologne that you’re so used to smelling on your sweatshirts now wrapping all around you.

“you’re mine,” he whispers against your lips.

you smile giddily when he pulls away to meet your eyes. “yours.. fucking finally.”

he scoffs, sitting up and pulling your tired body easily along with his as you grip his strong shoulders.

“always a brat, huh? c’mon, princess. let’s get you cleaned up so i can taste you some more.”

“whatever you say, daddy.”

you pause.

“wait- MORE?”

taehyun chuckles as your smirk falters from your face. he scoops you up into his arms as he heads for the bathroom — “if i recall, you’re the one who wanted to- what was it? ride my abs... suck on my cock…”

you shiver at his words, at his breath fanning over your ear, warmth filling you as you picture it. your aching pussy throbs against your will.

“promises, promises, angel. don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

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kooqitas · 7 months ago

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Idk if your requests are open, but I need a fic where the reader (who is very whiny) rides Jungkook's thigh 🤭 maybe hes mean to her. He spanks her and edges her, making her cry. Then he finally lets her c-m (sorry if this was too much)

#pairings: bf!jungkook X reader #tags: pwp, tight riding, bimbofication, humiliation, overstimulation, pet name, evil jungkook. #wc: 814

you and jungkook have been dating for like 5 months? and probably the thing that you most like to do is watching movies together, and is always like that, you are spooning, and his hands are in your tits. cute.

but the thing that you really like is how this always ends in good sex.

and in this exact moment, jungkook's hand is pinching your nipples.

you pretend to ignore that, but the truth is that your cunt is wet.

you are always wet for jungkook.

jungkook still pinching you, and you cross your legs.

“already? god, i haven't started yet!” he laughed, pinching you stronger.

“j-jungkook…”

“are you wet? really? you are so pathetic!”

“don’t say that!” you scolding him.

“why not? you like… my pretty dirty girlfriend loves being treated like a whore…”

he took his hand under your panties, brushing his middle finger on you, and you feel so embarrassed because you're so wet and he's doing nothing special.

“i'm gonna make you feel good, kitty, do you want this?” you mumble a 'yes', and at the same time jungkook pulls your shorts down. ''we gonna do a new thing, baby, take off all your clothes to me"

you obey, you always obey your boyfriend, you obey so fast that can be pathetic.

jungkook just takes the pants, leaving you confused when you see the black calvin klein.

when you finally look at his eyes, jungkook's like a new person, his eyes are dark, and you can see that his mind projects all kinds of dirty thoughts.

"sit here, only this one." he says with a slap in your thighs.

you are confused, what that fuck he wants? you even don't do anything, just keep looking at his thighs.

and it irritates him.

jungkook pulls your hair in a brutal way.

"are you dumb or something like that? just sit, put this whore cunt on my thigh NOW." and you obey, sitting on his lap feeling so embarrassed “oh, you’re not dumb, pretty! you’re just a bimbo, right?”

“i’m not a-”

"are you not? oh, really? look at how soaked you are, puppy, looks like a bitch in heat." he's still pulling your hair, but now, he's slapping your face too, spitting at the words in your face.

and you love that, you love when jungkook treats you like just a hole, the thing that you most wanna now are feels stuffed by his fat cock.

“ride!”

“what?”

jungkook doesn't answer you, he just grabs your hips, rubbing you with the greatest strength he can.

you scream with the choque, your already swollen clitoris being rubbed without any delicacy on your boyfriend's leg.

"you are leaky, my favorite object to be used, always so ready to me..."

“p-please fu-fuc-”

jungkook doesn't answer you, he just grab your hips, rubbing you with the greatest strength he can.

you scream with the choque, your already swollen clitoris being rubbed without any delicacy on your boyfriend's leg, you starts crying and drooling, and he laughs, keep going when you shaking on his thighs

“if you cum now, i just keep going, don't be useless, i want some diversion!”

“ple-ase, your co-c-”

“shut up, just open that whore mouth to moan!”

you feel so manhandled and so pathetic because you know that you're gonna cum, you want his cock so much, jungkook's fat cock cumming in your tiny pussy.

“p-plea-” tears ran down your face, and you knew your face was red.

he spits in your face, without stopping rubbing you.

“there's no point in crying, you gonna cum in my thigh, and when this happen, tears in yours eyes don't make me stop, puppy! so don’t cum yet!”

he releases one of his hands from your waist just to pinch your nipples, and you scream, cumming on his leg.

"t-too much..."

“what i’m said? i won’t stop, bitch!”

and he won't stop, torturing you with orgasms, the overstimulation.

making you try to get up from his thigh anyway, but jungkook is stronger, forcing you to keep rubbing there.

“please…. your c-cock!” you beg again, crying. “jungk- baby, plea-se, filled me!”

no matter how much you scream for more, your body was shaking and trying to get away from jungkook, and you were grateful that your boyfriend had strong hands and wouldn't let you leave his thigh.

you came again when jungkook spit in your face, calling you a dirty whore!

your body continues to tremble as jungkook laughs at your situation, your face red, tears mixed with spit, jungkook's thigh and part of the sofa completely wet, and yet you wanted more, you wanted to sink into jungkook's cock until your body blacked out.

"dirty slut, i know exactly what you are thinking"

he pinches your nipple again, then gives you a kiss…

“now you're gonna clean all the mess in my thigh, if you deserve, i will stretch your hole…”

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #jungkook x you #ao3 #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook #jungkook imagines #jk smut #jk x you #jk x reader

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months ago

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Heeeeya, Nini! How's it going? I can't believe its already been a year! I've been here since before that time you accidentally deleted your blog XD. Congrats! you've dominated the sub! bsd tag for forever and I'm living for it XD. For the event, can I please request Fyodor (bsd) with the prompt, 'Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess'. Bro, I have an inability to be all that sadistic, even in fiction TwT, so for the punishment part, can I request something like tickling? Is that allowed?! LMAO- As always, feel free to delete/decline this if it makes you uncomfy, and have an awesome day. And again, congrats on one year!

AHHHHH DONT REMIND ME OF THAT TIME can’t believe how dumb I was 🥲 but thank you for being a long time follower hehe, the idea with tickling is very cute I love it

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: humiliation, teasing, a tiny bit of degrading, tickling >:)

Anniversary event

Thud thud thud

Someone was hammering on your door in the middle of the night, and they just didn’t stop. You’ve been trying to ignore it for the past minutes, but the sound only got louder.

Thud thud thud

“Ahhhh which fucker is it?!” In the end, you gave in and cursed, stomping to the front door before opening a small crack. “What is-” to your surprise you knew the person behind the door, it was fyodor, your boyfriend. “Huh?? Fedya? Why didn’t you use the bell?” You immediately swung the door open and invited him in, he gave you a bashful smile before entering. Then you shut the door behind him.

“You see…” he said, while he let his coat slip from his shoulders, revealing his hands which were bound tightly behind his back. “It proved to be pretty difficult to ring the bell three times, so I thought kicking the door would suffice.” That was the secret code you two agreed on, so that you’d know if it was him who’s standing on your doorway. “Ah…” you stared at his restricted limps, then at him, giving him a questioning glance. He didn’t provide any explanation or answers.

The male turned around to face you, who were still standing next to the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” He rushed you, but kept his soft smile. “Actually no, not yet.” You replied, crossing your arms in font of your chest. That attitude, were you mad with him? “…y/n, what do you want.” Finally he dropped the good-guy act, seemingly irritated by your behaviour. Normally you’d help without being this difficult, except when you aren’t in a good mood, something that seems to be the case here.

You walked past him and sat down on the couch, making yourself comfortable before saying, “bring me the remote.” Fyodor looked a tad baffled, though he didn’t think too much about it and walked to the shelf to the left of you, pondering for a moment on how to grab it, before using his mouth to bite the object. Then he brought it to you like an obedient puppy, right into your hand and cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. “Good job.” You praised him, scratching the underside of his chin a bit, intensifying his blush.

“Now bring me a scissor to cut those ropes. You can find it in the kitchen.” He glared at you when you didn’t stop ordering him around, especially since he found his actions pretty shameful. Nevertheless, he bit back his complains and went to the other room to get whatever you wanted. Once he found the scissor, he bit the handle of the tool, and carefully got back to your side. “That took you a while.” You chuckled, to which he scoffed, “are you done with the games now?” How furious he sounded, he wasn’t having half the fun you had huh?

You tilted your head to the side, acting like you were thinking about it, then said, “one last thing.” Before giving him a big smile. The male rolled his eyes at that, at least internally. “Bring me a glass of water, that’s my last request, promise.” After you finished your sentence, you raised your pinky finger, then said, “ah silly me, you can’t reciprocate it after all.” Fyodor mumbled, “you are unbelievable.” Then he made his way back to the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do, he needed your help.

Through much resilience and great efforts, he managed to get a cup out of your shelves. And he even managed to fill it with tap water! Afterwards he bit the handle of the cup, finding that to be the easiest course of action, and slowly walked over to you. This was now his third time running a stupid errand for you, and he really hoped this would be the last. On his way back, he accidentally spilled the water in the cup all over himself and the floor, causing him to yelp a little, “hmmm..!”

You turned your head to the source of the noise, giggling at the sight but not helping him. His blush darkened even more, and he closed the last bit of distance between you two. Without any commentary, you took the cup and put it on the table, grabbing the scissors and cutting through his binds. He didn’t expect you to not make fun of him, so consider him grateful.

Though after you were done, you got up from your seat, grabbing his shoulders as you sneered, “gosh, fyodor, you couldn’t even bring me a glass of water?” Guess he jinxed it. Even though considering the circumstances he was in, failing his task was a very possible outcome, he still felt humiliated by your words, or at least embarrassed. He wanted to argue, to try and keep some shreds of dignity when you bested him to it, saying, “shouldn’t you get a punishment for that?”

“A punishment?” As soon as these words left his mouth, you pushed him into the couch and tickled him. Attacking his stomach while responding through a huge grin, “yep! A punishment you can’t evade!” “What- ha- ahaha.. no, wait haha…! Stop!” He laughed involuntarily, kicking his legs around and trying to peel your hands off his body. “Haha.. s-stop, hahh.. really, hahaha~ I can’t-!!” Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes already, his clothes and hair all disheveled. “Hehe.. alright, the punishment is over.” You eventually said, reaching out to his face to wipe his tears away.

As if hit by the realisation, he abruptly stopped smiling, still blushing furiously as he gasped for air. When he breathing calmed down, he pouted, then wrapped his arms around your neck as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips, “you-… you better make it up to me for being mean.”

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satosugusandwich · 11 months ago

Text

His Angel and His Brat

Part 2

Part 1 here! Part 3!!

Hard!Dom!Geto x brat!Gojo x Sub!Afab!reader

(I write my fics to be racially ambiguous! If anyone catches anything please inbox me!!!!)

Summary: Gojo is a mega-brat to y/n and Suguru and likes to push buttons cuz he can so Suguru decides to overstimulate Gojo until he thinks he’s broken. (Key word: thinks.) To add to Gojo’s humiliation, he ensures that the reader is getting princess treatment while watching Gojo suffer endlessly. But, of course, things don’t always go as planned with Satoru Gojo. Or for y/n. Geto and Gojo have… motives.

CW and whatnots: Overstimulation, facesitting, vibrators, dildoes, condescending!geto, usage of the word “cock”, gojo’s boundless stamina and cocky attitude, praise, cocksucking, angel ass reader that ends up in trouble cuz gojo can’t shut his mouth, geto is actually so mean to gojo but so soft cuz he’s actually a teddy bear dw. Use of “brat, princess, angel, cockslut, and slut.” There will be aftercare in future parts cuz imagine leaving pathetic satoru a cum drenched mess. Poor baby. :(((

More tags will be added. Part 3 will be the last part.

Satoru did not waste any time eating like a starving man. His eyes were peeled as he watched how Suguru stood up on the bed, pulling your chin to face his pretty cock. Already, Satoru was thinking of how when he cums, if you don’t catch it in your mouth, it’ll definitely fall onto your pretty tits and stomach and of course onto his own face. Suguru paid no mind to the man underneath your cunt, instead, admiring how excitedly you took his cock into your mouth.

Suguru was thinking in this moment how he truly hit the damn jackpot. A pretty obedient thing that he can be nice and soft with, gently caressing and guiding as you sucked him in versus his needy and impatient brat that he can get as rough as he wants with. Suguru has to admit, it’s not in his nature to be so mean, he’s such a kind empathetic man, but perhaps the curses in his body take over when it comes to Satoru. Right now he can’t help but think of all the ways he could press Satoru.

He could edge him instead and leave him unsatisfied until his brain goes numb. Or maybe just leave him there, not giving him the orgasm he so desperately craves.

Overstimulating him has been fun, Satoru being so greedy has really made his punishment so enjoyable. His sensitivity is addictive, perhaps he could use that against him. Shame that Satoru has such a high pain tolerance, he’s limited to overwhelming him with pleasure.

Or a different type of pain. Would his ego be bruised too much if he worked to humiliate Satoru further? How would he respond to degradation? Knowing Satoru, if you call him a slut, he’d only work to embrace the newfound identity.

Difficult brat indeed. Perhaps the best way to punish him would be to ignore him… yes, that’s what Suguru would do. He’d use the other male’s greedy and needy nature against him.

“That’s right pretty girl.” Suguru mused, resting his hands on your head. “Finally seems as though my cock can fill your pretty throat completely. You’ve done well to learn how to take me right.” His praise is warm and flowing down to your core. “Want me to move your head or do you want to do it?” He coos.

You shake your head and move on your own, bobbing back and forth on his pretty cock. His mouth parts as you suck him so well, knowing Suguru’s favorite rhythm by heart. Meanwhile, beneath you, Satoru is slurping along, wanting to find out how he can distract you from focusing on pleasing Suguru.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Satoru had an idea from the moment he saw how you watched him receive his punishment… you seemed rather invested, much more than usual.

So, wanting to peeve Suguru to enact his plan, he whined. Very loudly.

“Clearly you need to suffocate him, y/n.” Suguru huffed.

You hesitated in putting more weight on him, but at the same time, what would be worse? Denying Satoru of being able to breathe or potentially invoking a punishment from Suguru? You decided the latter. Satoru couldn’t really be upset, it just gave him a bigger challenge!

You ground your cunt further onto Satoru, making sure his nose wasn’t entirely covered, but that his mouth couldn’t make a peep.

Suguru closed his eyes for a brief moment and now… Satoru just pinched his calf.

“Satoru!” Suguru pulled his cock from your mouth only to shove it back in, the suddenness making you gag. Suguru’s eyes snapped down to see the man beneath you shaking with laughter while the sound remained muffled into your cunt. The vibrations from Satoru’s chuckle made you tremble.

Satoru and Suguru’s eyes remained locked as Satoru made a pinching motion with his fingers. Suguru stepped on Satoru’s wrist, making you pull your mouth off his cock as he changed positions. Satoru only laughed more and used his other hand to slap your ass once, your body jumping from the unexpected impact.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, now hovering above Satoru’s mouth, giving him the ability to speak clearly.

“Thought I’d punish her since you didn’t after I whined!” Cheeky bastard. And poor you. Why’d you get stuck with these two men?

“We really need to stuff your mouth shut, don’t we Satoru? Need you bound entirely too. Never thought you’d put our princess in this position.”

It’s Suguru’s fault too!!!!! He should’ve just let it go in the first place!!!!!!!

“Our princess never gets punished, she’s too sweet, don’t you think that’s unfair? She gets away with everything! Don’t you remember last time you said you’d punish her if she came without permission? Well, she came and you didn’t even do nothing!” Satoru yapped on and on. “All she has to do is make a cute face and say sorry baby, wah wah!” He mocked you, looking at your face. “Suguru, you punish me all you like but you don’t punish the one who really needs it…” Satoru’s voice lowered.

Suguru briefly looked to you, eyes watching your reaction. “What’s he talking about, y/n?”

“He’s lying, of course!” You huffed. “I don’t disobey you when we fuck. Don’t try to get our positions switched, Satoru!” You were tempted to sit back down on his mouth but at the same time… you wondered what’s gonna happen.

“As much as I want to believe you,” Suguru dropped to his knees on the bed, releasing Satoru’s wrist and getting eye level with you, “me and you and you especially know just how much Satoru loves to be punished. Why go through this effort to try and avoid his favorite thing?” Suguru now held your chin, running his thumb back and forth. “Continue, Satoru.” He didn’t even look at Satoru whatsoever, wanting to see every tiny reaction from you as your other partner spoke.

“A pretty angel like her can’t help but avoid disobeying, that’s obvious, but have you ever considered that she wants a taste of your punishments?” Satoru raised his hand up to toy with your clit, rubbing it in slow, soft circles. “You should feel how wet she is from watching me cum over and over under your iron-clad heel, our angel here likes to pretend she’s all about being a good girl, but she’s desperate to act out and piss you off.” Satoru’s mouth continued to run and your eyes stayed fixed on Suguru, too afraid to look away. “You really should’ve felt her pussy while you had my tight little ass stuffed, it’s a miracle she didn’t cum from watching!”

A smile ghosted across Suguru’s face. “Are you sure she’s not a bit of a sadist too and just enjoys seeing you suffer?” His hand was traveling down your figure, going to feel your wetness as it hovers above Satoru’s face. “What do you think, angel? Do you want to get punished? Just for fun?”

When Suguru’s question processed through your head, you felt his fingers dip inside your cunt, finally you after clenching around nothing for so long.

Satoru sped up the circles around your clit. “Come on, speak, angel. Or is this your way of guaranteeing a punishment?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his comment, feeling your cheeks flush.

Suguru’s eyes opened wider and he cocked his head. “You like that idea, huh?”

“She does!”

Sometimes you forget these two are notorious for their attitudes when they’re together. You’re too used to seeing the softer side of them.

“Come on princess,” Suguru urged you.

“Tell him, baby.” Satoru followed.

“I—“ you were really embarrassed, the most certainly are cornering you. “You two are mean.”

“If we’re so mean, why are you smiling, you like it don’t you?” Satoru pushes every button he can find when it’s presented to him.

“I don’t think that was the question, sweetheart.” Suguru’s fingers pulled out of your dripping pussy and he raised them to his lips. “Do you want me to punish you? Give you a taste of what Satoru has to deal with?” He sucked your wetness off his fingers, delighting in how you shyly averted your eyes away at the sight.

“If you go easy on me.” You answered.

“Safeword?”

“Uh, sunglasses for chill out for a sec, bangs for completely stop.”

“That’s our girl.” Satoru chuckles. “So Suguru…what do you have in mind for our princess?” He blows cool air onto your clit to make you jump.

Suguru lifts you off of Satoru quickly and lays you on your back. “If she was so aroused by watching you cum until you collapsed onto me then why not do the same?”

Your eyes widen at the proposition, thinking if you can take as much as Satoru did. You’ve been overstimulated before but have ever been at it for more than a few minutes? Satoru did 30+… could you even handle 10 after the first orgasm? How many times did he cum? Like 5? Could your body take that? Well actually, he’d definitely make you do more, people with dicks have a much more sensitive refractory period… what if they double it and take you to 10?

Suguru licked his lips, growing harder at the fear in your eyes. “Oh don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make it easier on you, I won’t have you crouch like I did Satoru, can’t have your knees feeling sore and numb.” Shit, you’d rather go numb and sore than take whatever Suguru has in mind.

“How are you gonna do it?” Swallowing a lump in your throat, you realize you haven’t been this nervous since you first fucked them. You even want to cover your chest and squeeze your legs together the way they’re both looking at you.

Gojo looks absolutely enthralled in your torture, eagerly awaiting the start. “I think we should focus on your clit and if we’re feeling merciful—“

“Hush Satoru. Your mouth still needs to be stuffed shut. Our angel wants my punishment. Not yours.” Suguru glares at him while raising your wrists to be above your head. Turning his attention back to you, he briefly licks at your clit to get a taste of you and taking in the remnants of Satoru’s spit into his mouth. “Despite Satoru’s unwavering blabbering,” he raises his eyes from your weeping cunt to your face, “I think we should focus on your pretty clit. I would love to watch your cunt beg to have something inside it, so I think we’ll wait to stuff you later.”

You nod. “Yes sir.”

His attention shifts back to a pouting Satoru. “Aw, jealous again?”

“No.”

“If I recall, earlier you said something about wanting to have your cock in her mouth, right?” Suguru slapped your cunt, a cry escaping you accompanied by a sadistic chuckle. “Well, personally, since she can’t stuff your mouth any more to keep you quiet, how about I stuff that throat of yours instead?”

If Satoru was a cat, it’d be like his ears just perked up. He gives a cheeky smile and leans up. “As long as my mouth is occupied, then I’d be forever grateful.”

Suguru smiles. “There’s my good boy, I knew he was in there somewhere.”

You and Satoru sit together, awaiting your dom’s next moves, both eager and one of you a little scared. Suguru crouches down by the bed and you hear rummaging from your toy box, then when he pops back up, your heart rate is already increasing. He holds a hitachi in one hand and a sizable dildo in the other.

Satoru looks extra excited. “You’re really gonna bring out the dildo too? Thought you weren’t gonna stuff her up? Is it to tempt her with what she wants?”

Suguru’s grin remains intact as he settles back down on his knees in between your legs. He cocks two fingers at Satoru to call him over and the other male begins to crawl across the bed. When he leans down to try and take Suguru’s cock in his mouth, he yanked by the hair and left with his mouth open.

“Eager per usual. But when did I say that I was gonna use my cock to stuff your mouth? No, you cockslut, this dildo is your gag for the time being.” His word are biting and harsh. “I wanna focus on our angel for now. If you can suck that cock for the duration of her punishment then maybe I’ll let you lick my cum off her pretty pussy? After all she cleaned up for you didn’t she?”

Fuck, he’s so fucking cruel.

Satoru is hard again anyways.

Now, for you, Suguru flips the toy on and presses it to your swollen, aching clit, having been passed from mouth to mouth, it’s like you’ve been toyed with for hours. Suguru knows this and he knows Satoru just as well. He anticipated Satoru wanting to see you get put in your place just as much as he anticipated you asking for it.

Now it comes down to what he said earlier. Treat the angel, ignore the brat.

He smiles sweetly, the sound of Satoru lapping at the plastic cock unimportant as your legs shake.“Remember princess, you asked for this.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk #jjk smut #satoru gojo #cockygojocockygojocockygojocockygojo #jjk gojo #jjk geto #satosugu smut #satosugu x reader #satoru x suguru #suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #mean geto

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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End Game 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: 😘

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s another tap on the window. You shake your head, ignoring it. Go away, go away, go away. Another comes, this one louder and you turn, ready to shout at him to leave you alone. Why is he there? Why is he bothering you?

You spin and stop short. A little boy smiles from just over the little ledge and his dad stands behind him, his hand hovering at the window. You blink and move forward to slide open the glass. As you do, you peer around, searching for the bearded man in his button-up. He’s gone. You think. You hope.

“Sorry, I was cleaning,” your voice tremors before it evens out, “how can I help you?”

“What do you want, kiddo?” The man puts his hands on his son’s shoulders, “rocky road?”

“I want choccy!” The kid demands.

“Double chocolate or chocolate chip or chocolate brownie?” You prompt, smiling as your eyes continue to rove around, waiting for any glimpse of that man.

“Double,” his dad answers for him, “I’ll have a scoop of praline and cream.”

“Sounds great? Bowl or cone?”

“Sugar cones are fine,” the man replies as he takes out his wallet.

You go through the transaction on habit alone. The man seems slightly agitated by your twitchiness but still drops a tip in the jar. You thank him and lean out the window to see along the side of the booth. Is he gone? Really gone?

You can’t shake his shadow. You just can’t believe he would show up like that, then act so casually. Like you’re old friends. You chatted for one year and you didn’t even know who he really was. That’s not a friendship, that’s just strange.

You don’t close the window. You’re already nervous about having it closed for so long. Your manager takes complaints very seriously and you can’t exactly afford to drop one job when you’re considering a second.

You check the time. Right. A couple hours. You can make it through. If you see him again, maybe you’ll call the cops. Won’t that be funny to explain? Maybe he could use the humiliation of fessing up to his betrayal.

You don’t feel better about the back-up plan but at least you have one. Sort of. It all depends on if they even believe you.

The after-dinner crowd begins to burgeon and you find yourself forgetting the unwanted customer for a whole line of new ones. You scoop and scrape and dish out the flavours with a faulty smile. When you’re through the rush, the tip jar is close to full. At least you had a fruitful night.

You hope that the locals scared Andy away. Or your reaction. You don’t think he came all that way expecting that. Surely, he wouldn’t bother if he thought you were just going to turn him away. Yet why would he expect anything else?

You really don’t understand.

As your shift comes to an end, you’re anxious to lock up. Leaving is another matter. You can’t help but look over your shoulder as you twist the key from outside. You turn your back to the wall and wearily wade through the dark. You won’t be caught off guard again.

You take a different route than usual. You don’t know why but it seems like a clever idea. You keep in the sheen of the street lights. You keep your phone in your hand just in case. You remember all those precautionary safety presentations they had on campus about walking home alone.

You let out a sigh as you reach your street. Your grandmother’s house sits nestled behind the overgrown walnut tree. You feel safer in sight of it.

You slow as you sense something off. There’s a car you don’t recognise. An SUV that doesn’t fit in the neighbourhood. He wouldn’t be there. Then you think of the flowers. He knows where you live.

Your name makes you yipe as a shadow emerges from the silver vehicle. Your feet tangle and you stumble. Keep going or go back. Either way won’t be an escape. You stop and face him wide-eyed.

“Please, leave me alone,” you beg.

“Honey, please, I’m not here to do anything but apologise,” Andy strides across the street and you can’t help but shy away. “Won’t you just hear me out?”

“No, I told you--”

“And I sat and listened. Don’t you think you owe me the same courtesy?” He insists.

“But-- I already told you, Andy, what you did--”

“I know what I did,” he breathes, “I think about it constantly. Every second of every minute of every day. I think of you and I can’t get you out of my head because I know it was wrong. I can’t stand that I hurt you so bad. You don’t deserve that. After everything you’ve gone through--”

“I only told you those things because I thought you were someone else,” you hiss, “I can’t... I can’t forget the lies. I can’t move on, alright? And honestly, I don’t think we have much in common. We’re in different places.”

“That didn’t matter before. We got along--”

“Because you--- you were pretending to be a teenager,” you bluster, “how old are you? Can’t you see how insane this all is?”

He winces and his jaw ticks. In the glint of the streetlight, his eyes sockets are dark pools and his broad shoulders seem even wider, his figure even taller. You lean back on your heel and sway, looking towards you grandmother’s house.

“It’s not... I never meant to hurt you.”

“You did,” you shrug, “Andy, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We were just gaming, shooting the shit, that’s whatever. The best thing you can do is get help. Talk to someone.”

“I want to talk to you,” he says.

“A professional,” you insist, “I’m nineteen. I can’t help you.”

“But you did,” he snips.

“Not how you need to be helped, okay? I’m asking you to stop. Go. It’s over. It never really was. I was friends with Jacob, not Andy. You chose that.”

He hangs his head and heaves. You stand in silence. Slowly, you sidestep and flinch as he mirrors you. He reaches for you and you back away from him. He retracts and pushes his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry, sorry, I just...” he croaks, “honey,” that word, again, “if I get help, will you talk to me? If I go, get some pills or something, will you just give me a chance?”

You huff and shake your head, “Andy, there’s lots of people online you can game with. People your own age. Maybe you should try the discord--”

“No, not them. You.”

“Andy,” you plead, “I’m... no. No. You can’t do this. You can’t just show up and make me listen. You can’t send me flowers and come to my work and force me to be your friend. Alright? That’s not... healthy.”

“I wanna be better. For you. That’s what I’m telling you,” he steps closer until you’re against the prickly hedges. “I wanna do everything for you. I can make your life so much better. Honey, don’t you want that? Don’t you want someone who wants you? For once?”

You’re quiet, stunned by the insinuation, of the truth in it.

“That’s cruel,” you whisper.

“I don’t mean—not like that. I only, I’m trying to show you what I can give you--”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you sniffle, “or anything to do with you. Can’t you get that through your head?”

He staggers back as if he’s been struck. He shakes his head and stammers, “what-- why? Why not?”

You blink, long and hard. How many times do you need to repeat yourself? You roll your eyes and turn on your heel. You brace yourself for him to follow but he doesn’t.

His shadow looms just along the edge of your peripheral and as you turn into your grandma’s yard, you glance back. He watches you but stays where he is. He just stands there. You shiver and raise your phone, lighting up the screen, hoping he gets the idea. You could call the police.

He takes a step back then pivots sharply. He crosses the street back to the SUV and the door slams behind him. You jump in your shoes and quickly scramble up the walkway to your grandma’s front door. You’re hoping that’s the last time you have to tell him to go away. Next time, you might just have to be mean about it.

🎮

You try to sleep. It comes in shallow spurts that leave you more and more tired. You don’t have a shift, thank god, but you’re also not so grateful to be left without distraction. You give in to futility as the sun peers in between your curtains and you groan at the dull weight in your temples.

You creep out quietly to make a coffee. Just instant powder so the machine doesn’t wake your grandma. You go back to your room and sit in a groggy daze, waking yourself with the warmth of each sip. You sigh out and hang your head.

There was enough to figure out a week ago. Now, you don’t know how many problems you truly have. You’re not so certain last night got the point across, especially after the first two times didn’t work. Third time’s the charm, right? Besides, how much effort are you really worth?

You can’t just sit still. Your eyes keep itching to look at your Switch, a now cursed item in your collection. You finish the coffee and change out of your pajamas into a pair of sweats and faded tee. You’ll catch up on some chores, keep yourself busy and grandma happy. Besides, you’re not brave enough to venture outside just yet.

You grab your head phone and pop them over your ears and search through your phone for your cleaning playlist. You’ll start with the living room. Give it a sweep and a mop, wait until grandma’s up to do the vacuuming. Dishes next and the kitchen. Scour the fridge for the forgot produce in the back and take out the trash. You have more than enough to do.

You wipe off the end tables then the coffee table, sorting the clutter and clearing the trash. You dust the television and the shelves of knickknacks and the ornamental fireplace against the wall. No matter what you do, there’s always a slightly dingy smell to the place.

When the living room is decent, you move into the kitchen. You turn up your music and drown out the house around you. Dishes, floors, cupboards, cobwebs... You feel the effort in your muscles as you stretch out the kinks from your pitiful sleep.

You’re entirely obliviously to the existence of others until your grandmother appears with a scowl, pinching your arm as she glowers in her house robe. You glance at the time. You’ve been at it for a few hours. You pull your headphones off your ears and pause your music with a tap of the button on the cord.

“Oh, morning, do you want some coffee?” You offer.

She’s unimpressed by your efforts as she crosses her arms. It is kind of early for her to be up. Her nostrils flare as she sniffs.

“You better make a full pot for your visitor,” she sneers.

You blink at her and scoff, not understanding her, “visitor?”

Her eyes are narrowed and her lip curls, “the one who’s been pounding on my door while you’ve been listening to your racket.” She jabs an ear of your headphones, “damn woke me up.”

“I don’t... who?”

“Says you knew his son. The dead one,” she shakes her head, “sad, I suppose.”

You stare at her. You hear movement in the front room, just on the other side of that wall. You glance through the archway and see a shadow shift. She’s not lying. How else would she know?

“What did he tell you?” You breathe.

“More than you, eh,” she snaps, “what are you doing gaping at me like a fish, I need a damn coffee. Too early for this nonsense. A dead kid, some stranger in my front room... what trouble are you getting into?”

“N-nothing, grandma, I don’t... get him out of here. I don’t know him--”

“He knows you. Knows your name. Says you and his boy were at school together. ‘Splains the flowers, I guess. Condolences, not that you cared, did ya?” She shakes her head, “you always were off in your own little world. Well, I’m not doin’ your dirty work for ya. You ain’t gonna be your mother if I can help it so you want him gone, you tell him you didn’t give a damn about that dead one.”

You frown. You don’t understand why she’s so callous. She’s never shown any concern about anything but her books. It’s not your fault your parents didn’t want you. Or that she doesn’t either. You only ever begged for her attention, for a sliver of her approval.

You blow out between your lips. You won’t argue. There’s no use in it. Besides, it’s a small house, you know he heard all that, that he knows you’re on your own. Maybe that’s why he came all this way. Because he knows you have nothing.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #end game #defending jacob

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roseykat · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 8

TITLE: Cum as you are Part 2

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: An OT8 blurb on how each of the members of the maknae line react to making you squirt.

TAGS: mentions of sex, squirting, degradation, humiliation, orgasms.

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzekat @queenmea604 🩷

JISUNG

Funnily enough, Jisung finds it cute when he makes you squirt. The first time around, he didn’t even try to do it on purpose, it just happened and he was desperate for you to try to do it again. From there, he’s always relished in the way that your wet walls spasm around his cock, how you sometimes drip down his lower half. But the main instance is when you ride him.

Something about that deep gorgeous angle just hits the same sweet spot so easily. Adding repetition into the mix can then make you cum like you’ve never before. You have to slide forward and off of Jisung’s cock because the pleasure bursting at the seams is too much, but it’s enough to make you squirt. It’s so erotic to him that usually when you squirt, Jisung will most likely cum at the exact same time.

FELIX

This man would be so encouraging for you to squirt. Like he finds it so fascinating for you to orgasm at that sort of intensity where you just about lose all of your sanity. Even just after you’ve squirted, Felix will check in on you and say things like ‘are you okay?’ Or, ‘did that feel good baby?’ Just really sweet about it when inside he’s trying so hard not to continue ramming you.

He just wants to make sure you’re okay first because he does know that orgasming that hard can take a lot out of a person. After having sex, and he’s just helped you into the shower, he can see the aftermath of it on the bed. To him, there’s something so gratifying about seeing how wet the sheets are that it reminds him that he needs to put a towel down next time.

SEUNGMIN

His fingers are the way to go. That’s how he can get you to squirt. Seungmin is a very technical person and knows the ins and outs of your body. To say that he has perfected his technique of making you squirt, is an understatement. It’s effortless for him yet so impactful for you. He knows the specific curl of his fingers, the proper pace you like, the amount of pressure he applies to your lower abdomen with his other hand - all the while to see your eyes roll back and quiver from a shattering orgasm.

Seungmin has it all figured out to a ‘T’ because he just loves absolutely ruining you this way. He loves seeing his entire forearm glistening and wet, covered in your juices. Sometimes if there’s a bit of consensual degradation or humiliation involved, Seungmin would say things like ‘trust you to soak through past the towel,’ or ‘suppose I have to wash all my clothes again.’ But that’s all bedroom talk, because at the end of the day, he wants to see you unhinged when you cum. He needs it.

JEONGIN

You had been with other people before, and not once had they ever made you cum the way Jeongin did. So when the pair of you eventually started dating, the sex became even more mind blowing. Sure he seems timid or innocent - wrong. He seems so unsuspecting at times but, Jeongin would have your pussy drenched by the end of the night. The more you try to ignore an orgasm that he gives you, the harder it will hit sometimes. But it’s impossible with Jeongin’s dick.

He just does it for you. Completely unravels your mind like no other that you forget to subdue an orgasm because it feels too fucking good. The way his cock hits inside you has you scratching down his back, and Jeongin will fuck you through it. He’s not stopping because he’s so taken with the way that you cum around him. It can even bring a sick smile to his face when he’s pounding the breath out of you and until his cock is dripping with your juices.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #lee know x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader

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crowleywowley · 1 year ago

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I’m back b words. Deal wit it

Past sillies: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Yall know the drillll modern au headcanons with no rhyme or reason yadda yadda yadda see you under the cut *dab*

-ppl always assume Arthur is a beer guy. But tell me he wouldn’t love something more silly like a high noon or a white claw

Charles is a wine lover!!!!!!!! He bonded with Hosea over it :)

Tell me Dutch and Hosea wouldn’t have a fancy little wine cupboard in their house.

-Charles and Arthur are BOTH hardheaded about pain

Both refuse to take an ibuprofen for a headache despite the other telling them to multiple times

When Charles had appendicitis he insisted Arthur didn’t need to leave work for it (he did, of course)

John, on the other hand, thinks that every little ache is the end for him. Which does not bode well in a marriage to Abigail who has a frighteningly high pain tolerance

-Charles and Arthur are both acts of service lovers so they’re just constantly uno reversing each other with caring acts

-John is lactose intolerant. Y’all know I’m right

-John and Abigail absolutely “checked” their kids’ candy after trick or treating

Mysteriously all of the peanut m&ms were bad and had to be….. thrown out………

-speaking of Halloween, Charles’ mom sent Arthur a picture of baby Charles dressed up as a little dinosaur in 1992 and he hasn’t stoped giggling about it bc it’s JUST SO CUTE :’)

Arthur quietly wishes Charles could’ve been around when Isaac was little enough to go trick or treating. Charles came into the picture right around the time when it became uncool for him :(

-Isaac, Jack, and Marston Daughter all went to see the fnaf movie together

Arthur and John were so grateful that Isaac is old enough to drive now because they’ve had to sit through so much fnaf lore over the last 9 years and just. Do not get it

“So the bunny….. ate someone????” “Ugh dad were you even listening!!! Let’s start from the beginning.”

-one time when he was like 5 John was digging under the seat in the family car and got stuck

15 min had passed before Hosea was like …..where is he

Arthur, all of 8 years old, ran out and couldn’t stop giggling at little Johnny kicking his legs and crying

Dutch pulled him out, assured him he was fine, held back his laughter….. mostly

-When they were kids, John and Arthur had a trampoline

Arthur and the other kids in the neighborhood (namely Sean, the weirdo kid next door who was in John’s grade) would always popcorn John and he would cry

Sometimes Dutch would bounce on it and play with them but he hurt himself trying to prove he could do a backflip (he could not)

-Hosea has seen every single episode of law and order: SVU

I imagine he also made Arthur/John watch old man shows with him growing up like the Andy Griffith show

When Isaac was a baby and Grandpa Hosea would watch him, they’d cuddle up in his grandpa recliner and watch those sorts of shows :’)

-Abigail went through a weird pottery phase a few years ago so there’s a variety of oddly heavy mugs and plates in their kitchen

John is VERY proud of her though do not get it twisted. He drinks his coffee out of that heavy ass mug every morning

-This is the correct johnigail dynamic. I’m right

Thanks as always for supporting my sillies. Apologies for taking so long with this one, school was kicking my ASS for a moment there but teehee I’m almost done with college, just one month left😵 and I’m sure while I painfully hunt for a job I’ll have much more free time to dick around and spew my silliness everywhere

#as always please ignore my tags it’s humiliating #rdr2 modern au #charthur #arthur morgan #john marston #charles smith #jack marston #abigail marston #abigail roberts #charthur headcanon #arthur morgan headcanons #john marston headcanons #vandermatthews #if you’re reading this heyyyyy #has anyone thought of a name for this modern universe yet!!!! bc I have not #also just curious what do u guys think I’m getting a degree in?? im vain and need to know

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 11 months ago

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All Falls Down

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dividers by @firefly-graphics

“I’m sorry.” Kiyana blinked. “Repeat that again.” Cause she know damn well this nigga didn’t say what she thought he did. When he just sat there, she banged her hands against the table, startling some nearby guests. “Joshua!” He sighed and lifted his head up ,clearing his throat.

“I cheated on you.” He whispered and Kiyana stared at her husband in disbelief. Her husband of 13 years was sitting in her face telling her that he broke his vows to her.

“You joking right?” Because there was no way that he decided to tell her this in the middle of their weekly dinner date. There was no way her husband, the father of her 3 boys, was sitting here telling her that he was cheating on her.

When he didn’t say anything she scoffed. Feeling completely humiliated and like her heart was being ripped out her chest, Kiyana stood up from the table and walked out of the restaurant with Josh hot on her heels.

“Kiyana- wait.” He called out and tried to grab her arm but she pulled away from him.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” She snapped, smacking his hands away from her. She pulled her phone out of her clutch to call an Uber. There was no way she was getting in the car with him.

“Can you jus’ listen to me please.” He pleaded and she shook her head ‘no’. He kept trying to get her to look at him but she kept averting her eyes. “I’m sorry bae. I ain’t mean to do it.” She scoffed. “I’m serious man, I’m telling you instead of hiding it from you.”

Kiyana looked at him for the first time since they stepped outside and the pain in her eyes broke him. He never meant for any of this to happen.

“Josh you don’t just accidentally sleep with someone else.” She cried, reaching up to angrily wipe the tears off her face.

“I’m so fuckin sorry.” He whispered, his own tears slipping down his cheeks. She ignored him and let out a sigh of relief when her Uber pulled up in front of the restaurant. She said nothing to Josh as she walked away from him and towards the waiting Uber.

She had just opened the door when Josh came up behind her and slammed it shut. “Cancel the ride.” He told the driver through the passenger window.

“Joshua!” She hissed, “Move!” she said, trying to move him out of the way but he wouldn’t budge.

“No Kiyana, we gotta talk this out.” She groaned when the Uber driver got out of the car and walked around towards them.

“Hey man, let her go.” Josh sucked his teeth and glared over at the Uber driver.

“Get the fuck back in your car. And mind yo’ business” The Uber driver went to say something back to Josh but Kiyana stopped him and told him it was okay to cancel the ride. She rolled her eyes as she stomped away from him and towards their car.

“Will you please talk to me?” Josh begged as he came and stood next to her. When she didn’t say anything, he sighed and unlocked the car doors. “Just let me go pay the bill and I'll take you home.” Kiyana still said nothing as she got into the car and slammed the door shut. She let some more tears slip from her eyes as he walked away from the car.

She still was waiting for all of this to be one big cruel joke. She couldn’t believe Josh would actually cheat on her. She tried to remember any signs of him being suspicious but she couldn’t come up with any. She quickly wiped her tears as the driver's door opened and Josh entered the car.

“Key.” He whispered, placing his hand on her thigh. She swiftly moved his hand and pushed her body closer to the door. He sighed and started the car before driving to their house.

Kiyana was happy that her boys were with Talisua for the night. She needed to be absolutely alone. After getting out of the car, she quickly entered the house and went to their bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind her.

She immediately stripped off her dress and stepped into the shower. She felt so stupid being so dressed up after what Josh had told her.

As the water pounded against her skin, Kiyana couldn’t hold back anymore. She broke down, covering her mouth so that her sobs wouldn’t be heard outside the bathroom. She had never felt heartbreak like this before.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, but once the water started to get cold she quickly washed up and got out.

She sighed as she entered the bedroom and saw Josh sitting on the edge of their bed, still dressed and holding his head in his hands.

“Why are you here?” She whispered as she came out of the bathroom already dressed for bed, she was tired and all she wanted to do was sleep.

“I wanna talk to you Key, I wanna work this out.” Kiyanna scoffed.

“There is no working this out. You cheated. It’s over.” Josh’s heart sank to his stomach.

“What? Come on Kiyana. We can work this out. I’m sorry baby.” Kiyana scoffed and walked over to the bed, pulling the covers back.

“What if it was me Joshua? What if it was me coming to tell you that I cheated on you?” She asked, turning to face him. He tried to school his features, but she could see the way his left eye twitched and the way his nostrils flared.

“Yes.” He said gruffly. “I would forgive you cause you’re my wife and it was a mistake.” She scoffed with a smirk and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re so full of shit. Deadass? If I fucked some other man, you would be totally okay with it?”

“No, fuck no. Is that what you wanted to hear?!” He yelled. “I’m fuckin’ sorry Kiyana. I fucked up! But you can’t leave me.”

“Fine, you want me to stay?” When Josh nodded she continued. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long were you cheating on me? You think I'm stupid enough to think you only cheated one time?” Josh groaned and put his head back into his hands. “Tell me how long.”

“Fuck.” He muttered. “Four months.” He whispered, looking down at his sneakers.

“Like four months ago or..”

“No, it started four months ago.” She blinked at him, her head tilting to the side as she stared at him.

“Four months,” She whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Kairo just turned two months old.”

“Key i’m so so-”

“You cheated on me while I was pregnant!” She screamed, grabbing their wedding picture off the side table, throwing it at him. He moved out of the way just in time.

“What the fuck!” He yelled back, ducking the alarm clock that she threw next. “Kiyana stop!.”

“Get out!” She screamed, stomping over to him and pushing him towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry! You weren’t sorry when you were fucking whoever were you!” She cried. “Just leave, please get out.” She waited until he left to lock the door behind him. She sobbed as she climbed into bed. There was no coming back from this. In the morning, she would call a divorce attorney. Her marriage was over.

HEYY GUYS! I wanted to wait until I posted the last chapter of LOVE, but i'm so excited for this.

Lemme know what y'all think 🫶🏽

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floydsmuse · 1 year ago

Text

Caught Dancin’

warnings: none! just fluff & Bob being a goof <3

pairing: Bob floyd x f! reader (no y/n)

description: Bob catches you doing one of your dance workouts & you can’t help but feel all shy. he’s quick to reassure you though & your feelings of embarrassment seem to flutter away… (wc 1k)

a/n: hi ! so i’m back with some more Bob fluff :,) this idea randomly came to me & i just knew i had to write it with him. it just seemed fitting haha! i really hope you enjoy this! it’s silly, but i think it turned out cute :) as always, likes & comments are great! reblogs are appreciated too🥰💕 tysm!

————————————————————————

You were currently in the middle of doing one of your dance workouts. You often did them to not only reduce tension, but also used them as a way to have some fun & get your body moving. Out of pure shyness, you would only do them when your husband wasn’t home. Bob knew that you did these workouts, but never pried you to do them in front of him. He figured you just felt more comfortable doing them alone & without the presence of an audience.

Bob was out with some of the guys in the dagger squad. They all decided to go to a baseball game some ways away from town. Bob being the gentlemen that he is invited you to tag along with, but you politely declined & encouraged him to go out for some much needed “guy time.” He reluctantly agreed & headed out to the game. You figured after a stressful work week & needing some pep in your step, you’d pop open youtube & dance your little heart out.

You throw on an active wear set, a lavender sports bra & biker shorts to match. You opt to wear your chunky white sneakers that were gifted to you by none other than your husband last christmas. You put your hair up into a ponytail, grab your water bottle & head into the den.

You start off by doing some low impact dances, allowing yourself to just warm up & find your rhythm. As the dances started to progressively become more intense, you were able to find your groove & really get into it. You let your body completely take control. Your head was bopping to the beat of the music, your arms & legs were moving in sync.

It was almost like second nature to you, your movements were coming out so seamlessly and passionately. You were feeling yourself, hitting every beat & every dance move that came your way. You were so tapped in to your own world, that you didn’t even feel the presence of your husband, who silently stood there watching you in utter amusement & disbelief. Bob couldn’t look away even if he tried, as he was enchanted by you in this moment.

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to notice Bob standing there, but once you finally catch glimpse of him in your peripheral, you freeze. You quickly scramble to grab the remote to pause the tv & drop your head in your hands, ignoring the sweat that was dripping down your face. Your husband makes slow steady movements towards you, not wanting to further ignite your feelings of humiliation. He speaks to you in a volume a little above a whisper,

“My love, can you look at me please?”

Just the very sound of his sweet & gentle voice could make you stop & do anything for him. You knew in this moment that you couldn’t possibly escape or melt into the floor like you so wanted to. You knew you had to face him.

You bring your flushed face up to meet Bob’s kind eyes. You were sure you looked like a sweaty mess, your hair frizzy & falling out of its place in your high pony. Your breathing was doing its best to settle down, but your heart continued to beat out of your chest from adrenaline & embarrassment. Bob reached over to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear & when he pulled back, he looked at you so lovingly. You didn’t quite know what to say, still feeling shy but starting to calm down a bit at his sweet action. You look down sheepishly & wait for Bob to cut in once again,

“Just for the record, I think that you’re a fantastic dancer. I was in absolute aw just watching you.” Bob quipped.

You knew he was being genuine by his tone & the confidence that lingered in his voice. You shot your head back up to look at him. He had the biggest smirk on his face & you just knew for a fact that your cheeks had to be the brightest shade of red that could ever exist. You look at him dumbfoundedly & a little smile slowly creeped onto your face at his words of praise,

“What was that one move you did called? I think it went something like this-“ Bob takes a step back from you, doing a crazy little wiggle with his body & flailing his arms above his head, in attempts to replicate a move that you previously did. He kept doing it, knowing the type of reaction he would get out of you. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at his silliness,

“You almost got it! It’s more movement in the hips & less in the arms.” You reply through breathy laugher, as you do the move flawlessly, making Bob pause his dance attempts & look at you,

“Show off!” he jokingly proclaims, as you pounce on him. He’s quick to hold you up, your legs wrap securer around his waist & your arms meet his neck.

Within a second, your lips are being melded together in a salty, yet somewhat heated kiss. You both pull away, breathless, as you hide your face against his neck.

“You think you could teach me how to dance like you?”

You could practically feel his crooked smile against your cheek, as he proposes the idea. You knew Bob could get down, but you never would’ve thought he’d want to learn from someone like you. Pulling your head back from his neck, you playfully shoot back with,

“I think so. I mean with lots & lots of practice, you certainly have potential.”

Bob pretends to be offended at your response, but not for long as he’s quick to attack your neck with kisses & squeezes at your sides, making you let out a heap of even more giggles. You swore this man could make you crumble at any given moment.

You two spent the rest of the evening happily dancing around the den, tiring yourselves out & eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms on the couch.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x female reader #top gun maverick #tgm #robert bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert bob floyd #bob top gun #robert bob floyd x you #lewis pullman #floydsmuse

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gothcsz · 9 days ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XX.

GIF by bestintheparsec

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The night of the ritual.

WORD COUNT: ~9.1k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: dead dove: do not eat!, kidnapping, mc is held hostage, allusions to SA (nothing explicit. will be explained later on), hallucinations, humiliation, wound care, hurt/no comfort, crime thriller vibes are vibing, demon worship, cult ritual, supernatural elements, non-consensual drug use, angst, whump, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i'm missing any other tags please let me know.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: i’m going to hold y’all’s hand when i say this... i am putting paloma through it 😓 i was initially going to just bang everything out and post it in one big chapter, but as i was writing... i just felt like it would be better if we let the suspense of it all do its thing and end with a cliffhanger. i am a sucker for ‘em, even if they’re so frustrating (in the best way possible) 😭 i hope that all the lore revolving the cult has been concise and strong enough to hold up during the ending bit of this. i wish i could say things are going to get better from here but they’re not… they’re actually going to get worse 🤠 as always, feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or on ao3. i'd really appreciate it 🖤

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

When ten minutes pass, Javier brushes it off. She’s probably just caught up in something. It’s nothing to worry about.

But when twenty minutes roll by, that’s when the unease creeps in. He starts pacing the living room, fighting the urge for a cigarette, glancing at the clock.

Where is she?

By the time half an hour has come and gone, he’s dialing the library, wondering why Paloma hasn’t come home yet. The phone rings and rings, but no one picks up. His stomach tightens, and he wills himself to remain calm. She’s probably fine.

At the hour mark, Javier’s behind the wheel, speeding into town. Maybe she’s still upset from the argument they had earlier, and instead of coming home, she went to Tammy’s.

But when Tammy tells him she hasn’t heard from Paloma for a few days now, a knot twists in his chest.

Panic threatens to take hold, but he pushes it down. He can’t let it consume him—not yet. Not until he has a real reason to worry.

But she has that damn habit of disappearing to sulk in random places when she’s upset. And that habit is gnawing at him now.

He drives to every spot he can think of, the abandoned tracks, the clearing behind the cemetery, the creek—but there’s no sign of her.

That terrible feeling grows, heavy and unshakable. He marches into the sheriff’s department, jaw set, not caring who sees the frantic look in his eyes.

He storms the file room, ripping through boxes. His hands tremble as he plucks out the file he’s searching for.

“Fuck!” He curses under his breath, jaw tightening as the photo of Paloma’s mother stares back at him.

Now, he has a reason to panic.

He should have known when he first laid eyes on it. The familiarity of her features—her eyes, her hair, her smile; it was all too close to Paloma. Too close to ignore. But he had, all because his mind was completely elsewhere at the time. Now look where that got him.

It’s like a scene from a horror film, where everything snaps into place too late.

The recent victims; brunettes in their mid-twenties with similar features, similar backgrounds—they resembled her.

The staged chamber, the gore, the man who killed himself.

All of it was leading to this, tying up the gruesome mystery with a neat little bow, like a gift Javier wishes he could burn. They had been played—manipulated, distracted from seeing the bigger picture.

Whoever orchestrated this whole thing has been after his girl from the very beginning.

He fights the urge to smash his fist into the nearest wall, to tear down every shelf in the room in a fit of blind rage.

But what would that solve? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rage won’t lead him to her. Fear won’t undo what’s already been set in motion. All he can do is cling to hope, even if it’s slipping through his fingers.

The ultimate goal of this fucked-up cult—their twisted mission—is to birth the flesh reincarnate of their so-called, bullshit deity.

His blood runs cold at the thought of Paloma being used in some horrific ritual, being touched, violated, forced into madness.

He’s shaking, on the verge of a panic attack, his heart slamming against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape. But he forces himself to breathe—slow, deep, steady breaths, locking the perturbation away.

Javier puts out an APB, his voice tight as he details her car, her appearance. Every word feels surreal, like it’s not really him saying it, like he’s watching someone else’s nightmare play out.

Romeo’s going to hear this, and he’s going to have to explain how they missed all the signs, how Paloma has been in danger this whole time.

The weight of it presses down on him like a thousand pounds of guilt.

Gathering what he needs and delegating some of the overnight officers at the station, he frantically drives to the Leighton house.

He’s already chain-smoked half a pack. That nasty habit he’s been trying to shake is clinging to him. The file in his hands feels too light for the bomb he’s about to drop.

How the fuck is he supposed to do this? How do you tell someone their wife’s past is tangled in a nightmare, and that their daughter—a woman they both love—is at the heart of it? How do you stay composed when you’re barely holding yourself together?

“Where the fuck is my daughter?”

Javier’s barely set foot out of his truck when Romeo’s fists twist in his shirt, shoving him hard against the vehicle.

The impact rattles through him, but all he can see is the wild, desperate look in the sheriff’s eyes—a terror that matches his own but runs even deeper, cutting into every line on his face.

“Romeo, listen to me!” Javier’s voice is authoritative, that familiar guarded wall of stoicism building as his trademark defense mechanism to the absolute anxiety that’s gnawing away at his body. “This is gonna be hard to hear—I’m barely making sense of it myself—but I need you to listen if we’re going to figure this shit out.”

Romeo’s grip tightens, then slowly loosens, and Javier seizes the moment, shoving the older man back, no longer giving a fuck about keeping the peace.

He yanks the folded photo from his jacket pocket and holds it up, letting him get a clear look. “Tell me. Is this Paloma’s mother?”

Romeo’s gaze flits to the photograph, and the recognition that floods his face is immediate.

His fingers snatch the photo from Javier, and his expression cracks, aging him in just a matter of seconds. “Where did you get this?” His voice is barely a whisper, “What the fuck is going on?”

Javier’s own dread deepens. “From the old files,” he says, voice hollow. “The ones from the original group. She’s connected to all of this. They both are.”

He takes a breath, then begins to explain everything he knows. He lays it out, bit by bit—the tangled web of what Paloma had uncovered, the twisted threads that pointed to this cult, the fake leads that had kept them chasing shadows. Every word feels like glass in his throat.

Confusion, fear, anger—every emotion etched on Romeo’s face makes Javier feel like he’s the one who has failed.

“Did you know about any of this?” he asks, though he already knows the answer from the lost look in Romeo’s eyes.

His mouth opens, then closes. He seems to gather himself, shoulders dropping under a weight he’s only just begun to grasp. “None. When I met Abby… she was just a woman startin’ over. She’d moved into a small house near the church. Said her parents had passed and she needed a fresh start. Picked a random town—that’s how she ended up here.” The sheriff’s gaze drifts to a place Javier can’t reach, caught in the bittersweet memory of his late wife.

“Paloma said she found this out by going through her mom’s things,” he says carefully, each word a stone dropping into his gut. “But I don’t think she was telling me everything.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy and loaded as they lock eyes in an unspoken understanding.

They need answers, and every second they waste is another second Paloma could be slipping further away.

“Before we make accusations,” Javier says, forcing himself to stay grounded, “we need to dig through their belongings. There has to be something there—a lead, a hint—something that’ll tell us who’s behind this.”

“But you already know who it is, don’t you?”

Javier’s eyes darken, and his jaw locks as one name barrels into his mind, clear and hateful: August.

The red flags he had dismissed, convinced they were just a byproduct of his hate for the guy, now stand out like beacons.

He meets Romeo’s gaze, a grim certainty settling into his features. “I believe it’s Augustus Dixon and his group.”

Romeo’s face twists with anger, and he grits out, “Motherfucker—” His fists clench, his whole body radiating fury.

“Be pissed off later. We’ve got a job to do.”

They stalk up the stairs, both men moving with purpose—Romeo heads for his wife’s things while Javier makes his way into Paloma’s room.

It feels surreal, even wrong, to be rummaging through her life like this. The last time he’d been in this position, it was in Jessica’s room, and even then he could see the resemblance her space shared with Paloma’s—but he’d never thought he’d be here, seeing his girl as a victim.

His fingers skim over a leather-bound book tucked away on the top shelf in her closet, hidden behind a jewelry box. It’s as if she’d placed it there purposefully, stowed away out of reach.

When he pulls it down, he realizes it’s a scrapbook brimming with photographs and clippings.

Inside, he finds images of Calmana, surrounded by groups of men and women, all dressed in matching, traditional attire. A towering cathedral looms in the background, religious iconography scattered throughout—symbols he now recognizes from his research.

Maps, faded with time, span several pages, and in the center lies an intricate, sprawling family tree with Paloma’s name written at the bottom.

He spots envelopes tucked between the pages, each one addressed to her in cursive hand.

He calls out for Romeo, and the sheriff is by his side almost instantly, his expression a twisted mix of hope and dread.

“What’d you find?”

Javier silently hands him the scrapbook, keeping the envelopes for himself.

One by one, he opens them, unfolding each paper. His breaths come out ragged, and he feels his stomach drop as he reads.

They’re love poems—explicit, filthy in their adoration. Line after line, they detail all the things August wants to do to her, each word penned with obsession.

The praises he lavishes on her, how he calls her a spectacle, the power he insists she wields—it’s like poison seeping into Javier’s mind.

His hands start trembling, and the implications tighten around him like a noose.

Romeo, sensing his agitation, reaches out, his voice rough. “What’s that—what did you find?”

Javier jerks the papers away, swallowing hard. “Trust me. You don’t want to see these—not now.”

“Let me see them, Javier! Goddammit, my daughter is in danger!”

Before their back-and-forth can spiral any further, Javier’s walkie talkie crackles sharply, an officer’s voice coming through:

“A dark green, 1970 Buick Electra matching the APB put out an hour ago has been found in Lake Fraiser alongside an unidentified female body.”

The air thickens and shatters as Javier and Romeo lock eyes, both of them wearing the same look of wide-eyed horror.

“Romeo—” Javier tries, reaching out, but the man is already out the door, the scrapbook falling from his hands and hitting the hardwood floor with a hollow thud that reverberates in Javier’s chest.

He mutters a quick fuck and scoops it up, rushing after him, yet the sheriff is a blur, tearing down the driveway with the kind of desperation only a father can muster when everything he loves is on the line.

Now that he’s left alone, Javier grips the railing, and the weight of it all—of losing her—comes crashing down. His heart’s splintering, his chest tight, mind skidding out of control.

This is what he’s been running from all along—failure… loss… grief. Now it is all coming back, circling like vultures, ready to take the one thing that’s ever brought him true happiness.

But he forces himself to breathe, to anchor his mind to the one cold comfort he has left. “He wouldn’t kill her. He needs her.” The words taste bitter, chilling him, but they hold him steady.

Paloma is at the center of this plan—there’d be no sense in taking her, just to end it so abruptly.

Despite everything, he finds a sliver of reassurance in that cruel logic. He clings to it with everything he has, because right now, it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Javier pulls up to Lake Fraiser, where the scene is a flurry of first responders, flashing lights reflecting off the water’s dark surface in sharp reds and blues.

He parks haphazardly, barely cutting the engine before he’s out of the truck, heading straight toward the area cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape.

His heart slams against his ribs as he spots Romeo, kneeling by the edge of the lake beside a body draped in a white cloth, his face blank, almost empty.

Javier’s eyes dart to the surrounding officers, scanning each one, trying to get a read on the situation before he speaks.

“Is it her?” His voice breaks the stillness.

Romeo doesn’t look up, his gaze locked on the covered body. “…No.”

Relief floods through him, dizzying him for a moment before his gaze lands on a tow truck pulling Paloma’s car away from the scene.

He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to swallow back the bitter uncertainty rising in his throat.

Romeo stands slowly, brushing the dirt off his hands, his expression hardening as he relays, “Just got a call from the hospital. Our girl from the woods finally woke up. Tonight of all nights.” He chuckles dryly. “Asked to speak with me specifically. So I’ll head that way tomorrow after she’s been stabilized properly… which means you’ll be in charge of all this.” He gestures around them vaguely.

The pulsing emergency lights cast fractured shadows over their faces.

“It’s best for you to step back momentarily. Clear your head. You’re too close to this,” Javier adds quietly, “She’s your daughter.” And while Javier is her lover and every inch of him is fraying at the edges for her, he understands that his pain won’t amount to the agony that Romeo is drowning in.

The sheriff’s silence stretches, words hesitating on his tongue, until finally, with a quiet confession, he murmurs, “I was too harsh on her. On you. I was an asshole, and if it’s any reconciliation—thank you for tryin’ to get her out of this shitty town.”

Javier’s caught off-guard but doesn’t show it, the self awareness on his behalf is appreciated. “I’d do anything for her.”

Romeo studies him for a moment, as if measuring the resolve behind his words, then he nods, his expression taut, “Gonna start combing through everythin’ back at the station. Probably call Olsen, see if he’s got any cameras ‘round the library so we can get a timeline goin’.”

These two men are similar in that regard, backing themselves into their jobs to mask the turmoil inside. They talk through some of the procedures before Romeo is pulled away by other officers, leaving Javier to handle things here.

He forces himself to switch gears, to summon every bit of authority he has left to do his job. He’s got a dead body to assess, a team to command, and then—then he’ll focus everything he’s got on finding Paloma.

Paloma stirs awake, the pitch darkness of the early morning pressing in from all sides.

She’s disoriented—a dull ache in her head and the sting of thick, abrasive rope biting into her wrists.

Her hands are suspended and bound above her, tethered tightly to an old, rusted pipe overhead, which creaks slightly as she shifts her weight.

She can feel the grit of dried blood matting her hair against her temple, the aftershock of Sloane’s vicious hit with the bat ringing sharp behind her eyes. Her boots are missing, leaving her barefoot against the cool concrete ground.

As reality sharpens around her, she realizes this isn’t a dream and it nauseates her, instilling panic in her heart.

She barely remembers the car ride or the way they dragged her down here, everything muddled from the hit she’d taken until she’d finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

Now, the throbbing intensifies as she tugs instinctively at the ropes, her wrists burning, but no amount of pulling loosens her bonds.

Frustration and terror mix, unwieldy coiling in her chest and tears sting at her eyes despite her attempts to fight them back. She doesn’t want to imagine what they plan to do to her.

She knows Javier and her father have to be looking for her. They must be tearing themselves apart with worry. She can almost hear her father’s harsh reprimands and Javier’s quiet, determined rage—they’re relentless when it comes to protecting her.

They’ll find her. They have to.

The cellar door creaks open and she freezes, her pulse skittering as August, Sloane, and Gabriel descend the stairs.

The dim light barely touches their faces, but she doesn’t need to see them clearly to know what they’re capable of.

She tries to hold her head high, pushing back the tears, refusing to let them see the fear that’s boiling inside. She won’t give them that satisfaction, not if she can help it.

Their footsteps echo against the walls of the basement. August stops just close enough that she can feel his presence invading her senses, suffocating, his familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Good morning, P,” he drawls, voice dripping with the charm that managed to slither its way into her heart.

What she once found magnetic in him is now hollow, a mask that hides something so unfathomable.

“Pretty nasty cut ya got there.” Sloane’s voice drips with fake sympathy. Her eyes glint with that special brand of cruelty she’d always kept hidden behind a guise of friendship.

The satisfaction in her tone is unmistakable, like she’s savoring every moment of seeing Paloma in such a vulnerable state.

The urge to spit in their faces, to lash out, is almost unbearable, but she remembers her daddy’s lessons, advising her to stay calm, to never let them know how afraid she really is.

Every word of advice he’d ever given her about self-preservation hangs heavy in her mind.

She keeps her face blank, her mouth a hard line.

“Silent treatment, huh?” August steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers are inches from her forehead when she sees the sick satisfaction in his eyes, and she can’t suppress the involuntary grimace as his fingers hover over the gash near her forehead.

The moment of weakness feels like a win for him, his smile widening as he grazes her wound, pressing just enough to send a wave of pain radiating through her skull and a fresh stream of blood to trickle out.

Sloane watches her reaction, faux innocence weaving through her sneer. “You make for a pretty damn good damsel in distress. Thought you’d put up more of a fight, if I’m bein’ honest. You really disappointed me, doll face.”

Paloma’s grip tightens around the rope until her knuckles ache. She wants to tell her off, to fight and scream—but instead she just turns away, refusing to even look at them.

August’s hand cups her chin as he forces her to meet his eyes, eyes that once held promises of affection and loyalty now filled with something so dark and consuming.

His fingers dig into her soft skin. “I need you to look perfect, little dove. All stitched up and pretty.” His thumb trails along her chapped bottom lip. “Gabriel,” he calls, not even glancing back at the other man, “Tend to that. Tonight’s a big night, after all. Lots to prepare for.”

There goes that trepidation again. Her mouth twitches, half-ready to break her silence and demand to know just what the hell he’s talking about. But she’s already committed to keeping quiet.

Gabriel lingers behind them, shifting uncomfortably, the first aid kit clutched tight in his hand.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there as usual, eyes flicking from Paloma to his partners, some part of him clearly unsettled yet too cowardly to intervene.

He’s her best shot of getting out of here, she just knows it.

“‘S’okay, you ain’t gotta talk,” August’s coos. “I actually prefer you like this—makes things a hell of a lot easier. The others…” He snorts, shaking his head.

How many other unfortunate women had been dragged down here, suffering at his hands?

“Too squirmy, too squeamish—like fuckin’ pigs.” His laughter is mirthless and Sloane joins in with loud, exaggerated snorts that mimic a pig’s squeal. The sound claws at Paloma’s ears.

There’s this twisted admiration in his stare as he studies her. “That’s why I knew I needed to have you. No one else on this planet holds a candle to the magic you have, Paloma. You should stop bein’ so scared and embrace it.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a whisper.

His hand snakes down from her jaw, tracing her neck, lingering in an unsettling crawl between her breasts before settling at her hip.

His fingers dig in, and she flinches, her body stiffening in revulsion. He smirks at her reaction, savoring her discomfort like a fine wine.

“I’ll be back to check on you later, alright?” His tone is falsely tender. "Gotta make sure everythin’ is perfect. Can’t afford any fuck ups now—I’ve been way too patient for this."

He steps back at last, allowing Gabriel to shuffle forward with the kit in hand.

With a jerk of his chin, August motions for Sloane to follow him. She blows Paloma a mocking kiss and winks with a saccharine sweetness that really piles on the hatred that burns a little hotter for her specifically.

The heavy cellar door slams shut, casting them back into dim silence as the first pale light of dawn begins to creep through the basement windows.

Paloma’s heart pounds as their shadows disappear, leaving her helpless in the creeping morning light.

“What are you goin’ to do to me?” Her voice is hoarse, each word scraping her dry throat like sandpaper, but she can’t keep quiet now that they’re alone.

Gabriel wordlessly drags over a stool, placing the first-aid kit on top. He opens it, sorting through supplies as though she isn’t even there.

Paloma yanks at her restraints, the old pipe groaning in protest. “Fuckin’ say somethin’,” she snaps, anger edging her desperation. “It’s the least you could do—just… tell me.” She hates the pleading tone that slips through, the last thread of her control unraveling as she imagines what fate awaits her.

His gloved hands move to clean her wound, and she clenches her jaw against the sting, glaring at him as if she could force him to talk through sheer will. He’s careful and practiced, clearly having done this before.

“The Crimson Rite,” he mutters, brows furrowing as he concentrates, his voice a barely audible murmur. “It’s where the conception will happen… on the altar of incarnation.”

Paloma’s heart stumbles, her mind racing to piece together the fragments. “What the fuck are you even sayin’?” Her voice wavers, but there’s no denying the chill in her spine.

She knows what those words mean on their own, but together, they paint a picture she’d rather not face—the harrowing reality of how August truly plans on using her.

“August’ll explain,” he replies, brushing her off with the indifference of a man following orders. “He’s better at that shit than I am. I just do what he asks and stay outta the way.”

“Like a fuckin’ coward,” she spits.

The needle pauses, its sharp tip hovering an inch from her skin, and he raises his eyes. “You get all lippy with me, but keep your mouth shut around them? What, I ain’t intimidatin’ enough for you?”

She holds his gaze, defiance simmering behind the exhaustion in her stare. “Nothing about you’s intimidatin’ enough to keep me from tellin’ you exactly what I think.”

His lips twist downward, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he resumes stitching, each tug at her skin rougher than the last.

“At church that day, you were warnin’ me, weren’t you?” Her voice is barely a whisper, the memory of that awkward conversation rattling in her mind. “S’not too late, Gabe. You can still help me outta this… We both can be outta here ‘fore the sun comes up.”

There’s a lapse, just for a second, in his eyes—something she wants to believe is regret, a part of him she hopes she can reach.

The sliver of optimism she’s mustered might awaken that dormant part of him buried under layers of August’s bullshit and the bitterness life has forced him to swallow.

But he shakes his head slowly, avoiding her gaze as he finishes stitching her wound, his hands deft. “You don’t get it. Don’t matter if I do the right thing. He’d find us—he always does.” He sprays her wound with a numbing mist then covers it with a small gauze.

“He wouldn’t find us,” she insists, her voice fraying. “Daddy would protect us. He’d make sure we’re safe.”

He lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah? He promise you that or somethin’? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, you don’t look all that safe.”

A bitter, frustrated cry escapes her as he begins to pack up his kit, her pleas bouncing off him like stones against steel.

“Please, Gabe, don’t leave me down here alone,” she chokes out, and the words twist something deep inside her, pulling her further into a desperation she’s been trying to keep at bay.

“Breakfast’ll be down in a few hours,” he mutters, almost as if talking to himself, keeping his voice low and detached. “Probably get you a shower at sundown so you ain’t all sweaty and grimy. Needs you all fuckin’ pristine.” The last words slip out like a hiss, a disgusted edge in his tone. “S’gonna be a long day for you down here. Scream all you want; ain’t nobody around worth a damn to hear it. You got a better shot at rubbin’ the skin off your wrists than gettin’ out of that rope.”

Paloma snaps, her control breaking in a flood of panic and fury as she yanks at her restraint, her wrists burning as she curses him, calling him every name her mind can summon.

The words pour out in a desperate torrent, trying to cut him, to provoke something human out of him, anything.

But he stays silent, barely flinching, his face a mask as he gathers his things, turning his back on her without a word.

When the cellar door finally slams shut, it echoes through the basement, and her last shreds of resolve crumble as she sinks into sobs.

The thoughts come in fragments, jagged and bitter, cutting her deeper than any wound.

The way things were left with her father—how they’d argued and he looked at her with that final, dismissive silence, like she’d become a stranger for daring to chase her own life beyond their town.

The love that took root so unexpectedly, so completely with Javier. He came into her life at the perfect time, pouring a rare, tender kind of intimacy into her soul; the kind that made her feel seen for the first time in her life.

He was a good man who’d endured his own share of hardships —and she let their last conversation end in anger and frustration. She’s just like her father.

Perhaps if she had told him the full truth about how she came across her mother’s past, she wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

This mess—it’s her inheritance. Not a blessing like August wants her to believe, but a curse Calmana left behind, the forced sins of her mother she didn’t choose but can’t escape.

Her suicide is starting to make more sense.

It all makes her feel like a lamb at slaughter, her life never really hers, and now her blood and body are an offering to feed whatever he believes she’s meant to bring to life.

The promise of an explanation later on hangs over her like a guillotine. Does she even want to know? Will it make a difference?

She got herself kidnapped by trusting them all, falling for August’s romantic words and impressive knowledge. All of his lies. She’d thought she was smart enough to see through him, to keep a grip on her own heart, and instead, she’d unknowingly let him manipulate her.

Sloane was right—she is the helpless damsel she always denied being, someone who hadn’t fought hard enough to save herself.

Paloma has to believe she’s got people searching for her, that they’re smart enough, relentless enough to find her before night falls. She has to cling to that hope, however fragile, because right now it’s all she has.

Her cries fill the empty space around her until exhaustion claims her in silence.

The basement is her prison as the sun traces its lazy arc above.

The day drags on in a haze of stale air and the natural sounds of bugs chittering about. On occasion, she’ll hear people walk by or see their shadows through the small windows.

She's trapped here, the only visits marking the hours coming when Gabriel brings a bucket for her to relieve herself—like she’s some kind of animal—or sets down a tray of food she refuses to touch.

“You need to eat,” he says, setting the tray with her dinner on the floor. His hands working on cutting the thick rope binding her wrists, each tug and scrape freeing her a fraction at a time.

“What’s the point? M’gonna die anyway,” she mutters, exhausted but still pissed. “Won’t matter if I’ve got a full stomach or not.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not goin’ to die, Paloma. You’re too important to all this. How haven’t you realized that yet?”

“Oh, forgive me if I haven’t picked up on all your twisted bullshit,” she snaps. “You all speak in fuckin’ tongues and riddles. No one’s told me a damn thing that makes any sense.”

At last, the final fiber of rope snaps, and the weight drops from her wrists. She lets out a low, relieved sigh as her arms fall to her sides, stiff from the hours of suspension.

The ache in her shoulders is intense, and her wrists are lined with red from the coarse bondage.

“Don’t try anythin’ stupid,” he warns, his voice low. “They might not kill ya but they’ll hurt you in ways that’ll make you wish you were dead.”

She doesn’t doubt it, so she reins in her impulses and instead glances at the food, the bitterness slowly giving way to resignation.

If the chance to escape comes, she’ll need her strength. She takes the cup, drinking greedily, barely noticing the water spilling down her chin—it’s just a relief to feel the dryness ease, something grounding in a nightmare that feels endless.

The meal tastes dull, but she swallows it down anyway, each bite a fight to hold onto her sense of self, to stay sharp.

Gabriel watches her with that quiet, unreadable expression.

“I tried leavin’ years ago, when August first started buildin’ the group.” He looks down, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “But he caught me at the train station. Gave me the ass-beatin’ of my life. Locked me up in a shed in the middle of the woods for days, left me there until I learned my lesson. I swear, I lost every bit of myself in that dark place.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “After that, I never thought ‘bout leavin’ again... not until he got his sights set on you.”

Paloma’s chewing slows, her eyes flitting over to him, reading the conflict etched in his expression.

For August to treat Gabriel, his so-called “brother,” with such brutality to keep him in line... it makes all too much sense now, why he is August’s silent shadow, obeying every command.

“His obsession with you is different. Everythin’ suddenly became different. He has this way of makin’ you submit to him that gets me wonderin’ if all this Eurynomos shit is actually real.”

The twisted loyalty, the deep-seated fear that’s tangled around them like shackles, intertwined with stories of divinity.

She’s barely scratched the surface of what August is capable of.

“That’s terrible,” she whispers, sympathetic to what he’s been through. “I’m sorry... ‘n I get why you’re scared, but there’s two of us now. We could make a run for it, slip away while we have the chance.”

Her food is forgotten as Paloma edges closer, her gaze steady and imploring. For a moment, he genuinely considers their escape.

But the heavy, thunderous creak of the cellar doors breaks through the moment, both of them jerking apart.

She scrambles backward until her back presses against the cold, damp wall, her heartbeat racing as Gabriel stands abruptly from his stool, his face hardening again.

It’s only August this time, his usual shadow—Sloane with her biting sneers—thankfully absent.

He strides down with a bag in one hand and shower supplies in the other, eyeing her like she’s some prized possession he’s been itching to inspect.

“Unrestrained, ate her dinner, and didn’t even try to run? My, my. Little dove, you’re such a good girl.” He passes the items to Gabriel as he steps closer, and she hates the way she’s wedged in a corner, wishing she could melt into the wall or skitter away like a mouse.

He crouches, gently moving the gauze out of the way, his sharp gaze examining the stitches worked into her head wound. “S’lookin’ better already. Now, let’s get you a shower. I can smell you from here, and, sweetheart, it’s not exactly appealin’.”

“Fuck you.”

He smirks, the cruel curve of his lips almost congratulatory. “There she is. Glad to see that fire hasn’t died just yet, my love.”

With a vice-like grip, his hand latches onto her arm, dragging her up to her feet and across the basement to a sad excuse for a shower—no curtain, nothing remotely resembling privacy, just exposed plumbing and mildewed tile. He shoves her into the cramped space, gesturing at her with a command that chills her: “Strip.”

Her stomach tightens, and she squares her jaw. “Turn around.”

A laugh bursts from him, sharp and mocking. “You think you’re in any position to make demands? You may be special, darlin’, but that don’t mean you’re runnin’ shit. Now strip, or I’ll tie you up and rip that little outfit off myself.”

She grits her teeth, fists clenched. “No.”

His smile vanishes, replaced by a darker, crueler expression.

In a flash, his hand is around her throat, shoving her harshly against the slimy tile, the back of her head meeting the hard surface making her cry out in pain.

Her breath snags as his grip tightens around her neck, the cool press of a switchblade grazing the scar on her hip, making her pulse hammer in her ears. “Don’t push me,” he growls, the blade’s edge nicking her skin just enough to sting. He knows exactly where she’s sensitive, and he revels in her flinch. “I’ve told you—I don’t like hurtin’ you, but I will if I have to. Strip. Now.”

He releases her, the air rushing back into her lungs, making her cough.

Her hands tremble as she peels away her clothes, starting with the long, flowing skirt that puddles around her ankles, leaving her in just her underwear and camisole.

August’s eyes rake over her, and his silent demand pulls at her last nerve.

She swallows back her tears, fingers shaking as she slides the straps off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor and then stepping out of her underwear, kicking the pile aside.

Now entirely naked, her arms wrap protectively around herself to shield what she can. She looks away, the sting of indignity making her skin crawl, willing herself not to cry.

August steps forward, adjusting the shower’s dial, and the pipes clank and groan as water finally bursts out of the rusted shower head, icy at first. She shivers, her teeth clattering, and only once the water turns warm does the chill ease up.

A snap of his fingers brings Gabriel closer, setting the shower supplies within reach. August then places them at her feet, his mocking gaze never leaving her as he drags a worn wooden chair up, seating himself like a perverse audience settling in for a show.

Paloma doesn’t move, clinging harder to her body, her nails digging into her own skin, praying he’ll lose interest and turn away. But he just smirks. “Don’t be shy, P. Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” His tongue drags over his lips, blue eyes glittering darkly, drinking in her discomfort.

She would rather die where she stands than have him touch her, lingering his hands over her body like a wolf savoring his meal. Slowly, reluctantly, her arms fall to her sides, shoulders curling inward, as she begins to wash herself.

The hot tears mix with the water streaming down her cheeks, each drop hiding the sobs she’s swallowing.

August’s stare trails over her figure, his smirk deepening every time she flinches under the weight of it.

He doesn’t hide his hunger, watching her every movement—the rise and fall of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the sway of her shoulders as she soaps herself in silence.

Gabriel’s eyes stay firmly on his boots, shame evident in his posture.

Finally, she shuts off the water, chest heaving as she swallows down the humiliation, covering herself again and feeling his satisfaction lingering in the room like a toxic cloud.

A towel lands at her feet, and she grabs it, pulling it around her trembling frame, feeling like her skin might crawl right off her bones.

“Got this dress made just for you,” August says casually, standing then pulling out a white dress and red flats from a worn bag. He tosses them onto the chair he’d just been sitting in, not making any effort to move or look away, and she swallows back the lump in her throat.

She’s barely holding herself together, her fingers fumbling with the towel as she dries off, eyes darting between the two men.

One won’t meet her gaze, too timorous, and the other stares at her with lecherous eyes.

She slips on the dress, it’s something she would’ve picked for herself under different circumstances; calf-length, delicate ladder lace along the trim, cap sleeves, and three charmeuse red ribbons that match the shoes.

But the beauty of it feels like a cruel mockery against the ugliness of this moment.

“You look so beautiful,” August purrs, “Get a good look at yourself.”

She’s forced in front of an antique mirror, the glass warped and cracked, but she can still make out her reflection.

The dark circles beneath her eyes, bruised skin, the way her hair clings to her damp skin, the faded pallor of her face against her outfit—she looks like a ghost.

His hand slides to her shoulder, pushing her hair aside as he leans in, trailing his nose against her skin and inhaling deeply. “You smell like summertime.” He presses his lips to her neck, and bile rises in her throat.

Then, he pulls back, her mother’s cross pendant in hand, fastening it around her neck with a satisfied smile.

Her heart clenches once she sees it. She’d left that at Javier’s, tucked away safely with all the other things she moved out of her childhood home in preparation for their big trip.

The thought of August being in his space, doing God knows what, gets her alarmed. “What did you do to him?”

August looks momentarily confused by her query, but then his smirk grows as he eyes the pendent and sees that look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your precious narc. He ain’t been home all day. He’s out there, sniffin’ around for you like a lost dog. Thought about killin’ him, but… I think he’d suffer more thinkin’ he failed you. Just another life he couldn’t save, huh?”

The words press against those bruising, sore spots on her heart. She scowls, throwing back as much defiance as she can muster. “You wouldn’t get close enough to try.” Her voice trembles, but she knows Javier and what he’s capable of.

He just shrugs, the malicious glint in his eyes unwavering. “Maybe not. But Sloane?” He grins, knowing how even mentioning her gets under Paloma’s skin. “Now, I think she could.”

He doesn’t give her time to respond, moving to bind her hands again, this time in smooth silk restraints that feel uncharacteristically gentle against her wrists.

Time moves in slow motion, she becomes unresponsive, like a melancholic statue, as he brushes her hair, fussing over her appearance as if she were some doll, changing the gauze over her stitches.

Her hope of getting out of this has diminished. Gabriel won’t help her and August has run the two men competent enough to figure this out in circles, so tangled up in deceit to find her.

The evening melts into night, shadows deepening when he finally leaves, just to return moments later with a steaming cup of tea that smells rancid and earthy, like decay.

“Drink up.”

She shakes her head, refusing it, but he pries her mouth open, forcing her to swallow the scalding liquid. It’s bitter and burns her throat, her tongue singed as she swallows unwillingly.

“See? Wasn’t so bad,” he taunts her, wiping away some of the remnants that spilled from the corner of her mouth.

The effect is immediate; her mind hazes, thoughts swirling, until her body feels sluggish, as if it is no longer tethered to her.

Just as her vision starts to fade, a red, body-length veil is draped over her, the fabric casting her world into blood-hued darkness.

“I need to see it again.”

Javier pinches the bridge of his nose at Romeo’s request, fingers then pressing hard against his closed eyes as the footage gets rewound.

It’s the only evidence they have—a single security camera capturing what transpired. The grainy video shows her crossing the street, pausing, and then August and his accomplices stepping into view. She runs, disappearing off-camera for what feels like a lifetime, before being dragged back and shoved into the bed of the truck.

Each time Javier watches, another shard of him breaks away.

Romeo shifts beside him, watching the screen with unrelenting focus. He’s insistent, searching for anything, some small clue to pinpoint where they went.

Javier, though, is at his limit, fighting the urge to hurl the screen across the room.

“Romeo,” he begins, a little strained, “we’re not going to find anything new here.”

“We missed shit before. Can’t afford to miss anythin’ now.”

They’d spent the whole damn day combing through the trio’s hometown, hoping for any piece of intel, some breadcrumb that would lead them to the group’s hideout.

The search had been maddeningly fruitless. Fayette’s local authorities helped spread the word, but there was nothing, no tracks, no whispers, no real leads to follow.

Every registered address tied to the three was a dead end. Their only childhood homes, a trailer park, had burned down over a decade ago, leaving no trace, no history to sift through.

Everyone close to them—parents, guardians—were either dead, in prison, or admitted. The few family members with any sense had cut ties long ago.

“They were hellraisers,” the retired sheriff had muttered. That’s all the town could say, the simple acknowledgment that the trio had always left destruction in their wake.

The only useful piece of information they dug up was that August had left his job at a local grocery store to work for some woman, an outsider no one really knew.

She’d shown up, taken August with her, and he’d returned a few years later with a more hardened resolve, recruiting Sloane and Gabriel.

After torching some local acreage and serving time for arson, they’d vanished from Fayette until the recent spree of murders started.

“He’s been planning this for a long time, Romeo. They knew how to hide; they’ve done this before.” Javier mutters, frustration simmering in his tone.

They’d tried running a partial plate of the truck, only to come up short once again.

Javier moves near the blinds, unable to keep watching her kidnapping, glimpsing the sea of people that make up their search parties gathered in their too small department.

The faces blur together, civilians and first responders alike, all waiting for direction.

“It’s probably best if you go to the hospital and get Harper’s statement. She’s cleared to talk, right?”

Romeo takes a beat longer to respond, clearly grappling with his own anguish. “Yeah. Got the official call ‘bout ten minutes ago.”

“If anyone’s got something to give us that can break this open, it’s her.”

The room is quiet except for the low murmur of voices spilling in. The tape finally ends and Romeo’s gaze falls to the corner of his desk, where a lone photo of Paloma sits; she’s grinning with his cowboy hat perched high on her head, radiating joy.

He stares at it like he’s trying to draw strength from that moment, then he slowly picks it up, pressing his lips together in thought, handing it over to Javier.

“Here. This is the one I used for the flyers.”

Javier swallows hard, taking it, his thumb grazing over the image, his own heart sinking. This is the Paloma he can’t let slip through his fingers, the one who belongs right here, laughing and safe. Not wherever she was now.

Romeo’s tone holds firm determination. “Do what you gotta do. For her. You understand me?”

Javier just nods, no words left to offer in the face of everything unsaid.

The sheriff lets out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that speaks of too many hours awake, too many close calls, too many second chances lost to bad luck or timing or whatever fate is left to them.

He grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulders, steeling his expression as he leaves the office, moving through the throng that instantly swells around him.

They close in with questions, worry, and hope—all of it colliding in one tense space.

Seeing them converge on Romeo, Javier takes a steadying breath and steps out right behind him, his presence commanding even in his silence.

He straightens, letting the authority in his stance speak for him, his gaze hard as he begins relaying their plan with swift, unyielding precision.

The world tilts and sways as Paloma returns to half-consciousness, vision still muddled from the drugged tea that has her head feeling like it’s filled with lead and limbs sluggish.

She’s seated upright in an ornate, over-decorated chair with her hands still bound in front of her. She tries to blink away the fog clouding her mind, but the red veil over her face continues to shroud her vision.

Her stitched wound throbs faintly, then suddenly, she’s being lifted and carried by four indistinct figures.

The swaying motion makes her sick, but she’s too weak to cry out, her voice nothing more than a ghost lodged in her throat.

She starts to feel the dampness of the humid Texas night pressing into her skin, the scent of flowers floating in the air, sickly sweet as it mixes with the distant smell of incense.

She’s paraded down a candlelit path where kneeling figures line the walkway, bowing in silent reverence. The sound of murmuring voices hums around her like a distant, dreadful lullaby.

Finally, the procession stops, and her chair is lowered to the ground.

Her surroundings feel unreal, like a fever dream she’s trapped inside. A dark shadow moves in front of her, reaching to pull her to her feet. She tries to make out their face, but it’s just a dark, hollow blur.

Her legs tremble as she takes a few shaky steps, guided by an iron grip that steers her from the soft earth to a hard surface. Somewhere to her right, she hears a voice—August's—so sharp that it almost makes her ears bleed.

“We have to capture this moment.”

Paloma’s body is positioned, hands adjusting her like she’s an ornament rather than a person. She can barely keep her knees from buckling, her body swaying as they try to hold her up.

Her mind is a mess, every thought tangled, every movement slow, as if she’s moving underwater.

She falls, just as she hears the flash of a camera, her legs finally giving way, but hands grip her before she hits the ground, lifting her, steadying her as her head lolls to the side.

Then, in one swift motion, the veil lifted from her face.

August stands there, close enough that she can see every cold line in his face, conforming into possessive delight.

He’s dressed to match her, red bows on his collared shirt, the same lace design on his pants.

Her skin crawls as his fingers trace the side of her face, his voice a leering purr. “My special little dove.”

He pulls her close, spinning her so that she faces their creation in her honor. The white marble gleams in the halo of the candlelight, surrounded by a sea of blood-red spider lilies, their spindly petals stretching out like claws.

Candles of every size and shape cast their shadows over the altar, illuminating the intricate carving of their emblem, miniatures and other offerings strewn about.

“All for you,” his lips brush against her ear.

The hands surrounding her are unyielding as she’s lifted and maneuvered onto the cold slab, the hard surface unforgiving beneath her back.

Her wrists are freed only to be tied again, the silk binding each one to a small stone pillar at each side.

Her ankles follow, strapped to the pillars near the end of the altar, legs bent slightly and spread, leaving her trapped and exposed.

Her breath quickens, each ragged inhale catching in her throat as the reality of her fate crashes down with brutal clarity. The red veil is drawn back over her face.

Tears blur her sight, mixing with the snot and sweat as she starts to sob, desperate cries spilling from her lips, pleas tumbling out in a desperate stream that echo out into the vastness of the field.

“Please… please, let me go. You don’t have to do this, please.” Her words come out strangled and slurred but she’s ignored. She jerks against her restraints, each movement growing weaker as the drug saps her strength.

August stands before his followers, his voice low yet electrifying, every declaration steeped in reverence and simmering triumph.

“For centuries, we have waited in the shadows, prayed in whispers, bound by oaths that our forebears swore. Those before us dreamed of this moment, yet they were weak, too fearful to claim what was rightfully theirs. We will not repeat their mistakes. The bloodline of the first, the birthing bloodline, flows through her veins, and she is ours. Eurynomos will have a body made of flesh and bone, a place in this realm, because of us.”

Paloma shakes her head side to side, desperate to block out August’s devious words. Just as a surge of strength flares within her, sharp fingers dig into her shoulders from behind, pressing her back down, anchoring her in place.

Through the haze of drowsiness, her blurred vision lands on Sloane, looming over her with a short, black veil shrouding her face. Beneath it, Paloma can make out an expression as evil as it is watchful.

“No more dreams. No more consuming or offering flesh that rots before dawn. Our devotion, our patience, has led us here. We are the last of our kind—the ones who bring forth the new age. Now is the time for fulfillment. Now is the time to step into the eternal night and bring our deity home.”

His gaze sweeps over the bowed heads, the flicker of candlelight dancing in his eyes as his words coil around them like a vow.

Sloane relinquishes her hold, seemingly fading away.

He approaches her slowly, each step deliberate, his hand drifting up the length of her body. His fingers come to rest on her cheek, stroking gently, almost reverently.

August leans in, his nose brushing against hers, and without a word, he presses his lips to hers, a slow, possessive kiss over the sheer material of the veil.

She wants to pull away, to resist, but she’s trapped within herself, her will slipping as though he’s holding the reins to her very soul.

When he pulls away, his voice lowers to a rhythmic timbre, the words twisting together in an incantation she can’t understand.

Each syllable makes her sink further into delusion, the compromising position heightening her vulnerability.

The weight of her own helplessness crushes her as she lies there.

Suddenly, the speaking stops. An unnatural silence blankets the moment, thieving sound until it’s just her shaky, pitiful cries. Even the cicadas quit their insistent chirping.

Paloma blinks, barely able to see through the veil, but she watches August step back until his figure is swallowed by the darkness beyond the altar.

She shivers as a chill wind flows over her body, extinguishing the flames around her and plunging her into the night, save for the heavy, luminous moon hanging full and merciless above.

Two glowing eyes flicker into view at the far end of the clearing. They hover, eerie and inhuman, watching her with a predatory patience.

A twig snaps in the shadows. Her breath catches. Another snap, closer this time.

Blood rushes in her ears, but above the pounding, she hears something else—labored breaths, thick and wet, the sound too guttural to be human.

Her body locks up and quivers as a shadow casts up to the very heavens, emerging from the backdrop of trees, its form towering and monstrous. It seems to stretch endlessly, merging with the dark sky above, as if it could reach out and seize the lunar sphere.

Paloma tries to scream, but her body is frozen, paralyzed in a state of unholy dread.

Her eyes widen, tears leaking silently, her throat closing tight as the figure moves forward.

The dark, hulking mass leans over her, and she feels something press down on her belly, then sharp claws caress her bare legs, creeping upwards, scratching at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

Her chest tightens as if she’s having a heart attack, fright coursing through her like poison. She can’t breathe, feeling herself teeter on the edge of consciousness.

Black spots swallow her field of view as her eyes roll to the back of her head, and in that instant, she’s slipping away, her mind yanking her away from this horror, casting her into the darkness of her own making as she loses herself, the terror too great to bear.

#pedro pascal #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x ofc #javier pena x ofc #narcos fanfiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #feels wrong tagging this as smut so i won't!

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munson-blurbs · 4 months ago

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@corrodedcoffinfest Day 15: Let's Talk About That

Word Count: 877/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: mention of vomiting and getting sick (not described), stage fright, takes place in 2024, older Corroded Coffin, loosely based on Joseph Quinn's Tonight Show experience/Tags: Eddie Munson, Jeff, Grant, Gareth, talk show, flashbacks

Divider credit to @silkholland

“Our next guests need no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon says from where he sits at his desk. “They’ve been rocking the heavy metal scene since the ‘80s, and their newest album comes out this Friday. Please welcome—Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie, Grant, Jeff, and Gareth make their way from behind the blue curtain, giving the cheering audience a polite wave. Nerves flutter in Eddie’s stomach as he takes a seat on the spot closest to the host. Talk shows have never been his strong suit; he’s not exactly known for his smooth lines. He much prefers songwriting, where he can edit and erase until each lyric is perfected.

“Great to see you guys,” Jimmy says. “This is a busy time for you, isn’t it?”

Eddie nods, scratching at the gray stubble on his jaw. “Yeah, so, our tenth album drops on Friday, and tickets for our tour go on sale next week.”

The crowd cheers again, only quieting down as Jimmy asks the guys more questions about their upcoming shows and the creative process behind this album.

“We’re a lot older than we were when we started out,” Grant jokes, “so there’s more stretching involved.”

“Yeah, now we warm up our vocal cords and our quads,” Jeff chimes in.

Their banter earns a laugh from the audience, as well as one of Jimmy’s signature over-the-top cackles.

Okay, Eddie thinks. This is good. This is fine. We’re getting through this.

“Speaking of your younger years,” Jimmy says, “my producers found a clip from your first-ever Tonight Show appearance, way back in 1989.”

Oh, no. No.

The host looks directly at Eddie as he grins and says, “let’s have a look.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and hopes it’s all a bad dream. To his dismay, the clip is rolling when he dares to open his eyes again.

A screen displays the guys sitting there, 35 years younger than they are now, and listening intently as Johnny Carson asks them questions. Well, three of them were listening—Eddie was as white as a sheet, sweating bullets and trying not to hurl.

“Now, Eddie, I understand that you wrote most of the songs on this record.” Johnny leans in, forearm on his desk. “Was there something—or someone—who inspired you?”

“Well, um, th-there’s my uncle. He’s, y’know, always s-supported me.” Eddie plays with the frayed tear in his jeans. Sweat drips down his temples and pools at his collarbones. “And then some of the, um, angrier stuff is about, um, m-my dad, and, like, assholes at school—shit, can I say ‘assholes’? Oh, fuck; I probably can’t say ‘shit,’ either.”

Jimmy cuts the clip and turns back to where Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are poorly stifling their laughter. Meanwhile, Eddie is hoping the ground will open up and swallow him whole.

“Let’s talk about that.” Jimmy grins. “You seemed a little nervous there.”

Eddie nods, willing the redness away from his cheeks. “Yeah, it was our first talk show, so…”

Gareth shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not what happened.” Ignoring Eddie’s scowl, he plunges ahead. “This idiot was complaining about a stomach ache all day and didn’t eat. We go out to dinner before the show and we finally convince him to eat something. Tell them what you chose, Ed.”

“I, um, decided to eat oysters,” Eddie mumbles, silently vowing to kill his drummer.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows. “Why oysters?”

“That’s what we said!” Jeff speaks up. “He’d never had them before, and he chose that moment to down, like, a pound of them.”

“He can’t even look at an oyster now without getting nauseous,” Grant adds.

Jimmy brings the focus back to a now-humiliated Eddie. “So what happened after the show?”

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugs. “Went back to the hotel room and relaxed.”

“Oh, nuh-uh.” Gareth cuts in, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Tell him what happened before that.”

Eddie has to stop himself from lunging across the couch and strangling Gareth right there. He wants to play it off as nothing, but the audience is already too invested.

Better to hear it from me, he thinks.

“Well, on the way back to the hotel, I bumped into a fan. Gorgeous young woman with a huge…heart.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, she asks for an autograph and invites me out for a drink. And I’m not gonna say no to that.”

Eddie rakes his fingers through his hair and continues. “So we go to this fancy bar, we’re sipping our drinks, and I’m about to close this deal. And then—”

“And then a waiter walks by with a tray of oysters, and Eddie just books it outta there!” Gareth nearly falls out of his seat trying to finish the story. “Like, Olympic sprinting.”

“I didn’t know he could run that fast,” Jeff muses.

Jimmy shakes his head. “You guys better hope that he doesn’t tell any of your embarrassing moments.”

Eddie perks up at this. “Actually, Jimmy, that’s not a bad idea.” He glances over at Gareth, the one who started this crusade to embarrass Eddie on national television. “Have you heard about Gareth’s Explosive Diarrhea Fiasco of 1996?”

“Eddie, you wouldn’t dare—”

“It all started when someone thought it was a good idea to participate in a chili-eating contest before we played the Indiana State Fair…”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #gareth emerson #jeff corroded coffin #grant corroded coffin

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natashasnoodle · 1 year ago

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Pigtails | Robin Buckley x Reader

Masterlist | R.B Masterlist

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Robin was mean to you in elementary school and now there's an opportunity to be friends like you once were, or perhaps possibly more.

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Robin's name felt awful on your tongue. Robin Buckley. The girl who had been a thorn in your side since you were five, the start of elementary school. She infuriated you like no other person in the world could.

During your first interaction, you were a tiny kid wanting to make friends with everyone who you came into contact with, Robin included. And you and a group of six other children had been friends for a while. You enjoyed her company, she also liked doing rough play of wrestling and rolling in the mud, making empires in the sandpit, and sprinting around as fast as you could to try and catch the other in tag. There were a few occasional sleepovers thrown in the mix as well whenever both of your parents could agree on playdate times.

Though at around the age of nine, Robin developed a sudden interest in annoying you in the most pestering ways possible. She enjoyed mocking whatever you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing you around too roughly in games, and sticking her leg out to trip you. You took it to heart and didn't want to put up with her anymore. If the girl didn't like you then she could have just said instead of trying to make your life a living hell.

It was confusing though. She would still send you crooked smiles from across the room in class when she caught your eye, so clearly she didn't hate you. But still, you didn't like feeling humiliated and belittled during recess, so as you both grew and your friendship groups separated into smaller ones, the two of you joined different ones.

Due to the nature of the tiny town of Hawkins, you remained in the same schooling system throughout your whole educational life, and still sometimes ended up in the same classes. You'd mostly learned to just ignore her, especially since you haven't properly talked to her since you were eleven, she just wasn't on your radar anymore. Occasionally you would see her gaze lingering on your form for a second too long, but she would always look away immediately if you looked back at her. It was weird. But you didn't care enough to take much notice.

---

"Can someone please put me out of my misery", you groaned and flopped forward onto your backpack that was sitting on the cafeteria table when looking at your new timetable for senior year. Economics, Physics, Chemistry, and Maths as the first half of the day back to back. That was rough. Your friends just laughed at your pain, not having the same timetable as you it was very amusing to them.

With a small shake of your head, you looked at them with a scowl, before breaking out into a smile and shaking your head more, "You're all assholes and I hope that karma kicks your asses", you huffed out, shouldering your backpack and walking away with a mock grin on your face.

Walking through the wide hallway to your first class of the day, Economics, you worked hard to avoid all of the hustle and bustle of the crowded hall. As a freshman, you were most certainly part of the hustle and bustle, but as a senior, you could not be bothered with all that shit - walking around with a resting bitch face and using your shoulder to bash people out of the way if they flew into you without a care in the world.

Eventually, your room was reached and you walked in, holding in another groan at seeing half of the class lining up across the back of the room. That could only mean one thing, a seating plan. The classroom was set up to be desks for two, and none of your friends were in your Economics class meaning that you would be seated next to someone random.

You waited patiently at the back of the class with your peers, waiting for everyone to turn up so that the teacher could do the register and then get everyone seated. There were a few latecomers, and so it took absolutely forever for the register to be taken as the teacher was very insistent that everyone who was not ill today had to be in the room before seating everyone so that he didn't have to get the chart out again if someone showed up late.

So, fifteen minutes passed of awkward silence with people looking as though they would rather be in Hell than this classroom before the teacher could finally take the register. There was no one really notable other than Robin, but she wasn't really in issue. The two of you hadn't bothered each other in years. Within minutes your name was called to seat at one of the back corner tables. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on your face, that was the absolute jackpot.

Happily seated, you began to unpack your notebook and pens, and then you felt the presence of someone sitting down next to you. You turned your face, getting ready to be polite and say hi, but then you saw it was Robin who was smiling sheepishly at you with a small blush on her cheeks. "Hey", you said rather bluntly whilst writing the date at the top of your notebook. "Hi", she replied with a chipper tone, making you frown slightly whilst writing, your friendship ended rather awkwardly and yet she sounded completely unaffected by said awkwardness.

A tight-lipped smile appeared on your face when you looked at her in response before the teacher called everyone's attention back to the front. The class went ahead with no problems thus far, the both of you just jotting notes down. Until the teacher asked for a small partner discussion of the topic for the rest of the class. Internally, you rolled your eyes. You didn't have a problem with Robin as a person, she seemed perfectly lovely to everyone with some interesting hobbies and a decent sense of humour. It's just that you didn't want her potentially being the same as when you were kids, by making you feel small, even if the chance of that was small, you had both grown up after all.

"So... do you have any thoughts first?", she hesitantly asked, sensing an awkward tension. You shook your head and looked at her, seeing that she was looking at you softly like she always did making you feel slightly bad that you were being so blunt with her. "Okay...", she again spoke hesitantly before voicing a few of her thoughts to try and prompt you to join in with the partnered discussion that you had been asked to do. Though when you still remained ever silent, occasionally nodding along with blank eyes she grimaced slightly internally. "Is there- is there a problem?".

"Huh?", you spoke for the first time in a while, and even then it was barely a word. Robin's lips quirked to the side in thought, "You've barely said a word to me, and you seem a bit- I don't know... annoyed?".

A sigh escaped your lips, only further proving Robin's suspicions about the situation. This wasn't really a topic that you would have liked to get into in class, but it wasn't as though you could dodge the question. "Look... you may think that it's petty for having a grudge from like middle school or whatever- but we were friends and then one day you just started being like, I don't know, mean? I get that it wasn't bullying or anything but you just teased me a lot and it seemed to amuse you so I guess I just don't feel all that comfortable right now...", you explained with a soft tone.

Robin's eyes widened with panic as her cheeks blushed a deep red, "Oh... oh shit. It all came off like I was being mean?". You nodded which only made her kick herself for being so stupid. "Sorry, that really wasn't my intent at all, I'm not good with complicated social stuff".

Your head tilted, "What was complicated, Rob? We were friends and then there just seemed to be a sudden switch".

She winced ever so slightly, clearly nervous about the next few words, but also wanting to clear the air with you. "Okay... you know how parents say when little boys like little girls they pull their pigtails? Which I do not condone that message by the way, but yeah in this case it was kinda... right".

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Robin had a little crush on you back when you were kids? It was kinda cute but also... she could have displayed it in a better manner, like picking you daisies on the field, not tripping you into a locker. "Do- do you still like me? Or was it just a middle school playground thing?".

Her head shook far too quickly for a natural response as she blurted out a no, causing a knowing smirk to appear on your face. "Uh huh... sure". Robin again blushed a deep red as her face scrunched up "...Would it bother you if I did?".

It took a moment to think about that, you played with the rings on your fingers to try and activate some brain cells into thinking. "I don't know. It's not really something I've ever thought of. I'm sorry". You felt bad, unrequited love was one of the worst things in the world. When she looked a bit like a kicked puppy at your confession you quickly jumped back in, placing a hand on her shoulder, "But it doesn't mean I can't start thinking about it, right? We haven't spoken properly in a while I feel like I don't know you as you are now, maybe we could I don't know... do like a trial date? If it goes well and we want to do another one it can be classed as the first one, and if not then we could be friends again. Sound okay?".

Robin's eyes lit up at you giving her a chance even after everything, "Yeah, sounds good. Sounds really good". You smiled with a smirk, "Okay, it's a date".

---

The car ride to Scoops Ahoy was rather awkward at first. It was the first time that you had hung out with each other alone outside of school for almost a decade, so conversing with each other was not natural yet. But, it was the same as any other date with people that you don't know, it's always slightly awkward until you find common ground within some small talk to branch off of.

Robin was playing with the rings on her fingers as you drove, clearly anxious that the current silence meant that the whole thing was doomed to be a car crash. This was something that she had been wanting since she was a kid, now it was here she was terrified of it being ripped away as soon as she got it.

When getting out of the car in the carpark, you sent her a reassuring smile. She smiled back as you took your steps into the mall, no one speaking. Admittedly, this probably was the longest you had been without talking on a date before. "So... what kinda hobbies are you into lately?". A cliche piece of small talk but it seemed essential so that you didn't cry from the awkwardness.

Robin seemed pleasantly surprised and gave a shy smile, "I still do music, and I like to ride my bike to different places that are quiet and just... sit. Might sound sad or whatever but-".

"No, no", you interrupted, the corners of your lips twitching up slightly, "That's not sad, It's nice. Serenity, peace. It's needed sometimes". She nodded, again pleasantly surprised, "And what about you?".

"Me? I still adore reading, and collecting tapes because I can never ever sit in silence", you chuckle slightly, Robin mirroring you. Before you knew it you arrived at Scoops and ordered your sundaes. Now that the ice was broken, there was consistent chatter, even though most of it was still small talk. So far, you'd covered the bases of your favourite foods, colours, what movies you like, what jobs you'd like to do, what you'd been up to in your teen years. But then you ventured onto existential topics and discovered that you both liked scaring yourself shitless by thinking about all the unknown.

From there conversation was like child's play. Anything and everything was discussed, and you even got onto planning which countries you wanted to visit and started discussing what you'd do if you went together. Robin mentioned how she had always wanted to go to France, and you both enthusiastically spoke about all of the tourist attractions within Paris that you'd seen in travel guides.

In terms of a date, you thought that it was going very well, considering how you had to be subtle about it because of society being an ass. But there were a few times where you made sure to brush your hand with Robin's and smiled out how flustered she seemed to get. It was nice.

As you shrugged your jacket back onto your shoulders you spotted a hiring poster on the wall and chuckled, "You should apply to work here so you can afford to take me on more dates", you teased. She laughed along with you, but then your head tilted when she seemed to look at the poster again to look at the details. "So, there'll be another date?", she asked when the two of you began heading out.

"You want one?". She nodded eagerly and you smiled gently, "Then yes, there'll be another one". You got into your car and watched as she got into the passenger seat. You were about to turn the ignition key when she grasped your hand and looked at you with sincerity, "Thank you for giving me another chance".

A grin appeared on your lips as you slowly nodded, "You deserved one, you're alright I suppose", you shrugged with a small smirk as she placed a hand on her chest with fake hurt before you both burst out laughing as you pulled out of the parking space, laughing again when you spotted a Scoops Ahoy hiring flyer stuffed into her jacket pocket.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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#robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley angst #robin x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female!reader #robin buckley x female reader #stranger things

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