#didn’t post these before so here they are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohbueckers · 2 days ago

Text

MAKE HER TAPOUT. paige bueckers

description. your competitiveness with paige runs deeper than basketball, and tonight, it’s about who gives in first—or if either of you will at all.

includes. SMUT, 18+. a lot of everything, dude.. i got carried away. just read and find out.

a/n. dedicated to everybody that asked for it! lena’s anon, @kmoneymartini request and all of the comments on that post! saw an edit that had successfully inspired one of my freaky delusions again. also combined that fic i was talking about a few days ago into this, so it’s long but worth it, trust. will probably thoroughly proof read in the morning :)

It wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself like this—pressed up against the cushions of your couch, Paige’s hands roaming like she was trying to memorize every inch of you. Her lips grazed along your neck, her breath hot against your skin, and all you could think about was how you’d barely managed to get the door shut before she’d pinned you there.

Gampel Pavilion had ran a great deal tonight. UConn showed up big time—packed to capacity, ranked matchup, the whole ordeal—and Paige had been absolutely ridiculous. Twenty-five points, nine assists, boards in clutch… She was everywhere. It shouldn’t have been your problem how good she looked doing it, either… yet somehow, it always was.

But tonight, you’d edged her out. You showed up and showed out by one point. And one assist. A fact she hadn’t let go of since the final buzzer.

“Mm.. Paige,” you tried.

And now it was time to show up in a different way—one that didn’t require a ball in your hands.

“Had to one up me tonight, didn’t you?” Paige murmured, lost in the messiness of your lips as she rambled about how sexy it was. You smiled despite yourself, trying to keep up. “Paige,” you tried again.

“Hmm?” she finally responded, her tone as innocent as a baby. She laid you on your back, moving your panties to the side, letting the wetness between your folds instantly coat the pads of her middle and index finger as she circled at your clit. It was always fast, quick-paced. The way you both liked it.

You rubbed your feet together in attempt to ground yourself. “Mmph, you bailed on the team. I.. bailed on the team. Do you know how suspicious that looks?” you mumbled against her lips, though your voice was breathless, caught between tantalizing and surrender. Your post game plans were clear—head to Ted’s with the team despite that gruesome early practice the next morning everyone would be dreading with a hangover, ride out the the high of the win, yadda, yadda, yadda… and pretend you weren’t constantly aware of the girl now pressed against you. It was easy to fake indifference in a room full of people.

That was until you realized you weren’t feeling completely up for it tonight. The booze, loud music, sticky floors of the bar. Paige was in tow, of course, taking it as an opportunity. Alone time was hard enough to get as it is, and the two of you were getting increasingly bad at keeping this quiet. You were close to shooing her off, but she did indeed deserve something after that performance. So did you.

You almost thought she’d stop, but you’d be a fool. “Eh..” Paige murmured, her hand gripping your hip tighter as she pressed you deeper into the cushions, teasing your entrance with her other, like she was trying to erase the words from your memory. It was kind of working. Her lips brushed against yours as she added, “Suspicious of what? That I’d rather be here fucking you to celebrate our win?”

Your hands shot up instinctively, shoving at her shoulders.

“Br—wha.. Ow!” Paige exclaimed, holding herself up over you, a dramatic pout pulling at her lips. She looked downright fine, chain dangling in your face, arm flexing dangerously close to it too. “Relax. Nobody’s checkin’ for us like that,” she reminds.

“Sure, and the sky is yellow.” You squinted, not bothering to go into detail about how far from the truth she was. Instead, you changed the subject, partly because you couldn’t stand the way her chain kept brushing against your neck, and partly because her presence was messing with your ability to think straight. “Figured you’d be out cold by now. You’re usually asleep within an hour after games,” you huffed.

Paige tilted her head at you, her pout morphing into a grin. “Me? That’s disrespectful.” She faked her hurt, and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not disrespectful, it’s true.”

“Don’t even play with me like that,” she challenged. “You know I don’t quit easy.”

It was your turn to grin. Uncontrollably, really. “Oh? You wanna test that theory?”

Paige was seemingly amused, running her tongue over the swell of her bottom lip. Your eyes darted there against your will, and she noticed. She always noticed. “You’re the one always tappin’ out on me.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. “Excuse me!?”

Her laugh was low, her breath fanning across your face. “You heard me,” she teased, her hand sliding a little lower on your hip, her grip tightening. “Last week, remember? Couldn’t handle it.”

Wow. Wooow.

Your eyes narrowed, your mind flashing back to last week—a quickie that happened to turn into multiple rounds. Jana and Allie’s grocery store trip had taken longer than the two of you inclined, and Paige used every minute. Fucked you right into oblivion, skills that had you begging for a break that she hadn’t been willing to give right away. You hated that she was right.

Paige smirked, and you wanted to drag it off of her face. “Just sayin’… if anybody’s tappin’ out, it ain’t me.”

Instead of scolding her some more, maybe even punishing her by not letting her have it tonight just to prove a point, you pulled her back in, hand gripping the side of her face that quickly begun tonguing you down, eyebrows furrowed in the midst of trying to keep up with you.

She adjusted her body lower, leaned into it some more. She thought you were done with the bickering.

“We’ll take turns.”

Paige blinked, clearly not following, breathing an airy, “Huh?” into your mouth.

Without slowing your pace, you grabbed her wrist and guided her hand back between your legs, her fingers grazing over your wetness for the second time. “Take turns,” you repeated. Paige pulled back a couple inches, tugging a swollen lip between her teeth as her eyes scanned your face, taking in the slight flush of your cheeks, and of course, your implication. The wheels turned, and her face softened. “Ah,” she muttered.

“You first,” you dared. And with that, you forced one of her fingers into you, scooting up on the couch. Paige froze for a split second, her lips parting as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. Felt you right. Then her expression shifted, and her lips found yours again like a missing puzzle piece, dragging down your chin and over your jaw.

It would be a long night—truly.

“What you want?” she asked you. “Two. Up.”

The blonde immediately obliged, prying your leg open wider to fall against the back of the couch as she eased another finger in, twisting them over before pumping in and out a few times. “Yes—fuck, yes.” Your eyes flutter shut, head falling back against the arm rest in pure bliss. You rut your hips up, the same motion as her curling digits.

You should’ve known better than to challenge Paige to anything, but your own pride couldn’t fucking help it. Her competitive streak ran deeper than basketball, woven into every fiber of her being. It was one of the many things you had in common. Paige loved to push your limits, to tease you until you couldn’t take it, only to yank you back and dare you to do the same to her. It wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about control, about who could outlast the other, who could take more, give more, until out came a winner.

It’s also what made the sex so good.

You dissolve completely into the feeling, Paige’s long, slender fingers fitting as perfect as always. Her head is still dipped, kisses going around your neck, sloppy and full of her love for you, trying for light nips around your skin. A hand of yours falls to her shoulder, gripping at the muscle as your mouth plummets open wider, nearly like a yawn.

You can feel her smirk against your neck, the way her teeth catch on the sensitive spot below your ear. “God,” you manage to whisper, barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing, words tumbling out in an incoherent mess, close enough to the one you make on the cushions. She was the only one that could get you absolutely soaked.

“I know, baby. Feels real good, don’t it?” Paige pushes a third finger into you easily, making you moan out from the stretch. She picks up on how your walls clench around her, gushes of your arousal coating her fingers, forming a white ring around the base.

You nod frantically, words stuck in your throat.

Paige quirks her head to the side. “That’s all I get? A nod?” she mocks, something she’s gotten increasingly good at since fucking you. “C’mon, use that pretty mouth. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your mind begins to leave you piece by piece, your determination to stay balanced pulling you back in every time. Your grinding motions become harder against her hand, moans becoming deeper by the minute, more pleasure-filled. Your stomach begun to tighten, almost like a hand slowly balling into a fist with a need to just combust and release.

“Paige,” you choke out, voice trembling. “It’s—it’s so good. You’re so—fuck.” You can’t finish the sentence, your nails digging into her shoulder.

She yanks you down, your body sinking further into her, your back forming into more of an arch. Shes giving it her all, and you’re starting to regret letting her go first. “What? Say it,” Paige coaxes as her fingers curl just right. “Tell me how good I am, baby.”

“You’re so good,” you shake your head as Paige slaps the pad of her hand against your clit, the sound entirely too pornographic for your ears. If anything, it spurred Paige on. “You know you are.”

You chew down on your bottom lip, trying your best not to scream at how good the feeling is. “Sound s’sweet praisin’ me like that. Y’gonna come all down my fingers, baby?” She moves them faster, the squelching enough to erase any no’s from your vocabulary. Her hand moves in a back and forward motion, and the more you think about it, the more the desperate need to let go becomes more evident.

“Yes,” you respond in a rush, followed by a few more of the approving word. “Right there, P,” you breathe, arm hooking around her neck to pull her closer, painted nails dragging against her cheek. You’re about to have what you think might be the best release of your life until it’s completely stripped away from you.

Shit, shit, shit.

“No.. no, no, no,” you whine, an antonym of your previous pleads as you dart your eyes open. Paige releases you from her grip, swinging a leg off the couch. You search for any hint of remorse in those eyes that’ve seemed to darken since you last looked, but there isn’t one. Bitch. She stares down at you with a bit of a mocking expression. “Please—“ you start.

You’re interrupted with the shoving of Paige’s fingers down your throat. Your eyelashes flutter back against your skin, lips wrapped tightly around the digits as you inadvertently lick your arousal clean off. With that, she pulls them back with a soft pop, admiring the glisten with a cockiness that has you weak.

“Start wit’ that.”

“Oh, my God…” Paige trailed off, whispering more to herself as she crooks her head to look down at you. New location: your bedroom. New motivation: the look on Paige’s face when she left you without an orgasm. You could play dirty, too.

You meet eyes as Paige pulls your hair away from your face, your hands resting on her thighs. Her basketball shorts were pooled at her legs underneath her boxers, and somewhere along the hurried way down the hall, she’d pulled her shirt off, the tension in her toned stomach revealed under the dim light of your table lamp.

Your tongue slowly moves between her lips, licking and lapping up her wetness just to hum at the taste. Paige is losing it—fingers threading through your hair, the pads of her fingertips pressing deeper into your scalp at every stroke. She swears the sight of your head between her thighs is enough to bring her to release.

“Fuuuuck. Keep it like that,” she orders. You comply—let her think she’s got it under control—and she does. For a moment. Her grip tightens, guiding your head against her own clit to let you know just how she wants it. “Like this?” you tease, creating a suction. You bat your eyelashes, doe eyes catching her blue hues before they’re thrown up toward the ceiling.

“Gonna—shit.. yeah, yes. Keep goin’… don’t stop, baby.” You flatten out your tongue when she begins to move your head up and down, gruff, pleasured noises leaving her mouth in curses. She spreads her legs open even further, and the more she praises you, the deeper she pushes, the faster you move.

You’re very aware of how sensitive Paige gets after an orgasm. the number of times she’s begged you to slow down, to let her breathe for just a second, only for her to claw at you moments later, dragging you back like she can’t stand the idea of stopping. It’s a delicious contradiction, one you’ve learned to take full advantage of. It’s intoxicating, too… knowing you’re the only one who can reduce her to nothing more than trembling limbs.

“So close,” Paige mutters, her voice breaking into a groan. Her control slips with every passing second, though you aren’t sure how much of it she had in the first place. “Juuuuuust like that. Eatin’ me out so good. Always do.” She lets go with a continuous nod of her head, physically biting back a series of moans that would be too loud for the walls. You continue your onslaught, licking up what you can before pulling back. Her hips lift slightly off the bed, chasing the pressure, her legs tightening around you for a moment before falling slack again.

Right now, she’s no different—still trembling, chest heaving, the faintest sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she tries to recover. Her hand is pressed to her forehead, covering her eyes like she’s embarrassed to let you see just how undone she is—her chest rising and falling rapidly, lips parted all pink and plump.

There’s a slight tremor in her breath when you shift closer. You trail your hand down her side slowly, eyes flickering up in search for any reaction. When you fingertips brush over her cunt—too lightly, really—Paige groans, her head lolling to the side as her fingers immediately go to grip weakly at your wrist. “Chill…” she trails off.

“Chill?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as you press a soft kiss to her thigh. “I thought you didn’t quit easy? You bailing already?”

She lets out a breathless laugh, prepping for a quick comeback that turns into a shaky moan when your lips move lower, attaching to her clit. Lower and lower… plunging straight into her pussy. Paige jerks, her body arching involuntarily as a sharp gasp tears from her lips. “Shit—wait—” she stammers. “You gotta let me… Let me breathe, ma—“

“Mhm-mm,” you deny, pushing her hand away and dipping your own to replace your mouth. You drill into her all slow, curling just the tips of your fingers in the same way you know drives her insane.

Her head falls back against the pillow, exposing the elegant line of her throat as she swallows. “God, you’re such a… fuckin’ problem,” she breathes, her voice breaking halfway through as you glance up at her. You love it when she goes all dumb on you. “Don’t play fair,” you think you heard.

Her legs are shaking in an attempt to take what you give her, hands searching for something to grip in a last-ditch effort to ground herself. Your thumb brushes against her clit every so often, making her squirm even further away from you. “One more for me, PB,” you coo.

“Can’t—can’t…” She drips onto the bed more and more with every pump. You’re practically milking her out, splitting her open, and just like that, her release is coming quicker this time.

“You can’t what?” you egg on, hoping this’ll do it for her. You wonder how long you’ll drag your bragging out this time.

The lewd sounds of her arousal hit your ears, and you sigh in content, Paige’s body and mind becoming total mush under your service. There’s no fight left in her—the entirety of her being is begging without saying it. You know she hates that she can’t keep it together—hates that you’re in control—but it’s the thrill of it, the way her walls clench like a plead, that makes it all worth it.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you almost think she’s going to hold out. But then, as if that last shred of pride snaps, she does what you knew she would. Paige comes, her cunt pulsating against your fingers as she yelps, twitching every few seconds. You continue to talk her through it, working her over until her voice is as hoarse as a sore throat, raspy and wrecked.

Afterward, you move up slowly, pressing gentle, teasing kisses all over her face as your hand rests comfortably on the warmth of her stomach. “Tapping out already?” you whisper playfully, brushing a finger down the curve of her neck. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Her eyes flicker open, half-lidded and heavy. But just as quickly, the storm in her eyes shifts. Before you can get another word in, Paige’s hand moves up to stroke your cheek gently, almost…lovingly? It’s enough to throw you off, make you forget about those bragging rights. She holds your face for a moment, eyes flushed with intent. Then, without warning, she pushes you back, her brows furrowing in concentration as she pushes herself up, trodding toward your closet. With what strength?

“Strip.”

And that was exactly how you ended up here. Cowgirl, legs straddled on each side of Paige as she watched you fuck yourself on her, mumbling out a million and one different terms of endearment to kept you going. There was a receiving end, one she hadn’t thought about let alone touched, and you wondered how long she’d let you go before getting herself off too.

Second round, so close to coming, and you didn’t plan on giving Paige the satisfaction of knowing you couldn’t take it anymore.

She hadn’t took her eyes off you since you started. You avoided her gaze, hands gripping her ankles as you put on her favorite show. “Look at this pussy, baby. Fuckin’ perfect, you know that?” she praised, wetting her thumb before pressing it to your clit, hard enough to make you squirm. Your hips drove against her harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, the tip of her strap bullying the deepest part of you.

“So tight—shit.” Naturally, Paige’s other hand found your breasts, kneading the left before rubbing the nipple between her fingers. You winced, throwing your head back as your chest pushed further out. “Just squeezin’ around that shit,” she emphasized, voice so low it almost went unheard. She tilted her head to the side, hands roaming around to the small of your waist as your rhythmic movements escalated into frenzied bouncing, the length molding perfectly to your slick walls, stretching you to the limit.

She’d went quiet for a moment, a safe space for your moans and whimpers, pondering. “Get up,” she’d decided.

You paused, mouth agape as your chest rose and fell in gasps. “Paige—“ you tried, having had enough of this little not letting you come thing. Still, she’d tightened her hands around your hips just to throw you off her, and you quickly realized what she wanted. She didn’t have to say it. Bend over.

You perch your ass in the air as Paige settles behind you knees pressed on either side. You look just over your shoulder as she rubs the tip of her strap between your folds, head down and focused. You attempt to buck your hips back, desperately waiting to be filled up.

Paige’s eyes shoot up, and you pout playfully. “Please?”

She began to gently slide the tip into your leaking hole all at once, bottoming out. “Greedy,” she mutters, pushing down against your upper back to get you to arch more. Deep, deep, and deeper. She doesn’t start slow, rocking her hips toward your ass relentlessly, almost without any contrition.

Your hands gripped the bed frame, knuckles white, trying to ground yourself, but the tight pull in your core, the way she stretched you—nothing could keep you steady. Every thrust felt like a reminder, and as much as you wanted to give up, your ego was too damn big. This was all your idea, after all.

How the hell do you always end up here with her?

The thought crossed your mind for only a second, but it was quickly drowned out by the next wave of pleasure that hit, making you whimper. It was impossible to think straight. Her hands on your hips pushing you deeper into the mattress, your body now moving in sync with hers as though it were second nature. She’s addicting in all the right ways.

Paige’s movements stilled for a brief moment, and before you could register what was happening, she pulled you up against her chest, wrapping one hand up under your chin firmly. You locked eyes as her thumb stroked your bottom lip, prying your mouth open. She then prepared just the right amount of saliva in her mouth before spitting precisely into yours. “Mhm.”

Her thumb snuck its way in next, spreading it all over your tongue. Her brows crinkled in attentiveness. “You good?” She was genuinely concerned despite not giving you a chance to respond before she started moving again, slower this time, sensual. The intimacy was driving you fucking crazy, you needed a seatbelt.

You responded with a thorough swallow, sticking your tongue out to show her how good you were. Paige smiled—big and unattainable before pushing you back against the mattress. “Slut,” she degraded, making you giggle.

Another deep push, another moan you couldn’t hide, and you were already on the edge. Shit, not again. The thought tried to make its way through your foggy mind while your body pushing back into hers instinctively, now fully aware of how badly you wanted to come. With every movement, Paige made sure you couldn’t escape, that you wouldn’t want to. She was keeping you close, keeping you tangled in the heat of it all.

This wasn’t about winning or losing anymore. It was about feeling every inch of her, letting her pull you apart until you couldn’t even tell where you ended and she began.

Paige tugged her lip between her teeth, ramming into you like she knew she had a point to prove. “Fucking you so dumb. Makin’ such a mess… You almost there?” You nodded, followed up with a constant of yes’s that made the tight knot in your stomach even worse, even better.

The sounds of her skin slapping against yours and your loud cries of pleasure filled the bedroom. You gripped the bedsheets in preparation, the squelching of Paige driving into your soaked pussy like music. She looked down at where your bodies connected, enjoying the little squeaks you let out every time she bumped against your cervix.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can.”

Paige took one hand from one of your thighs, using it to reach down and press her thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. Your back arched, a loud cry leaving your lips at the sensitivity that had been built over the course of the night. “Agh—Paige…” Thaaaat’s it, baby. C’mon. Come for me." And that's all it took for your orgasm to rip through you, your body shaking and Paige’s name leaving your lips like a mantra.

She pulled out, all five of her fingers speeding up and continuing their assault just to push you right over. You weren’t sure if she planned on stopping. Your body was squirming in different directions, begging and gasping for a break until your hand flattened against the comforter, tapping repeatedly in a form of complete and utter yield.

And just like that, your game was over.

Paige pried her hands off of you, letting your body collapse forward onto the mattress with no ounce of grace left. Your legs felt like jelly, and your breathing came in quick, shallow bursts as your chest heaved against the sheets. You couldn’t even lift your head to glare at her, too far gone to summon any shred of defiance.

Behind you, Paige shifted, catching her breath, but her voice was annoyingly steady when she spoke, dripping with smugness. “Ha,” she breathed out. “You tapped out. Like, literally.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets as you turned your face to the side, just enough to shoot a half-hearted glare over your shoulder. “Shut it,” you muttered.

But Paige wasn’t done. She scooted closer, her hand trailing lazily up your spine as her lips brushed your shoulder blade, voice teasing. “Nah, that was cute. You were all like, ‘Paige, I can’t…’” She mimicked—all exaggerated and mocking, before breaking into another quiet laugh.

You groaned, burying your face in the mattress, unable to hide the way the corner of your lips twitched upward despite yourself. “You’re so aggy.”

“And you’re lucky I love it when you quit.” Paige leaned down, planting a kiss to your damp skin before pulling back with a smirk you didn’t need to see to know was there. “I’mma let you have it next time, okay?”

…Next time?

#paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #wlw fanfic #wlw yearning #wlw fiction #wlw smut #paige bueckers blog #absolute filth i’m sorry

863 notes · View notes

totalswag · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I have a request if you are up for it!

Okay so how about reader and Drew are together and they have a fight before an interview with the obx cast. And reader is skipping her meals and didn’t sleep properly. During the interview she zoned out multiple times while fidgeting with her fingers. The others notice that she’s unusually quiet and are a little confused and concerned about what happened. Maddie pulls you aside when she notices that you’re hands are slightly shaking due to the lack of food and sleep and asks if everything is fine and maybe Drew hears it and is concerned. I just need some angst

fractured moments ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note super sorry this is so late! i’m catching up with my requests atm (bare with me lovies). please remember to take care of yourselves beautifuls. i hope you like this <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary getting into a heated argument with your boyfriend, drew, before an interview with your co stars. you haven’t been taking care of yourself, you co stars notice and drew is concerned.

warning(s) angst, fighting, loss of sleep, not eating enough.

Today was gonna be scattered with interviews back to back⎯a long ass day. Been up since four in the morning to get ready then drive to the studio where the rest of your co stars await.

Drew and you had a fight. The fight had left both of you hurt and frayed. Words you couldn't take back echoed in your head, leaving a terrible taste in your lips. You both shedded a few tears.

When you arrived at the studio for the Outer Banks cast interview, you put on a faint smile, hoping it would be enough. The rest of the cast was already present—Maddie, Clarcia, Chase, Madison, Rudy, and JD—chatting and laughing as usual. You attempted to join in, but the pain in your chest made it difficult to concentrate.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Maddie asked softly, putting her right arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, before sitting in the chair next to you.

"I'm good," you lie but making your voice promising to her⎯so she won't be suspicious.

The interviewer takes a seat across from you, introducing herself to everyone and preparing to ask questions.

You, on the other hand, remained quiet. Drew was all you could think about, along with the fight. Fiddling with your hands on your lap and looking around your co stars.

"Y/N, Scarlett, what do you like about your character?" the interviewer inquired passionately moving in her chair.

You slowly move your head to the side, smiling as best you can. "I would say her compassion for friends and standing up for herself, even in difficult situations," you explain cautiously.

The cast nods in unison, smiling at your response. Drew placed his right knee over his left, arms crossed over his chest, and intently listened to your words.

As the interview went on, your friends began to notice your typical laughter and outgoing self wasn't in the room. Out of everyone in the cast, you have a bunch of energy, always putting a smile on everyone's faces⎯making jokes, etc.

At the end of the interview, everyone said thank you and goodbye. Maddie's hand touched your bicep as you were getting out of the chair and guiding you to the corner.

Taking both hands, I said, "Baby, there's something going on in your thoughts. Tell me what's bothering you. We're all concerned.

"It's just⎯I haven't been eating lately, Drew and I had this fight this morning, I've been going through so much lately," you say, pausing in the middle of your sentence as you feel tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Maddie quickly hugs you, holding you tightly, rubbing your back in gentle circles, allowing you let everything out. Madison and Carlacia come over, giving you a warm hug. They tell you they're here for you and encourage you take good care of yourself.

"We love you so much, Y/N, it breaks our hearts you're feeling this way," Madison responds, "have you spoken to Drew?" Carlacia questions.

In response to Carlacia's question, you shake your head.

All a sudden, Drew's voice appears, your head quickly looking up. Your eyes soften seeing him in front of you.

"Hey, could I please speak with her?" His voice was unusually quiet as he asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Maddie nodded and gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving with Madison and Carlacia.

Drew's blue eyes searched yours as he stared at you. Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?

You said, without raising your voice above a whisper, "I didn't want to make things worse."

His face twisted. "I really regretted everything. What I said was not intended. I hate seeing you in this state."

His touch was warm and comforting as he reached for your shaking hands, causing tears to prickle your eyes. You muttered, "I didn't mean what I said either."

With one hand gently caressing gentle circles on your back and the other behind your head, Drew draws you close to his warm body. He apologized in a whisper and said, "I don't want you to treat yourself that way."

"I love you so much, baby." "To me, you are everything."

⎯⎯ my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

@runningfrom2am @chenslucy @whorelaud @drewsephrry @diqldrunks @rosezza @rafeyslamb @mymultiveres @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @yanna2coolz @stevesxwhore @minyoon23 @skywalker0809 @bxmaaa @anamiad00msday @ifwfratboychris @darkacademictrash @pwertiies @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @drewstxrky @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @disaster-rose @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @kravitzwhore @6r4cie @drewizz @rafespreciosa

522 notes · View notes

diaryofawhoretbh · 2 days ago

Text

mrs. marine's trouble. | kang dae-ho (player 388)

REQUESTED by: @ang3licbabydolly = "plssss dae-ho x f!reader smut !! 😇"

wc: 2.6k

warnings: SMUTTTT.

i really don't know what to say. this is the first ever smut i've written, i hope i did it justice. longer than what i expected it to be.

NOT proof-read!!!

the distant hum of strained whispers and restless shuffling filled the dorm, a constant reminder of the stakes you were all under. amid the sea of desperation, your eyes found kang dae-ho—player 388.

he sat with his back against a bunk post, his broad shoulders relaxed yet alert, like he was still on duty. his jawline was sharp, his expression unreadable, and his body language exuded confidence—until your gaze lingered too long.

he noticed. his composure faltered for the briefest moment, his dark eyes flicking to yours before darting away, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

you stood, curiosity and something deeper urging you toward him. “dae-ho,” you said as you stopped in front of him.

he glanced up, his lips quirking into a polite smile. “you shouldn’t sneak up on a marine,” he teased, his voice low and smooth.

“wasn’t sneaking,” you replied, matching his tone as you crouched to his level. “you just weren’t paying attention.”

his chuckle was soft, a little strained. “maybe you’re too distracting,” he said, surprising both himself and you.

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “is that so?”

he cleared his throat, visibly pulling himself back into his composed shell. “what do you need?”

“maybe i just wanted to sit here with you,” you said, tilting your head. “you mind?”

his hesitation was subtle but there. “suit yourself,” he murmured, scooting slightly to give you space beside him.

you settled in, the heat of his body radiating close. “you always so serious?” you teased gently, glancing at his sharp profile.

“it’s the marine in me,” he said with a faint smile. “serious is second nature.”

“and the blushing?” you asked, leaning in just a little.

his eyes snapped to yours, his cheeks darkening. “i don’t blush,” he said, a bit too quickly.

you grinned. “sure, you don’t.”

he huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head, and you could see his armor slipping. this wasn’t the marine talking now—this was just dae-ho, a man trying to keep himself together in impossible circumstances.

“you’re trouble, you know that?” he said, glancing sideways at you.

“i’ve been told,” you said, letting your shoulder bump his lightly.

he stiffened at the contact but didn’t pull away. emboldened, you let your hand rest on his thigh, a casual yet deliberate move.

his breath hitched. “you’re—”

“trouble,” you finished for him, leaning in just enough that your lips brushed his ear as you spoke.

his jaw tightened, and his hand reflexively covered yours, trapping it against his thigh. his grip was firm, warm, and the callouses on his palm sent a shiver through you.

“you think this is a good idea?” he asked, his voice lower now, tinged with a nervous edge.

“i think,” you said, turning your face so your lips hovered near his, “that you want this as much as i do.”

his dark eyes locked with yours, searching your face as though testing your resolve. his confidence as a marine battled with his shyness in this unfamiliar kind of vulnerability.

then, he closed the distance.

the kiss was slow at first, tentative, his lips warm and firm against yours. but when you sighed into it, his hesitation melted. his free hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer with a controlled strength that made your pulse race.

“you’re gonna get me in trouble,” he murmured against your lips, though his grip on you only tightened.

“you’re already in trouble,” you whispered back, threading your fingers through his short, dark hair.

he chuckled, a soft, breathy sound that sent warmth pooling in your pussy. his shyness lingered in the way he paused between kisses, as though still wrapping his head around the situation, but his touches were confident, deliberate.

his hand starts trailing from your waist to my ass, squeezing it as you let out a soft moan. as much as you are enjoying this, you needed more privacy. your voyuerism kink was begging you to let him fuck you right there and then, but something held you back.

"w-we should go to the bathroom." you whisper to him. without another word, he gets up, dragging you by the hand to the door where a guard stood.

"we need to use the bathroom." dae-ho told the guard.

"it's late, get back to your bunks. use it in the morning." the guard informed us.

"i swear to God, if you don't let us use the bathrooms right now! i'm a woman for fucks sake, how fucking dare you! my rights as a woman are being absolutely ignored, it's a medical emergen-"

the guard hastily opened the door towards the bathroom, not saying another word. "...thank you... yea thank you, as you should, gosh!" you finished, as you quickly got in front of dae-ho and dragged him into the women's bathroom.

as soon as we got inside, you turned around and smashed your lips onto him. he quickly pushed you into an empty stall and closed the door behind you. he pinned you against the wall and began to kiss you back just as eagerly as you were. his hands started to roam over your body as his kisses started to move to your neck.

as he kissed your neck, he started to bite and nibble at your skin, as hands wandered all over your body, wanting to touch every part of you. he grabbed your ass and gave it a hard squeeze as he pressed himself up against you. you could feel him pressing against you and you let out a whine, while you could hear him let out a stifled moan into your neck. his hands moved to your waist, wanting to tug at your shirt and slide his hands under to touch your skin and those tits that he has been day-dreaming about.

his hands roamed everywhere, from your back to your ass, to your stomach, caressing every inch of you. he started to tug at the bottom of your shirt, wanting it off. you helped him, slipping off your unzipped jacket and shirt, and tossing it aside. he started to kiss his way down your body, kissing and biting your skin as he went.

as dae-ho's lips trailed down your body, his calloused hands explored every curve with a mic of reverence and hunger. he paused at your bra, fingers hesitating at the clasp. "may i?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

you nodded, breath catching as he deftly unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the ground. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your bare breasts, nipples hardening under his intense gaze. "fuck," he breathed, "you're so gorgeous."

without warning, he dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly as his hand kneaded your other breast. you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. he paused, looking up at you with a question in his eyes. "is this okay?"

"fuck, yes," you gasped, hips bucking slightly against his hand. He smirked, a flash of confidence breaking through his usual stoic but timid demeanor.

dae-ho's fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing along your lower abdomen. his touch was electric, sending shivers through your body as he slowly, torturously, inched lower. "fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his fingers finally reaching your slick folds. he ran a finger along your slit, gathering your arousal before circling your clit. you gasped, hips jerking at the sensation.

dae-ho's mouth returned to your breast, tongue laving over your nipple as his fingers worked between your legs. he slipped one finger inside you, then another, curling them to hit that spot that made you see stars. "ah, fuck, d-dae-ho," you moaned, clutching at his shoulders. "please, i need more."

he lifted his head, dark eyes meeting yours. "tell me what you want," he said, voice low and husky. "i want to hear you say it, princess"

you swallowed hard, arousal and anticipation making you bold. "i want your cock," you breathed. "i want you to fuck me until i can't remember my own name."

a groan rumbled in his chest. "fuck, you can't just say things like that," his dick was throbbing at this point. "you don't care that guard is outside the door, you want this, don't you? you're such a little slut for me. want me to fuck your brains out? i'll give you what you want."

without warning, he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold tile wall. his hands roamed your body, caressing your curves before settling on your hips. you could feel the heat of his body against your back, his breath hot on your neck. "you want my cock?" he growled, grinding his erection against your ass, "then you're gonna get it, baby."

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. the cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver. dae-ho's hand slid between your legs, fingers teasing your slick folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned, slipping two fingers inside you. he pumped them slowly, curling them to hit that spot that made your knees weak. "you like that, don't you? like feeling my fingers inside your tight little pussy?"

you moaned in response, pushing back against his hand. "please, dae-ho," you whimpered. "i need more." he chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "patience, baby. i'm gonna make you feel so good."

dae-ho's fingers continued their torturous rhythm, pumping into you at a steady pace. his thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub, adding another layer of sensation, making you moan and whine so loud. "fuck, you're so responsive," he breathed, nibbling at your earlobe. "i love hearing the sounds you make."

he scissored his fingers, stretching you as he prepared you for his cock. you could feel it, hard and hot against your ass, twitching with each noise you made. "you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he groaned, fingers twisting inside you. "to have you, all to myself. to make you mine."

the thought of belonging to dae-ho, of being claimed by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. you rocked back against his hand, seeking more friction. "please," you whimpered, "i need you. stop teasing me."

dae-ho needed no further encouragement. he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss, but quickly turned you back around and replaced his fingers with the blunt head of his cock. he rubbed it up and down your slit, coating it in your arousal before positioning it at your entrance. "ready, baby?" he asked, voice tight with restraint. at your nod, he pushed inside, filling you in one smooth thrust.

you cried out at the sensation, your back arching off the wall. he felt so big, stretching you deliciously as he buried himself to the hilt. "fuck, you're tight,"he groaned, giving you a moment to adjust. you clenched around him instinctively, earning a low curse. "fuckk, i'm gonna make you feel so good. gonna fuck this sweet little pussy till you forget everything but my name. i want you screaming my name with that pretty voice you have"

dae-ho set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours as he pounded into your tight heat. you were lost in the pleasure, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. "fuck, dae-ho," you moaned, clenching around him."you feel so good."

he groaned, the sound low and guttural. "i need you closer," he grunted, slowing his thrusts. "wrap your legs around me, baby. wanna feel all of you." he pulled out, turning you around to face him. his eyes were dark with lust, pupils blown wide. "jump," he ordered, lifting you easily. you obligied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you up effortlessly against the wall.

and then he was moving again, thrusting up into you with abandon.

the change in position allowed dae-ho to go deeper, hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips. "ahh fuck, yes!" you cried, fingers digging into his shoulders.

he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving between your lips as he continued to pound into you. you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect sync. the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. you could feel your climax approaching, your walls starting to flutter around his cock. "fuck, i'm close," you whimpered against his mouth.

"that's it, baby," dae-ho encouraged, his voice strained. "let go. wanna feel you cum on my cock." dae-ho's words sent you over the edge. your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of ecstasy coursing through your body. you cried out his name, clinging to him as you trembled and convulsed around his still-thrusting cock. "fuck yes, just like that," he grunted, burying his face in your neck as he chased his own release.

he thrust erratically, losing his rhythm as he neared the brink. with a final, powerful snap of his hips, he came hard, spilling deep inside you with a hoarse shout. you could feel each pulse of his cock, the sensation sending after-shocks through your sensitive body.

he held you close, still buried inside you, as you both struggled to catch your breath. kisses were peppered along your jawline, your neck, your shoulder... gentle, almost reverent, in the aftermath of your passion.

eventually, he lifted his head, gazing at you with a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. his softening cock slipped out of you, and he slowly lowered your shaky legs to the ground, keeping a firm grip on your waist to steady you.

"are you alright?" he asked, smoothing your damp hair back from your face. "did i hurt you?"

you shook your head, unable to suppress a blissful smile. "no," you murmured. "that was...incredible."

he huffed a soft laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. "you're incredible," he corrected, voice rough with emotion. "i've never felt anything like that before. "he kissed you then, slow and deep, putting all his feelings into the embrace. when he finally pulled away, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the tender look that graced the ex-marine's features.

"what happens now?"

you smiled softly, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "now?"you murmured. "now we get cleaned up, and go back to the bunks before someone misses us and comes looking."

dae-ho chuckled, nodding in agreement. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you all night, you're right." he pressed one more lingering kiss to your lips before reaching for your discarded clothes, handing them to you one by one. once you were both dressed, he tugged you close, resting his chin on top of your head.

"wanna sleep with me tonight?"

dae-ho studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "okay," he agreed softly. "i'd like that."

hand in hand, you snuck back to the dorm, slipping quietly into dae-ho's bunk just as the others were settling down for the night. you huddled together under the thin blanket, your bodies close but your touches chaste. this night had been intense, but for now, all you wanted was to be near him.

"good night, mr. marine."

"good night, mrs. marine's trouble."

as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn't help but smile. you weren't sure what tomorrow would bring, or where this new development would take you. but for now, you were happy. happy, and safe, and exactly where you were meant to be.

but how quickly could this all change?

#kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #dae ho #dae ho x reader #dae ho squid game #player 388 #player 388 x reader #smut #squid game s2 #squid game smut #kang ha neul #kang ha neul x reader #requested #squid game imagine #squid game season 2

392 notes · View notes

demisexual-dryad · 2 days ago

Text

Okay, as an American studying to become a botanist I’m about to fire shots in every direction. None of you are safe, not even myself, but there are things about this post that have pissed me off to the point of righteous anger.

American chestnut is functionally extinct yes, except for a few remaining colonies, however, that’s not because of most Americans, just as you, previous person, said your issues are not because of most of the British- as Americans relied on chestnuts as a cultural symbol and a food source as they taste arguably better (or so I’m told) than the European chestnuts that were exported to us carrying chestnut blight that killed our chestnuts. Those same stumps ARE STILL TRYING TO SEND OUT SUCKERS, and are STILL DYING BECAUSE OF AN INTRODUCED BLIGHT BY EUROPEAN NEGLIGENCE.

I understand you’re mad at the lack of education on our side, I am as well- the American education system FAILS at teaching botany on a MULTITUDE of ENORMOUS levels, and you and I both know that plant life is the basis of an ecosystem, but don’t you dare think that this means I’m not infuriated by the same from you- I am. I KNOW FOR A FACT that Europe is no better in its failure to find value in botanical studies, and I’m still pissed about it, but I’ve at least seen a few papers about the subject and written a few essays myself, and at least Europe isn’t the near-dead-static radio silence about botany the way America seems to be. But at least know that this is a two way street, and don’t deflect about that shortcoming when we’re both at fault.

The prairies??? That was misguided science and capitalism instilling laziness. We had rules and laws about rewilding areas post mining expeditions and construction, but those were ignored by greedy corps who figured slapping some trees on an area that didn’t have trees before would solve their problem. And the people in charge weren’t ecologists, but government officials who heard in school that trees give us oxygen and are therefore better than grass, and so with being slid a little extra cash, shrugged their shoulders about it and turned a blind eye to the issue because “well it’s just trees” and BOY, AM I MAD ABOUT THAT TOO, but being MAD, and BEING ABLE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT are two very different ball parks, babe.

Then there was climate crisis attention in the nineties, and although the intentions of the campaigns were pure-hearted, they were misleading in the idea that planting trees Willy-nilly would solve our problems, and while yes, trees are larger organisms that need more co2 to grow to max size, and therefore absorb more carbon, not all trees are created equal, and while some non-natives might absorb more CO2 or do better in certain regions, more of the people supplying and planting those invasive trees have no ability, much less a concept of even recognizing the potential for something to become invasive. Another failure of our shitty education system, but we already know it’s shit, so that’s besides the point.

The grasses and monocultures of lawns we have are a direct spawn of English colonialism. Lawns were managed by slaves and considered a sign of wealth- and non-natural ornamental landscapes were seen as a sign of knowledge and skill to tend.

American pioneers and natives didn’t give two shits about those things, and though we aren’t blameless for the slew of invasive ravaging our ecosystems, Britain is no saint in this either. Y’all have a government that fears and respects Its people and their voices; do not squander your opportunity, when here in America, trying to get through to a politician bought out by lobbyists to get off their asses and do something is clearly MUCH HARDER than you all seem to think it is because capitalism is unchecked over here.

You have the science. You have the opportunity. Fight the status quo and take a risk while you have a chance to. Right your wrongs. There’s no excuse to not. At least we make an effort and fight, even though every step forward feels like a step backwards because politicians and public figures here usually have their pockets and offices lined so thick with wads of cash they can’t seem to hear us screaming in the streets. So many organizations out here are all desperately scrounging for donations and support individually to step up where our governing bodies ran like cowardly father figures going out for milk and cigarettes and then simply ignoring the issues we’ve being screeching about like it’s not something young people are mad about on the daily. Also, you lost lynxes??? Reintroduce them. Yes you’re on an island, that doesn’t stop animals, and it hasn’t before. They will adapt so long as you let them. You can fix the damage that’s been done, all it takes is effort and time, and a willingness to take a chance to make a change.

Moreover. You ALSO EAT THOSE STOLEN CROPS.

TOMATOES. CORN. SQUASH. BEANS. TOMATILLOS.

YOU EAT THOSE TOO!

And what about the Cinnamon? The Mace? The nutmeg? The British stole those from the people of India. The tea you’ve monopolized as your own? That’s from China and Japan. You don’t even drink it right. You’re suppose to pour out the first steep according to Chinese tea practices. And they sold it for far cheaper to the British at the time. The wheat? Grains? Ethiopia, that’s from the Fertile Crescent. Your very bread is made of a stolen crop.

Your fruits? All of it, stolen. The Mediterranean originally grew mint, oregano, rosemary, olives, and cabbage.

Do you indulge in chocolate? That was stolen by your Spanish neighbors from the Aztecs and Mayans darling. Chewing gum too.

We didn’t even steal half the crops we grow, imperialism did, so don’t even start there. Many of the natives crops are viable solutions to local food, but guess what? WE DONT FREAKING USE THEM!

You wanna get mad at us for something? Get mad that we don’t use acorn and coontie flour instead of wheat. Get mad that we don’t use elderberries and American cherries in jams as much as we should. Get mad that we haven’t cultivated the pawpaw or Florida plum as much as we should. Get mad that we don’t use sumac, or Kentucky coffee. Get mad that blueberries and cranberries aren’t a main staple in our diets, and because of capitalism-caused food deserts and absurd prices. Get mad that we don’t eat local meats, but farm instead of forage when there’s so much we could be eating to cut back on our waste, but we don’t because humans are prissy and don’t want to put the effort into making things taste good by selective breeding like we did when we were nomadic and still figuring out agriculture. Get mad that we could be eating our way through our kudzu problem in the south, but we aren’t because it’s just not something we do culturally.

Get mad about the things we can be faulted for, because at least we can actually try and control those.

The moral of the story here is we should be fucking mad at the GREED OF THE FEW. At the end of the day, that’s what’s caused us the most problems isn’t it? Instead we sit here and we bicker about who’s worse, instead of making each other better. Like you said, let’s not throw stones at each other from our stupid glass houses, and burn down the people who are actually responsible and have the means to do something but instead choose to do nothing.

Actually your society is the freaks for shooting everything that moves and burning half your "nature reserves" every year so that upperclass dandies can eat leaded pheasant. North Americans are the well adjusted ones here, your country has become a desolate suburban lawn in island form

#ecology #argument #i’m mad #this made me mad #literally all of our issues are related to capitalism #but you blame the people under the boot of the regime instead #it’s not logical #no excuses #there are things we can be doing so don’t act like these not #as a global community we should be holding each other accountable #and I hope you understand that my anger is directed at the fact that you are doing the exact thing you complained about to Americans #and that this is me trying to hold you accountable #not just scream at you over the internet

98K notes · View notes

hyperfocusthusly · 3 days ago

Text

Lifelines

——-

Tommy had been staring at his phone, typing out a message, an apology, anything. He always ends up deleting it. Over and over, so when it actually rings in his hand he almost drops it. The news hits him like a train, pushes everything else to the background.

His sister is dead. Her and her husband, car accident, didn’t stand a chance.

The flight is bad, the funeral worse and then someone from social services shows up with a baby he met once when she was newborn and only really recognises from pictures. The woman hands him a 6 month old child and explains that this is what they wanted. The will stipulated that he would be their guardian in such a circumstance.

He stares at her tiny face. She stares back.

He shuts the door and wonders how anyone could think this was the right choice.

——-

He has to tell his Captain. He chooses to tell Lucy. He distinctly chooses not to tell anyone else.

——-

Babies are hard, as it turns out. There’s no room for grief with an insistent baby taking up every waking second. No rest from being relentlessly needed. No telling her she’d be better off without him.

He thinks about calling.

While he watches her crawl down his hallway after a woodlouse, pointing insistently, letting out an excited little “ah!” as the bug in question scuttles under the shoe rack. She follows it carefully, watching with an intense curiosity that makes something churn deep inside Tommy’s chest.

He thinks about calling.

The first time she gets a fever and won’t settle unless she’s upright on his chest. It’s not the first time Tommy has gone 24 hours without sleep but it feels worse. His nerves scraped raw from her distress. His hand on her back counting her breaths over and over. He thinks about calling.

But what could he possibly say?

——-

The secrecy works until it doesn’t. Until the morning that Chimney is stood in the local doctor’s car park watching Tommy, darker eyed and more scruffy, strap an 8 month old into a seat in the back of his truck. Tommy doesn’t see him, or hear Jee whisper “is that Uncle Tommy daddy? Is that his baby?”

——-

It’s how Chimney ends up stood outside of Tommy’s door one lunchtime. He isn’t home but Chimney knows he needs to wait. He knows what trying to handle a baby that age by yourself is like.

When Tommy gets home and sees who is waiting for him Chimney has to give him credit for actually pulling into the driveway rather than continuing in the opposite direction.

Tommy gets out of the car, Chimney doesn’t miss the moment he takes to collect himself before looking up to him.

“What are you doing here Howie?” He sounds ragged.

“Just checking in, two months is too long, I’m sure someone owes someone a beer.”

He goes for light hearted, trying to ease out some of the tension that has appeared in Tommy’s stance. He is hovering by the back door of his truck, fingers tucked into the door handle, endlessly thankful that she closed her eyes and fell asleep on the drive home. Something hovers in the air between them until Chimney takes a step forward.

“I saw you at the doctor’s last week.” Tommy’s brows crease slightly, then pull back as he realises what Chimney is actually telling him.

“Are you going to hide her from me forever?” Tommy looks relieved somehow, less trapped. He shakes his head and carefully takes her out of the car. Settling her into the crook of his arm and pulling her diaper bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t really drink beer too much anymore.”

“A coffee then?”

“Yeah.” He swallows nervously, tries not to let the implications of this meeting, and the conversation he knows is coming, get to him. “I could do with a coffee.”

—-

[read on A03]

[part two here]

Tagging some people who interacted with my abstract post about this (hope you enjoy!🫶🏻);

@leashybebes @beanarie @accefan-blog @big-urchin-energy @loucifersbitch @fyrehose @evansbuck-ley @sad-girl-hours23 @certifiedbisexualdisaster @theweewooshow @beckym2001 @kinardevans

And also some beloved pals;

@bidisasterevankinard @rubydaiquiri @sweaters-and-silly @apassingbird @sunnywithachanceofbi @theotherbuckley @desert--moonchild @comfortingevanbuckley @livelaughlou @epiphainie @actuallyitsellie @typicalopposite @wikiangela @bi-bi-buckleys @littlepaws9 @ohithankyou

#ahhhhh #not this silly little idea that took root #also accepting any suggestions for names #me with a megaphone: name! that! baby!#there will be more #but for all those who asked ye shall receive #single dad Tommy fic #life line #my post #my writing #bucktommy #(eventually)#tommy kinard #911 #911 fanfic #chimney han #bucktommy fanfic

249 notes · View notes

kyra45 · 2 days ago

Text

I’d like to remind people that if you think this post is a “shitty callout” need I remind you there’s a post that basically goes over it all in better detail from someone who was personally affected by it?

It’s not just like “any other callout” there’s many other posts that show what happened months ago. Actual Palestinian accounts were harassed thanks to the two blogs I’m warning about here. It’s been months and these two accounts basically swept it under the rug and acted like it never happened but it did happen and we don’t need to forget about it going into the new year. I was there when it went down. I saw everything before they deleted the posts.

The posts are long deleted so of course you don’t see them. That doesn’t mean they didn’t exist at some point. They’re still visible in the web archive and screenshots others took.

It’s a new year so here’s a start of the year reminder.

badjokesbyjeff made racist jokes and also called all Palestine gfms a scam. Additionally, the jokes are often just stolen from other places without any credit/reference to the source material. The posts this account made have been deleted, but can be found if you look around web archive. No apology has ever been given and posts resumed after some time had passed. Also harassed el-shab-hussein in the since deleted posts.

writing-prompt-s also called all Palestine gfms a scam and made several “prompts” based around the claim such as “your running a scam ring that’s been found out by scam busters” (presumably a jab at the people who bust scams?). Regardless, this account said 90s-ghost wasn’t legitimate because “anyone can backdate posts” even though there are plenty of ways to distinguish a blogs age outside of post dates. Additionally, most of the prompts are rarely original and often are just taken from other websites without proper credits. Made an ‘apology’ after deleting the posts; Deleted the apology later making the legitimacy of its claims uncertain. Even if the account is to be retired, the apology should have been left up for future reference. (Though all it really said was the admin hadn’t ran the blog in years and mods were the ones who did all that and the admin didn’t want political content on the blog.)

This is just a reminder, don’t go harassing these blogs just because of this post. Most people forgot this happened and I want people to remember it. Not every Palestine gfm is a scam; Most are ran by family members or good friends who can be trusted. You can find many posts about the process by Palestinian users or those who work to help them.

#reblog #kyra45 speaks

1K notes · View notes

butchvampireheimerdinger · 3 days ago

Text

The Great War

A/N: So this was made in response to a request but it ended up blossoming into a full 2K word fic adjacent and I had to split it into two posts! Anyways, if you enjoy sexy and occasionally soft Sevika, dramatic arguments that result in comfort, and mob-wife vibes… enjoy!

Warnings: Not smut but mentions of sex and both characters are D O W N B A D.. A lot of cussing and mentions of violence.

Pairing: Butch!Sevika X Femme!Reader who is super outgoing and forward

🂱 So the two of you’ve met briefly around town, kinda running in the same circles. You notice her right away but you don’t actually talk until she shows up at work — The Last Drop.

🂱 You’re a server and your charisma, magnetism, and punchy/blunt sort of energy makes you well suited to hospitality. You’re the bubbly outgoing type of waitress who gets their table laughing and in a good spirits with ur contagious good vibes.

🂱 You beat the other waitress to claim Sevika’s table, and it’s on.

🂱 She would get a kick out of it — your shamelessness. She really likes the forward thing, timidity makes her roll her eyes. Life’s too short for playing hard to get! Plus, she’s an adult. And a literal revolutionary who quite literally does not have the time for all that.

🂱 Before you learn each others names you endearingly and lightheartedly call her “butchy,” or something like that. She calls you sweetheart.

🂱 You’d pour her beers on the house. You’d lean over the bar counter on ur elbows, making sure ur titties look good and perky. And if it was just the two of you, she would not hide her ogling.

🂱 It’d be a bit of a game to you two. Making the other person crack, being the first to back down/get all blushy. You’d be all flirty-flirty over the bar counter, she’d pull you into her lap during her card game. It’s like how straight guys play gay chicken. Except ur actually gay so it would just be chicken.

🂱 And she’s smoking indoors, as per us. You ask if you can have a hit. She shotguns it into ur mouth and you blow it upward, once again drawing attention to your décolletage, to the girls hehe

🂱 Eventually she just asks you straight up if you wanna spend the night. Maybe you take her up on it, maybe you don’t. Either way, she’s not the fuckboy (fuckbutch?) hit it n quit it type. She’s an adult woman with emotional intelligence and communication skills goddammit and she’s gonna ask you to dinner.

🂱 Takes u to the fanciest place in the undercity, orders everything on the menu trying to flex her wallet and impress u. Whether or not u ask for it she gets you one of those weird rich people desserts where they make part of the preparation an “experience.” like they pour hot liquid over a hollow chocolate shell and it cracks open and reveals a little cake inside. Or something involving a blowtorch.

🂱 Anyways this whole time ur just rubbing ur lil high heeled foot up her pant leg under the table and twirling ur hair, touching her arm, etc. Naughty girl — she mock-scolds you telepathically with a dommy little eyebrow raise thing.

“Here? Now? I pull out all the stops to give you a magical evening and you already wanna leave and bang it out. That’s real classy, sweetheart.”

🂱 You’re both rather bold and upfront, obviously. Strong personalities, fire sign energy — which means you butt heads often. Your relationship is super intense and fiery so every day is like a soap opera, or like The Real Mob Wives of Staten Island in levels of drama.

“Why the hell didn’t you come home last night? And why did i have to find out from Vivi that she saw you cracking skulls in a fishing boat by the pier?”

“Babygirl I told you I was taking care of business. Sweetheart, uprisings don’t happen overnight, it’s all about biding time and strategically applying political pressure in Topside-”

“Jesus, Mary, and the goddamn camels you and your strategic goddamn pressure. I’ll tell you I’ve fucking had it with you and your fucking pressure. You wanna make me look like an idiot? When me and my girlfriends are sitting drinking mimosas for brunch at Jarrod's and they ask me ‘Y/N where’s that woman of yours?’ And i have to look them in the eyes and say “Clint Eastwood was unable to join us as she had a prior engagement strategically applying pressure. To the back of enforcers’ skulls. With a fucking baseball bat. Like a common thug. Mind you, I’m a classy lady all by my lonesome on a Sunday fucking morning-"

“Classy lady I’ll fucking say. You’d think I plan on growing old with Mrs. Fucking Vanderbilt, the way you want to buy ten thousand pairs of red high heels-“

“Omg babe you wanna grow old with me?”

“-that all look exactly the fucking same, by the way. ‘Burnt orange’ and ‘vermillion’ and ‘chartreuse’ or whatever the fuck — You know it’s just fucking red.

“Chartreuse is green, since you wanna be a smartass,”

“Don’t gaslight me, woman. Where do you even plan on wearing those? We live in an oversized sewer pipe. Not the magical land of Oz. I told you who i was when you met me. I told you this is what I do. And you better get used to it if you wanna keep charging my card at every boutique within a ten mile radius,”

“Or what? Gonna give me the spiel again, talk me to death about the uprising and the political elites and the our time is imminent, y/n. Gonna threaten me like you do your little fishing buddies? Gonna apply me some strategic fucking pressure?”

“That’s enough.” Sevika hissed, scary calm. She kicks the pantry door shut and whips around, pointing at you with her cigarette. “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re done, Missy.”

“Beg pardon? I’ll decide when I’m done, thank you very much. You’ve got some nerve telling me when to speak when I can’t even reach you half the time. I had to track down your little boss the other day — brought him a lovely casserole — and ask if he could pass on a message for me! ‘Excuse me Mr. Scaryman Eye of Zaun, sir, could you possibly ask Zorro if she might head home as soon as she’s done busting kneecaps? And to arrive in a clean shirt, as my parents are in town and they prefer to greet their daughter-in-law when she’s not covered in someone’s intravenous blood. Thank you kindly.’”

“You showed up at work? Wait- you talked to Silco? Babe I told you to stay the fuck away from there!”

“Please. He may be the kingpin of the city or whatever, but I make a gorgeous quiche. Trust me, babe. Once he tastes my cooking, I am henceforth immune to whatever machiavellian basement torture chamber you brutes probably use as your break room.”

🂱 Sorry guys, got a little carried away there. Point is, one minute you’re screaming at each other and dramatically slamming doors and throwing shit, the next you’re fucking on the kitchen floor like the world’s about to end. You guys basically co-authored the book on how to be an absolute nightmare of an upstairs neighbor. The entire building feels the floor shaking and no one knows if the screaming is just you guys having a little too much fun for 2pm on a Tuesday, or if they’re gonna see this on the news tomorrow.

🂱 Kidding! At the end of the day, trust and loyalty are the foundations of your relationship. You love each other wildly, deeply, and passionately.

🂱 Sevika has a strict no going to bed angry policy. If you’d gotten into it that evening you might give her the cold shoulder, curl up facing away from her in the quiet moments before bed. She’s reading by the lantern on the bedside table — an upcycled barstool the two of you stole from your old job at The Last Drop one evening when you were in a particularly silly mood.

🂱 She catches your gaze a couple times as you stare over your shoulder to see if she’s paying attention to you, and then you immediately turn and go back to ignoring her. She takes off her reading glasses, tosses her book onto the bed, and rolls over to you, wrapping her arm around you from the back.

“Hey baby?” She kisses your shoulder and the back of your head since you still won’t look at her, and she continues. “Love of my life? Light of my world? Keeper of my soul and partner in crime through the sea of trials we call the fucked-up game of life?” You turn slightly to give her a glaring side eye.

“…What do you want.”

“Still mad at me, babygirl?”

“Not at all. Why on earth would I be mad?”

“I’m sorryyy,” she draws it out, cooing at you all soft and sing-songy. If the ne’erdowells who often got their asses handed to them by her and her little team could see this Sevika, they’d think they lost their mind. Hell, if any punk on the street could see this Sevika they’d think they lost their mind. It made your knees weak the way she undid herself and softened for you. For only you. You fought the smile forming and she continued murmuring against your skin.

“It’s all this bullshit at work Silco’s got me taking care of. I’m neglecting my little lady, I’m stretched so thin. It’s too much…”

“Too much…?” You echo. “Talk to me, love. Silco’s not letting you catch a breather?”

She grunts in affirmation against your shoulder: “Mm-hrmm”

“Does my baby have the whooole wide world on her poor, tired, buff, strong, sexy shoulders-EEK!” She gleefully flips you over to face her, making you cackle. You’ve been disarmed. At her mercy. You always were.

She leans forward to bonk her forehead against yours.

“Glad someone in this cruel world finally understands me and my line of work,” she says, half-joking.

“No one understands the importance of your job better than me, babe.” You continue, at this point unable to remove the sarcasm from your tone even if you tried. She nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder facedown, head supported by the cushiness of your tit. You weave your fingers in her hair.

“The honorable burden of great duty… The unfathomable smothering of moral obligation, even. One might describe it as an immensely… strategic pressure-”

“-For FUCK’s SAKE”

“You have worker’s rights, you know! Demand an hour off — paid — in your underground torture chamber-breakroom. You’re entitled to relax and sip coffee as you watch the bodies hit the floor, goddammit!”

Feigning exasperation, Sev dramatically collapses backward starfish-style on the old-ass creaky-ass decrepit-ass daddy longlegs convention of a double bed the two of you share; in a shithole apartment, in a shady-ass neighborhood, in a collapsing city. That’s how it was between the two of you. Underneath it all, she trusts that you’ll always be there to kiss her wounds, to make sure her collar is straight and there’s no shmutz on her face. You trust that at the end of the day, it’s you she’s coming home to.

261 notes · View notes

cjlouwho · 2 days ago

Note

I saw your post about his scruff and this happened

“What?” Tommy asks bemusedly when he catches Buck staring at him in the mirror.

“Uh,” Buck starts to reach out, then drops his hand. “Your scruff.”

“What about it?” Tommy rinses his toothbrush and puts it away. “You want me to shave it?” he teases.

“Fuck no,” Buck says emphatically, then blushes. Tommy leans forward to catch him in a gentle kiss and Buck doesn’t hesitate to deepen it. He pulls away after a minute to shift his attention to Tommy's jawline, kissing and mouthing his way along it as Tommy tries to catch his breath above him.

“You’ve, ah, you’ve seen me with scruff before.”

“Yeah but now you’ve got some grey in it,” Buck says before moving his mouth and tongue down Tommy’s neck.

“Old men do it for you, huh?”

Buck knows he’s teasing but he pulls back to look Tommy in the eyes anyways. “You do it for me. You and I, getting older together does it for me.” He rolls his hips into Tommy to show him exactly how much it's doing for him.

“Bed?” Tommy asks before he sinks his hands into Buck’s hair and kisses him. Buck nods into the kiss and starts moving them towards the doorway, only stopping when he feels Tommy’s legs gently bump into the end of the bed. He breaks the kiss and pushes Tommy back onto the bed.

“Oh, this is how we’re doing it?” Tommy lets his legs fall open and looks up at Buck.

Buck divests them both of their underwear. “Got a problem with that?” he asks as he crawls up Tommy’s body, grinding their hips together and returning to his ministrations of Tommy’s jaw and neck.

“No, ah, no problems here,” Tommy’s eyes are closed but his hands are back in Buck’s hair guiding him to the sensitive spots on his neck. Buck gives one last nip then pulls back. Tommy whines and his eyes flutter open.

“So I’m going to ride you until we both come,” Buck says in a conversational tone, “so you can see and feel how good you make me feel. And you’re going to keep your hands on my hips unless I tell you otherwise, okay?”

“Yeah, good, yeah,” Tommy nods emphatically. Buck grabs the lube from the nightstand and slicks up Tommy’s cock before leaning back to line it up with himself.

“Wait, Evan, wait,” Tommy’s fingers dig into his hips.

“What?”

“We didn’t,” Tommy seems to be struggling to get his brain back online.

Buck smiles wickedly. “I got ready in the shower,” he says nonchalantly, and lowers himself onto Tommy, more slowly than normal so they can both feel every inch. Tommy groans and his fingers tighten again like he wants to pull Buck all the way down.

Buck skates his fingers up and down Tommy’s torso as he inches himself down, groaning in unison with Tommy when he’s fully seated. “Fuck, even your chest hair is going grey,” he says reverently, leaning forward to kisslickbite Tommy’s chest as Tommy rearranges his feet to give himself more leverage. He keeps the pace steady while Buck loses himself in Tommy’s chest, alternating open mouth kisses with sharp bites and licking the valley between his pecs. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me think about forever,” he says, which would feel too raw and too honest except for the fact Tommy had proposed to him less than three hours ago.

“Evan,” Tommy breathes out, like Buck hadn’t said yes, like it was a surprise.

“Touch me Tommy, come on, you make me feel so good,” Buck begs.

Tommy takes one hand off his hips and wraps it around him, stroking Buck exactly how he likes it, using his other hand and his hips to keep pulling Buck further down on to him. Buck keens and falls farther forward, his head pressed into the crook of Tommy’s neck, his breaths coming short and fast.

“Forever,” Tommy whispers to him, like an oath. Buck comes hard and fast, Tommy right behind him. Buck collapses onto him, already prepared to regret not dealing with the mess in the morning, but not wanting to move even a millimeter away from Tommy. Tommy seems to feel the same, from the way he wraps his arms around Buck like he’s trying to meld the two of them together.

“The Lord liveth; and blessed be my rock; and let the God of my salvation be exalted!”

#that’s the only thing that came to mind after reading #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc

224 notes · View notes

getousslutt · 2 days ago

Text

Foolishness [pt. 1]

-> When a handsome man with a warm smile and kind eyes offers to take all your troubles away, who are you to refuse?

Pairing: The 'Salesman' x F!Reader

TW. dark content, mdni, noncon, bondage, gun play/kink, gags, mindbreaking, sexual and physical abuse, the salesman is mean in this You are responsible for your own media content ~ if you do not like, do not interact.

A/N: Whoo boy! I've been debating internally whether to post this to Tumblr or not but after fairly positive feedback on AO3, I thought why not! If you'd like to read it there, you can check it out here!

“Come on then, Reader, you know what to do.”

Despite the demanding tone of voice he uses, it still takes your body a minute before it’s able to catch up and listen to the fear racing in your mind. The tears streaming down your cheeks from your eyes are mixing with the drool dripping from the large ball gag wedged in between your lips. All that can be heard in that dark and intimidating room is the sound of your sniveling and muffled cries as you try to force your limbs to move.

You’re terrified — beyond terrified. Petrified to the point that your body has frozen in on itself.

You never should’ve accepted the man’s game–it was foolish of you. But being foolish is what got you into your situation in the first place. Mistake after mistake made and you’d found yourself drowning in student debt with the ever impending threat of being kicked out of school looming over your shoulders. Humiliated and judged, you’d been abandoned by all and any friends you’d managed to make and with no family to turn to, it had seemed the reality of your fate was inescapable.

Until a man in a pristine grey suit approached you with a warm smile and kind eyes and asked you if you wanted to play a game.

Despite your initial confusion and apprehension, his easy-going charm and convincing enticement had been enough for you to agree. Your desperation had been what persuaded you to follow this older man, one you’d met not ten minutes ago, one you didn’t know the name of, into a black sleek car and into an apartment. Your foolishness was what led you to your situation now.

No longer was his smile warm nor were his eyes kind—instead, the smile felt menacing and cruel and there was a blaze of something sinister and insane in his eyes now as he looked down on you.

When he’d first pulled out rope, you’d tried to back away but he’d reminded you of your debt and the promise to make it all go away. So, you’d let him tie your hands behind your back; you’d found it strange when he'd fussed over how he tied your hands, making sure your hands stayed locked around either elbow.

The fear welled into something completely new when he’d reached for the button of your blouse.

“What are—”

“Do you want the money or not?” His sharp voice cut in, looming over your shoulder to meet your gaze. “My patience is waning with your impotence.”

Somewhat offended and blinded by your desperation, you’d said nothing in return, only leaning back into his chest in silent consent.

Your attraction to the man was hard to ignore — despite the overall oddness of the situation, watching his lithe and lean fingers swiftly and smoothly unbutton your blouse was enough to make you grow wet. You’d squirmed in the spot, unaware of his careful gaze, a short gasp leaving your lips when he’d finally unbuttoned the last button and pulled back your blouse to reveal your bra.

The man was dead silent as he left your back, moving back to stand in front of you. Your eyes trailed his entire form, breaths shallow and heart racing as his cold hands reached for the waistband of your skirt. With one last look in your hands, he yanked the garment down, bringing it to your ankles;

“Step.”

Swallowing thickly, you'd listened, stepping out of the skirt so he could pull it away.

With that, he'd stood to his full height once more, causing your head to tip back to meet his eyes.

“Now,” he says, slow and calm at first, still with that same smile on his face. “Get on the ground and stick your ass up at me.”

The fear overrides your intrigue, money slipping from your mind as you realize how stupid and naive you were being.

“S-Sir, I don’t—”

Your words get caught in the back of your throat as your face is grabbed harshly, his fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling a cry of surprise from your lips as you’re tugged up, forced to the tips of your toes. With your hands restrained behind your back, you’re left defenceless to even attempt to stop him.

“Get on the ground.”

His tone is considerably darker, smile gone and your eyes widened.

“I-I—”

Pulling away, you blink at the sudden sharp sting across your cheek. It takes you a second, blinking, until you realize he’s slapped you across the face.

Turning back to him, your lips part.

When you don’t move, he slaps you again.

“Stop—!”

Once again, the palm of his hand hits you square across the cheek.

“I can keep doing this.” He threatens and the smile returns with that crazed glee. “Until you listen like a good girl.”

Choking back a whimper, you slowly lower yourself to your knees.

Once you’re on your knees, you glance at him one final time, hoping this is all some sort of sick joke; he only raises a brow, hands held out, as if in a warning. Biting your lip, you swallow thickly, turning so your back is turned to him and with just a second more, you slowly lower your head to the ground, tipping your body so that your ass is still up as you press your cheek to the carpeted floor.

“Good girl,” the man soothes and you flinch as his hand falls on your panty-clad ass. “Now, let’s start the game.”

You glance back at the man best you can, too nervous to even try and pick your head up properly as you wait for him to finish explaining.

“Here’s how the rules work,” he starts, his hand still tracing along the curve of your ass, pulling at the lining of your underwear. “See this gun here?”

Body freezing at that, you forget yourself, head spinning back and picking up off the ground to stare at the gun held lazily in his hands. You hadn’t seen that on him anywhere—you didn’t know he…

Before you can even think of saying anything, the man’s hand had shoved your head back to the ground, pain radiating from the thud of your cheek on the ground as he'd glared down at you.

“Stay bent like that,” he'd warned, leaning in close, “or I’ll put a bullet in your brain and end this all now.”

The tears start then. You hadn’t even realized you’d been close to tears until that moment, feeling your eyes well and tears stream down at your cheeks as a choked sob pulls from your lips. His hand had remained in place against your cheek, holding you there until you force your head to move in a jerky, slow nod.

“Good,” he nods, pulling back and straightening his tie like he hadn’t just threatened to murder you. “Let’s finish, shall we?” He'd smileed down at you as you'd sobbed, convulsing on the ground, staring up at him. “You’re going to fuck yourself on this gun. But here’s the trick, you’re not allowed to cum for a full fifteen minutes. If you don’t, I’ll pay off your student debts.”

You can feel yourself starting to hyperventilate, breaths growing quick and panic making your vision spot. Still, you'd forced yourself to speak; “what happens if… if-if I cum?”

“If you cum… well, I haven’t quite decided yet.”

A wail had left your lips then, loud and piercing as you'd crid on the ground, body shaking and hands desperately trying to break free from the rope keeping them restrained. “Please,” you'd found yourself crying, beside yourself. “Please, let me go. I-I… I don’t want to play this ga-game anymore! Please!”

You'd barely notice the man move until his hand reaches for you again. You'd flinched, fearing a slap again or something worse, but he'd just brushed his fingers across your cheek. “That crying is painstakingly annoying, isn’t it?”

Letting out a sob, you turn inconsolable.

His solution for your cries had been to gag you. And that’s how you found yourself now.

The man had been kind enough to at least prep you; your earlier attraction had left you somewhat wet and with a bit more prep, the gun wasn’t as painful entering as it would’ve been otherwise. He’d said he’d put it in to help you but after that, it was your turn to start playing.

Now, with a gun in your pussy, the hard ridges jarring and painful regardless, he was clearly waiting for you to start fucking yourself on it.

“If you don’t start fucking yourself now, I’ll pull the trigger.”

Eyes widening, you have no doubt of the man’s threat. You can’t see him since he’s directly behind you and you wouldn’t dare try to lift your head again, but you can imagine the pure glee on his face as he threatens to shoot you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force your body to move, pulling your hips back so the gun slides out from behind you. Just as the tip is about to slip out from your hole, you push yourself back. You’re slow, careful, not wanting to hurt yourself, but after a few more minutes of rigged, painful thrusts, you hear him sigh in annoyance.

“Faster,” he orders, “or I’ll do it myself. And then you definitely won’t win.”

To your credit, you try to quicken your pace. You do the best you're sure you possibly could given the circumstances. But you’re too afraid, body frozen with terror and the looming threat of death that even the understanding that if you don’t go quicker, you will die, isn’t enough.

After two minutes, his free hand falls on your left hip, stopping you.

“Too bad,” he huffs, as if scolding a child. “My turn.”

It’s immediate. A cry leaves your lips as he thrusts the gun in, slamming into you in a way you’re sure to bruise, before pulling it out and returning. Your cries turn inconsolable once again as he brutally pounds you with his gun, in and out, in and out, your body squirming and muffled pleas leaving your lips that fall on deaf ears.

You grow wet, but not with slick from pleasure. instead, you're sure you've started to bleed; his pace cruel and abusive as you wail on the ground in pain.

When five agonizing minutes pass, and you’re sure your time is ending, his hand on your hip moves and there’s a brush across your clit. It causes you to still, freezing, until the brush returns, this time pressing directly onto your clit. The man rubs his thumb in a circle on your clit, causing your eyes to bulge open, flinching in your restraints.

“Time starts now,” he grins from behind you, “let's see if you can not cum for fifteen minutes.”

You start to thrash in protest, failing but trying to argue that your tim should've started before but the thrusts of the gun return and you’re reminded very quickly of how vulnerable of a position you’ve been placed in. His thumb works quickly and tirelessly, providing stimulation to your previously ignored and bare clit, pulling pleasure you’d thought impossible to feel.

And as his rubbing continues, you grow more wet, this time with slick, until eventually the thrusts of the gun start to feel good. He's too good with his fingers, and maybe some sort of fucked up part of you brain liked what was happening if you were able to garner any kind of pleasure from it at all.

Being fucked with a gun shouldn't feel good. Having your clit played with by a man who'd slapped you and forced the gun in you shouldn't feel good either. Yet, here you were; keening and mewling as the pleasure built.

You have no concept of time, body convulsing and the tingling sensation of your orgasm growing as you try to hold back. His fingers move swiftly and with skill, knowing exactly what moves to make to have you keening and panting on the ground for him.

It all comes to an end with a sickening snap of the coil, your vision blurring for a minute as hot white pleasure blooms through your entire body, leaving you dizzy. You gasp around your gag, choking on your spit as you moan in response to the orgasm. The man doesn’t stop, guiding you through the orgasm as your body slumps and you’re left flinching in overstimulation.

Heart racing, throat aching, a minute later he finally stops.

The gun is pulled from your pussy with a wet slop, and you let out a cry.

“Such a shame,” he coos, finally moving so you can meet his gaze with tired, blurred vision. It takes you a minute to realize he’s holding his phone in front of your face. “You were so close.”

On his phone is a number – “0:45”

You’d been forty-five seconds from reaching the time limit.

“Now,” he smiles down at you, “what should my prize be for winning?”

#squid game #squid game x reader #the salesman #the salesman x reader #gong yoo #tw.dark content #tw.noncon #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #squid game smut #gong yoo x reader #the salesman smut

155 notes · View notes

wherethefireliliesgrow · 2 days ago

Text

Already Yours (Part 1)

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, arranged marriage

TYPE: Two Shot

Inspired by: urs-NIKI

A/N: i received several arranged marriage request for the past two years, but it felt too different to what i usually wrote. since it's the start of a new year and the best time to try something new...here you gooooo! a special thank you to @neoplatinum! i re-read several of her works to gain some inspiration for this one. highly recommend everyone checking out her posts :)

The heavy doors swung open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crash that echoed through the room. A tall, willowy figure dressed in a professional tan suit strode toward you, the sharp click of her heels punctuating the silence as she crossed the pristine marble floors. Behind her, two broad-shouldered bodyguards trailed in silence, their faces impassive. In contrast, her long black hair flowed behind her, each step full of purpose and anger. Scratch that. Lady Jimin was seething, her usually soft features now hard with barely contained anger.

“What is this, father?” Jimin addressed the old duke beside you, completely ignoring your presence.

Duke Yoo coughed, a nervous, helpless sound that filled the room. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fidgeted, clearly at a loss for words.

Before he could find his voice, his son stepped forward, his demeanor calm and predatory.

“Pleasant surprise seeing you here, Jimin.” Heesung’s smile was too smooth, his voice disgustingly sweet.

“Not much of a surprise, since this is the signing of my marriage certificate.” Jimin snapped, her eyes burning with a fire so intense it felt like she could burn the entire Y/LN enterprise building to the ground.

Your father, ever the one to involve himself in drama, couldn’t resist. “Ah, Lady Jimin. It's nice to finally meet my my future daughter-in-law.”

He moved toward her, arms wide, offering a false sense of warmth.

“There’s no way I’m getting tangled in your slimy business ventures, Y/LN.” Jimin spat, laced with pure contempt.

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The Duke shot a quick, nervous glance at your father’s impassive expression, sweat dripping down his chin now.

“I’m so sorry, Y/LN-nim.” The Duke hurriedly walked over to your father’s side.

“We didn’t have time to explain the agreement to Jimin. Let us talk to her first.”

“It seems she’s lacking in manners.” your father’s voice dropped several octaves, low and dangerous. “Perhaps we should address this before we finalize anything.”

Jimin’s anger flared, but it was quickly replaced by something darker—fear. As she caught sight of the cruel smile spreading across your father’s face, a cold shiver ran down her spine. The man was notorious for his ruthlessness, a cold, calculating figure who had controlled the country’s economy for decades. His power wasn’t just in his wealth, it was in his ability to make people tremble.

Even her bodyguards hesitated, inching closer to her but unsure whether to act.

That’s when you stepped forward, your silence broken at last.

You moved in front of your father, your hand gripping his arm and pulling him toward the desk. The weight of the room seemed to shift as your presence took control.

“Enough, father.” Your voice was soft, but unwavering, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s just finish this.”

Without another word, you reached for the inkstand, pressing your thumb into the dark ink and leaving a red fingerprint on the flimsy paper.

You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with Jimin, expressionless.

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers threading through her hair as she surrendered herself to the inevitable. She walked over and pressed her own delicate fingers to the paper, leaving a red mark beside yours. The blood-red ink seemed to mock her, a symbol of fate she could neither escape nor control.

“Good.” Heesung’s voice sliced through the silence, “Let’s let the lovebirds go and we can start talking business.”

The banquet buzzed with noise, of laughter, chatter, and clinking glasses. Friends, business partners, and classmates gathered, their faces painted with polite smiles and hidden agendas. Even the royal family was here to watch you and Jimin repeat the fake vows, marking as the wedding of the year.

The media waited outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the wedding, to catch a glimpse of you and Jimin. After all, neither of you came from unknown backgrounds. Both of you were heirs to two of the most powerful families in the country. The cameras, the whispers...it was impossible to escape the spotlight, even if the marriage was nothing more than a strategic alliance disguised as a union.

Jimin, the eldest daughter from House Yoo of Luthraine, stood at the center of it all. Her family ruled the country’s banking, their influence far-reaching. The duke, her father, was weak and easily swayed. His wife, however, had made up for it with her sharp mind—until her untimely death left House Yoo in shambles, and its future in the hands of Heesung, her son. A reckless choice that led to disaster. Jimin had stepped up to manage the family’s failing finances as soon as she turned 18. Clever, soft-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful, Yoo Jimin was someone everyone admired.

Then there was you.

The sole heir to Y/LN Enterprise, the largest multinational conglomerate in investment banking and real estate. You were known for your reserved demeanor, your sharp mind, and your ability to observe everything with calculating precision. Unlike your father, who was feared for his temper and ruthless business tactics, you operated quietly, out of the spotlight. Most people found you distant, cold even, but you never played the villain. You simply didn't care for the politics of the game.

Despite growing up in the same world, you and Jimin had never really connected.

You’d gone to the same prestigious, ridiculously overpriced private schools, but Jimin had always been surrounded by a crowd, adored by everyone. You, however, had preferred to keep to yourself, always in the background, never truly seen, yet always watching.

“What’s the bride doing here drinking alone?” A warm voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing a grin to your face.

“You should be celebrating with your wife for a happy marriage.”

“If that’s what you expect from an arranged marriage,” you laughed, sloshing the champagne in your glass, “then you’ve got it all wrong, Hwang.”

Yeji, your best friend and business partner, flopped down beside you. She smoothed out her lavender dress and white wool jacket with practiced grace. It was strange to see her in a dress, usually preferring professional suits for work.

“You look hot. Very lady-like,” you teased, earning a middle finger from her.

“Shut up, Y/LN.” She sniffed, then waved over a server to order a beer, an odd contrast to how she was dressed. “Besides, you’re the one who chose these stupid lavender dresses for the bridesmaids.”

“Jimin, not me.” You shrugged, your head spinning from the alcohol. “I didn’t attend any of the marriage meetings.”

Your gaze drifted across the room, landing on the raven-haired girl as she danced with her friends, smiling effortlessly, her usual scowl replaced with something more relaxed.

“Seriously?” Yeji’s voice was laced with disappointment.

“I didn’t expect you to let your partner do all the work. What happened to chivalry?”

“Honestly, Jimin looks like she’ll bite my head off every time I try to talk to her. So I thought I’d just let her decide.” You drained your glass, the words slipping out.

“I kind of ruined her chance for love, so the least I can do is let her have this.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Yeji’s tone softened. “You were trying to help her. I think you should just give this marriage a chance.”

You shook your head stubbornly, ordering another drink. Yeji’s concerned gaze bore into you, but you ignored it. This was your pity party, and you were the guest of honor.

“I’m planning on keeping my distance,” you said, wobbling off the stool and grabbing your fresh glass.

“And finding a way to get her out of this mess.”

Yeji rushed to steady you, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace. Her heart ached for you, but this was beyond anyone’s control.

“Just try, Y/N,” she said gently, before muttering, “Jesus, you’re drunk.”

She managed to straighten you up, her hands resting on your shoulders as she faced you.

“Besides, didn’t you have a crush on her in high school?” Yeji added, her voice thoughtful as she stood before you.

“Shut up, Yeji,” you hissed, suddenly sober, your eyes flicking to something—or rather, someone—behind her.

“I mean, you liked her for, like, three years? Four?” Yeji rambled on, oblivious to the fear flashing in your eyes.

“Yeji. Yeji. Yeji.”

“What?” Yeji followed your gaze, then stumbled back in shock.

Jimin stood with another girl, her face twisted in something you couldn’t quite comprehend, while the girl beside her shot Yeji a playful grin.

“Ah… Lady Jimin,” Yeji quickly bowed, her face burning with embarrassment. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Yeji. Hwang Yeji.”

Jimin gave a curt nod, waving her off dismissively. “Just Jimin is fine. This is Ryujin, from the House of Shin.”

Jimin’s voice softened as she turned to you. “Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

You barely had time to compose yourself before you answered, “Yes.”

Without another word, Jimin walked off, expecting you to follow.

As you passed, you heard Ryujin's voice, teasing, “So… beer for the pretty lady? That’s special. I like special.”

The back door of the banquet hall creaked open as Jimin led you down a deserted hallway, pulling you into an empty room. You glanced over her, taking in the sight of her ivory lace wedding gown—still pristine, despite everything.

Yoo Jimin was undeniably beautiful, with soft brown eyes full of emotion, a delicate nose, and full pink lips. A cute mole on the corner of her mouth that would lift whenever she smiled. But ever since that fateful event two months ago, her face was set in a permanent frown, her brows furrowed in frustration. You wanted to reach out, smooth away the crease between them, but you stopped yourself.

“You’re drunk.” Jimin said, her voice a little softer as she surveyed your ruffled state.

“A bit.” you admitted, running a hand down your dress to smooth the creases.

She sighed, her expression softening. Then, she moved closer, adjusting the straps of your dress. The touch of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your heart hammered in your chest.

You froze, then pulled away, putting more distance between you. Hurt flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with annoyance.

“What did you want to talk about, Jimin?” you asked, trying to sound composed.

Jimin’s frown deepened as she met your gaze.

“I wanted to clarify a few things.” she said, her voice more subdued than before.

“I’ve been thinking about this marriage.”

You remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“I never wanted this,” she continued, her words slow and deliberate. “I never wanted to marry you. I had no choice. I loathe your family—I know what your father’s been doing all these years—but my hands are tied. I just wanted you to know that before you get any wrong ideas.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, each one a jagged knife twisting in your chest. You knew how she felt, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

You forced a calm expression, masking the ache inside. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t choose this either,” you said, your voice cool.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to end this marriage soon.”

Jimin nodded, her expression softening for a second. “Good. Now let’s play the part of a happy newlywed.”

She grabbed your arm, pulling you back toward the banquet hall, both of you walking side by side, smiles on your faces. Neither one of them reached your eyes.

Living with you was unexpectedly easy.

You were quiet, meticulous to the point of being a neat freak, and even more of a workaholic than she was, rarely coming home before midnight. In the three months since your marriage, you hadn’t spent much time together. Yet, Jimin found herself looking forward to mornings. Brief moments where you prepared breakfast for both of you and shared a table. Most of the conversation came from her, while you listened quietly. You made it clear her words mattered, even if you rarely offered anything in return.

But she couldn’t shake the sense that she was speaking into a void. You were polite and attentive, yet you remained distant, never letting her glimpse beyond the surface.

She often snuck in a few glances at you while you drove her to work, admiring your side profile. She liked the sharpness of your cat-like eyes, always attentive to what she was saying, and the slight curve of your full lips whenever she said something funny. You were beautiful in an understated way, the kind of beauty that lingered in her mind.

Maybe marriage with you wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. But that didn’t stop her from craving something more.

Work had been unusually slow lately. Ever since her marriage to you, the problems plaguing the bank branches under House Yoo of Luthraine had mysteriously disappeared. Gone were the endless debt, trade misconduct, and countless scandals she’d spent months trying to resolve. Her brother was off doing God knows what, leaving her to manage everything else on her own. She could only hope he wasn’t causing more trouble...the kind that had landed her in this marriage in the first place.

Sighing, Jimin took off her thin-framed silver glasses and rubbed her eyes, signaling the rest of the board that the morning meeting was over. The meeting room gradually emptied, leaving the young royalty in solitude, save for Ryujin, casually leaning in the leather chair next to her with a sly grin.

“Yoo Jimin, tired of work? I can’t believe it.” The young duchess teased, “Did you and Y/N stay up too late doing the dirty?”

Jimin choked on her coffee, nearly spilling the dark liquid on her crisp blouse.

“What? No,” she sputtered, her face reddening at the thought. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping.”

Ryujin raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Still hate her?”

“I don’t hate her,” Jimin muttered, her voice quieter now. “I never hated her. Just her family.”

“Well, you’re stuck with her now. Might as well make it work. Maybe you should try acutally talking to her.”

“We do talk,” Jimin countered defensively. “It’s just... one-sided. I’m the one doing all the sharing. She never talks about herself. It’s like trying to have a conversation with an AI.”

Ryujin held back a laugh, “well to be fair, you do talk a lot, Jimin.”

Jimin shot her a sharp glare. “I do not.”

Ryujin’s grin only widened. “Sure. And she’s always working late because she just loves the office, right? Has nothing to do with cleaning up your brother’s mess?”

“What mess?”

“Wait, she didn’t tell you?” Ryujin frowned. “Yeji mentioned they’ve been working overtime to cover up some of the debt Heesung left from one of your family branches. That was part of the marriage deal.”

Jimin slumped back in her seat, stunned. She knew her brother had contributed to the downfall of her family-led banks, but he’d kept the full scope of it hidden. She had assumed the marriage proposal was purely for your family’s access to her network and land holdings, not their debt.

You were the reason why her family debts were gone.

Ryujin’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “C’mon, let’s visit Y/LN Enterprise after work. I’ll drive.”

Jimin frowned, confused. “Why?”

“The way to the heart is through the stomach,” Ryujin said with a grin. “And I also want to see my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Well, not yet. But I’m getting there,” Ryujin laughed, her confidence unwavering.

“What kind of food does she like?” Ryujin asked, backing her car out of the parking lot.

“I have no idea,” Jimin admitted reluctantly.

“Seriously?” Ryujin shot her an exasperated look, sighing in defeat. “Let me ask Yeji.”

This marriage was proving to be a tough case to crack.

Twenty minutes later, Jimin found herself standing in front of your office door, a box of jjajangmyeon in her hands. Ryujin had dropped her off with a giggle before driving away, Yeji seated beside her, cheeks dusted pink.

Jimin’s heart twisted with a pang of envy as she watched her friend. She wanted that kind of love, as much as she hated admitting it to herself.

Before she could muster the courage to knock, the door swung open, and you nearly bumped into her, face-first.

“What the f—” You stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in surprise. “Jimin?”

“Hi.” Her voice was timid, suddenly laced with awkwardness.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your concern obvious in your tone. “Did something happen?”

“No!” She cleared her throat hastily, then raised the box in her hands.

“I brought you dinner. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, I—” Her gesture caught you off guard, your carefully constructed walls crumbling. You were already finding it hard to maintain your distance, and now this small act of care threatened to shatter your resolve completely.

“Thank you,” you said, regaining some composure. “Please, come in.”

You stepped aside, and she walked in, her gaze sweeping across the room.

Jimin took her time studying your office while you dug into the noodles, only now realizing just how hungry you were.

She paused at a photo on your desk, one of you and Yeji at senior prom. In it, Yeji was having the time of her life, while you looked like a drenched cat reluctantly dancing with your friend.

“You look so miserable,” Jimin giggled, her voice teasing as she turned to you.

Your mouth was full of noodles, and you hastily swallowed in an attempt to respond.

“Dancing isn’t exactly my forte,” you admitted, your tone calm, though the tips of your ears betrayed your embarrassment. “But you’re good at that, right? I remember you won prom queen that year.”

Her heart fluttered at your words. So you had been paying attention, even back then—even when Yeji had mentioned you had a crush on someone else in high school.

As she continued her inspection of your office, Jimin noted how bare it was. Aside from the photo with Yeji and a few scattered pens on your desk, there wasn’t much personality in the room. She made a mental note to change that.

When you finally finished eating, an awkward silence settled between the two of you.

“Thank you for the food,” you said again, your voice soft. “It was really good.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgment, her honey-brown eyes piercing into yours. The intensity of her gaze made you fidget slightly, but you held it nonetheless.

“I know about the debt,” she said finally.

Your eyes widened briefly, but you masked your reaction quickly, choosing your words carefully.

“Sorry for not telling you,” you said, your tone steady, though your fingers twitched nervously against the desk. "I didn't know how."

She shook her head and reached over, her warm, soft hands covering yours. The simple touch sent your heart racing.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice gentle. Her lips curved into a smile, one that you weren’t used to seeing on her usually stoic face.

Your cheeks flushed scarlet, and you cleared your throat in embarrassment. “It’s nothing.”

At your feigned nonchalance, Jimin couldn’t resist teasing you. Maybe you weren’t as robotic as she’d initially thought.

With a mischievous grin, she intertwined her fingers with yours, her thumb drawing slow circles on your palm.

“Can you drive me home?” she asked innocently. “Ryujin drove me here.”

You quickly composed yourself, pulling your hand away and shaking your head as if to dispel the spell she had cast. Something about Yoo Jimin made resisting her nearly impossible, and maintaining your distance was proving to be an uphill battle.

“I can, but I have one more meeting tonight. Can you wait?”

She nodded, her soft smile making it hard to focus.

Just then, the speaker on your desk crackled to life.

“Ms. Y/LN, Ms. Kim is here.”

You pressed the button to respond. “Let her up.”

“There’s a meeting room next to my office,” you told Jimin. “You can wait for me there.”

She nodded again, her smile lingering as she moved toward the door. You couldn’t help but mirror the expression, the corners of your mouth lifting involuntarily.

“I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck with your meeting,” she said warmly, opening the door.

What she didn’t expect, however, was to come face-to-face with one of her flings from the past: Kim Minjeong of Legacy Capital Enterprise.

Jimin froze in the doorway, her breath hitching as recognition struck. Minjeong’s sharp gaze softened, her lips curling into a slow, confident smirk that Jimin had once thought charming but now found unbearably loaded with unspoken memories.

“Jimin.” Minjeong drawled, her voice dripping with smug familiarity. “It’s been a while.”

“Minjeong.” Jimin replied stiffly, her voice strained. Her fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, grounding herself as the weight of the past surged back, enveloping her in the awkwardness of their shared history.

Minjeong’s eyes flicked to the now-empty box of jjajangmyeon in Jimin’s hands, then trailed back up, her smirk deepening. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Late-night visits? How... intimate.”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. The insinuation in Minjeong’s tone made her skin crawl, her shoulders stiffening.

“I could say the same about you,” she retorted, her voice sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness.

Minjeong opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, you appeared behind Jimin, your steady presence immediately commanding the room.

“Ms. Kim,” you greeted coolly, your professional demeanor slipping into place. “Shall we?”

Minjeong’s gaze flicked to you briefly, her expression unreadable, before sliding back to Jimin. The smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes sparkled with something almost predatory.

“Of course.” she said smoothly, stepping into the office.

Jimin stepped aside hastily, her shoulders tight, feeling the weight of Minjeong’s gaze lingering on her as she passed. She silently prayed that Minjeong wouldn’t say anything more, wouldn’t twist the knife any further.

“I’ll see you after the meeting,” you said softly to Jimin, your voice warm despite the neutral expression on your face.

Jimin gave a quick nod, her stomach twisting as you closed the door behind you, sealing her alone with her thoughts.

Inside your office, Minjeong wasted no time in testing your patience.

“You have a lovely wife.” Minjeong remarked, leaning back in her chair as if she owned the room. “You must be very... proud.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though your tone remained calm. “Jimin’s her own person. I don’t take pride in people like they’re possessions.”

Minjeong’s smirk didn’t waver. “Interesting choice of words.”

The meeting dragged on, but your focus remained sharp, despite the growing frustration bubbling beneath the surface. You didn’t have the luxury of cutting ties with Minjeong, not when your efforts to rebuild Jimin’s family’s branches relied on securing this partnership.

But with Minjeong’s intentions becoming increasingly transparent. She found opportunities to steer the conversation back to Jimin, her admiration thinly veiled beneath casual comments.

“She’s matured a lot.” Minjeong said at one point, her voice almost wistful. “There’s something about her...strong, yet so beautifully delicate.”

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to respond evenly. “She’s always been remarkable.”

Minjeong’s smirk widened, as if she took your words as a challenge.

When the meeting ended, you walked Minjeong out, your tone polite but measured.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Kim.”

She gave you a sly smile before glancing once more at the closed door to the meeting room where Jimin was waiting.

“I’ll be seeing you both soon, I’m sure.”

Her words hung in the air like a warning before she turned on her heel and left.

You found Jimin in the meeting room, perched on the couch with her phone in hand. She glanced up as you entered, her expression betraying unease, embarrassment, and something else, something she couldn’t quite mask.

“Is she gone?” she asked, her tone wavering, as if she was hiding something.

“She is,” you replied, sitting down across from her. “Who is she?”

Jimin hesitated, her fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve. “Someone I used to... see.” she admitted reluctantly.

Your brow raised slightly. “See, as in date?”

The young royalty nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. “If you can call it that. It wasn’t serious, and it didn’t end well.”

You hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in your seat. “Well, for what it’s worth, she made it pretty clear she’s still interested in you.”

Jimin’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “She—what?”

You chuckled dryly, trying to cover your jealousy.

“She practically spent the whole meeting weaving you into the conversation. Subtlety isn’t her strong suit.”

Jimin groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe her.”

A silence settled between you before you spoke again, your tone softer this time. “You know, about the whole marriage thing...”

Jimin lowered her hands slowly, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“It’s just for appearances,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “If you want to see someone else—Minjeong or anyone else—I’m not going to stop you.”

Her lips parted in surprise, and you continued.

“This arrangement isn’t about controlling you or your choices. You’re free to live your life however you want.”

Jimin stared at you for a moment, her honey-brown eyes searching yours. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place

She hesitated before adding, “The same goes for you, you know. You didn’t exactly choose this either.”

Your chest tightened, but you quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “Something like that,” you said, lying through your teeth.

You stood, offering her a hand. “Ready to head home?”

Jimin slipped her hand into yours, and as you led her out of the office, the warmth of her touch lingered far longer than it should have.

Your relationship with Jimin had changed in ways that felt both comforting and unsettling. The walls between you gradually fell, replaced by the kind of easy flow you hadn’t expected. She’d drop by your office for coffee, and linger during breaks, and suddenly it wasn’t just about the arranged situation anymore. It was about two people learning to be around each other, to talk, to laugh, to share moments that made you forget about the circumstances.

She’d visit you at work often, showing up unannounced just to grab coffee or chat. At first, it seemed like a random visit, but the more it happened, the more it became clear that she enjoyed spending time with you. You’d even look forward to her visits, finding comfort in the quiet moments you shared away from the chaos of your daily lives.

Social events became less of a hassle, too. Instead of sitting off to the side or making small talk with people you didn’t care about, Jimin would be there, and the two of you would engage in casual conversations, the kind that made you forget about everything else happening around you.

You were friends, you thought. Genuine friends.

But even in those easy moments, there were signs, small, subtle things that made you pause. You noticed Jimin staring at her phone more often, her thumb flicking over the screen in a way that was hard to miss.

You had a good idea of who it was. Minjeong. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected this. After all, you’d given Jimin the freedom to see other people. You had told her—no, insisted—that this arrangement wasn’t about control, that she could live her life however she saw fit.

And yet, watching her respond to Minjeong’s texts, the way her face lit up when she’d see a new message, it grated on you in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But you did.

On your birthday, you could feel the familiar mix of emotions swirling inside you as Jimin walked into the office, dressed in a beautiful flowy dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The soft fabric of the dress seemed to move with her effortlessly, its delicate hue catching the light in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. The way it draped around her waist and flared out just enough to hint at her figure was both graceful and captivating. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face perfectly, soft strands falling gently over her shoulders and glowing under the office lights.

She had this quiet elegance about her, something so effortlessly beautiful that it made your heart ache just by looking at her.

Her eyes, always warm, had this soft, shimmering glow when they met yours, like everything around her faded a little, just so she stood out more. You couldn’t really explain it, but in that moment, it felt like she was the only thing in focus. She wasn’t trying to look perfect—she never had to—but the way she moved, how that dress just clung to her in the right places, it made your head spin.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. It wasn’t like you wanted to stare, but she made it impossible to do anything else. She wasn’t trying, yet there she was, making everything else blur and all you could think about was how damn beautiful she was.

And in that moment, you thought she came to surprise you for your birthday.

But how silly it was to think that when you never told her your birthday.

Your eyes caught hers, but her smile was different. It was more forced, as though she was conflicted. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it felt like she was already pulling away.

You tried to brush it off, but the question tumbled out before you could stop it.

“You look beautfiul,” you said, your voice casual but your stomach knotting with a strange feeling.

“Going somewhere?”

Jimin hesitated for a split second, a flicker of something passing across her face before she answered. “Yeah, I’m meeting Minjeong for dinner.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. You had known it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. But hearing it out loud, so casually, felt different.

“Oh, Minjeong...” you said, trying hard to keep on the mask of calmness that seemed to be slipping the longer you were married to Jimin.

“Have fun.” You couldn’t keep the edge out of your tone, even though you tried to mask it with a smile. “I’ll be out drinking with Yeji later. Should be good.”

Jimin nodded, a slight unease in her expression, but she didn’t press the issue. She just smiled, a little too tightly, and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you later,” she said softly. “I just wanted to check on you first.”

As she walked away, the weight of your own words hit you like a slap. You had told her she could see whoever she wanted. You had given her the space to do so. Yet, the jealousy that twisted in your chest, like you were the one breaking the rules you had set.

Maybe you didn’t have the right to feel this way. Maybe you didn’t even have the right to feel hurt. You had told Jimin she was free to make her own choices, to be with whomever she wanted. And yet, the jealousy remained, simmering under the surface. You wanted to ignore it, to push it away, but it lingered, sharp and insistent.

You had given her the freedom to choose. But you had never thought about how hard it would be to watch her choose someone else.

It was well past midnight, and you were still at the pub with Yeji, both of you tipsy and getting progressively more sloppy. The karaoke was horrendous, your voices completely out of tune, but neither of you seemed to care. Shots kept coming, and you were taking them like it was a contest, each one making your thoughts blur a little more.

“I don’t get why you don’t just tell her you like her,” Yeji slurred, her voice thick with alcohol as she tried to keep herself upright.

“Tell her you like her, and you wouldn’t be here like this.”

You hiccupped, eyes half-lidded, and tried to focus on her. “You—” you muttered, “you know it’s not that simple.”

“How is it not?” Yeji pointed a finger at you, wobbly, but firm in her opinion.

“You’re married to her. Married. What’s the problem?”

You took another drink, feeling the burn in your throat, and shrugged. “I promised her… promised I’d work on getting a divorce. Promised her on our wedding day.”

Yeji made a face, clearly too drunk to hide her disbelief. “That’s fucking stupid,” she mumbled, staring at you like you were an idiot. “Your father would kill you.”

You sighed, glancing away, the alcohol making it easier to pretend it didn’t bother you. “Yeah, I know. But I’m worried about what happens to her after the divorce.”

“Is that why you’ve been making me do all this overtime with you?” Yeji waved her hand dismissively, clearly trying to piece things together. “Doing global stocks and all that shit?”

“I just want her to be okay,” you muttered, the words slurring slightly. “I want her to have someone who can protect her. Make sure her family ties stay strong.”

“And that person is Minjeong?” Yeji gasped, eyes widening with realization. You didn’t even look up, staring into your glass as you mumbled a response.

“She could be,” you said, taking another shot.

Yeji shook her head, still processing everything through her alcohol fog.

“Have you even asked Jimin if she still wants the damn divorce?”

You shook your head, a little too slowly. “No. She doesn’t know what happens if it does either.”

Yeji slapped you on the head, the impact startling you more than it should’ve.

“Ow,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead and glaring at her.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Yeji muttered, slurring even more now. “Just tell her you like her and don’t get divorced.”

You sighed heavily, shaking your head. “I told you. She doesn’t like me like that.”

Giving up, Yeji signaled for another tray of shots, her face set in determination.

“Fine, fine. You’ll get it someday, I guess.”

You downed the next shot, feeling the warmth spread through you, and tried to shake off the uncomfortable tension. At this point, the only thing you could focus on was the next drink, the blur of the night, and the gnawing feeling in your chest that no amount of alcohol would fix.

Jimin was worried.

You hadn’t picked up your phone ever since she left your office that night, and it was nearly four in the morning. The unease in her chest only deepened as the minutes passed without a word from you.

Her date with Minjeong had ended up being a disaster. The evening had been an attempt to forget you, a futile one at that. Minjeong had asked Jimin out, and despite her hesitation, Jimin agreed, thinking it might help push her feelings for you out of her mind. But it didn’t work.

Every moment of the date was filled with thoughts of you, how you looked when she mentioned Minjeong’s name, that small flicker of hurt Jimin had seen in your eyes, and how much she wished you had been the one to ask her out instead.

Jimin had gone to dinner with Minjeong in a forlorn attempt to move past her emotions, but all it did was make her feel further from you. As the night went on, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret. She realized, with each passing second, that she didn’t want to be with Minjeong.

She wanted you.

She wanted you to be the one asking her out, to be the one sharing the moment with her. Instead, there she was, pretending to enjoy a night she didn’t want, with someone she didn’t feel for.

And then there was your birthday.

Jimin hadn’t even realized it until she saw Ryujin’s message. Your birthday. How could she have not known? She had been so wrapped up in her own conflicted feelings, and now she had missed it. She hadn’t even called you to wish you well. Instead, she had gone on a date with Minjeong, leaving you alone when you should have been her priority. The guilt gnawed at her. She should have been celebrating with you, but instead, she abandoned you for an old fling.

Jimin couldn’t stop thinking about how she must have hurt you, how selfish she had been.

Finally, the sound of the door opening broke her thoughts. One of your drivers had you slung over his back, and Ryujin was close behind, carrying Yeji in her arms.

You groaned as the driver gently set you down on the couch, before grimly walking out of the door.

Ryujin’s eyes met Jimin’s, and she simply shook her head in disappointment before carrying her half-asleep girlfriend away.

The young royalty stood there for a moment, feeling lost. You lay on the couch, flat on your back, murmuring incoherently, your arms covering your face. She couldn't stand seeing you like this—vulnerable and clearly intoxicated. It made her feel even worse for not being there for you earlier.

Jimin walked to your room and picked out your night clothes, the weight of her guilt growing heavier with each step. As she returned to you, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her emotions tangled. She knew she should have been there with you. She should have been the one to care for you on your birthday, not someone else. She couldn’t keep running from how she felt about you anymore.

She gently walked over to you and sat down next to you, her hands shaking as she reached for your arm. She didn’t know what to say or how even to start, but she had to do something.

“Y/N?” she gently shook your arm. “Let’s get you changed.”

When she reached over to remove your blazer, your eyes immediately flew open. The intensity of your gaze caught her off guard, and she froze for a moment, her breath catching.

Your hazy brown eyes met hers, and you frowned, your voice slow and slurred.

“You are a very pretty lady, but I am married.”You tried to pull your blazer closer to your chest. “My wife is very beautiful, and she won’t like it if you touch me.”

Jimin’s heart fluttered despite herself.

She couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, drunk and a little delirious. Despite the alcohol, there was a vulnerability to you, a sincerity that made her chest tighten. You were a different version of yourself, and she couldn’t help but feel drawn to this side of you.

Exasperated but finding you incredibly endearing, Jimin giggled softly, her worries momentarily fading.

“I am your wife, pabo,” she said with a teasing smile, her fingers brushing your cheek as she gently cupped your face.

“Really?” Your eyes widened, your voice full of wonder.

“Yes,” she said, finally managing to remove your blazer and start pulling off your dress shirt.

You whistled, “Damn I got lucky.”

Jimin rolled her eyes, her face flushing pink as she avoided looking at your body, quickly pulling the nightshirt over your frame. It wasn’t easy, seeing you like this, vulnerable, messy, and it felt like everything that was left unsaid between you both was now laid bare in the silence.

After a while of wheedling and convincing, she managed to drag you into her bathroom. She gently lowered you onto the edge of the tub, sitting down behind you as she reached for the makeup remover.

You were a mess, leaning heavily into her as she wiped your face, the gentle motion soothing in the quiet. As she cleaned your face, her thoughts turned inward again, the guilt over the earlier part of the night resurfacing. She needed to say something, but she didn’t know how to start. She wanted to take it all back, to be honest with you about how she felt, about how much she wished you’d been the one there with her instead of Minjeong.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Mhmm.” You slurred, still dazed, her mind a bit foggy. “For what?”

“For going on the date with Minjeong… and for not spending your birthday with you,” Jimin admitted, her words tinged with regret.

“S'not your fault.” Your voice was slow but comforting, the warmth in her tone meant to ease the guilt. “It’s okay.”

“But I hurt you,” Jimin pressed, her eyes searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“Maybe, but I had a crush on you since high school, so you get a free card.” your voice wavered with a small giggle, still distant, as though you words were floating in and out of consciousness.

What?

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat, a warmth spreading through her chest as the truth washed over her. The crush Yeji had mentioned on their wedding night...was Jimin all along?

Her heart fluttered at the thought, and in an unexpected twist, a wave of embarrassment rolled over her. She realized, with a soft flush, that she was jealous of the past version of herself.

She finished drying your face with a clean towel, but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to tell you. She couldn’t keep holding it back, even if she was scared, even if everything felt so uncertain.

“During the date, I kept thinking how much I wished it was you who asked me to go on a date,” she admitted, her words barely above a whisper.

You paused, looking at her with slow, heavy eyes, as if processing her words.

Jimin’s heart thudded in her chest as she waited for a response.

Was she too late? Had she ruined everything?

But then you looked at her, your eyes suddenly sharp and focused, and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Do you still want a divorce?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying an emotion she couldn’t place.

Jimin hesitated.

Her emotions were swirling, you were the one she wanted, and had always wanted. But the doubt lingered, and she needed to hear you say it, needed to know if there was something real between you both.

“I…” She shook her head slowly, her voice almost trembling. “I don’t think so.”

Your face broke into a grin, that rare, beautiful smile that Jimin had longed to see, and her heart melted in response.

“Then would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow, Lady Jimin?”

She laughed, the nervous tension breaking. “Will you still remember this tomorrow?”

You quickly nodded, your voice steady, “Yes.”

“Then yes,” she replied, her heart soaring. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

You punched the air in excitement, nearly toppling over. Jimin couldn't help but laugh at your dorkiness. She had liked this side of you, so carefree, so you.

She couldn’t hide her adoration for you any longer. She leaned closer and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

You did without hesitation, trusting her with a vulnerability that mirrored her own.

And before you could even process it, her soft, full lips were pressed against yours. The kiss was gentle, lingering just a little longer than you expected. The touch of her lips, soft and sweet, sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding as the world around you seemed to stop.

It was more than just a kiss. It was everything that had been left unsaid, everything you both had been too scared to express. And as Jimin pulled back, your eyes still closed, a smile spread across your face.

It has always been her.

lots of angst in the next chapter! giving you guys a warning here first 😬 be prepared

207 notes · View notes

steveseddie · 2 days ago

Text

ridin’ in a getaway car

written for the @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event, prompt: hawkins high and @steddiemicrofic prompt: new, 517 words | rating: g | tags: different first meeting, post s3, pre relationship

read on ao3

The Hawkins High parking lot is mostly empty when Steve shows up to pick up Robin. Knowing it’ll be a while before band rehearsal ends, he sits back to wait.

It’s not a surprise when he starts dozing off right away, not after he barely got any sleep last night thanks to nightmares about Russians and giant monsters.

He startles awake when the backseat door swings open. Is band rehearsal over? Did he sleep through it? And why is Robin in the backseat?

Steve glances back and frowns. That’s not Robin in his backseat. “Munson?”

“Drive!” Eddie Munson says.

Is Steve dreaming? Did he wake up in another dimension? Considering the last couple of years, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Drive, Harrington!” Eddie repeats and the urgency in his voice makes Steve’s instincts kick in. As he drives away, Eddie ducks, but other than the basketball team leaving the gym, Steve doesn’t see anyone he could be hiding from.

His eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

“Why must you assume I did anything?”

“You like to start shit,” Steve shrugs, thinking about Eddie often taunting the jocks at lunch. “And you ran out like you robbed a bank!”

“If you must know,” Eddie says, poking his head between the seats. “I overheard Carver saying things about Chrissy that Hawkins’ good Christian folk wouldn’t approve of, soooo I spray painted a few unchristian words all over his shiny, new car.”

“Dude.”

“Nothing a quick trip to the car wash won’t fix!” Eddie shrugs. “Besides, he deserved it.”

“I’m sure,” Steve snorts. “But why would you want a target on your back? Do you like Chrissy or something?”

“Harrington, Harrington.” Eddie shakes his head like Steve said something dumb. “I’m a nerd, the target was already on my back. And I don’t like Chrissy, man. She’s nice but she’s– not my type.”

Steve can’t help but wonder what Eddie’s type is.

“So why were you at school?” Eddie asks, changing the subject. “Reliving your glory days?”

Steve shakes his head. “Picking up Robin from band rehearsal.”

In the rearview mirror, Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t know you and Buckley were friends.”

“We worked together this summer, scooping ice cream.”

Something flickers across Eddie’s face. “Right, I remember the shorts,” he says with a faraway look. When he meets Steve’s eyes again there’s an adorable flush on his cheeks. “Well, Stevie, don’t let me keep you from your date.”

“It’s not like that–”

“No? She’s not your type?” Eddie tilts his head. “Thought you like nerds.”

“I do.” Steve distantly thinks about Eddie calling himself a nerd before. “Just– I’m not hers.”

“Not possible,” Eddie blurts out, immediately blushing again. “Uh, anyway. You can just– leave me here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, scrambling out of the car. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you around, man.”

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

Eddie chuckles. “I’ll do my best, big boy.”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush.

By the time he recovers from that one and drives back to the school, he’s late to pick up Robin.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiemicrofic #steddiebingo12daysofchristmas #rip jason carver’s new shiny car #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #monse writes

150 notes · View notes

sosasturns · 1 day ago

Text

she will - c. sturniolo

in which reader does the wall dance and chris decides to join in on the fun… based on this request.

“don’t act shy now.” his voice slid through the room like the bass in the song, catching you mid-dip.

you turned, startled, eyes meeting his as he leaned against the doorway, sipping a can of pepsi like he didn’t just catch you mid-wall dance. the smirk tugging at his lips was enough to make you roll your eyes.

“chris, what do you want?”

“nah, the real question is, what you doin’?” he asked, nodding toward your phone, which was still propped up, recording.

you huffed, pushing off the wall, brushing your hair out of your face. “it’s a trend. go mind your business.”

“i mean, it is my business now.” he strolled in, setting his drink on the counter before leaning in, glancing at the screen. “you tryna post that?”

“maybe,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively.

“nah, you gotta let me hop in then. can’t be lettin’ the world think you out here doin’ this shit alone.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “boy, you don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“don’t i?” he smirked, walking past you to restart the music. as ‘she will’ started again, he stood back, tilting his chin toward the wall. “aight, hit it. lemme see somethin’.”

“you’re annoying.”

“and you love it,” he quipped, sliding his hands into his pockets. “now c’mon, stop playin’.”

with a dramatic sigh, you turned back to the wall, resting your hands against it as the beat dropped. you started moving, slower this time, feeling his eyes on you, heat crawling up your neck.

“there you go,” he murmured, the words almost drowned out by the music.

you were just starting to lose yourself in the rhythm when you felt him behind you. his chest brushed your back, and his hands landed on your waist, firm but careful.

“chris—”

“nah, keep goin’,” he interrupted, his voice low, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against your hips. “you doin’ good. fuck it up.”

your movements faltered for a second, but his grip kept you steady, pulling you closer until your body melted into his.

“see?” he teased, his lips close to your ear. “told you i could help.”

“you’re so full of yourself.”

“nah, i’m full of you,” he shot back, his tone so smooth it had you laughing despite yourself.

the song played on, and for a moment, it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you—the bass in the track, the heat of his hands, the steady rhythm you both fell into without thinking.

as the music faded, you turned to look at him, breathless.

“you really can’t mind your business, can you?” you asked, shaking your head.

he grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “not when you makin’ my business look this good.”

@ sosasturns

“sosa mafia” taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @allmylovc @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555

#sosasturns #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader

141 notes · View notes

zainnaprollyloveslevi · 3 days ago

Text

"The limit"

Mammon X Reader

Summary: You haven't seen your beloved in a long, long time. After months of parting, you finally went on a date with him. Unfortunately, all this waiting has gotten to Mammon.

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE (slight NSFW but does not show the shaboinkadoink scene), NEEDY ASF MAMMON, Pronouns used: "you" and "your", Nonbinary reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Extra: This is my first time posting on tumblr EVER. This is also my first time writing X reader/MC fanfiction ever, so please be patient with me. I did NOT put any thought to this (freestyle and not proofread), so it's a little rough.

It was cold, very much so. Devildom nights were surprisingly harsh. The streets were damp, and the air was frigid. It was as if you could pluck out ice crystals from the air if you tried hard enough. Yet here you are, running as fast as your legs could carry you, past the closed shops at the local market, your shoes made a satisfying click with every step, you didn't want to miss it.

How could you? This was a once in a lifetime chance. You were up in the human world for so long that you grew impatient. Solomon had something to do in the Devildom, something about his research you did not care enough to listen to. You picked up speed. You were almost there. You couldn't stop grinning. Despite the exhaustion you felt, you just kept smiling. Finally, you're home. You weren't referring to the house of lamentation. You don't even live there due to Solomon's request to have you near him as an essential observer for his research, that sneaky bastard. No, this time “home” was– is a person, a demon.

The fountain was in your sight, you're almost there. And yet, he isn't there. You keep running, maybe he's behind the fountain? Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist before you could register its existence and stop. It was tan, toned, and familiar. You hear his voice.

“Woah, damn. You tryna hunt me down for sport or sumn? No need for that kinda speed, I ain't going anywhere.”

Pair of blue eyes stared right at you, a smug smile on his lips, you smiled even brighter.

“Mammon!”

You pulled his arm, the one that stopped you from running past him, with just enough force for him to bend down so you could reach his face. A gentle touch to his cheek, a simple caress behind the ear, a loving glance at the skin you adorned with your petal-soft touch was enough to warm him in the coldest of nights. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. You weren't looking at the way he looked at you, the way the background fuzzed and blurred as they pale in comparison to your loving beauty, they way his eyes only found the way you were looking at him. Sure, he’s a greedy bastard, but oh, does he love like a gentleman.

A soft chuckle vibrates from his throat. He takes the hand that caressed the side of his face and brings it closer to his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, I missed ya too.”

You chuckled, finally looking into his eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You didn’t have too.”

He stands up straight, trying not to strain his back from bending down too much. He keeps your hand in his, still looking into your eyes.

“I can see it in the way you looked at me.”

His voice was soft, delicate, the voice he’d use for you and only you.

“Cheesy bastard.”

“Your cheesy bastard.”

He lets go of your hand and stretches both of his arms.

“I’m yours, deal with it.”

You smiled. You used to roll your eyes at his antics, but you missed this. You missed him.

“Hell yeah you are.”

He glares at you, as if he’s about to tease you for saying something so possessive. Instead, he holds you by the waist and leads you onward.

“Cmon. I know how fragile humans are. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

He planned this. He planned to stay at a hotel with you, away from his brothers and other distractions. Of course, you approved this. You two needed that time away.

You two arrived at the hotel. It was a little over his paycheck, but he’s the type of guy to buy you the world if he could. Spoiled by a broke man, you never thought you’d see the day. As he sits on the bed, you feel a little uneasy. Usually, he’d jump into your arms. When you ran to him, he’d run to you faster. He’d cling on to you and never let go until his brothers would pry him off of you. So why? Why was he being so gentle? Did you meet up with the wrong demon?

“Hey, Mams?”

You call out to him as you put your coat on the coat rack, your back facing his form lying on the bed with his feet on the ground.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, I just thought you fell asleep.”

“Pfft, as if.”

Just that? “As if”? No “I waited this long, ain't no way I'm wastin’ our time together!” or “I spent wayyy too much on this to waste it all on sleep.”? Now that you think about it, his date plan only consisted of meeting up by the fountain and going to the hotel. No extra activities, no nothing. This was weird. You feel the nervousness in your body grow from the pit of your stomach to your heart. You walk to the bed and lay down beside him, he doesnt turn to face you. You don't turn to face him. You two just stare at the ceiling. He finally speaks.

“So… how was your week? You know, without me.”

“Are you jealous that I’ve been around Solomon more than I’ve been around you?”

“Not really. That’s Levi's thing. I know you know you're mine.”

“Sure.”

You thought about it, how you would answer.

“Well… Solomon kept dragging me from place to place, getting equipment for his research here in the Devildom…”

You heard the sheets ruffle, he turned to face you, lying on his sides.

“...then I’d text you about our date occasionally, and that's about it.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Well, I was too busy looking forward to this date.”

You turn to look at him, your back flat on the bed. There was this bitter sarcasm in your voice. You don’t know why you feel this way, perhaps you were feeling a little bored? Shouldn't every moment be exciting when you’re with the one you love? So why do you feel this way? Maybe, you were feeling a little greedy. After being clouded in your thoughts for so long, you finally noticed the way he looked. His pupils traveled to every corner of your expression, he looked dissatisfied.

“Mammon?”

“You’re so fucking pretty and I’m sorry.”

Your heart sinks, what did he mean by that?

“....What?”

He gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, not wanting to face you.

“I can’t do this. I can’t be gentle. There ain’t nothin’ about me that’s gentle.”

You sit up, looking at his back, a worried expression painted your face. Is this going to be a breakup?

“Mammon, what's wrong?”

“Do you like me?”

“Of course, I wouldn't date you if I didn't!”

He moves his head, looking leftward, avoiding you who was sitting on the right.

“I’m not human, MC.”

“I know that.”

“I’m a demon.”

“I know.”

“I can be rough and harsh sometimes.”

“That’s a little hard to believe.”

He looks over his shoulder, looking at you.

“Huh.”

That look in his eyes, it sent chills down your spine. You tuck your legs in, as if creating distance between you two, but he grabs you by the ankle before you could push yourself even further away from him.

“Where are you going?”

He then turns around and changes his grip on your ankle, crawling closer towards you.

“No where, I was just-”

“What kinda demon am I?”

He stops, just right in between your legs. The room felt warm, even warmer than before. The lights weren’t that bright, they were orange in color, it felt like someone decided to light candles instead. Your breath hitches, surprised by his sudden change in attitude.

“What do you mean..?”

“What am I known for?”

You think about it. Should you joke about the fact he’s a little bit of a scumbag? Maybe reserve that for another time. The answer finally clears up in your mind.

“...Greed.”

“Good. Now say it. What’s my title?”

You lower your chin, eyes stuck to his dark gaze.

“....The Avatar of Greed.”

He smiles. It's soft, loving. He crawls even closer but not too close for comfort.

“Y’know, yer kinda stupid, MC.”

You were taken aback. Your brows furrowed as he teases you, you feel your cheeks burn. Just as you were about to open your mouth to argue, his hand moved from your ankle to your thigh.

“Don’t ya think it’s kind of suspicious that I wanted us to go out on a date at night? In a hotel away from the others?”

You did think about it, just a little too late. He chuckles as he looks at your startled expression.

“I’ve gone way too long without ya.”

He crawls closer, his chin ghosting above your shoulder, he whispers.

“I need my fix.”

He had the perfect opportunity to kiss your neck, take what's his, but he didn't. He rests his head, snuggling against the curve of your neck, he breathes in your scent and whines. He releases his grip on your thigh as he softens, hands resting on the bed insead.

“Please give it to me.”

You tense up, your whole body feels warm now. You slowly wrap your arms around him.

“Go ahead.”

You smile, he couldn’t see it, but you smile so softly. He’s surprisingly cute like this.

“I’m yours, aren't I?”

He snaps, releasing his head from your shoulder and his body from your embrace as he pushes forward, planting a kiss on your lips with such feverish tremor.

“Mc…” He speaks in-between kisses. “I’m the Avatar of Greed for a reason.”

He kisses your cheek,

“This isn’t enough f’me.”

He kisses your neck,

“I'm gonna need more.”

He pulls the collar of your shirt, exposing your shoulder.

“So much more.”

He plants a few kisses onto your bare shoulder,

“Please tell me I can have it. I need it. I need you.”

He bites down onto your skin. It wasn’t painful, not in the very least, but it still tickled.

“I can’t have enough of you. I’m fucking insatiable when I’m with you.”

You didn't know how to respond to that, how could you respond to that? It wasn’t until his second “please” did you respond with.

“Okay…”

You run your hands on his head, feeling the softness of his white hair, you smile.

“You can have me.”

You heard him curse under his breath as he starts to bite down on your skin even harder, sucking it, and licking the pain away. You sat there, flustered. Your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His breathing became harsh, frantic, he looks at you, one hand cupping your cheek.

“I love you, MC, but I’m sorry…”

He leans forward, and you close your eyes.

“...I’m at my limit.”

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x you #obey me smut #obey me mammon smut #om mammon #om mammon x reader #om smut

133 notes · View notes