#finally came up w one and it wasn’t taken :)

[tonycries]

NNN

Synopsis. No Nút November finally came, and so did he!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, losing NNN, PÚSSYDRUNK BOYS, bréeding, creampíes, cúmming in his pants, oraI (fem receiving), cúmplay, spítting, húmping, making Geto WHIMPER, exhibítionism (Geto), jealousy (Gojo), GOJO’S POWERS, innap. use of jujutsu, true form Sukuna, dp, p slapping, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Y’all have no idea how I’ve been waiting to write this since FEBRUARY.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8th Nov. 7:48PM

“S’stupid, so stupid-” Toji’s spitting, teeth grit so hard that he thinks he could taste the tang of metal. With a roughened grunt, his big palms smear open your sopping lips,  “Such a stupid challenge, n’ a stupid month ah-”

And oh how Toji wishes he could reel back the babbles spilling from his ravaged lips. How he wishes his rumbling baritone didn’t shake ever-so-slightly near the end. 

Because Toji Fushiguro was going crazy - and it was all your fault.

“Deprivin’ me of her-” Every single shred of his needy frustration from the past eight days bleeds into each gush of his furiously weepy cock. Fingers curling around the hilt to smack! smack! smack! his round, pinkish tip on your soppingly wet lips. “-ya know how hngh- crazy it drove me?”

One strong arm of his flexes mouth-wateringly tight around your squirming body, massaging your perfectly arched spine closer into his rock-hard abs. A full nelson. His favorite. One he’s missed for- “Over a week. Ohh- over a week n’ m’still not gonna lose.”

He already knew that was a lie. 

Because just a single, sunken inch is enough to stretch your sloppy entrance so gapingly open, enough to have you keening for air. 

To have him let his jaw fall slack with a hoarse drag of your name, drunken head falling back into the silken sheets when your gooey cunt swallows more and more of his hefty girth. So heavy and sweltering hot inside your clingy walls.

The first time in so long and it felt too good. 

Your trembly fingers clutch Toji’s sweat-dampened locks. He growls with a rough pull of your hands, fat, readied balls giving such a painful squeeze at the simple gesture. Hiccuping a feverish puff of condensation by your ear, “What, ma? T-torturin’ me for eight days isn’t enough?”

“Not that–” you’re whining, batting away big bulbous tears of stimulation in your eyes. “Jus’ need you so bad.”

Fuck, that has every drop of blood in his body pumping right to his maddeningly hard dick, staggering size growing twofold. 

You feel his velvety shaft kiss deeply into the bullseye of your g-spot, swollen length making your elastic walls constrict around him. Shit, all it’d taken was eight days to almost forget how jaw-droppingly big Toji was. How he was rutting up in mindless, squelching wet gyrations up into your dripping cunt.

“Shoulda thought of that before ya were holdin’ out on me.”

And Toji’s utterly seething, pressurizing his riotous hips with enough of his almost-inhuman strength that he’s fucking you like he hates you. Every one of his words are dripping in a scolding tone, pumping up harshly with sudden jabs into your snug pussy. Deeper and deeper and oh-

He can’t help but leer his glassy eyes over down at the heavenly view, splaying his beefy forearms underneath your quivering legs to stretch you out shamelessly. 

“Did ya kn-know this was ah- gonna happen?” he gruffs, already feeling a slight trickle of drool down the side of his scar. “That this stupid fuckin’ challenge was gonna drive me mad? M’still not- not gonna ah- cum-”

Fuck. 

But even Toji didn’t know at this point.

“Shit-” Your body bows in an even sluttier way, hips swiveling in slow, sultry grinds to guide the very end of his weepy cock into kissing your most sensitive spots. Drawing wet, translucent glides of steaming hot precum down your insides. “W-wasn’t on purpose, Toji I s-swear- s’a chall-”

“Challenge my ass.” he’s rolling his eyes, and you feel his lips graze across yours in a messy excuse of a kiss. Dark brows furrows, a low ah! ah! ah! leaving his mouth with every slurping plunge. “My only ch-challenge right ah- fuckin’ now s’to get you to cum–”

You shake your bleary head, fingers dipping to his wrist. “No– wan’ you to cum first-”

Earning you a sweet, simpering smack! right alongside the peak of your throbbing clit, he’s smoothing over the sting with methodical massages of his rude fingers. “Move that damn hand.” 

Leaving you gasping when he shotguns his painfully hard cock at such an angle to mash ruthlessly into your g-spot, your cervix. Punishing, bruising spearheads to remind you. “A challenge and m’gonna t-treat it like one. Cum.”

But oh, if Toji Fushiguro thought that he was running on merely the fumes of his sanity before then he wasn’t ready for you to finally reach your orgasm. 

Milking his cock in only a few more shuddering jams before you’re crashing headfirst into a sudden wave of your high, tightly stuffed pussy gushing out in honeyed gushes. It glistens down into his drenched tufts of black, squirting all over his rippling abs to shine an almost-creamy sheen.

His dewy eyes widen - you squirted. You squirted. 

And in response all Toji can do is bite down into the tender crook of your neck. Bite and bite until he was cumming. 

Whimpering out a broken tone into your skin, his sharp canines dig even more animalistically. Dangerously pulsing cock snapping upwards in a sudden surge that has his rummagingly fat tip bumping into your womb, a thorough thrust before dumping out thick, voluminous spurts of his cum.

“F-fuck–” he’s breathing out unsteadily, sculpted chest heaving for breath. Eyes still scrunched firmly shut no matter how much he wanted to see that prettily fucked-out expression on your face, because ever slight squeeze of your cozy walls had him twitching out another ribbon of cum. “Oh god- shit, ma- this pussy- gonna be- hngh- death-”

Easily overstimulating Toji until he could feel embarrassing tears prick behind his lids, cumming after what felt like so long and now he didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop.

Instead swirling a ravenous thumb down the edges of your leaking slit, pooling the creamy dredges of his seed that’d formed a little ring around his thick base. 

Without warning he’s shoving every single pearlescent bead back into your already overspilling pussy. 

“Heh, whatever-” he tuts, sliding his tongue down those syrupy splatters of your slick - glossing all the way up to his scar. “Now that I’ve already lost this stupid challenge, jus’ stop yer whinin’ and ride me proper, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 21st Nov. 5:31PM

Nanami Kento was not going to lose to your little challenge.

He was not going to let down his gorgeous wife.

He was not going to-

“Fuck.” Nanami heaves, he gasps for air. “Fuck.”

Thick fingers curl even tighter around his fat hilt, squeezing within an inch of himself. He’s hissing at the way that makes his angrily red tip blush even deeper, beading down glistening beads of precum that drip! drip! drip! right onto your pretty face. 

“Tha’s it-” he’s huffing out, darkened eyes drooping into a sultry half-lid. Muscled thighs spreading further, he sears a firm five-fingered grip onto your hair. Cool wedding ring brushing over your scalp, “K-keep that gorgeous face still f’me, my love.”

But oh, despite that sweet, sweet pet name his tone drips with such sheerly primal need. Hoarse towards the end with something dangerous. 

It was only a brief mention of this month that ended up with you two this - just a tiny joke of a special reward at the end that had Nanami clenching his teeth and his sanity to keep from cumming this entire month.

And he’d only made it so far.

All it took was a single pissed off work meeting, a single complaint from a client, one bad day at work for him to slam your shared apartment door open. Striding his way towards you darkly before spitting to you - his beautiful wife - “on your knees.”

Not even to have your pretty mouth on him- no, Nanami’s blond brows furrow deeper, sweat sheening a thin layer on his forehead when his greedy palms just drag down his drooling length. Over and over. 

“Ken-”

“Shit.” His fat, rotund head twitches at the mere sound of your honeyed voice, his favorite song. Gushing out a steady stream of glossing precum against the side of your lips, and Nanami just hunches. “Shhh, darling you’re gonna have me-”

“I want you to, Ken.” you’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes him gasp, admiring all the dips and curves of his sculpted body. “Please?”

He pants out such a shuddering breath that you feel fan your face, stern lips falling further and further slack with every sodden clench of his balls. Every swirl of the soft pad of his thumb around the bawling pinkish divot of his tip. 

“Take it.” Reward be damned. He was nothing against you. His metallic wristwatch flashes with every hurried pump up and down up and down up and- “T-take it all f’me, my wife.”

And oh then he’s cumming - head thrown back, toned abs rippling, face burning red when he’s moaning your name like a mantra. Over and over again into the heady living room air because Nanami hadn’t even made it as far as the bedroom before giving into that dark urge to paint your pretty features white with himself. 

Spazzing tip weeping out thick dredge after dredge of his seed that sticks to you like a sloppy second skin. Drooling down the side of your mouth, and he’s guiding his fat cock to gloss over your lips. Pretty.

“My love- get up-” he’s hissing through clenched teeth. And before those syrupy slurring words can even register in your mind, Nanami’s swiftly looping two strong arms around your waist. Dragging you upwards like some glorified ragdoll. “Need- hahhh– I need-”

Immediately, you’re being carried to splay all out on the plushy sofa nearby, Nanami hovering over you with kiss after messy kiss. Tasting himself, tasting you.

“Have no idea how much- hngh–” Shit, he can’t even speak right now, words breaking into the most whiny groans you’ve ever heard pulled from the man. “How much I missed-” And with a particularly loud squelch! he’s reeling back just enough from the filthy kiss. Drunken grin leering across his face at the dripping gleam all over the lower half of your face, delicate strings of spit and cum still connecting you to him. “-this.”

You’re blinking away the haze, pressing pecks into sight dimple at the corner of his mouth. “M-missed this, too- Hah, don’t even care about that ch-challenge.”

Gliding an open palm down your curved spine, he grins. “Exactly what I like to hear.”

And then you feel like you’re being split open apart so widely that it feels like Nanami’s reaching into your very lungs, swiping the milky tip of his still-hard cock against those hidden-away sensitive spots of yours. He’s prying open your snug cunt with steady, slow spearheads, barely even tugging away his work tie before folding you into such a thorough mating press. 

“I remember–” he’s dancing a thumb across your sodden lips, glossing it over in the most obscene opaque coating of cum you’d never even imagine. Popping it into his mouth. Sucking. “-something about a reward.”

He’s smearing his left hand down your throbbing clit - purposefully, to chuckle at the way you whine and puff about the cool sting of his golden wedding band. But more importantly, Nanami’s other hand draws down an invisible line about halfway down your stomach. 

Fuck.

Exactly where he could feel his leaky cock bludgeon solid, circular bruises into your spongy cervix. Bouncing back at the recoil, exactly where he knew that little nudge was, dragging his pulsing cock to massage your cunt, your womb-

You suck in a shuddered inhale, “Wh-what about the reward?”

“Well, since there’s no ngh- u-use in the challenge anymore…” His long fingers press down hard. And oh the way the realization dawns on your face makes you look so beautiful underneath him - his beautiful wife. But Nanami can’t help but think how much more of a beautiful momma you’d be. How perfect. Unable to tear his eyes away from the slow dribble of cum down your lips. “How about a reward for both of us, my love? Two or three rewards?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 11th Nov. 3:33AM

“S-Sugu-”

“...”

“Sugu-”

“Shhh–” Your leader’s silky smooth voice thrums at your throat, pressing an unapologetic trail of kisses down the tender skin. And you jolt at the sharp nip of his canines, “We’re trying to have a hah- meeting here, honey.”

But it was anything but that.

Fed up with your little challenge, Geto had all but demanded you sit with him through your next cult meeting. Plopping you down all prettily on his manspread lap as soon as the rest of your members filed in, acting for all the world like he wasn’t just taking filthy advantage of that short skirt he’d insisted you wear. 

Stuffed staggeringly deeply inside. 

Your saturated pussy lips bulge around his fat length, swirling his swollen cock around your walls with even the tiniest jostles. Firmly and readily cockwarming him for hours now. 

And both of you were nearing your limits - especially Geto, but, of course, he couldn’t let you know that yet. 

“Something wrong?” he’s lilting his baritone voice in volume, just enough for the surrounding members to catch interest in. Deliberate. One massive palm gripping a handful of your hips, “Seems like you’re having oh- difficulty gettin’ comfortable, gorgeous?”

Muscular thighs bouncing up and down in a relentless little cadence that had you gripping onto his decadent robes for balance. Tiny, rummaging thrusts of his sloppy length pierce your snug insides. Ridges upon ridges of his prominent veins massaging every single sweet spot he could reach - all of them.

They had him coaching those gruff grunts to the very back of his throat, fists curling on the table to prevent himself from simply slamming you down until you were stupid on his thick cock. 

Babbling out in a desperate tone, “Suguru I can’t-”

Oh? He grits his teeth at the clingy squeeze of your velvety walls around his rotund tip, the way your ass jiggles at every slight gyration. So filthy. Raising one dark brow, Geto flicks a finger at the rest of the meeting to carry on. “Can’t even handle a lil’ cockwarming, hm? What h-happened to my stubborn girl from before? And her no-nut-Nov-”

“Stop teasing!” you’re mewling out with a pretty pout that makes him twitch inside. “Jus’ want you t-to cum–”  d-don’t care that i-it’s November anymore-”

His rock-hard cock throb throb throbs inside your melty walls, bumping every oozing wave of precum into the very bottom of your pussy. And you could hear mutters spurting from every corner of the room now.

They knew. They always did.

“Oh so now, you don’t care?” Geto snickers, leaning back in his velvety chair to seep a bit more power behind his swiveling hips. “D-didn’t hngh- seem so greedy for my cock when ya made me p-promise not to cum for a month.”

As if to prove his point - and disprove yours - Geto’s hand comes slamming! down onto the vast mahogany table, grin wide. Dangerous. A primal rasp resounding at the back of his throat when he’d punishing your poor pussy with his first thorough thrust yet. 

One. Two. Three.

“P-please!”

“P-p-please, what?” he’s mocking, dramatics of your own whiny tone.

“Please, Sugu–” You’ve definitely attracted the attention of every other person in this meeting room right now. But Geto couldn’t give a fuck. Not when those words fall from your syrupy sweet lips, “-m’s-sorry jus’ fuck-”

SLAM!

He stands. One hand at your neck, the other at your clit. 

And as soon as your needy front is hitting the cool table, Geto’s merciless cockhead is diving thoroughly into your sweetened spots. The sudden change in angle letting him barrel his girthy shaft to tuck away at your very womb, all it takes for you to cum.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails clawing at the poor wood, he’s driving his weepy cock in to pound you through every single one of your highs.

Peak after peak that Geto can’t help but get addicted to, and he’s missed this heavenly feeling so much that he can’t help but let his mean mouth hang open. Dark, dewy eyes rolling so far into the back of his head that he’s forced to scrunch them closed.

The table rattles precariously when he’s rutting his hips into you ferally, sharp hip bones smacking aching bruises against the fat of your ass. Pressing you down with his entire body weight when-

“Oh- oh shit, all your f-fault. Fuck-” He half-collapses when he cums. Over and over in thick, stringy wads that gush into your very cervix. Sloshing around with each of his jackhammers, it paints your velvety walls with a dripping white coat. Again. And again. And again and again- “So jus- take it-”

Shit. 

Geto almost forgot how unfairly good it felt to have his achy cock milked by your cunt. Mustering up every shred of will to crack an eye open, he could spy the way your soppingly wet slit was overspilling with so much of his seed.

Licking his lips, he’s holding back a whimper.

And, truly, it was almost embarrassing the way that obscene sight was all it took for Geto’s once-softening cock to shoot up another few wispy ribbons of cum all over again. 

So much of it that he couldn’t control. 

Couldn’t even think of taming the way he was hiking up one powerful thigh onto the table to drive even more forcefully into you. Fingers curling almost painfully tightly around your throat to reel you into a filthy kiss of teeth and tongue. 

He has absolutely no shame wrapping his glossy lips around your tongue to suck. And even less at the way that honeyed taste of you is all it takes for him to shoot a well round of sputtering blanks into your pussy.

Chuckling tearily at those downturned, greedy eyes - shit, when did he even start crying? “A-aw look, you’ve interrupted the meeting, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 4th Nov. 10:01PM

“F-four days?” Choso’s swallowing a heavy gulp, burning face buried into the crook of your neck. And he can’t stop from heaving in deep inhales, from letting his mouth water. “-s’only been four days, baby?”

That cute, broken quiver in his tone has you tittering out a teasing giggle, something that only has his breath even more shortened. Brows knitting together when his hips just rut-

“Sorry.” your lovely boyfriend’s hiccuping, trembly fingers wrapping even tighter around your body. And he’s trying - scrambling - oh-so-desperately to stray his glassy gaze back onto the movie on-screen. He has to. He needs to or else he’s about to lose his fucking sanity. “Sorry didn’t hngh- didn’t mean to, jus’ ignore-”

But that’s when Choso’s breath hitches, when his large body wrecks with a violent shudder running down his spine. “Are you alright, Cho?”

Because oh, your taunting body was squirming up just right against the hefty girth of his swollen cock. Dragging your ass down the exact line of his sensitive slit in a way that has his hand grasping roughly onto your hips to make you stop-

“M’gonna ah- m’not gonna be able t-to do it, baby–” he’s pleading in a filthy kiss against your lips. Sucking. Begging. “Please- don’t-”

“Don’t what, Cho?”

Shit, that nickname has him hurling his hips forwards with a choked-up grunt. Seeing white-hot pleasure behind his eyes at every one of your smoothly swiveling gyrations, seeing you in all your dripping wet glory when he thumbs your drenched panties just to the side. 

“Shit.” he gasps, dewy eyes widening, breath turning feverish at your neck. “Shit shit shit- wh-why are you so-”

And Choso moans, he can’t even finish his sentence right now. Can’t do anything but tug down his too-tight gray sweatpants to glide a steamingly hot smear of precum down your slit. 

“So what- oh-” Your taunting mouth only drops further and further open when he’s dragging his achy cock down your cunt like he was addicted. Getting off to the way that your saturatedly wet pussy lips were coating him in a glossy sheen, sucking him up like you wanted-

“Just the tip.” 

It’s his little mantra.

Rasped out over and over into your open mouth, panted in every messy kiss of his reddened, fat head against your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Pretty pecks to French kisses..

“What was that–?” you’re batting your lashes, your hips meeting his messy cadence when his own speeds up. Keening at the sculpted leg being thrown over yours to angle his driving pistons more determinedly - desperately. 

With a low whine at the back of his throat, the curved tips of Choso’s fingers find their sultry way down to your clit. And he’s giving you a harsh tug at the very peak before sobbing, “Just want to put it in, baby- jus’ the tip- p-please-”

“Just the tip?”

The movie long-forgotten.

The resounding squelch! squelch! squelch! of skin on sodden skin rings louder in your ears, as do those tiny hitches in Choso’s pants. Words gurgled though those big, bulbous tears rolling down his cheek, “Please- can’t do it anymore. Ngh- wan’ to c-cum- can I cum inside?” Drooping, half-lidded eyes boring right into your bleary ones, “Please?”

And all you can do is nod.

All Choso can do is try not to lose his fucking mind just as soon as the thick circumference of his head is bullying past your swollen folds, feeding you inch after ragingly needy inch of his cock. 

All it takes for him to lose - because with the most broken of moans, you’re being stuffed snugly full with the sheer volume of Choso’s cum. With just the tip. And there’s so much of it, it’s like he hasn’t cum for years, sloshing to hit the very back of your womb, slopping around in a way that makes you shiver. 

Wrangling to slip out his cock the tiniest inch-

“No!” Choso gasps, eyes blowing wide almost comically. “No no no- wanted- inside- hngh-” His ruddy lower lip wobbles at the slow, sultry dribble of his potent seed down your inner thighs, glossing over his own hands when he’s smearing your sodden pussy lips stretched even wider. “Inside, baby–”

“O-oh my god-” your eyes can just barely crack open when two slender fingers slip into your slick entrance, plugging you staggeringly full as soon as he’s shoving you tight with the rest of his angry cock. Rock-hard length stretching your meshing cunt taut, the very tips of his fingers being jostled to the side of every spongy g-spot in your walls. “Cho- s’too full it won’t- won’t- ah-”

The sheer stimulation was maddening.

And Choso was drunk on your pretty moans. 

“Yes it will-” he’s babbling, syrupy saliva being drooled in a streaming wad right onto your lolling tongue. And with his free hand, he’s prying your pretty mouth shut. “Don’t- hngh- don’t sound so cute, baby s’gonna make me- oh-”

But you could already guess.

Because just the slightest note of your voice, the slightest grind of your hips to fuck back into his mindlessly messy cadence had him jolting inside you. Too-sensitive tip twitching out in honeyed ribbons of precum that drip down your walls.

Choso hisses with a sudden thwack! of his hefty balls kissing up against your cunt, gliding a hand underneath your thigh to pound into you languidly. Desperately. “Four days- shit- couldn’t make four days without this c-cute cunt-”

“Baby—” you’re huffing, your half-lucid eyes drifting away to the black screen. “The movie’s over.”

He huffs out a wet bout of laughter into your lips, nipping slightly at the very bottom one. “But I g-guess that doesn’t matter when I ah- already l-lost does it, baby?” Reeling out the sticky digits of his fingers, snapping at those delicate strings of cum and your sweet, sweet juices. He grins. “Because I already have four day t-to make up for-”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 7th Nov. 8:29PM

Times like this, the king of curses found himself on his knees. Times like this, he wanted to ruin you. 

“Awww, don’ be like that, woman-” he’s digging the rough dark claws on two hands onto the small of your back. Inhuman stretch wrenching you down, down, down that never-ending girth of his twin cocks. “Not when I’ve hngh- got you like this-”

But the only answer you’re giving him is another one of your stubborn pouts, brows scrunched together in a way that makes his tips twitch. Eagerly nudging up in a wet kiss against one of those sweet spots Sukuna knew would make you mewl.

Your lower lip wobbles with a whine, “M’ s-still mad at you, Kuna.”

Ah, he’d roll his eyes at your adorable antics but he knew that wouldn’t quite help his case. You’ve been like this ever since you’d joked about that little tradition humans did in November - and he took it seriously.

Too seriously, according to you, perhaps. With the way your devilish boyfriend was still fucking you into the decadent royal mattress - simply leaving you teasingly high and dry the mere moment he felt his orgasm coming. 

And now, the very actions had him groaning. Powerfully muscled hips staggering upwards to bob you slowly on his cocks, rearing his fat tips against your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your- “What more do you ngh, want, brat?”

It’s asked with a sudden sopping swat planted on your beading cunt, and Sukuna’s taking the opportunity to let his other tongue take over. A slow, lewd drag of those massive tastebuds down your throbbing clit. 

“I-I don’t ngh-” you’re moaning, and he already knows he’s winning. By the way your melty walls are cozying up even hotter around his thick cocks, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “-don’t know-”

“Awww–” The third of Sukuna’s big, beefy arms just can’t help but thread through one of your own, bringing it right up to his lips to leave a saccharine sweet kiss on the back of your hand. “My woman- my love-” One. Then another. And Another. “My queen, tell me what you want.”

Your tone cracks into a saturated whine when he ambushes a particularly sensitive part of your g-spot, drawing a wet glisten of precum down the side of your walls. Swelteringly hot. “W-want more-” Your trembly arms snake around his broad shoulders, digging into the smooth muscle. “-wan’ more, Kuna- hah- please-”

And who was Ryomen Sukuna to ever say no to you?

In just a few split-seconds, you’re being dragged right off of his bulging cocks. Throat just barely moving to whimper in disappointment, when Sukuna manhandles you to splay out pliantly on all fours on those silken sheets. 

Face buried into the mushy pillows, his cocks buried in your dripping cunt. 

“Shit-” he’s shuddering, heavy balls clenching at the newly sodden wave of slick that drools down your slit. And Sukuna can feel himself drool ever-so-slightly, hiding his burning face away in your neck. Thank fuck for doggy. “Is tha’s all you wanted, then–”

And every one of his surging thrusts have you plummeting further and further up the bed, gripping onto the mahogany headboard. He’s swiping down your thrumming clit, kissing a wet trail down your sluttily arched spine. 

You sob when his smacking hips turn bruising, your gummy walls stretched to your limits. “Y-you were so mean-”

“Mhm– so mean, baby.”

“M-made me so hngh- mad- never liked that ah- stupid challenge-”

Sukuna’s just snickering, flashes of white-hot pleasure sparking behind his eyes. Every time he’s milking himself on your tight pussy forcing him to hold back his whimpers, his gasps. One large set of his rough digits curling around your throat to haul you off of the bed, your head airy when he’s fucking each and every single thought out of your syrupy mind. “Don’ worry, my ah- spoiled brat. M’gonna fill up this oh fuuuck- cute cunt n’ there nothin’ you n’ any stupid challenge can do about it.”

Both of his rock-hard cocks were so messy, dragging out the sloppiest of slurps when he’s rummaging around your velvety insides. Spurts of wispy white precum staining down your sodden walls, making you gasp.

“M’so close-” You’re arched into the perfect bow for Sukuna to drag his lips down yours in a filthy kiss, humming darkly. “Gonna ah-”

Your pretty cunt has Sukuna chuckling, babbling out drunkenly. “So cum then- hah- why dontcha cum. Cum all over my cocks-” And he wants it. Needs it now, and shit- he’s never participating in this puny human custom ever again. Lazing out his second tongue to squelch an unapologetic pathway to your clit. Rolling. Sucking. “-go on then, woman. Show off f’me.”

And each one of his words were trembling with sheer desperation, cracking, even when you’re finally reaching your peak. Pound after pound. Every flick of his monstrous tongue drags you through your high, letting your toes curl.

With a sudden, hefty shudder, his cum-filled balls clench - and Sukuna’s finally cumming. Harder than he has in all his thousands of years. Harder than he ever thinks he could. 

You’re simply at the mercy of both weepy ends of his cocks when they burst out thick streams of his seed, reverberating the most filthiest of sounds that make your ears buzz. Doubly. And his balls smacking against your ass grow drippingly wetter, your poor pussy overspilling each of his steamingly hot ribbons of cum. 

“Fuck-” Sukuna sucks in a sharp breath, tears crinkling at the very ends of his eyes from how heavenly it felt having his stringy seed slosh against and between his jostling lengths. His hand feels for that inflationary bump where you’d been stuffed full, purring. “Did you take your pill?”

You blink, “N-no?”

“Good. Because m’suddenly wanting for an h-heir this Christmas.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 1st Nov. 12:17AM

Shit, he’s going to lose. Gojo’s musing with whatever’s left of his syrupy mind - or wait, was it even November, yet?

Ah, he can’t even remember. Can’t even think to do anything but piston the very cockhead of his needy length between your puffed-up pussy lips. Spreading apart your folds with an easy, glistening swipe. And he’s so half-lucid that Gojo giggles at the way your ready cunt is taking him in so well. 

“You’re mine-” Gojo’s panting out a feverish breath. Kissing your sopping wet cervix easily with each furious thrust, he’s spitting out a wet drawl of profanity into your lips. “M-mine, y’know that?”

“Toru–” Fuck, your cracking whine has Gojo’s glassy eyes veering into the back of his head. Murmuring out a vibrating groan. “S’jus’ hah- what’s gotten into you-”

And the strongest could babble about how seeing that newly appointed teacher at Jujutsu Tech churned his gears. He could tell you about how easy it is to conjure up a hollow purple when some bastard is making eyes at his wife. 

Especially in November of all days, when he’d finally said he was going to make it through the whole month. He has to.

But, no.

Instead, he’s crackling the very soft tips of his fingers with jujutsu. Pinching your clit ever-so-slightly–

“Fuck!” Your spine’s arching into such a delicious bow that has his mouth watering. His thoroughly sunken cock bursts out in a few dangerously wispy waves of precum that make him shutter a gasp. “U-using jujutsu’s not ngh- fair-”

“Fair?” he hiccups, nosing down the side of your neck. “Not fair is how hah- good this pretty pussy of yours f-feel, sweetheart.” And he’s rutting into you so sloppily, massaging down your elastic walls with each of his prominent veins. Over and over Gojo can feel himself losing his mind- “Shit- I think I-I’m the one that-”

You can’t even react.

Because in a split-second, Gojo’s splayed out all the way near the foot of the bed. Teleported.

Strong hands jostling your legs spread even further open, drool dripping down the side of his mouth when he just drinks in your essence, feverishly hot breath hovering over your quivering cunt. And that pathetic mewl barely out of your lips before-

“A-at least I can’t lose the ch-challenge way, heh-” Gojo’s lips move sultry and slow over your already thrumming clit, wrapping around so prettily to suck on the saturated beads of slick.

You can only keen, you can only thread your shaky fingers through his snow locks. Giving a harsh tug that does absolutely nothing to deter his messy make out with your cunt - if anything, your husband’s surging his face even deeper into his favorite heaven between your thighs. 

Nose meshing against the very tip top of your presoaked slit, dragging in a wet glide with every languid roll of his tongue into your sloppy entrance. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper-

He’s simpering out such a fucked-out smile on your pussy, long pinkish tongue lolling out to smear open your swollen folds. And all you can do is watch and watch as he’s slurping up syrupy stripes, slender fingers dancing their way dangerously up, up, up-

“Ah!” Your entire body wracks with a sudden surge of electricity - coming from the slender digits currently bullying their way into your slippery entrance. Gushing a thumb over your clit- “Toru what did I tell you about-”

“Ah, the jujutsu?” Gojo leans his head deliriously against part of your inner thigh, leaving a wet trail of bites. Hips mindlessly grinding down pathetically onto the plush mattress. Fuck. 

And he looked so pretty like this - gaze drooping so close-lidded that they were almost shut, blue eyes half-glowing, mouth all glossed over with a dripping wave of your sweet, sweet juices. With this, you’re gifted with another swat of his thumb over your sodden clit, slurring, “Can’t r-remember a thing–”

And then you’re cumming.

Toes curling, your hips jerking upwards into his ready hold, fisting painfully at Gojo’s hair. If it hurt then he didn’t show it. Anything but. Because he’s hiking his legs up into a seated position, your trembly thighs splayed out shamelessly on the muscles of his broad shoulders. 

Dragging and dragging you through your high with drippingly wet sucks on your clit, those drawing squelches ring in your ears and make you gasp. It was so filthy. 

But not as filthy as the way that Gojo’s head drops backwards with a wet whimper, his eyes firmly scrunched shut. “O-oh sweetheart I-” Bedroom lights flickering. 

And then nothing more is said as he just rips down the rest of his overpriced trousers until they were nothing but tatters hanging haphazardly around his slender waist. 

Jittery fingers immediately taking hold of his cock - his furiously cumming cock. From just eating out his girl. 

So reddish and weepy at the very thick tip of his, streaming out thick ribbon after ribbon of his seed that coats his fist a glossy white. You could see the way his hefty balls clenched, how his girthy shaft was twitching ferally in his fingers. 

He bares you with his drunken gaze, lightning bolting at the ends of his eyes. Kiss electric. Sucking on your tongue over and over - before shoving two of his dripping wet digits between your pretty lips. 

“There we- hngh- go don’t give a fuck about November-” You flinch when he smacks! his cock along your overworked clit. Circling the very edge of your entrance with his fat, sobbing tip. 

Coated such a creamy ring with his cum. His. 

Prattling, “Th-this is what my girl s’pposed to hah- look like. My girl.” And as soon as he sinks in just the barest of his bulbous head - the lights go out, in all of Tokyo. Soon, in all of Japan. “Heheh, doesn’t c-count that I lost no nut November if I can’t hngh- see it, right?”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely NNN *evil laughs*

Plagiarism not authorized.

[shegetsburned]

Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[velvetures]

Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

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[no-144444]

the grid: confesses!

Day 30 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

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Oscar Piastri: someone is dense…

Your dad was busy showing you the strategy plan, one of the many perks of being Zak Brown’s daughter. You’d been working in the paddock for over a year, working as one of Lando’s main mechanics, but your dad still liked to show you the plan for the day. He would’ve probably preferred you to be into the marketing / strategy side of F1 since there’s less of a chance of you getting run over in the pitlane if you’re not in the pitlane, but the heart wants what the heart wants and it wanted to be a mechanic, more specifically, a front jackman. 

“Y/n!” Lando all but jumped on your back. “Osc wants to talk to you.”

Oscar Piastri. You had been flirting with him for months. A week ago you gave up and stopped, just being friendly with him instead, since he clearly wasn’t interested. 

“Where is he?” you asked, shoving him off your back. 

“Driver’s room,” he shrugged. “Where else would he be?”

Oscar was a very big fan of sleeping in his driver’s room before a race, of course he’d be in there. 

You made your way to the McLaren motorhome and knocked on his door. He opened it, looking flushed and shirtless. 

“Hi,” you smiled. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I did- do. I do,” he nodded awkwardly. “Come in,” he opened the door enough for you to come in. 

“Thank you,” you said, trying to not stare at him too hard. “What’s up?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked immediately. 

You were taken aback, shocked that Oscar would ever be that direct. “No, why?”

“You’ve been… weird this week.” 

“Oh! That!” you chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve just stopped flirting with you.”

His face fell. “What?”

“I stopped flirting with you?” you answered again. 

“W-why? When were you flirting with me?” he asked, looking increasingly stressed. 

“Why what? Why was I flirting with you?” You questioned. “Because I have a crush on you. I’ve been flirting with you since my first day.” 

He sighed and put his face in his hands.

“You haven’t exactly reciprocated so I stopped. I just kind of assumed that you weren’t interested, which is fine, by the way,” you explained. “We’re great friends, I’m happy with that.”

“I’m so fucking dense,” he cursed. 

You chuckled. “What?”

“I obviously like you back,” he looked back up. “I thought you were just being nice.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m just as nice and touchy with Lando, of course,” you said sarcastically. “You really are dense.” 

He shook his head. “I haven’t completely fucked this up yet, have I?”

You shook your head. “No,” you pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Not yet.” 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you,” he pressed his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You chuckled. What a dork. 

Your dork. 

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Lando Norris: years of pining… 

He watched as you once again, came in from a date crying. You two had lived together since you’d finished college and moved to Monaco to start your new job (and be closer to Lando), and he watched as you tried and failed with the Monaco dating scene. 

“I fucking hate men!” you cried as he held you in his arms. It had gone the same way it had all the other times, you’d come in crying, Lando would sit with you and order food, holding you and listening as you vented about this asshole guy. Honestly, it made him want to hunt them down and kill them with his bare hands, but he settled for being the kind best friend, biding his time until he could finally tell you. 

“We suck,” he chuckled, agreeing. 

“I just want a fucking normal, nice guy. Is that too much to ask for?” you groaned in frustration. 

“Well, I’m right here,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. You were silent. He was silent. You both froze. The air in the room was much too thick. 

“You mean that?” you asked, your eyes wide and staring into his. He nodded, too nervous to verbally respond. 

“What guy wouldn’t? You’re perfect,” he finally whispered out. He felt how your heart beat sped up. 

Then your lips were on his and he knew he was a goner. 

You were perfect. And now, you were his. 

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Lewis Hamilton: eavesdropping…

“I’m fucking in love with her, and she doesn’t even look my way,” Lewis groaned, laying back on the couch. 

Never in a million years did George ever think that he’d be sitting in his hero’s drivers room with him, giving him relationship advice. 

“She looks at you plenty,” he shrugged. “But she’s usually giving out to you.”

Lewis shot him an unimpressed look. “Thanks.” 

George laughed. “Just ask her out!”

Lewis groaned again. Y/n Wolff. Toto’s princess. You were untouchable. You were a genius. You were beautiful, inside and out. “She hates me.”

“I don’t,” you said plainly. 

Both of the men shot straight up, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I actually quite like you Lewis,” you added with a smile. “You should try asking me out sometime.” 

George did everything in his power to not laugh, but he failed and burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

Lewis just nodded, much too embarrassed to speak. 

“My dad wants you George,” you told him, actually fulfilling the reason you had come to their drivers rooms. “See you both on the grid.” 

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George Russell: upfront 

George stood awkwardly at your door. He was finally going to do it, he was going to ask you out.

“George!” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You’re back.”

George was your neighbour, a very kind neighbour. He was obsessed with you. You were so kind, so funny, so beautiful. He had befriended you out of pure friendliness, he wanted to be a good neighbour (and he was on the HOA (Home Owners Association) of the building). Those quick conversations in the hall had turned into a monthly dinner night, and small dinner dates whenever he was in Monaco. 

“I am,” he smiled, hugging you back. 

You led him in, the smell of your cooking already making him salivate, but he had a question to ask first. 

“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. A real date,” he said confidently, though he didn’t feel like it.

Your face broke out into a bright smile. “I’d like that too.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“Good.” 

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Alex Albon: awkward blind date…

You sat across from Tucker, the guy your friend was ‘so sure’ you’d be interested in, with a shocked expression. There was no way he actually said what he just said, right? 

“Y’know what I mean?” he chuckled at his own ‘joke’. 

“No. I don’t,” you gritted out. “I think I’m going to go now, please don’t call me.” 

You got up to leave, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you. 

“Where would you be going?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. 

“Get off her,” a British voice demanded. Behind you were now 3 men, the 3 men you had begged to not stalk your date, but now you were pretty happy they were there. Behind you stood Alex, George, and Fernando. 

“And what are you going to do about it? She’s my girlfriend-”

“No I’m fucking not,” you seethed. “Get off me, prick,” you elbowed him in the face and got your arm free, speeding out of the restaurant and handing the waitress a large tip. You turned to the 3 men, scoffed and started walking off down the street. 

Alex followed behind you as George and Fernando hung back. 

“I know you’re mad-” he started. 

“Yeah Alex! I’m fucking pissed! I ask you to leave me alone for fucking once. To trust me once. And you can’t even do that!” you shouted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Y/n, you don’t understand-”

“Understand what?!” you shouted, finally stopping in the street. “Understand that you don’t trust me-?!”

“That I’m in love with you!” he shouted. 

You froze. “If you’re joking-”

“Why the fuck would I joke about that?” 

You nodded. “It would be a pretty shitty thing to joke about.”

“I’m not joking!”

“I know!” you chuckled. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He blushed. “I…”

He gave up and kissed you again. 

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Daniel Riccardo: drunk. He’s drunk. 

You somehow got him into his own bed, but, as per usual, he started begging you to join him, calling you his ‘personal teddy bear’. 

“Y/N!” he whined. “I’m hot!” 

“Take off the covers,” you instructed, chuckling at his drunken state. 

“You want me to take off my clothes?” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Daniel,” you warned. 

“Y/n,” he matched your tone. “Come on! We’d be so hot together! You’re gorgeous and smart and you look really good when you roll your eyes, and I always make you roll your eyes! It’s a win-win!” 

You chuckled. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love!” he corrected. “Come on baby, give me a chance.”

You couldn’t even tell if he was joking anymore. “We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“And I can kiss you now,” he decided and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You couldn’t taste any alcohol on him. None at all. 

“You liar!” you pulled away, laughing. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I needed to gauge your reaction,” he laughed. “Seems to me you agree.” 

You shook your head, laughing, but kissed him again all the same. 

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Charles LeClerc: quite the charmer (not). 

You rolled your eyes as Charles walked into the room. He was such a charmer. That’s what your mother called him anyway. Being the sister of Carlos Sainz, you grew up in the shadows which meant you were always a little different from your family. The main point being the fact that you drove on 2 wheels instead of 4, like everyone else. A MotoGP winner, that’s what you were. And as much as your parents pretended to like it, you know they would’ve preferred you pick a safer mode of racing, like horse racing or something boring. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered. 

And then there was the Charles problem. Your parents were set on the idea of Charles LeClerc having a crush on you, and you having a crush on him. You thought he was nice, good looking enough, and kind, but you didn’t like like him, did you? No. Definitely not. And him like liking you back? Impossible. 

“Charles!” your mother smiled. “It’s so good to see you!”

He exchanged pleasantries with her for a few moments, then finally turned his attention to you. 

“Y/n, how are you?” he smiled. 

“Good thanks, you?” you asked, your tone short. 

“Good. I was wondering if we could talk,” he nervously fidgeted with his hands. 

“We are talking,” you pointed out. 

He rolled his eyes. “Somewhere private.” 

“Ok?” you questioned, following him to his drivers room. 

“I like you a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but Carlos will never ever let me ask you out. I just wanted to tell you just so you know why I am stand-off-ish. It is because of-” 

He stopped talking because you had started kissing him. Maybe you did like him… just a little bit. 

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Max Verstappen: upfront, awkward, unapologetic. 

Y’know those people that just never learnt manners or social cues? Yeah, that was Max. Your friends had looked at you in horror when you brought him into the group, shocked that you’d ever start a friendship with someone as awkward and socially unintelligent as him. It’s not that Max wasn’t social intelligent, he just didn’t give a fuck. If one of your other guy-friends (the ones that all thought they had a chance with you) starts talking or (god-forbid) touching you? Max is in there, getting between you two as soon as humanly possible. He clings to you like a fucking leech, and makes sure the others know it. 

When you told them he had asked you out, not one of the girls was surprised. Of course, you’d said yes, and of course, you were ecstatic. 

At the next get-together, Brad (one of your asshole guy-friends) asked him how he did it. 

“I just asked her,” he gritted out. “She said yes, I took her out and we’ve been together since.” 

Brad shook his head, chuckling. “She’s not easy to pin down.” 

“She is when she wants you,” he smirked, making eye contact with you out on the dance floor. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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[dexteri0us]

i think i'm 'bout to explode, i can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: hints of fluff, smut - unprotected sex, slight spanking (hand and belt), oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, slight choking, biting, dom!dexter, blood (i mean, obviously, he's a freak); sassy dexter

summary: requested: "...morning sex with dexter before he goes to work..."

w/c: around 5k

a/n: your wish is my command. thanks for requesting! :)

You and Dexter were perfect for each other – or close enough. You loved his bluntness, his dry sense of humor (which wasn’t always humor) and his demons, whatever they were. You had your suspicions, but you had yet to muster the nerve to ask him directly about them. It was so frustrating, because you prided yourself on opening controversial or inappropriate topics. You kept telling yourself that you were just afraid of losing the tension between the two of you once you’d call him out on his nocturnal disappearances.  

Some nights, he’d come home at an ungodly hour, collapsing into the bed beside you like gravity finally caught up with him. Occasionally, you’d wake to his stubble brushing your cheek as he laid kisses along your face. More often than not, you were too tired to make something out of it, and usually, you also assumed he’d just gotten off on something else, because he would sigh and nuzzle into you like he was still riding en endorphin rush.

You rarely engaged in a sex in the middle of the night, unless he demanded it. Once, you told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. Yours and Dexter’s sex life had its own intricate taxonomy:  I am objectifying you right in this moment and want your body sex or my hormones are acting up sex. The list was long, really, but at the very top was something went wrong sex. That was your favorite, but too bad for you, because it wasn’t very often that you got to experience it. Dexter is very careful and focused most of the time. He doesn’t make mistakes. The bright side of that: you’d never ever get tired of it. Those nights felt like Christmas. No. Better than Christmas.

One evening, he came home earlier than usual (you weren’t even asleep yet). He was so angry. So frustrated. And you wanted to help. You set aside the book you were reading (it was about a woman who fell in love with a sociopath. safe to say, it was an intriguing read) when he stormed into the room. You crawled to the foot of the bed, watching his sharp movements with wide eyes as he took off his army green shirt.

You’d always imagined yourself grinding on him while he wore his uniform. And that time was no different. But that night wasn’t about you. It was about him. Well, partly.

“Can I help?”

“No.” his tone was clipped as he continued to move frantically around the room.

You weren’t sure if you should push his buttons. Your heart beat out of your chest from the nerves. Part of you thought maybe you should back off; the other part – it thrived on the uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing how far you could push before he snapped.

“I could make you something to eat…”

Horse shit. You couldn’t cook to save your life, and he knew that. But he just scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a humorless smirk.  

“How about a bath? I could light those lavender candles and throw in one of my bath bombs.”

“I said no.”  

You were still kneeling on the bed, dressed in your checkered shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. Trying to act as innocently as possible.

“Do you want–”

He finally charged toward you, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Do I need to spell it out?”

Finally. Bait taken.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, slowly rising to your knees. The top of your head barely reached his chin, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze.

You started placing kisses along his collarbone, trailing up over his shoulder and to his neck. Your hand rested on his chest, palm splayed over his heart.

“Any chance I can sub in for one of them tonight?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.

His brows furrowed and then shot up. “Them?”

You felt the sudden quickening of his pulse beneath your hand. You nibbled on your lower lip as you nodded.

“Who’s them?”

Instead of answering, you tanhled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was a reassurance, a promise that you’d always be there. Okay, maybe you did it because you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want to activate a chain reaction.

He leaned into you, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you. When your lips parted, your forehead rested against his.

“You tell me, Dexter. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I want you to be happy. Do whatever you need to me if that’s what it takes.”  

Pathetic? Most definitely. But who cares? He secretly loved it when you got like this – whiny, needy, entirely his.

His hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb brushing a faint vertical line against your skin, the nail scratching just enough to leave a fleeting mark. But his gaze darkened again, pupils dilating, like he was replaying unhappy memories.

He kissed you then – hard and insistent. His hand circled your neck, his thumb pressing just underneath your ear, while the rest of his fingers gripped the other side, his pointer brushing against your earlobe. Your hand instinctively shot up, clutching his forearm as if steadying yourself for what was coming.

Long story short, he fucked you that night, like never before. And since then, you’d been relying on your own version of Thorndike’s Law of Effect: if you wanted to ignite that fire in him, to get destroyed by him, you had to be a brat. Acting like you had control was the fastest way to make him prove otherwise. Sometimes you suspected he loved control more than he loved you. You’d told him that once, and he’d said you were being dramatic. Again. Well, you could still weaponize it.

The problem was, Dexter was otherwise a calm and patient boyfriend. He tolerated your antics with an almost infuriating ease, whether it was leaving the windshield wipers on long after the rain stopped or overbuying carrots at the farmer’s market only for him to help you eat the whole bowl of carrot salad. He even helped you find reliable owners for the stray cats that always “followed” you home. He was so good to you, and that’s why you always had to wait for something to go wrong. That’s when he was at his weakest and that’s when you struck.

Today’s the day. It was Friday and you didn’t have any classes, so you hadn’t set an alarm. You usually managed to wake up before 8 am – not too early, not too late. But this time, it wasn’t the sunlight or your internal clock that stirred you awake. It was the sound of chewing. Muffled munching, punctuated by the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate.

You cracked your eyes open, squinting as the golden rays of the early Miami morning sun flooded the room. You groaned softly and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:42. Acceptable.

Blinking the sleep away, you shifted your gaze to Dexter. He sat propped against the headboard on his side of the bed, a plate balanced on his lap, spearing pieces of egg and bacon with his fork before shoving them into his mouth.

What the fuck?

He never ate in bed. One time, when you’d brought a bowl of popcorn to share during a movie night, he’d almost thrown you out.

“I’m not a clean freak. You just can’t even drink out of a bottle without spilling it all over the place,” he’d said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you’d managed to convince him anyway.

Now, though? Now he was the one violating the sacred no-food-in-bed rule.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy as you reached for him.

He paused, registering your movement, and turned to you. His fork hovered mid-air as his gaze softened, just enough for him to take your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles. It was a gentle gesture, the grease from his lips lingered on your skin.  

“Hey,” he said, offering a weak smile. His voice carried a strange edge too, almost shaky.

You watched him carefully, he turned back to his food and with a quick flick of the remote, he raised the volume on the TV you hadn’t even noticed was on.   

The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a crime scene, her voice urgent as she rattled off details about a recent incident. They flashed an image of a man – the criminal – and then back to the reporter.

Your eyes darted from the TV to Dexter. His brow was drawn low, his stare almost predatory as he watched the broadcast. His jaw tightened and released, the muscles flexing as he chewed. Occasionally, his teeth ground together, producing a faint, grating sound.

He was in the mood. And it hit you.

He never ate in bed. He wanted you to provoke him. A slow smirk curled your lips.

“Careful, Dex. You might intimidate the reporter through the TV.”

His grip on the fork tightened and chewing came to an abrupt halt. He exhaled sharply through his nose, not amused.

“Not today.”

“Did someone leave a typo in their lab report or what?”

He stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth without so much as glancing at you.  

“Drop it.”

“Oh no, did Masuka out-gross you again?”

The plate clattered onto the bedside table with a force that made you flinch. Before you could react, he was on you. In a flash, his hand gripped your cheeks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

That was easier than you thought.

“Funny? No. I think I’m just observant.”

His eyes narrowed, dark and unrelenting as he studied you. His grip on your cheeks tightened just enough to make your lips purse.

“Is that what you call running your mouth until you get yourself in trouble?”

You couldn’t help it. Even with his face inches from yours, his hand firm on your cheeks, you smirked. “Please, Dexter, you’re all bark and no bite.”

Now you were just being annoying. He was actually all bite and no bark. His jaw ticked anyway, a muscle jumping just beneath his skin. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as his nose brushed against your cheek.

“You really want to test that theory?”

You tried to shrug, but his grip on you made the movement awkward.

The air between you was thick, electric. His eyes searched yours, and you finally saw that primal tweak of his.

Then, without a warning, he released your cheeks and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. His strength was effortless, his movement precise.

“If you don’t come at least four times until I have to leave for work, I’m not gonna let you come for four weeks at all.”

Shit. Four weeks is a long time. That’s a whole month!

“Now you’re setting ultimatums?”

“Your time is running out, you sure you want to talk back?”

And that was your cue to finally keep your mouth shut.

“Good girl.” He said, the words sending a jolt straight through you, and you became acutely aware of the wetness pooling in your sleep shorts.

“On your knees. Grab the headboard.”

You obeyed without hesitation, pressing your chest into the mattress as you shifted onto your knees, sticking your ass into the air. You felt the fabric of your shorts clinging to your slick pussy in a way that was both uncomfortable and relieving.

Dexter moved behind you, his hand brushing over your hips, the touch almost gentle before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, watching the material stick to your pussy, making his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed under his fingers as they brushed against the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Jesus, you’re sopping wet. Am I even surprised?” He said, bringing his fingers to your cunt and skimming them along the center from your hole, down to your clit. As he grazed that little spot, you bucked your hips into his hand, only for him to retreat it and bring it down in a swift move, slapping your clit and sending a tingling into your stomach. You moaned, not expecting him to get rough so soon.

Then, he kneeled next to you. You were too afraid to turn your head, but you could see with your periphery vision the tent in his pants. He brought the middle finger and the ring finger of his left hand to your mouth, and you opened without hesitation, wrapping your lips around them as he slid them all the way in. For you, it was awkward from that position, the fingers hooked in the corner of your mouth, forcing it to tilt slightly.

Once he decided that they were wet enough, he removed them and the same arm reached under you, his forearm touching your stomach as his fingers, now slick with your saliva, reached your pussy. They slid between your folds with ease, the two fingers pinching your clit between, before rubbing circles into it.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter with each movement. You squirmed under him, needing more than he was giving you, and he knew that. But when you started moving too much, he slowed, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Dex,” you whined, your hips moving, trying to chase the friction he was withholding. But his only answer came in a form of a slap to your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and your hand instinctively let go of the headboard and reached for your cheek in order to sooth the pain. But before you could touch your own skin, his free hand was wrapping around your wrist, holding it high and causing your muscles to strain.

“Don’t make me tie you up. You don’t have time for that.”

You nodded in silent obedience, and you gripped the headboard again, focused on not letting go. His hand was still teasing your clit while his other hand reached from behind and played with your hole, your slickness sticking to his fingers. For a moment, he was enjoying the feeling of it, of you on his fingers. Then he spread the wetness up and over your asshole. He only teased your back entrance, returning to your pussy and plunging his fingers inside, making your grip on the headboard tighten, as well as your walls around his fingers.

Dexter’s fingers worked you expertly, curling upward to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The movements of both his hands were in sync, the combination driving you to the edge as he upped the pace, relentless and unforgiving his fingers thrusting deeper, while also pinching your clit harder and occasionally grazing a nail over it, sending shivers down your spine.

The room was filled with the sounds of your gasps, Dex’s occasional grunts and most importantly, the squelching sounds of your drenched cunt. You were almost embarrassed by it, and Dexter made sure you felt that shame.

“Listen to yourself. So messy.”

Your response was a broken whine, your body trembling as his fingers curled just right to hit that devastatingly perfect spot again and again and again. His other hand maintained its tormenting rhythm on your clit, switching between sharp pinches and soft, tantalizing circles as your juices dripped from your hole to your clit.

Your knuckles became white from the hold you had on the headboard, your focus on not letting go and letting go at the same time. The pressure pulled you further under, and when he felt you clench around him, he pressed harder, his fingers moving with even more intensity.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” you whined, your body shaking with the overwhelming sensations.

“Don’t forget your manners, sweetheart.”

The pressure was unbearable now, your release so close you could taste it.

“Please, can I come?”

“Go ahead.” He growled, his fingers resuming his relentless pace, the wave of pleasure hitting you like a tidal force, crashing through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your body convulsing with the intensity of your climax. Your thighs trembled and your grip on the headboard faltered, but you were quick to remember to hold on, otherwise he wouldn’t let you ride it out.

Dexter worked you through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but still keeping you riding that high until you were an overstimulated mess beneath him. When he withdrew his hand, you thought he’d give you a moment to gather up, but instead, in a quick motion, he was behind you, spreading your ass and burying his face between your cheeks.

Your body twitched as you felt him press his tongue flat on your puffy clit, shaking his head from side to side before catching it between his lips and sucking on it. The stimulation too much, you even tried to pull away even though you didn't really want to. It was to no use anyway, he followed you and his hands pushed against the small of your back, limiting your movements. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, his nose nudging your wet opening.

The thought of him being this messy alone made you so fucking horny and needy, as if you weren’t at the maximum capacity to feel those things.

Dexter pulled another whine out of you when he tugged on your clit with his lips, pulling back until he let go with a pop.

“You get so fucking sweet when you’re on your on your knees.” He said before returning his tongue to your pussy, running it flat up and down your lips, spreading your cunt and mixing his spit with your juices before he slurped it all up.

Your hand itched to let go of the headboard and cover your pussy to give your swollen clit a rest, but you were afraid of what he might do if you disobeyed again.

Besides, eating you out was his favorite thing in the world, and bad things would happen if you deprived him of his favorite activities.

One time, he’d made you ride him for so long until it was physically impossible for you to lift your ass. He’d proceeded to call you lazy, and had you dared, you would have slapped him.

Now, too much was at stake. He flicked his tongue against your clit repeatedly before finding your entrance and plunging it inside, the wet muscle massaging your walls. He loved your taste, he loved how you squirmed, he loved how slick and sticky you were. And you loved how animalistic he was about it, and how he didn’t care that you were overstimulated.

He dragged his tongue in and out of you, and then finally, it returned to your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot. And the slightly sharp sensation was all it took to send you over the edge again. Your pelvis twitched against him, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass, dragging his nail against you aggressively and leaving red scratch marks behind.

You loved them more than bruises. You could get bruises anywhere, sometimes they appear, and you don’t even know how. That's a common knowledge. But chafed, irritated skin? You know exactly how it gets there. You remember it. It evokes memories.

He hummed against your hot, wet flesh, the vibrations only accelerating your orgasm. You mewled, almost screamed, but you didn’t want to seem overdramatic. Your cum spilled straight into his mouth and he drank it all down as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. He caught it on his tongue, licking you through the orgasm. Your upper body felt so numb, while down there, it was like fireworks. And when you finally started coming down, he slowed down, laying kisses over your pussy lips and your butt and your thighs. You felt the wetness his mouth left behind, your slick slowly drying on your skin. It was almost comforting, feeling him be so soft. You felt like curling up to him, falling asleep in his embrace.

“Three to go. You think you can make it?” He asked, and you heard him move behind you, followed by the sound of his buckle as he removed his belt.

You looked at the clock. 8:02. You didn’t think you could, but even if you did, it was in his control. He was just manipulating you to think that it was yours. Or he was just mocking you. He knew you weren’t stupid.

“You think you can?”

The leather belt came down on your ass, to the same place he’d slapped before. You made a note about checking out that bruise later.

 “You’re only giving me reasons to spank the shit out of you.” He said, dragging the belt across your ass, before touching the curved part to your pussy. Once it was gone, you waited for Dexter to hit you there too, but the blow never came.

“Let go of the headboard.”

Your brows furrowed, but your confusion quickly disappeared when he hooked the belt around your neck, yanking you upwards, your back against his chest and his clothed cock nestled between your ass cheeks.

You subtly ground against him, making him purr into your ear, which made you smirk. He gripped both ends of the belt in one hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist, his hand slipping under your tank top and squeezing your breast. The way he pinched and tugged on your nipple made you buck into him with more force, and he reciprocated, grinding against you, giving in to his own pleasure. Then his hand disappeared from your body and you heard the sound of him spitting into his palm, before he brought it to your pussy. As if you weren’t completely drenched. He knew you loved how disgusting the thought was. How lewd you felt when he did that.

For him, this was nothing compared to the things he did during his free time.

Then without a warning, he released one end of the belt, causing you to collapse face-first into the bed. He unbuttoned his khaki pants and pulled his cock out before grabbing your arm and turning you on your back.

You finally got a good look at him - strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark framed by lashes that looked like he'd used an eyelash curler (something you envied him). You admired him. Not just for his look, though that part was obvious. He knew he had women turning their heads in his direction. But they didn’t know the brilliant mind beneath it all. He was so clever, so undeniably smart, and that was what truly excited you. That a neat man with a compartmentalized brain like his could get so messy when it came to sex. Like now, all sweaty, his cock leaking onto the sheets. Some of the precum probably landed on your cunt too. The thought alone sent another wave of pleasure building deep in your abdomen.

He leaned down, his tongue flicking into your pussy in one swift motion before crawling over you and capturing your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your pulse point, making you aware of how fast your heart was pounding. You moaned into his mouth as he applied a touch more pressure for a split second, giving him the chance to slide his tongue deeper into your mouth. You sucked on it, tasting the tanginess that he'd collected from your lower lips.

Without warning, with just a sublte shift of his hips, he was inside you. A low moan escaped him as he felt the tightness of your walls, and you let out a soft whimper at the stretch. He didn’t move at first. He kept kissing you and his hand slid down your body, squeezing your boob again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lowering his head, he wrapped his mouth around your sensitive peak, sucking gently on your tit. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, pulling him closer.

His teeth grazed your sensitive nub, sending a jolt through you, and in one fluid motion, his arm snaked beneath you, lifting and sitting up as he pulled you onto his lap. He started thrusting his hips into you, holding you in place, his cock gliding effortlessly along your slick walls.

Leaning forward, his lips found your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your nipple before his mouth opened wide, taking in as much of your soft flesh as he could. You arched against him, your back curving as your hads pressed his face closer, your head tipping back in ecstasy.

He kept on fucking you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you dizzy. He drove his cock into you, quickening the pace, a sign that he was getting close. His arms around you tightened and then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain originating in your breast and going straight to your pussy, making you clench around. He was fucking you hard and deep, and when you looked down, you saw him still latched onto your tit, his upper lip covered in crimson.

You felt the sting from the way he was sucking on you, and when he finally removed his lips from your breast, you saw red drops dripping down your breast, the blood leaking from the bite marks where his upper teeth sank into your skin. You were mesmerized by it, and you wanted more. You pushed his face back against your sore nipple and Dexter surprisingly didn’t argue. He licked the blood off you and sucked again while ramming into you. Your body shuddered, and finally your third finish was brought on by a couple of additional thrusts of his hips. Then he laid you flat on the bed and chased his own release. You pulled him up by the chin, meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you hard and fast until he spilled inside of you.

Once you both came down, he was lying on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him affectionately, because you were so content that he was there with you.

But you were yanked out of your dreamland when he rose to his feet, making your brows furrow.

“That was only three,” your tone couldn't be more confused, as he headed to the bathroom.

“Yeah, but I need to shower and pick new clothes to wear. Can’t go to work with your cum all over my pants.” He came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face, as if he just hadn’t fucked the shit out of you. “Last one’s on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. Make yourself cum before I leave. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.

Asshole. He knew you’d lost the ability to make yourself cum shortly after you’d started sleeping together. But luckily, you had your stash of toys that might help you with your problem.

With the roll of your eyes, you rolled over and reached into your nightstand, but in that moment, he peeked from around the corner.

“Oh, and your hands only.”

“What? That’s not fair!”

His face dropped again.

“You want to tell me what’s fair and what isn’t?”

You slammed the drawer shut and fell on your back, your body bouncing on the soft bed.

“Good girl. And no cheating. I’ll keep the door open. If I so much as hear something else that isn’t your fucking scream, I swear you’ll have to work your ass off to make me let you come ever again. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You hadn’t done this in a long time. It almost felt unnatural. But despite that, your fingers dropped to your clit, and you began pushing yourself over another edge. Or at least you tried. But it was pointless. You tried to squeeze your wounded breast to get that rush going, but it didn’t have that effect this time. It only made you sweaty.

He managed to finish his shower before you made yourself orgasm, obviously. When he entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, he looked at you with feigned pity.

“Aww… Don’t tell me my baby needs a manual to get herself off.”

“Dex, come on. You know I can’t make myself orgasm,” you tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t going to budge.

“I can’t do two things at once, I’m only one person,” he argued, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “This is for your own good. I gave you an opportunity to make it to four before I have to leave. It’s not my fault you’re not capable.”

You huffed, bringing your fingers to your pussy again, stuffing them inside yourself and trying to fuck yourself, but again, to no avail.

He even laughed at you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him already with his work bag slung over his shoulder, hands casually tucked in his pocket. You’d lost.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. So desperate. It’s like your world has been destroyed.”

“It kinda has.”

He came to your side of your bed where you were still lying with your hand between your legs. He leaned over you, brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead and placing a soft kiss there.

“Take that as a lesson. You shouldn’t take a bait if you can’t handle the hook.”

And with that he turned on his heel and left, leaving you wrecked and messy, the most agonizing four weeks of your life just now beginning.

a/n2: i'm thinking it's kinda more vanilla than i intended it to be, but oh well... thank you for reading!!

[wandaslittlebird]

Confessing (Alternate)

Mean!Stepmom!Wanda x Pervy!Reader

After months of spying on your stepmother, you’re finally caught and made to confess far more than you’d expected.

CW: Non-consensual spying, underwear stealing and other nefarious acts, mentions of masturbation, stepmom/stepdaughter, intense questioning, dacryphilia (kinda), humiliation, spanking, mommy kink, accidental orgasm, arousal tasting, allusion of oral (W receiving)

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: This is literally the exact same fic I posted yesterday but with a non g!p reader. The only things that have changed are the reader’s anatomy and the ending.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, still mostly naked from the long shower you’d just taken. You stood up on your tippy toes in order to highlight the main attraction: your new lacy thong underwear.

You’d stolen them from your stepmother Wanda's wardrobe earlier while she was busy making dinner. When you’d found them, you just knew you had to have them.

It was the first time you’d ever stolen her panties to wear, and the act both scared and aroused you. It was one of the boldest moves you’d ever made in your months of silent admiration of Wanda.

Not to say that the stuff you’d been doing up until this was innocent or tame, by any means. This was just the furthest you’d ever pushed the envelope.

It’s not that you wanted to get caught, per se, but the risk was enticing. It was sort of like exhibitionism. The risk of being in public added excitement, but that didn’t mean you wanted to get arrested for public indecency.

“Honey! Dinner’s ready!” Wanda’s voice cut off your thoughts from the dining room.

You frowned, not ready to get dressed quite yet. Nonetheless, you shouted from the bathroom, “I’ll be down in a second!” before slipping on your plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt. It’s fine. You’d be nice and quick with dinner, then you could slip away to the privacy of your room for the rest of night. You had a better mirror in there anyway: a full body one that would solve this tip toe problem. Maybe you could even put on a bit of a fashion show for yourself, trying on all of your favorite bras and deciding which one made for the best set.

You took a deep breath, trying to mask your excitement. It was going to be a perfect night. All you had to do was make it through dinner first.

You walked nervously down the stairs into the dining room where you found Wanda dishing out pasta onto each of your plates. She offered you a gentle smile upon arrival. “Oh good, you made it. I was worried for a second there you’d make me eat alone. Just pasta tonight, nothing fancy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem at all,’” you assured. “Anything you make will surely be delicious.” You tried to offer her the same smile she’d offered you, but it came out awkward and uneven. It was clear you were nervous. You cursed yourself for your inability to hide your feelings from her.

She tilted her head in slight confusion. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I… uh… yeah I’m fine. I must’ve just taken a really hot shower,” you attempted to explain. She clearly wasn’t buying it. You shrank back in your chair a little bit. While it was sexy, the thin cut of the underwear wasn’t exactly comfortable. You shifted around as the fabric crept up into uncomfortable places.

“Are you sure?” she asked, unconvinced. “Let me feel your head.” She leaned over the table, giving you a clear view down the front of her shirt. Fuck. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath her blouse. You inhaled shakily, shifting even more obviously as you felt yourself grow wet at the sight of her.

She touched your head with the back of her hand. Her brows furrowed in confusion as your uncomfortable wiggling became more pronounced. “Darling, you seem terribly restless. What’s going on?” She was starting to catch on, at least, to the fact you were keeping something from her. Though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, she was certain she could get it out of you. You were never very good at keeping secrets, especially not from her.

You scooted your chair backwards, determined to escape this situation as quickly as possible. “I… uh… Actually I am feeling a bit poorly. I better go up to my room.” You made a move to try and get up, but she grabbed your wrist before you could escape.

You turned to let her and you were met with a glare that nearly made you crumble. She looked at you like she was looking into your soul, like she was some sort of omnipotent goddess that already knew every secret you’d ever tried to keep. “Honey,” she said, voice even and emotionless, “I think we need to have a talk.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you collapsed back down into your seat. “I’m sorry, mommy,” you whispered tearfully. How could she possibly know? Did she see something by accident?

She smiled knowingly. She had you now. That poor little head of yours couldn’t come up with a lie right now no matter how hard you tried. She circled the table and squatted down next to your chair, squeezing your hand and soothingly rubbing your temple with her thumb. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s not mad. I just need you to tell me what happened, okay? It’s okay, you can tell mommy.”

You swallowed. So she didn’t know. If you played your cards right, you could still make it out of this. Subconsciously, you crossed your legs, squeezing them tightly together to hide yourself from her. It was a painfully obvious move, but her soft voice and her hand on your head were making it so very hard to think clearly.

Wanda smirked and ran her hand up the side of your hip. Whatever you were hiding was somewhere in here.

Her hand slid over the fabric of your baggy pajama pants. Oddly enough, she couldn’t feel any underwear underneath the pants. Your secret wasn’t just that you weren’t wearing underwear, was it? No. As her hand got further up your waist, she felt them. It was different from anything she’d ever known you to wear. The fabric didn’t make its way around your waist until it was up over your hip bones.

“Honey,” she said calmly. “What are you wearing under your pajamas?”

Your mouth went dry and you froze, unsure how to answer her question. You decided it was best to play dumb. “W-what do you mean? Underwear.”

“Oh come on now darling,” she said, voice soft but slightly perturbed. “You know what I’m talking about. What underwear are you wearing right now?”

Your eyes darted around the room, avoiding her gaze at all cost. She wasn’t going to check if you lied, was she? “Just my… white cotton ones.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, unconvinced. “Do you mind if I lift up your shirt so I can make sure?”

Your hands flew to your waist, pinning your shirt to your body. “I… uh… I don’t feel comfortable showing you my underwear.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed with your evasiveness. She had started to believe that her soft mommy act wasn’t going to cut it, if she really wanted you to confess. “Darling, I’ve seen you in your panties countless times before. Hell, I probably bought you those underwear. Why are you getting so bashful all the sudden?”

You curled up tighter. You knew she was on to you by this point, but the humiliation of revealing yourself was too much. “I just… I don’t wanna show you, okay?” Your bottom lip quivered, tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Wanda stood up, pushing your chair back until it hit the wall. You gasped, looking up at her, frightened as she loomed over you menacingly. “Alright, darling. If you can’t be a good girl and tell mommy what’s going on, I’m going to have to pull you over my lap, push your pants down to your ankles, and spank you in whatever panties you’re wearing, okay? So I’ll ask you one more time. What. Underwear. Are. You. Wearing. Right. Now?”

Your eyes went wide. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Your entire body started to shake as you stared up at her, frozen. Her gaze was harsh now, face unmoving as she waited on an answer.

Finally the dam broke. A cry ripped from your throat and tears poured down your face. You crumbled to pieces underneath her. “I’m not wearing my underwear, I’m wearing yours! I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have done it. And I know I shouldn’t have lied! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sobbed.

She shrunk back down, squatting again on the floor in front of you. She could hardly hide the pleasure she got from watching you shake and sob underneath her. She took your hand in hers, wiping away your tears. “See, baby? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You melted into her hand. You were truly hers now. No more lying, no more games. No more thoughts in your precious little head aside from “do exactly what mommy tells you to do”. Any resistance you had had melted away.

“Can you tell mommy why you were wearing her panties, sweetheart?” She asked softly.

“I wanted to be pretty,” you cried weakly. “Like you.”

Wanda tilted her head. You had plenty of underwear of your own. She even let you get the fancy stuff sometimes. Certainly your own underwear collection was more expansive than hers. “Were your own pretty panties not working for you? You just had to steal some of mommy’s?”

You nodded. Your head was so jumbled it felt like the confessions were spilling out of you. “I see you through the door sometimes, when you’re getting dressed. You just look so… perfect with your matching bras and panties,” you confessed.

“You see me through the door?” She asked, noting how you had said ‘see’ rather than ‘watch’. “Do you spy on mommy while she’s naked? Do you watch me when I change my clothes?”

Your head lulled to the side. “No! …yes… sometimes.” You confessed, getting quieter with each statement.

She raised her eyebrows, surprised and amused by your unswerving honesty. She’d known, of course, about your little habits. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought. However, having you blubbering under her, confessing every little thing you’d ever done, brought her immense satisfaction.

She ran her hand up your upper thigh again, lightly tracing shapes with her fingers. “How long have you been spying on mommy, huh?”

You sighed, feeling the wet spot on the underwear grow. Her touch was so memorizing you nearly forgot to answer the question. She pulled her hand away, grabbing your face and raising her eyebrows expectantly. You snapped out of your haze. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it started! Please! I promise I’m not a naughty girl!”

Her hand moved up to your hair, gently wiping it from her face. Her rapid switching from gentle to harsh was making your head spin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not mad. You’re doing a very good job being honest with me.” She leaned forward, so close you could feel her breath against your ear. “How does it make you feel, watching me in my room like that? Watching me change my clothes and seeing my pretty lingerie?”

“G-good,” you answered hazily. “I just… I like to see, sometimes.”

She was slowly climbing up your body, almost in your lap now. “You just like to see sometimes, hmm?” She repeated. “Is that all?”

“Sometimes I-I like to… um… to-touch my… in the hallway while I watch,” you confessed, too scared and hazy to lie to her anymore.

A faint smile grew on her lips. She could hardly believe how vulnerable she’d made you. She’d never quite seen you like this before. “That’s quite naughty of you, darling. You can’t just touch yourself in the hallway like that. Someone could catch you, you know.”

“Dad almost… one time he saw… but he didn’t know what I was doing and I pretended I was waiting on you.”

She sat on your knees, rubbing soothing circles on your collarbones and shoulders. “Dad almost caught you, huh? And what were you doing, exactly?”

“Just… rubbing… on the outside. I didn’t have my h-hands in my pants or anything,” you stammered.

She leaned forward again, moving her hands down to your hips. “That was a very very naughty thing to do, little girl. I better not catch you rubbing yourself in the hallway again.”

You shook your head. “It will never happen again! I promise!”

She grabbed your face again, significantly softer now that she’d already broken you. She simply lifted your chin to look her in the eyes. “No more lying, darling. I want to know the truth. Are you going to stop spying on me?”

You nodded frantically, determined to never find yourself in this situation again. “Never! I swear!”

“Good girl,” she cooed. She gently rubbed your cheek with her thumb. “And no more stealing my underwear, agreed?”

You nodded again, driven to yet another confession you hadn’t planned on making. “No more! And no more stealing the dirty ones either. I won’t even snoop again! I promise!”

“Oh?” Wanda purred, “So you’ve been stealing my dirty panties too? Not just the clean ones?” Once again, she had been noticing her panties in your laundry instead of hers for months now. She was under no illusion that they were ending up there accidentally.

“This… this was the first time I stole any clean ones! I’ve never worn them before either!” You defended.

She hummed softly, pretending to ponder your confession. “Hmm. And what, exactly, do you do with my dirty panties?”

“I just… smell,” you confessed. “Some I use them to… t-touch myself with.”

“You use them when you touch yourself?” She asked, her voice still gentle and sweet. She ran her hands through your hair with an air of possession.

You nodded. “One time I had… I had a taste. But just one time!”

She chuckled smugly. “Oh?” She smirked down at you. “You took a taste, huh? Just once?”

You nodded. You were so terribly embarrassed. You wanted to throw yourself into her and beg her for forgiveness, but you doubted it would help.

“And how did I taste, darling?” She asked.

You moaned a little at the memory, hips bucking up as you felt yourself grow even wetter. “Really g-good. I’d never… finished that much before.”

“Aww,” she chuckled again. “Did you cum really hard when you tasted mommy?”

You nodded. Her hands traced light patterns on your hips, making their way to your stomach. “Just from a little taste?” She asked again, egging you on for more details.

“I… it kinda sprayed everywhere,” you explained. “I’ve never done that before.”

You were so wet now, you’d soaked through both the thin fabric of the underwear and your pants, leaving a wet spot on your chair. Wanda looked down at the spot and smirked smugly.

“It looks like maybe you enjoyed it, huh?” She lightly traced the waistband of your pants, getting close but not quite touching the wet parts of the fabric.

You whimpered and bucked your hips up, trying to get her hand closer to where you needed it. “Y-yeah. I didn’t know it could… happen like that.”

Wanda hummed, pondering your words. “Yeah, sweetheart. It happens like that sometimes when you feel really really good.”

You nodded, still sniffling. The whole ordeal had you beyond embarrassed, yet you noticed that your arousal persisted through the embarrassment. Perhaps it was even worsened by it.

“Can-can I go to my room?” You stuttered. You had to get out of here, to somewhere more private before your humiliation and arousal bubbled over.

“Aww, sweetheart,” she cooed with fake sympathy. “Did you really think after all of this I would just let you go to your room?”

Your eyes went wide with terror. There was only so much more of this you could withstand before disaster struck. “B-but you said you weren’t mad!”

“I’m not mad, honey,” she reassured. “But what you’ve done was very very naughty, isn’t it?”

You nodded, another wave of tears threatening to fall.

“And when little girls do naughty things they have to be punished, don’t they?” She said, affectionately combing through your hair.

You nodded again, whimpering under her gentle touch. “But you’ll go easy on me, right? Because I was a good girl and I was honest and I told you everything?”

She chuckled. Your description wasn’t exactly accurate, but she couldn’t help but take at least a little pity on you. You had confessed in the end, even if it took a little pushing. “Of course, baby,” she soothed. “Now go upstairs and wait for mommy. I want you over the end of the bed in nothing but mommy’s panties, okay?”

You nodded frantically, running up the stairs and assuming the position as soon as she got off your lap.

She chuckled, amused by your eager obedience, and boxed up the pasta she’d made so she could easily heat it back up after this was over.

It only took her about five minutes to make her way up to the bedroom, but to you, bent naked over the edge of the bed, it felt like hours.

You had to fight to keep your head down on the mattress when you heard her open the bedroom door. You whined as you watched her pull the wooden hairbrush from her nightstand. “No mommy! Please not the hairbrush! Please I was so honest and-and I answered all of your questions-“

She cut you off by rubbing gentle circles on the swell of your ass. “Shshsh,” she soothed. “Mommy’s only doing this because she loves you, okay? I have to remind my sweet girl what happens when she’s naughty so she’ll remember to be a good girl, right?”

You whimpered and squirmed under her, trying to be patient and still but also desperate to get away from the hairbrush. The thin fabric of the underwear offered you little to no protection.

“I want you to count for me, okay?” She instructed. “If you can keep count like a good girl, we’ll only do 15, but if I have to count for you, I’m gonna have to do 25, okay?”

You nodded, determined to be good and keep count. However, you weren’t traditionally known for keeping a clear head during your punishment. “Can-can I hold onto a pillow, please?”

You couldn’t see your face, but the tears in your voice made it hard for her to deny you anything. “Of course, baby,” she said, pulling a pillow from the headboard and tucking it into your arms. She kissed the side of your teary face. “Mommy loves you very much, princess. It’ll be over soon.”

She tapped your ass twice with the hairbrush before placing the first smack firmly on your left cheek. You cried out, wailing more with overwhelming embarrassment than pain.

“One!”

She hit you again with perfect precision in almost the exact same spot.

“T-two”

She switched sides, smacking you again on the other cheek.

“Three!”

You made it to seven before you inevitably lost count. She waited for a moment after the strike before she decided your wailing was not going to give way to a number, and she officially started counting herself.

By ten, you had resorted to begging. You knew better than to flail and kick your legs, she’d have you pinned over her lap with a far worse punishment in store, but you were allowed to cry and plead all you wanted. “Please mommy! Please, I'll be good. I learned my lesson mommy please no more!”

You sounded so pathetic she was tempted to have mercy on you. You weren’t even halfway through your punishment now that she’d pushed it to 25. But she would stick to her word. That was, after all, what was most important when it came to discipline.

It wasn’t even so much the pain, you were trying to escape, but something far more alarming that boiled in your lower belly. Having her, a commanding force over you was awakening something in you. The humiliation of a confession, matched with wearing her underwear and being spanked like a child over her bed had a coil building in your lower stomach.

By 15 spanks, you realized it was inevitable. You were pleading with her more quietly now. Your hips bucked against the bed in what she thought was an attempt to get away, but by the 20th spank the coil snapped. In a humiliating display of desperation, you came, all over the sheets.

She stopped spanking you, taking a second to realize what just happened. “Did you just…?”

You wailed into the pillow, burying your face into it until it nearly suffocated you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry mommy I didn’t mean to! I’ll clean it up! I promise! Please no more spankings mommy! Please, I'll be a good girl!”

Wanda laughed sadistically. “Good girls don’t have little accidents when their mommies spank them, do they?”

Your voice trembled. You could hardly breathe. “N-no.”

Wanda tapped your sore ass twice with the hairbrush. It hurt worse than when she’d done it earlier. “Get up, sweetheart.”

Reluctantly, you got up, standing naked at the foot of the bed next to a clothed and composed Wanda. Every bone in your body wanted to run out of the room, but her intimidating demeanor had you locked in place.

She grabbed the back of your hair roughly, causing you to gasp. “Do you like it when mommy spanks your little ass?” She asked.

“N-no,” you whimpered.

“Really?” She asked before roughly pushing your face down until it was hanging just above the mess you’d left on the bed. “It sure looks like you did. Tell mommy the truth. Do you like it when I spank you?”

You whined, tears falling from your face and mixing with your cum. “Yes! Yes I like it when you spank me! Please mommy!”

“Lick it up,” she commanded.

“W-what?” You stuttered. She couldn’t seriously be asking for what you thought she was asking.

“You heard me. Lick. It. Up.” She repeated. “If you wanna make a little mess on my sheets, you're gonna clean it up yourself.”

You stuck out your tongue, licking the cum from the mattress. It was disgustingly salty, mixed with the tears that were continually streaming into it. You sobbed in embarrassment. You were certain you’d never been more humiliated in your life. Yet, you still felt your arousal growing.

“Oh?” She said, presumably noticing the arousal still building between your legs. “Is my little girl enjoying this too? Do you like it when mommy gets rough with you?”

Deciding this couldn’t get any worse, you just nodded.

Her grip on your hair loosened, switching instead to a soft stroking. “That’s a good girl,” she praised.

She gently pulled you back up from the mattress when she deemed it sufficiently clean. She pulled you to face her. “Let mommy have a taste.”

You hesitantly parted your lips, slowly meshing them with hers. She hummed contentedly, running her tongue along your own.

You grabbed her by the back of the neck, losing yourself in her. You stopped caring that you were naked and sobbing and pathetic.

Her hand fell from your hair to your chest. She pushed you backwards so hard you crashed on to your back on the mattress.

She crawled on top of you, kissing you again. You could feel her hands reach down to unbutton her jeans. You moaned into her mouth as her smooth bare legs met yours.

She straddled your waist, breaking the kiss to crawl further up your body.

“If just a taste from my panties made you squirt before,” she started, “I wondered what I can make you do with the real thing.”

[luvjunie]

— trust who?

pairing: e-42!miles x 1610!fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of death, yandere?miles

summary: you were taken from him a year ago, and now it seems the universe has given him a chance to do things differently— and this time, he’s not letting you go. no matter what. wc: 1,648

a/n: i got a lil carried away w this one won’t lie, lol. i love this song, and i put a little twist on it to match the plot. song lyrics are in small, bold italics

🎧: Not You Too - drake (ft. chris brown)

“trust- trust who? trust me and i can set you free. left your man came straight to me you the real mvp, my love.“

dimmed hues of red lights spotted your vision as you came to, eyelids heavy as they peeled apart to reveal the room you assumed would be the setting of your demise. your head snapped up when you finally regained consciousness completely, fright-riddled eyes darting around to scout out an escape plan. but just as you went to move, you heard chains clink from above as your body swayed, and realized you couldn’t. you looked down to find your legs bound by rope, as well as your hands, as well as the rest of your body to a firm, stuffed sack.

feet dangling from the ground, you let your head fall back against the punching bag, defeated, and settled for your only remaining option. “help!” you yelled, voice rasped and weak. “help!” you tried again.

“don’t bother, can’t hear a thing down here.”

an artificial, robotic voice sounded from above, warranting your eyes to meet a masked man who resided on a high beam, crouched in place, watching you. how long had he been there?

he jumped down, catching himself and effortlessly hanging from one arm before his sneakers met the steel floor. they were untied, you noticed.

fear permeated your entire being as he strolled over to you, a semblance of uneasiness coursing through your veins, pumping into your blood and rendering your spine straight as the ominous figure stopped just in front of you.

“ple—please, i don’t know why i’m here,” the words tumbled out in a broken heap of suffocated, stifled sobs as tears welled in your eyes.

“shh, it’s okay,” he shushed you, a hand reaching out to gently pinch your chin, lifting your head back up after it’d fallen. his touch was delicate, like he was scared he’d break you.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, mi vida. i’d never hurt you… you know that.” the voice distorter cut out, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering over every inch of this strange mask. it reminded you of a ventilation mask you’d seen in miles’ room once, a mask used to protect your lungs from the fumes of spray paint.

as if your mind were working against you, you found yourself… calmer than you were just a few seconds ago, and even more confused. why did the voice sound so familiar?

something wasn’t right.

“who— who are you?” you gulped.

“you don’t remember me?” the shield over his face pulled back, the quiet sound of mechanical whirring as it revealed his face drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ear drums.

here stood your boyfriend in front of you, the same features, but… different. his entire demeanor had shifted since you had last seen him just prior to whatever time it was now, to something sinister. his hair was longer, pulled back and braided. an accent, almost resemblant of his mother’s lingered on the tip of his tongue, dripping within the words he spoke. his face was harder, etched and carved like the weight of the world had chipped at it piece by piece, only to settle on his shoulders, leaving him with no time for himself.

this couldn’t be right.

“miles?” you choked out, mouth gaping to find your voice. “w-why… what am I—you’re, you… but different? what is this? where am i?”

a puff of air shot through his nostrils, his best effort at a laugh as a small, smile lifted the corner of his lips, braids gliding over his shoulders when his head tilted to the side.

“you came back to me, mi amor. and god…you’re even more beautiful than i remembered.” he breathed, eyes flickering with sorrow for just a moment as they studied your face, a moment that was almost too brief for you to catch.

when he’d encountered you and his counterpart on the roof with his uncle, he swore his prayers had been answered. somehow, someway you’d been brought back to him— the pain of witnessing the bullet that pierced through your chest that fateful night just a year ago drifted from his mind, and replaced itself with the all consuming, peaceful, sleeping image of you the minute he’d picked you up and cradled you in his arms. it pained him to inject you with the needle to sedate you, but he had no other choice, he could never truly hurt you. no, he would never do that.

“i missed you so much.”

“first time in a long time hurtin' deeply inside”

the hand sporting his mechanical gauntlet lifted towards you, fingers bending so the claws wouldn’t scrape your skin as he let the cold metal brush against the swell of your cheek. the sound of the steel joints ticking made you flinch, chest stuttering for breaths you couldn’t keep within your overworked lungs as you turned away from him.

you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes, when all he’s ever wanted to do was keep you safe, to protect you, to make you feel comforted and secure. and he failed at that before, he knows that, but he’s ready this time. he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

“it’s me, hermosa… it’s okay, you know me. just trust me, and i can set you free, and then we can be together. just like old times.” his brows furrowed, his tone one of sincerity as he assured you, but it did nothing for your racing heart.

“trust—“ you sputtered, voice wavering when you spoke. “trust who? you? how can i when you have me tied up like this?!” you balked, your bewilderment such a stark contrast from his bleak, seemingly unmoving disposition.

“yeah… i’m real sorry ‘bout that. uncle aaron made me, so i tried not to make ‘em too tight. you know something like this would never, ever be my idea.”

you shook your head, was this some kind of sick joke? why wasn’t he understanding a single word that was coming from your mouth?

you grew frustrated, time was not on your side, and honestly you were getting tired of this game.

“i don’t know anything about you, i don’t even know who you are. you might have his face, and—and his body,” you looked him up and down. “but you… you are not my miles.”

he felt a pang in his chest, the words you uttered, the way you said ‘my miles’, as if he wasn’t right here, as if he wasn’t right in front of you. the version of himself he’d buried in the ground with you just last year wanted to jump out and yell at you, plead with you, anything to make you see he could be just like your miles, because he was your miles.

“oh,” he pulled the skin of his cheek between his teeth as he turned away with an agitated nod, extending his arm out to point towards your miles, who was still unconscious, chin dropped to his chest as he hung from another punching bag.

“him?” his voice raised in volume and broke apart with desperation, a humorless chuckle unintentionally escaping his trembling lips. “what’s the difference? huh? tell me.” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he tried to maintain his composure, staring deep into the eyes of the girl who would’ve burned the whole world down with him if he asked. the girl who was in his grasp, right in this moment, yet still so far from his reach— reserved for the one who had everything that belonged to him.

your head whipped to where he pointed, and the moment your eyes landed on your boyfriend your blood ran cold, a pained gasp rippling your chest. “miles! oh god, please!” you called out for him as you struggled against your restraints, his counterpart interrupting you by blocking your line of your view with his body.

“cálmate,” he hummed, “he’s fine, just unconscious. i’m not cruel. is that how you remember me, mamí?” he questioned, voice bleeding with hurt.

your gaze drifted over to your miles again, hope swelling within you when you heard him groan.

“no, no, princesa. don’t look at him, look at me.” he urged.

he didn’t understand. you always used to say you would love him in every universe, that you’d find him in every lifetime, what happened to that?

“please, we need to get home, if we don’t… he won’t be able to save his father, he—he’ll die. you have to understand.” you pleaded, the tears finally bubbling over your waterline, streamlining down your cheeks.

“you are home! it’s me, mi amor, i’m right here. what about everything we went through?” he asked tenderly, voice full of hurt and eyes still soaking in the slight difference in your features. he was too distracted by the fact that the girl he thought he’d never see again, was right here in front of him to even try and comprehend what you were trying to say. “please, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

nothing else seemed to be working, so you settled for empathizing with him. he was still miles, after all, different universe or not, he was still the same person deep down. and from the way he was looking at you, love flowing from the eyes that held so much anguish within them, you knew some version of you had loved him, too. in the same way you loved your own.

“look, i’m sure i-“ you stopped to correct yourself, “she, loved you, but i’m not her. i’m not from here, and i’m sorry she’s gone, and i’m sorry you have to live with this pain, but, please… you have to let me go.” your tone was forbearing, words teetering off into a hushed plea, your lingering apprehension threatening to tear through the seam of your heartfelt spiel.

“let you go?”

you nodded tentatively.

he moved closer to you, to unbound you from this elevated prison, you assumed. because maybe, just maybe you’d managed to get through to him.

but this wasn’t your universe, and this… this was not your miles.

for the first time in your entirety of knowing miles morales, you felt your heart stop— and not in the way that brought a flurry of warmed, passioned butterflies to flutter within you— but in a way that invited his words to settle like ice in your bones, allowed panic and dread to inhabit your senses, clutching you in a selfish grasp of resentment that had no intentions of letting you go— you realized, as this time, his gloveless hand swiped away yet another tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed.

“why would i do that?”

“I've given you enough time. hurtin' deeply inside.“

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

©luvjunie 2023

[mapiforpresident]

Its Always Been You

alexia x reader

~~~

The stadium lights cast a soft glow over the pitch as you and Alexia jogged toward the center circle. Training had ended hours ago, but the two of you lingered, just like you had so many times before. The empty stands echoed with the faint sounds of your laughter as you passed the ball back and forth, the simplicity of it grounding you in a way few things could.

It had been this way for as long as you could remember. You and Alexia, side by side, growing up in the small fields of Mollet del Vallès, dreaming of someday making it big. You’d shared everything—trophies, heartbreaks, and countless late-night talks under the stars about life and love. But it wasn’t until this past year that you truly understood how much she meant to you.

"Still got it," Alexia teased, nudging the ball toward you with a grin.

"Always," you replied, stopping it effortlessly under your foot. "But you’re slowing down, old lady."

Alexia laughed, rolling her eyes. "I’m six months older than you. Don’t push your luck."

You smirked, but the familiar ease between you made your chest ache. You weren’t sure when it started—this shift in your feelings for her—but now it was undeniable. The way her laugh lit up your world. The way her eyes held yours a second too long. The way being around her felt like coming home.

“Remember when we were kids and used to stay out here until it was too dark to see the ball?” she asked, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

You nodded. “Your mom would come yelling, telling us to get inside before we caught a cold.”

“She always thought you were the bad influence.”

“Me? You’re the one who insisted on practicing corners for hours,” you shot back.

Alexia shrugged, her smile turning softer. “Maybe. But look where we are now.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything stilled. Time, space, the years you’d spent as teammates, friends—everything came rushing back. You thought about all the people you’d dated, all the moments you’d tried to fill the void that only she could seem to occupy. It had taken you thirty years to realize it, but Alexia had been right there all along.

The silence stretched too long, so you nudged the ball toward her and said, “How about a little one-on-one? Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

Alexia grinned, accepting the challenge. You both fell into the rhythm of the drill, laughter mixing with the sound of your feet pounding the turf. She was quick, as always, and for a second, you forgot about the feelings bubbling beneath the surface. You were just two players, pushing each other like you’d done your whole lives.

Then you lunged to steal the ball, and your foot caught hers. Alexia stumbled, and before you could stop your momentum, you fell on top of her.

“Lex! Are you okay?” you asked, heart pounding as you scrambled to brace yourself, your hands on either side of her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, laughing breathlessly. Her hands instinctively landed on your waist to steady you.

You looked down, your faces only inches apart, and froze. Her eyes met yours, wide and glinting under the lights. Time seemed to stand still. You could feel the rise and fall of her chest beneath you, her warmth radiating against you in the cool night air.

“Y/N…” she said softly, her voice almost trembling.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you leaned in. Your lips brushed hers, tentative at first, as if you were testing the waters. But the moment her mouth moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. You kissed her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth, pouring years of unspoken emotions into that single moment.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and so was hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or an explanation.

“I—” you started, but Alexia’s hand moved to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… was that real? Because I’ve been dreaming about it for a while.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “You have?”

Alexia nodded, her hand still resting on your face. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, more disbelief than humor. “Are you kidding? Lex, you’ve been my whole world. I just— I didn’t realize it until recently.”

She smiled then, a slow, breathtaking smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “I guess we’ve been wasting a lot of time, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But we’ve got forever now.”

She nodded, her forehead pressing against yours as she whispered, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll hold me close,” she murmured. “Don’t let me go.”

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “I promise.”

The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, tangled together in the center circle under the Barcelona sky. For the first time in your life, everything felt exactly as it should.

~~~

requests are open especially for:

Patri x reader x Pina

Alexia x reader

Mapi x Ingrid x reader

Lena Oberdorf

[tomriddleslove]

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

[justasecretflower]

🥀Hello, I saw you’re eyeless Jack Dating before he was sacrificed. If you wouldn’t mind could you do Toby Rogers- before He went coo coo for cocoa puffs and Slenderman basically stole him. 😭😂 Please and thank you hope you have a good day. 🤍

I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM🤍

🥀- Dating Ticci Toby! Before he became a proxy!

~fluff, set before the accident:)

I won’t be able to post everyday, sadly. Since I’m starting school I’m also gonna start cooking club, national honour society then tennis:(. But please keep requesting I will not stop posting completely:).

____________________________________________

- you noticed Toby’s golden heart at first, how much he got bullied, everything in his life, yet he remained to have a soft expression.

- At first, he thought you were pranking him when you gave him the note, your cheeks flush. But when he looked at the note and thought it was a prank he didn’t miss the hurt on your face.

________________________________________

Toby’s dark hazel eyes scan the note, some tics jerking his neck and making him restart reading the note. Thinking it’s some sick joke, as if anyone like you would like anyone like him, his eyes narrow and he practically spits at you. “L- Let me guess. T-this was a sick joke w-wasn’t it?” He says seriously, his tics making him stutter a bit but his tone remained hurt, aggravated, and angry, all of the bullying he received callousing his heart and making him firmly believe that no one would even spare him a second glance. Your eyes fill with hurt and your stomach plunges from rejection, a little embarrassed and let down your voice shakes. “No it’s not. I really like you.” Toby softened a bit at your tone but then hardened again “you don’t know me.” You were fed up. Can’t he see you actually like him for him? “But I want to.” Toby’s mouth shuts and he shoves his hands in his pockets of his black hoodie and nods. “I’ll have my sister pick you up so we can go to the movies or something Friday..” he says reluctantly, still a little convinced that you wouldn’t ever like him.

_________________________________________

- his sister, Lyra, was absolutely glowing when you entered the car, sticking her hand out almost immediately and smiling widely, no one had taken her brother out before, not even giving him respect. So she was over the moon.

- you talked with Lyra a bit, and then turned your attention towards Toby, who was looking at you with softest, most affectionate filled earthy green eyes ever. Sparkling gently. It was like he lit up when he finally realised you were serious, not only serious but getting along with his sister.

- during the movie, you tried very very slowly to grab his hand. He immediately tensed and gasped a tiny bit. But only 20 minutes later he reached out, first with his pinky and then his whole, shaky, scarred hand.

- when you intertwined your fingers, Toby was convinced he never felt more happy, he didn’t even watch the rest of the movie, he was focused on you.

-how your features glowed in the dim light, how you smiled during a happy moment, or gently did your [enter your nervous fidget.] when a tense part came up.

____________________________________________

-when he’s tired of everything going on in his house he’ll bike ride or walk over to your house and taps on the window just to hold you.

- he’ll pull your waist in with his arms and bury his face in your shoulder. Gently kissing it sweetly mumbling “my y/n”

-genuinely wants to cry of happy tears whenever you defend him from bullies.

- finger tip kisses.

-while you two are sitting across from each other in somewhere public, or holding each other in the quiet night, he lifts your intertwined hands, frees your hand and gently kisses your fingertips.

-he can’t really buy you any gifts but he certainly makes you tiny doodles on sticky notes to put in your locker or room.

- his eyes got misty when you first told him you loved him.

-you got him a gold heart locket with your picture in it and yourself one with his picture. He never takes it off and kisses it whenever he misses you.

-late night talks on the rooftop, stargazing, after he ran to your house again in the middle of the night.

-You’re his angel; his light, the love of his life. He can’t stop the thoughts of running away with you whenever he looks at your pretty smile or hears your heavenly laugh.

- “My sweet y/n” “my y/n” “Angel”

-your first kiss is when you two were stargazing, the sweetest, most affectionate kiss ever. Putting your foreheads together first, lacing your fingers, then finally meeting for a soft kiss.

-he runs to you if he sees you in the hallways.

-so, in theory…Toby..💪

____________________________________________

Thanks for reading! I love all of your requests btw🤍.

Tags

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yan!Severus Snape vs Yan!Sirius Black w/Slytherin!Reader (platonic/romantic)

(Based off this concept)

Part 1: Severus Snape

There wasn’t a single soul that Severus truly cared for other than Lily and he couldn’t fathom anyone even coming close to her in his mind. But he had a change of heart when you came into his life.

In the beginning you had just been another face in the crowd at Hogwarts, but you were in the same house as him, he knew that much. Other than that he didn’t give you much mind, he was too caught up with Lily after all. It hadn’t been till after his fallout with her that he genuinely remembers any interaction with you. It had been during one of the many times James and his idiotic friends had seeked him out and made a fool out of him that he remembers truly noticing you.

You had come to his defense, or rather his rescue really but he’d never admit it even to this day. You threw a few jinxes their way and had them running for the hills, he couldn’t remember ever laughing as much as he had when remembering that moment, if ever. Not only did you humiliate them like they had done to him countless times but the things you said about them after they ran off were just too good to forget.

Of course he had waited until he was all alone before allowing himself a fit of laughter and a small half smile at the events that he’d witnessed. You didn’t look like much, he’d be honest, but you really gave James and Sirius especially a good jinxing. Since that day, Severus had made much more of an effort to pay attention to you.

After everything, you hadn’t mentioned anything from that day. You hadn’t even really interacted with Severus again. He was grateful of that but a small part of him wished or rather hoped that you would have talked to him, even just a measly ‘hello’. But it was for the best, at least that’s what he told himself at first.

Eventually, Severus had started unconsciously scouring the common room for you, it if wasn’t the common room then it was the sea of students making their ways through the halls. It went on a while before he actually caught himself doing it. By the time he had, Severus had already taken to walking closer to you when going to classes or even sitting nearer to you in the dining hall. He never strayed too close for comfort or for you to notice but close enough for him. The more he did it and the longer he got away with it, the bolder he got. Soon enough it became routine following you around, whether it was the library or quidditch practice, Severus was always around wherever you were. It was pretty easy given being part of the same house. It would have been even easier if you two were in the same dorm as well but he didn’t mind just waiting for you in the common room.

He’s completely thrown for a loop when one day you confront him about his behavior. He was under the impression that he had been very subtle in his endeavors, that was his mistake. You deserved much more credit then he first thought, you were a fellow snake after all. Severus did have every intention of talking to you eventually but he wanted to get a feel for who you were before he did invest himself fully into being more than mere housemates or even acquaintances. He wanted to know what you were all about, what he would be getting himself into before taking the plunge. That was reasonable, wasn’t it? He can’t really put his finger on the exact reason why he was acting the way he was. He had only recently caught himself doing it at all but he supposed there had to have been an answer, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

Honestly, Severus would be completely taken aback once he’s realized what he’s been doing all this time, finally settling in exactly how long he’s been sticking just a little too close to you. Why was he acting like this? This certainly wasn’t the norm for him, at least not regarding someone who wasn’t Lily. Was that it? Was he just using you as a replacement for Lily? Or was it something more than that? Did he genuinely want a, dare he say, friendship with you? Was he really willing to open himself up to someone else like that? Well, it had to be something like that otherwise why would he bother doing everything that he was. Even if it was ‘unconsciously’.

From then, Severus and you had become more openly acquainted with one another. He wasn’t quite ready to call you a friend yet, hell he probably never would, at least not vocally and out in the open. But in his mind that’s exactly what you were. You were his friend, a real friend. You weren’t like the other Slytherins, your interactions weren’t based off appearances, status, or anything of that sort. It was easy for him to be around you, unlike everyone else. He didn’t have to pretend or put in any unnecessary effort, something he was quite appreciative of. You didn’t ask anything of him, you didn’t expect anything of him and it was nice.

He wasn’t exactly the talkative type early on and even later he still wasn’t but he talked more in your company than he ever did with anyone else and that was definitely saying something. Even with Lily. And he could speak about whatever when he was with you, even if you didn’t necessarily agree with him, but you didn’t have to and that’s one of the biggest things he found himself enjoying in your friendship acquaintanceship. Neither of you had to agree with the other to be friends, you didn’t have to exactly be on the same page to still be around one another.

After getting to be around you more openly, Severus had truly grown accustomed to it. It became more of a discomfort and oddity for him not to be near your side on the rare occasions he wasn’t. And he despised it. It made him feel vulnerable and left out in the open. But he could tolerate it, for a time. But the second he was able to reclaim his place near you again he was back to feeling content. It hadn’t really been made apparent to him just how much he detested other people around you; talking to you, having your attention on them. Even if they were merely standing or sitting near you without so much as taking up any of your time or energy. He didn’t know why, he didn’t even really know how long that had become an issue in the first place but it very much so was and now he was well aware of it.

Severus especially had a hard time when it came to students from other houses taking up your time and attention. He could be tolerable towards his fellow Slytherins (to an extent) but when it came to anyone, especially the Gryffindors, something deep inside him would make itself known. Particularly regarding a certain few, especially a certain pureblood mutt.

Severus couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to pick up on it but it was right there in front of him. It seemed as though that fateful day you had defended him and garnered his attention, you also piqued the attention of someone else. Someone much more annoying and infuriatingly stubborn.

[hcsiqs]

Kate being drunk and getting all shy w reader until its time for them to go home and she finds out that reader is her gf and just gets starstruck☹️

| my girl

• pairing: drunk!kate martin x fem! reader

• summary: ^^

• warnings: alcohol lol

i’m obsessed with this idea omg

The entire Iowa team was out celebrating after their win against LSU, over the moon about beating them in Elite Eight.

Kate was had just finished another drink, no one having an idea what number she was at now because of how many she had thrown back. You had kept an eye on her the entire time, but were letting her enjoy herself with her teammates as you stood off to the side talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend for most of the night.

But what you hadn’t realized is how absolutely drunk the blonde was. She had barely came up to you the entire night, which was different from her usual clingy and touchy drunk self. And every time she did come up to you she was shy and her cheeks were bright red.

As you were sat down sipping on a fruity drink while talking to Caitlin’s girlfriend about whatever it was, the Iowa team was encouraging Kate to go talk to you. Most of them dead about the fact that she had seemed to forgotten that y’all were dating and that she had already been through the whole ‘crush’ phase with you.

“Just go!” Jada encouraged with a slight shove as giggles left her lips. Your back was still turned away from the team, not seeing the interaction go down.

“No!” Kate argued back, terrified of your rejection. Plus she knew that she would completely shut down just due to your absolute beauty.

“Dude!” Jada dragged the word out before giving a final shove, making the blonde end up right behind you.

But then you felt someone tap on your shoulder, causing you to turn around. You were relieved when it was just your beautiful girlfriend standing there, but you noticed her avoiding eye contact, something she was usually good with unless she was nervous.

“Hi,” she smiled giving a small wave, “I’m Kate,” she introduced herself to you. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re really pretty,” her words slurred together as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

“Thank you,” you let out a small laugh, “Don’t know how my girlfriend would feel about you saying that though,” you smiled playing along with her drunken forgetfulness.

“Oh!” her face turned as red as a tomato in that moment, “I’m sorry, so sorry!” she apologized quickly. You could tell she was now completely taken over by nerves as she still stayed looking at you. After a couple of seconds your girlfriend walked back, seeming as though she had been defeated because you were already taken but then only a minute or two later Gabbie and Jada were using all their body strength to push the blonde back over to you.

“Hi,” you smiled at the girl in front of you, taking in her flushed appearance.

“Hi,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, as her eyes found a home looking down at her shoes. You hoped up from your seat so that were now standing in front of her.

“I’m ready to go back to the hotel baby,” you wrapped your arms around the girls torso, bringing her into a hug. Kates arms didn’t wrap around you though. They only ghosted your back, unsure how to respond in this situation.

“Shouldn’t you go back with your girlfriend?” she asked, utter confusion in her voice. And that’s when you realized this wasn’t a joke and she was so drunk she had forgot you two were together and wanted ti flirt but was too shy.

“Kate you are my girlfriend,” you laughed, placing your chin against her chest so you could look up at her.

“What?” her jaw practically dropped. Her blue eyes searching your entire face in all its perfection. “‘m so lucky,” her lips formed into the brightest smile.

“Come on let’s go back to the room,” you pulled out of the hug and reached for her hand. You said bye to everyone, but Kate was solely focused on you and the way you moved. Her large hands had now found their familiar place on your hips as you guided her out the bar.

Once the cold air hit the two of you she placed a kiss on your forehead, her earlier shyness disappearing. “I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend! Like—you’re dating me? That’s so crazy!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was so excited to be yours.

“You’re just so pretty. I can’t believe it,” her words were slurred, but that didn’t make it mean any less.

“You’re pretty,” you smiled back at her before going on your toes to leave a simple kiss on her temple.

“You’re my girlfriend,” she giggled and then continued repeating the word ‘girlfriend’ over and over again, never getting enough of it.

allies corner

i hope this lived up to ur expectations!! but this plot is so cutie patootie eeeeee

[sadplaguedoctor]

snowed in

⤷ silco x fem!reader

summary: a simple mishap during a meeting with a piltover client almost cost you not only your life, but your dignity. luckily, silco was able to find you and guide you to take refuge in a nearby cabin to wait out the storm.

tags: cliche snowed in trope, silco’s a little mean at first, smut in final chapter, kinda angsty, hurt w/ comfort

one, two, three

The snowstorm came fast, an icy hand snatching the sky and smothering the land in white. The wind howled through jagged mountains, a sound that clawed at the edges of your mind and the small cabin you’d stumbled across creaked as though the storm might rip it apart.

Inside, the air was scarcely warmer than outside, but it was shelter. A merciful reprieve from the snow. You huddled closer to the meager fire you’d managed to coax to life in the dusty hearth, frozen fingers trembling as they extended toward the flickering warmth.

The sound of the cabin door slamming shut came from behind you and sent a jolt up your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was— the measured steps that followed, the click of polished boots on wooden floorboards— they were unmistakable.

Silco.

The man in question shook the frost from his coat, his bad eye burning brighter in the dim light than the fire itself. For a moment, his gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, as though assessing every weak point of the fragile structure. Then his attention landed on you.

“Well,” he said, his tone razor sharp and coated in disdain, “I didn’t take you for the sort to thrive in adverse conditions.”

You bit back a retort, forcing yourself to focus on the fire. The snowstorm might have stranded you both in this miserable excuse for a shelter, but you weren’t about to play his game.

He crossed the room with deliberate slowness that made your skin crawl, removing his gloves finger by finger before crouching at the edge of the hearth. Silco’s presence loomed even as he knelt, his mismatched gaze flicking to the fire and then back to you.

“It’s weak,” he muttered, nodding to the flames, “if the storm doesn’t kill you, that poor excuse for heat will.”

“I don’t see you helping,” you shot back, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silco’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk— or a sneer. “Because I was busy ensuring this hovel would remain standing, “he remarked, motioning toward the door he’d semi barricaded with snow dampened boards.

“But by all means, continue blaming me for your failings. It seems to be a habit.”

Your stomach churned at the reminder. This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Silco had entrusted you with a simple task: deliver a message to a Piltover contact and return to the safe house before nightfall. But somewhere along the way, you’d taken a wrong turn. The storm had hit before you realized your mistake, furious winds obscuring landmarks and swallowing every sound except the relentless scream of the gale.

By the time Silco had found you wandering through the snow, it was too late to make it back to the safe house or to the Piltover contact. You hadn’t even had the nerve to look him in the eye when he silently took the lead, guiding you to this miserable excuse for a shelter.

“I didn’t—” you started, then stopped. What was the point? There was no excuse that would satisfy him, no explanation that would make you seem less foolish.

Silco’s expression didn’t shift, but his gaze pinned you in place. “What?” He asked, voice low and sharp, “you didn’t think? You didn’t realize that a single misstep could jeopardize everything?”

You pressed your lips together, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. Silco’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, cutting into you like the icy wind outside, before he scoffed softly and leaned back on his heels.

“Typical,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, “you’ll find your excuses when it’s continent. Meanwhile, I’ll ensure we survive the night.”

The disinterest in his words burned, but before you could respond, Silco was already moving. He stood, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair, muttering something about how it didn’t do any good soaked. Beneath it, he wore his usual vest and dress shirt, his hands undoing the rolls so they covered his arms, definitely doing less than enough to keep him truly warm.

You shivered and glanced at the fire. it wasn’t enough to ward off the cold seeping through the gaps in the cabin’s walls.

“I’ll look for more firewood,” you muttered, more as an excuse to escape the suffocating tension than out of necessity.

“Don’t bother,” Silco’s voice stopped you before you could even stand. He leaned against the wall near the fire, arms crossed as his good eye pinned you in place, “you’d only get yourself lost or worse. The wind would bury you alive before you could find so much as a twig.”

You clenched your fists, heat rising in your chest for the first time all night. “So what, then?” you snapped, “we just sit here and freeze while you glare at me like this is all my fault?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering you in that unnerving, calculating way of his. “No,” he sighed, after a pause that felt far too long, “we ration the heat and wait out the storm. If you’re not entirely useless, you might even make it through the night.”

Your nails dug into your palms, but you forced yourself to look away. He wasn’t wrong about the storm— or the danger— but his words still stung. You shifted closer to the fire instead, pulling your knees up to your chest in an attempt to preserve what little warmth you had.

The silence stretched out, broken only by the groan of the wind and the crackle of the fire. It wasn’t long before Silco moved again, retrieving a small flask from his discarded coat. He took a measured sip, his eye watching you.

“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice as neutral as the icy air.

Bristling at his observation you muttered a quiet, and slow “I’m fine,” as to not give your teeth an opening to chatter.

“Fine doesn’t survive a storm like this,” he stepped closer, extending the flask toward you. His movements were calm, deliberate, but there was no mistaking the edge of impatience in his expression.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the flask, “what is it?”

“Something to keep you alive,” he responded with a tone that hinted to the answer being obvious, “now stop dithering and drink.”

With a sigh, you took the flask, your fingers brushing his briefly as you brought it up to your lips. The liquid inside was sharp, burning a path down your throat, but it send a wave of warmth through your frozen limbs. You handed it back quickly, unwilling to meet his gaze for too long.

“Better,” he said, though there was no trace of real praise in his tone. He capped the flask and tucked it away, returning to his place near the fire.

Silence fell again, heavy and awkward. For the first time, you noticed the faint tremor in Silco’s hand as he adjusted his cuffs— a sign, perhaps, that even he wasn’t immune to the cold.

“Why did you come after me?” you blurted out, the question escaping before you could stop it.

He didn’t look at you, but the pause in his movements was telling. “I don’t leave loose ends,” he said simply, “especially not ones that can be traced back to me.”

You all but flinched at the coldness of his response, but something about it didn’t ring entirely true. Silco was practical, yes, but you doubted he would have risked his life for practicality alone.

“Right,” you uttered quietly, leaning your head back to take a deep breath before ushering it all out, “loose ends.”

As the fire crackled, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was all you were to him despite all the, all be it, rare, laughs you shared in his office— or if there was something more lurking beneath the surface of his calculated words and demeanor.

You stared into the flames, wiling the quiet to stretch on, even as you felt the weight of Silco’s eye still boring into you. It was a question scrutiny, but it was there, like he was turning over every word you hadn’t yet spoken.

“I didn’t mean to get lost,” your tone hushed, breaking the silence. Your voice sounded small in the vast quiet, almost swallowed whole by the wind.

Silco shifted, the creak of wood and leather drawing your attention. He didn’t scoff this time or offer some cutting remark. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his good eye narrowing as he considered you.

“I know,” he said at last, the words low and almost begrudging, “but intentions don’t matter when you jeopardize something larger than yourself.”

You kept your eyes on him, determined not to look away just yet, “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“No,” he replied, his voice colder now, sharper, “ you didn’t think at all.”

The accusation hung between you, heavy and unyielding, but then something softened. He looked back to the fire, lines on his face easing ever so slightly.

“But you’re still here,” he murmured, almost to himself, “ that counts for something.”

You blinked at him, surprised. It wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it was condemnation either. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Barely,” you remarked, half under your breath.

Silco huffed a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so dry, “barely is still enough.”

The silence returned, but it felt different now— less suffocating and more tolerable. You shifted your position near the fire, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t seem like the type to come out all this way for someone else,” you spoke up, testing the waters of his patience.

Turning his head slightly, his expression unreadable in the light, “what type may that be?”

“The type to care.”

It was a bold thing to say, but you were too tied and cold to care. To your surprise, Silco didn’t lash out or dismiss you. Instead, he leaned forward, settling himself down on the ground by the fire, resting his elbows on his knees while his fingers laced together as he stared into the fire.

“Caring,” he said, his voice quieter now, the sharpness dulled, “is a liability. A distraction.”

You frowned, caught off guard by the raw edge in his tone that you thought you worked hard enough to get past, “then why did you?”

His mismatched gaze flicked to you, holding yours just long enough to make your stomach twist. Then, he looked away, jaw tightening.

“I told you,” he said, his voice measured, “I don’t leave loose ends.”

It was an answer, but not the one you were looking for. Still, you let it lie, sensing that to press further would be to overstep some invisible line he wasn’t ready to cross.

The fire continued to crackle between you both, its warmth a fragile bridge over the unspoken tension. You shifted closer to Silco, your movements slow and a bit strained from the cold— not too close, but close enough to feel less alone in the emptiness of the cabin.

“You know,” you said quietly, the words escaping before you could stop them, “you’re not as untouchable as you like to think.”

His head turned sharply, his eye narrowing as he studied you. You thought, for a moment, you’d gone too far, but then his lips curved into something faintly resembling a smirk.

“And you’re more reckless than I thought,” he countered, his voice for once, free of venom.

Laughing, you shook your head, “fair enough.”

The tension between you dissipated again, this time settling into something that felt almost like mutual understanding. Silco leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing ever so slightly, though the sharp edge of his presence remained.

For the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

The fire was fighting a losing battle against the cold, and it began to dwindle. The walls weren’t enough to keep the frost at bay and the storm showed no signs of relenting. Despite the safety and even comfort Silco offered opposite of the crushing loneliness, the sharp chill in the air reminded you that survival was far from guaranteed.

You moved closer to the fire, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Every breath was a cloud of vapor and your fingers were stiff, body trembling despite your best efforts to stay still.

“Stop that,” Silco said abruptly, his attention snapping towards you.

“Stop what?” you asked, tone a little sharper than intended.

“Shivering so obnoxiously,” he replied as if it was a casual complaint, “it’s distracting.”

Glancing away from him with a huff, you stared into the fire instead, doing your best to stop the shivering that did not want to ease up on you.

Even then, Silco didn’t let it go. Instead, he sighed and pushed himself closer to you. He sat beside you now, his shadow stretching long in the firelight, his mismatched eyes locking with yours.

“You’ll freeze like that,” he pointed.

“I’m fine.”

While your words were shrouded with intent, your body trembled, betraying you.

Silco reached for the coat he’d draped over the chair and shook his head, muttering something you couldn’t quite make out. Then, before you could protest, he wrapped it around your shoulders, the worn fabric heavy and faintly warm from his body heat.

“How’s that?” he asked, though the edge of impatience in his tone made it clear he wasn’t looking for an argument.

You nodded, pulling the coat tighter around yourself. The scent of leather and something faintly smokey clung to it, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Thank you,” you whispered, trying to control your chattering teeth once more.

He didn’t respond, instead settling beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. The proximity was startling at first, but you didn’t pull away. In fact, you found yourself leaning just slightly toward him, drawn to the faint warmth radiating from his body.

“You don’t have to stay there,” you said tentatively after a long moment, “I mean… we could share the coat. It’d keep us both warm.”

His gaze slid to you, expression unreadable in the flickering light. You thought he might refuse, that he’d scoff and tell you he would deal with the cold on his own. But then he sighed, reaching for the edge of the coat and lifting it up so he could wrap it around himself, your sides now flush together.

“You’re bolder than you look,” he remarked, there was no bite in his words.

“And you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be,” you countered, glancing at him.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “don’t mistake pragmatism for compassion.”

You hummed in response, unsure what to say to that. The two of you sat in silence for a while, the storm raging outside and the fire crackling weakly before you. Slowly, your shivering began to subside, replaced by a strange kind of comfort you hadn’t expected to find in such close quarters with someone like Silco.

Your head dipped forward a bit, the exhaustion from the cold and the day’s events catching up to you. Without thinking, you let yourself lean into Silco’s shoulder, the warmth of his body a welcome reprieve from the icy air.

He stiffened at first, muscles tensing beneath you, but he didn’t push you away. After a long pause, you felt him relax— his sharp edges softening just enough to comfort you.

“You’re not really what I expected,” you whispered, half asleep.

Silco didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was not only quieter than you had ever head it, but it was comforting.

“Neither are you.”

Smiling, you let your eyes shut as the weight of the day pulled you under. For the first time since the storm began, the cold didn’t seem quite so unforgiving.

i initially wrote this for a friend with the intent of being a short cute fic, but it accidentally turned into a planned out multi chapter fic. whoops,, anyway i’ll have the next two chapters out soon i hope <3

[munsonsreputation]

the tiger

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.4K]

warnings: warnings: semi proof-read, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has *secret survival skills,* k!lling the guards who are attacking stevie + friends, fire, mentions of blood and death (don't worry it ends with fluff <3), (partly inspired by 'dot' in fargo s5)

Summary: Thrusted into the unknown of the Upside Down and otherworldly creatures that came with it, you finally had a reason to let the tiger out of its cage and to everyone’s surprise they never thought you had it in you to save their lives and the world.

“You have five fucking seconds to tell me where they’re coming from!”

Your voice clamored vociferously, standing above one of the obviously now dead guards that had been tracking your boyfriend and his friends around Star Court for god knows how long.

Had Steve not left the stupid walkie talkie on, you wouldn’t have heard the beseeching cries and shouts that had rung through the device while you were sitting at home having a day to yourself as you waited for him to clock out of work.

The second you heard the code red, your fight or flight activated, hopping onto the channel as you tried to get filled in on what was happening. Perhaps a robbery or even a lockdown, but what you didn’t expect was to hear your boyfriend tell you that there was a secret Russian Base under Star Court and the girl he babysat was now their prime target.

They were coming for the ones you loved and you’d be damned if they even laid a finger on any of them, let alone the love of your life.

You were a woman of many skills: you knew how to cook up a good roast dinner, could play a few songs on the piano if you tried hard enough, and you even knew how to hot wire a car in case of emergencies.

But you were also a woman with many tricks up her sleeves: guns hidden in the floorboards, a deadly mean quick hand, and most of all a tiger that had been kept in its cage for too long and now the perfect time to set her free.

Steve’s mouth was held agape, staring up at you shellshocked and confused, as did everyone else. The last thing they expect was for you to throw yourself into danger with them, and most of all to see you with a gun in your hands ready to go to war—a war where one enemy's life was already taken.

“W—what….baby, what, I, h-how?” He stammered weakly, pulling himself to sit against the wall, limbs still aching after all the torment he endured.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was the drugs still in his system, making him see things. But sure enough, this was real life, and you just killed a man right before his eyes.

“Y-you just killed him.” He swallowed thickly, watching the floor pool with blood, which got progressively bigger, prompting everyone to scoot away.

You wrung your neck, lowering the gun to your side, nudging the corpse with your foot just to be sure he was really gone.

“He tried to kill you all first.” You defended, shaking your head at the scene, still in disbelief that this was the circumstances.

Time wasn’t on your side and clearly neither was the slim hallway they were hiding in. Despite everyone’s consternation, you knew it wasn’t the right time to explain any of this on your behalf. Every second counted, and you needed to get moving before the enemies zeroed in.

You stepped over to Steve, stooping down to his level, your eyes locked with his softly. Sympathy leaking from them knowing he went through hell, but your voice was a grim contrast that was needed for the moment.

“Look, you need to tell me where they’re coming from so I can help. I can’t get us to safety if I don’t know where they’re coming from. Tell me, Steve… now.”

You thumbed his chin mildly ordering him to focus on you and not the dead body on the ground.

His jaw trembling in your touch, eyes moving from side to side checking the halls.

“T—the back exits. We tried to get out but then we had to backtrack because that guy found us.” He gulped, hurtling his eyes to the body.

You took a deep breath, dragging his face back to you to begin surveying his injuries. His lip was busted open, dried blood coating the skin around his mouth and making a trail all the way down to his neck. The skin around his eye was swollen, a pale yellow settling against his tan skin that would surely turn all sorts of blue and purples.

“They did a number on you, huh?” You whispered, glancing down at his knuckles where fresh blood clung to the skin. He obviously put up a good fight before you arrived.

“But he finally won a fight! He knocked one of the guards out!” Dustin expressed, somehow still a little jubilant despite the mere fact that their lives were on the line.

You huffed out a weak laugh, dropping your hand from his face and turning to survey everyone else. Robin looked to sustain the same injuries as Steve yet a little less severe. Unlike Steve, she was still high on whatever drugs they had given her. You could tell by her dilated pupils alone.

For the most part, all the kids seemed to be in good shape physically. They showed no signs of injury, just sweat dripping down their foreheads and chests that were breathing heavily still disturbed up by the chaos.

But it was El whose pant leg was saturated with blood that instantly had you concerned. She sat with her back against the wall, weakly resting her head on Max’s shoulder while Mike clasped her hand. She looked about ready to drop, weak and drained of all her might.

“What happened to your leg?” You jutted your chin out, inching over to her and silently asking for permission, which she granted, and you swiftly tugged on the cuff of her jeans.

Lucas scratched his neck, face twisting when you exposed the gory laceration.

“A Demogorgon kinda attached itself to her and when we tried to get it off, it took some skin with it.”

“A demo what?” You asked bewildered, looking around at everyone for some sort of explanation that they clearly couldn’t give you right now.

“It’s basically the big evil creature that’s out to get El.” Will clarified, saving you from the technicalities of it all.

“But there’s also Demodogs and the Mind Flayer, which is out to get us…or actually, specifically El, right now,” Dustin reminded, as if you would know what any of that meant.

“I have so many questions,” you mumbled, eyes closing, trying to fathom the absurdity before opening them wide and taking a deep breath.

“But right now, I need to dress this wound before she bleeds out.”

Everyone agreed, moving close to get a good look but enough to give El space to breathe. You looked around, wondering who would best to stay on lookout while you were busy. Steve was obviously still rattled, and you were positive Robin nor Jonathan would be good with a gun, so you decided on Nancy.

She surprisingly knew a lot about guns, a suspicious amount to make you think she knew exactly how to use one.

“Can you use this?” You looked over at her, holding the weapon up as she nodded with confidence, holding her hand out for it.

“Watch both ways and if you see anyone, shoot until you’re sure they are dead.” You advised, handing it off to her before you crawled towards the dead guard.

They kept their eyes on you, observing you work the belt through the pant loops and take the pen from his shirt pocket, scurrying back to El. Contorting the belt into a loop around her leg, you fastened it tightly, apologizing under your breath when she whimpered, trying to keep her cries muted.

You tucked the excess leather around, taking a deep breath when you looked up at her after wedging the pen between the material and her skin. This part was always the worst, but it was for the greater good of her health.

“It’s gonna hurt, but I need to do this to make sure you don’t bleed out anymore than you already did, alright?”

She nodded, readying herself against the wall, closing her eyes tightly, reaching for Max’s hand and gripping it tightly You gave her a quiet countdown before beginning to twist. They all hushed her cries all while you didn’t stop until it was sheath-like, knowing it was the only way for the blood to clot and temporarily seal the wound.

“All done.” You patted her calf, dusting your hands and standing up.

With how much time you all had already wasted, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the guards found you in the only place they hadn’t searched. You had to think quick, walking over to the corpse and working the sling of the gun off his torso and draping it over yourself before you searched the rest of his pockets.

“Jonathan, here.” You shook a taser in the air, tossing it to him.

“Robin, this is for you.” A mace spray was put into her hands and the long distance aspect was going to be great.

“And baby, this is all yours.” You reached into your own back pocket where another gun was hidden, holding it out for him as he took it, inspecting the weapon and looking up at you surprised.

“Where did you even get this?” He gawked perplexed, somehow searching for answers instead of focusing on making it out alive to ask said questions when your lives weren’t on the line.

“It’s a long story, but I’ll catch you up when we make it out here, yeah?”

“What about us?” Dustin declared, arms held out wide wanting to get a super duper cool weapon like everyone else.

You reached around your waist, slipping off the walkie and tossing it at him. “Get on the emergency channel and give them our location and say there’s been a fire at Star Court and that we’re locked in.”

“A fire? Wouldn’t it be easier to just radio for Hop?” Max suggested, but you shook your head with a heavy sigh, giving everyone the unfortunate news that the easy way out wasn’t a possibility anymore.

“I called the station before I got here and Hop is nowhere to be found. The rest of the staff thought I was having a psychotic breakdown. I doubt they’re gonna believe Russians and some enormous creature are trying to take over Hawkins.”

Hope began to fade from their faces, but you knew you could get everyone out despite the odds—they just had to trust you.

“Look, I’m gonna lead and make sure it’s clear. When I say clear, I want you to run straight as fast as you can and when I say duck, you get down where you are and you do not move. Understood?”

They all nodded, beginning to move themselves off the ground, ready for your command. You led the pack, crouching low to hide behind walls peeking around the corner ensuring it was clear to which it was.

“Clear,” you whisper shouted, stepping out of the way and ushering all of them to keep moving, shuffling against the floors and doing their best to keep their movements fluid and quick.

“Duck,” you shouted a little louder, successfully making it to the main floor of the food court.

“I can hear them,” Erica muttered, eyes darting up, signaling that they were close by, and continuing to move would blow your cover.

“Give me something.” You mouthed, holding your palm out towards Lucas who speedily reached into his back pocked providing you with a slingshot and a small pebble.

“What are you doing?” Steve whispered.

“Causing a distraction and getting us back in the clear.” You murmured, attempting to get your aim just perfect.

Pulling the rubber band back, you held the rock securely, steering it towards the second floor, hoping it would reach far enough, only having one take. Before you could second guess yourself, you let it rip, watching the rock soar through the air, just barely making it over the railing and clanging against the metal, causing the shouts of the guards to echo in the empty mall.

With them distracted in the opposite direction, you gestured to everyone to stick close, needing to get as far away as possible.

“C’mon, follow me,” you whispered, crouching as you crawled toward the food court.

Steve followed closely behind you, gun cocked and ready to fire if there was a sudden attack, but his mind was clearly still trying to process everything in front of him.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Are you like a spy or something?” Steve hissed from behind you, causing you to turn your head over your shoulder, glaring at his outrageous question.

“No, I’m not a spy Steven.” You jeered, shaking your head before diverting your attention back in front of you to lead the pack.

“Then—then how do you know all about this stuff?” He argued still trying to keep his voice low despite the gnawing fear and uncertainty lingering in his mind.

You two had been together for quite sometime, and Steve figured he would have at least an inkling of knowledge that his girlfriend had the survival skills of a trained professional, let alone having the ability to kill someone cold blooded.

“I told you I was a girl scout when I was younger.” You retorted.

“Girl scouts sell cookies! They don’t know how to work guns or survive through a world takeover.” He remarked unbelievably.

Lucas who lurked too closely behind his beloved babysitter, nudged at his neck, eyes going wide as he spoke in defense of you.

“Are you really questioning her skills right now? She just killed that guard and saved our lives.” He argued, narrowing his eyes at Steve wondering how he could think this was the right moment to debate you.

Steve swallowed, shaking his head and catching up to you. “I’m sorry okay! I’m just confused and lost and—”

“Duck!” you shouted, pulling Steve's arm and throwing yourself onto the ground as gunfire started, screams and shouts ringing out as you covered your head and tried to shield yourself from any stray bullets.

“Oh, my god! We’re gonna die! We’re so gonna die!” Robin shouted, holding her hands over her ears, pinching her eyes shut tight, as if her last moments on Earth would take place any second.

“Robin shut up! You’re not helping!” Max scolded, clamping her hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as the gunshots slowly quieted and their voices faded.

“Stay here!” You demanded quietly, gesturing at all of them to stay low and close.

Listening in, the guards diverted towards the opposite direction, giving you all a moment to breathe and recoup for a few seconds.

Dustin looked over at El, quickly spitting out top secret information. “El can help, she has powers!”

At that point, you didn’t know what was real life and fantasy anymore. The lines were blurred and no matter how much you wanted to wake up and believe it was all just a surreal dream you knew their lives and yours were at stake for you to waste any time questioning the boy.

You sucked in a deep breath, eyeing the girl who sat weak and defeated, eyes communicating the want to help, but she physically couldn’t.

“She has a messed up leg. I doubt we want to put her in more danger by letting her use her… powers.” You reasoned with a sigh, passing her an understanding look. Everyone hopelessly agreed.

There was no time to waste and the best bet you had at escaping was eliminating as many of the enemies as you could. Tugging at the strap of the gun around your body, you quickly released the magazine, checking the bullets and debating your choices.

They watched you carefully, as if you were doing mental match before you clicked the magazine back into placed and nodded to yourself.

You glanced at everyone, beginning to brief them on the plan.

“In the meantime, call for help and everybody else stay here and do not move until I say clear. Got it?” You said, watched as Dustin picked up the walkie, whisper-shouting for help as everyone else nodded.

“W-What about me?” Steve gulped, eyes twinkling with a need to know how he could help—or it could’ve been the aftereffects of the drugs making him hallucinate.

You reached out, patting his cheek fondly despite the circumstances.

“Watch my back and don’t let me die.” You responded.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He nodded promptly, holding the gun into position, a little more confidently this time knowing he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

With no more time to spare, you scrambled off your feet, leaving them behind the protection of the counter whilst you stayed hidden behind a concrete pillar.

With the mess of debris on the floor, you stomped hard on a Coca-Cola can and kicked it away. The sound of aluminum screeching across the floors and grabbing the attention of the guards who you were trying to lure onto lower ground to be on your playing field.

Your friends winced at the sound, but they didn’t let out a peep, following your directions carefully. They listened intently, picking up a few voices from the top floor muttering as their footsteps pounded against with every step, trying to figure out where the sound had come from.

“Stay down.” You mouthed to them, giving them a final warning as you took a deep breath.

If you were correct, their blocking would be in a single file row, hoping to cover as much ground as they could and spread the gunfire as opposed to clumping up. You had to be stealthy and fast—and boy, were you good at that.

“Over here, assholes!”

Firing a single shot into the air, footsteps and shouts traveled down the broken escalators, bullets and gunfire echoed through the mall as you held your breath and braced yourself.

You kept the gun parallel to your shoulder, finger steady over the trigger as you ducked down and away from the pillar, moving left to right as you fired in quick sequences, watching as their bodies dropped in tandem with each bullet that pierced through them.

Steve couldn’t see any of the damage you had done with counter acting as an obstructed view, but he could see your every move. The curl of your lip and the squinting of your eyes as you moved across the floors smoothly, as if this wasn’t your first time.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think he was falling in love again.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaimed, immediately standing up when the gunfire came to a halt, forgetting that he was supposed to wait for your all clear.

“Bitch!” A gruff voice spat harshly, from the floor, a wounded guard who was inching towards his gun causing everyone else to scream panicked.

“Shit!” Lucas cursed, reaching for his friend’s arm to pull him down.

“Get down, you dumbass!” Max added, tugging harshly at his leg, until he fall on top of their bodies causing groans.

“Relax!” you shouted, firing off a single bullet—your last one, as you finally stood up straight.

“Now he’s dead.” You said, letting your chest fall with a relieved breath as you made your way over to the scene, nudging the guard with your foot once more just to be sure he was decimated.

Slowly your friends creeped up from their hiding spot, mouths falling open and foreheads creasing with disbelief as the guards laid lifeless as if it wasn’t a fair fight. You were unharmed, in perfectly mint condition, gesturing your friends to come out while you made your rounds and seized the weapons from the dead.

“So this mind flayer thing that after El…” You huffed, bending down to flip over a guard and remove his rifle from his body.

“How do we kill it?” You asked, hurling the empty gun away from your body and replacing it with the new one.

Your question fell on deaf ears, as they were too caught in trying to process what the hell just happened, and the fact that you were acting so normal about it.

“Are we really skipping over the fact that there’s about a dozen dead Russian spies laying on the ground right now, that you killed?” Mike finally broke the silence, threading his hands through his hair trying not to throw up at the scene.

You glanced back at them, still rummaging through the pockets and creating a pile of weapons for them to pick through and use.

“Yes, I killed them.” You rolled your eyes, standing up straight and crossing your arms over your chest. “Now can we move on and find a way out of here, because I’d really like to avoid another gunfight.”

“Fire. It doesn’t like heat.” Nancy replied hastily, ignoring her little brother’s attitude, as she went towards the pile, picking out her own weaponry knowing you were right.

“Okay, well, does anyone have any ideas?” You diverted your eyes towards everyone else, happy that at least Nancy was at least attempting to get into the right headspace.

“Is the professional killer really asking us?” Mike retorted crudely, looking you up and down as if you were supposed to solve every problem in the world.

“Oh my god, would you just stop!” You snapped back, prompting the rest of the kids to smack their friend over the head, chiding at his indifference.

“You need to stop being a smartass. She just saved your girlfriend’s life and all of our asses, too.” Erica retorted, shaking her head as she walked off, picking up a taser from the pile, and smirking down at it.

You closed your eyes tightly, fighting off a migraine that was surely going to take full effect soon, not having the patience to prepare yourself for a deadly monster commie battle on a Friday afternoon.

“Guy’s focus, we need to find a way to kill this thing and then get out,” Jonathan interjected, snapping everyone back into reality, beginning to brainstorm.

Steve’s eyes darted towards the top level of the hall, the bright red letters catching his attention, and soon enough the idea sparked like a light bulb.

“Babe…the Supercuts.” He spoke quickly, pointing upstairs as everyone else tried to put together what he was getting at.

“What?” You furrowed your brows, waiting for him to explain.

“Hairspray, it’s flammable, and they’ve gotta have like a gazillion cans in there, right?” He laughed half-heartedly, hoping he wasn’t just being a dingus.

A smile creeped onto your face, thankful that his obsession with his hair had another purpose.

“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re a genius, Harrington.” Robin sighed out with a weak laugh, running her hands through her hair as she walked in circles, waiting for you to give them directions.

“We’ll split up. One group will go get the hairsprays and the others will go find lighters.”

You and Steve raced up the broken escalator steps, with some of the kids following behind you both. While Nancy and Jonathan went off to find the fire source.

It was like an assembly line, you and Steve picking up boxes of the hairspray and sending it along as each kid passed it down to the ground floor, wanting to reduce the amount of trips taken up and down.

Jonathan and Nancy were able to find a few lighters hidden in the jackets of the guards, though they surely were disgusted with the thought of basically robbing the dead. Even Dustin and Erica managed to rip apart some of the concession stands, lugging out the propane tanks, knowing they would help tremendously if they wanted to burn the Mind Flayer to ash.

El, despite her injury, aided in opening the boxes of hairspray. Running a pocketknife along the taped seam and pouring out the bottles for easy access. It only took a couple of minutes before you all finished up with the task of gathering the materials and other helpful stuff that was scattered across the dirty mall floor, waiting for the game plan.

“How do we lure this thing in?” You caught your breath, brushing back your hair, hoping this supposed monster wasn’t too scary to handle.

“Blood, but I don’t think using El would be smart right now. She’s low on energy and her powers might not be as strong as they were before.”

Mike looked down at his girlfriend’s leg that was still in obvious pain as she apologetically smiled at everyone desperately wishing she could help.

You reassured her with a gentle nod, sticking your hand out towards her, asking for the pocketknife that she apprehensively handed over to you, well aware of what you were going to use it for.

Holding it in your dominant hand, you held your breath, ready to slice through the palm of your opposite hand.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s eyes widened, immediately grabbing your wrist and stopping you.

You shook your head at him obliviously, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

“What does it look like? I’m going to lure him in.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to let my girlfriend be the bait for this monster.”

“Steve, I’m going to be fin—”

“Look as much as this lovers quarrel is a bit entertaining and slightly endearing, we have very little time left and if we don’t get a head start on killing this thing, then there’s no way in hell any of us is making it out of here alive.” Dustin interrupted, tapping his foot on the ground and holding up his wristwatch.

You sighed, relaxing in Steve’s hold. Your eyes softening as he met yours doubtfully not wanting to put you in danger more than you already had. But deep inside, you and Steve both knew that the best bet of getting out alive was letting you take the lead, and you needed him to trust you.

“Let me do this, please? You’re always playing hero and fixing everything. Let me take over for once okay? I trust that you won’t let anything happen to me, so if you see me struggling, I give you full permission to step in. But please, just let me have a go first.”

You brows pulled together, attempting to get through to him despite understanding his justified resistance.

Shutting his eyes tightly, and letting out a deep breath, his fingertips loosened over your wrists before he nodded and looked at you once more.

“F-fine, okay! But the second, I don’t feel comfortable, I’m stepping in and no one better stop me.” He turned around, pointing a stern finger at everyone else who nodded without a second thought.

“Let’s get this rodeo on the road.”

The kids were instructed to move to higher ground, none of you wanting them to be harmed in the crossfire to come. They were equipped with a few bottles of hairspray, lighters, and duct tape to create their own version of a hybrid flamethrower-molotov that they would chuck down at the Mind Flayer.

Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were behind the same Orange Julius counter that shielded them a short while ago, while Steve insisted that he stick a few feet closer to you but still hidden behind the concrete planters.

There was no time to die.

Sucking in a deep breath and holding it, you slide the knife across your palm, watching as the blood began to pool and your arm started to tremor.

“Come and get me you asshole!” You shouted, wincing while you held your arm out, attempting to lure the monster in with the smell of your blood.

It came like a rolling thunder from a distance, a loud roar crushing through your eardrums causing you to drop the knife, bending down to pick up your gun while the mall lights began to flicker and the deafening screeches came closer before the glass shattered above you.

“Fuck,” you grimaced, throwing yourself onto the ground, clutching your arms around your head, attempting to shield yourself from the falling debris.

But the glass was quickly the least of your worries with the sight of a subhuman creature stomping towards you. It looked beyond barbaric, mottled skin of some sort dripping with an icky substance as its razor blade like mouth opened and resounded something frightful in the air.

You had to kill it…or at least try.

Struggling to grip the gun tightly with your injured hand, you did what you could, firing multiple shots into the mouth of the creature, watching as it shrieked sharply and its legs jerked into the air. But despite not letting up on the trigger, the monster didn’t seem phased, still stalking its way towards you and running out of bullets you knew you didn’t have enough time to reload the magazine.

“Fire!” you shouted, throwing the gun away and crawling towards safety where Steve was holding a hand out to you.

“Come on!” Steve yelled, rushing out into the open without thinking, tightly grabbing your hands and essentially pulling you across the floors before the fire could swallow you whole.

You could feel the heat just a few feet away, the mixture of the flamethrower-molotovs combined with the gunfire being set off created an infero that popped and sizzled away at the monster with each cry resulting in a limb being weakened and dropping to the ground.

While you were too busy watching the scene in front of you, Steve was more worried about you, just nearly escaping a death trap that he would have never forgiven himself for. His back hit a stop, sliding down the wall as he wrapped his arms around your frame, shielding you from the wreckage as the monster’s cries slowly died out with the heat burning it to ash.

“We need to go!” a voice yelled from the top floor, the children racing down the escalator steps with El being carried out by Max and Mike.

“This place is going to burn down, let’s go!” Robin slid out from behind the counter towards you and Steve, tugging the both of you up, before running towards the nearest exit.

“I got you, baby. Come on.” Steve whispered, hauling your body into his arms, hurrying towards the doors where Jonathan and Nancy held it open, waving their hands and shouting for you both to hurry.

His footsteps didn’t halt against the pavements, wanting to get as far away as he possibly could, worried the Mind Flayer would somehow survive the blazes and come back for you now that you were the new target. Running across the street, they all collapsed onto the ground, eyes widening as the entire mall became engulfed in flames and sirens began ringing through the open air.

Steve managed to set you down on a patch of dying grass, hands traveling across your clothing and skin, trying to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Are you okay? Did that thing hurt you anywhere? Talk to me, c’mon.” He pleaded, clutching your cheeks in his hands.

Your lips push out harsh breaths, eyes filling with tears as you coughed out roughly.

“I—I’m fine,” you whispered, swallowing through the dryness in your throat.

“Just a little cut…see?” You managed to crack a joke, weakly holding your bloodied hand up as you blinked and the tears flowed down your cheeks.

Steve huffed out a wobbly chuckle, shaking his head at you before kissing your lips, not minding the sting in his open wound, focused on the relief that you made it out alive. You kissed back passionately, not knowing what you’d do with yourself if you found out Steve or any of your friends were hurt badly, let alone killed in Star Court.

The sirens got closer, a helicopter radioing in from above you, causing you both to pull away and look up at the flashing lights with soldiers being airlifted down.

Everything was going to be ok.

“You’re going to tell me how you’re so good at saving my ass and killing, right?” He asked, diverting his eyes back to yours twinkling with a slight bit of tease.

“As long as you tell me everything about this Upside Down crap?” You replied, with a languid push on his chest not caring about the bloody stain you left on his Scoops uniform.

“Promise.” He nodded with a grin, pulling you in for another kiss that drowned out the sounds of the emergency personnel attempting to get to you both.

They just had no idea…you were for real, a tiger.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: i'm back bitches!!! happy fall and im so sorry for keeping you all waiting since FOREVER! I hope you guys like this one and thanks for sticking around--it means the world to me 🥹💘✨

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[vinjinssunglasses]

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♯┆summary; With the mention of a rebellion against your lover and a third party mysteriously arising in the midst of a war, Haruto’s home life.. All piling upon themselves, worry after worry. The last thing you want is bloodshed.

♯┆ tags; established relationship, implied child abuse/neglect, canon divergence,

♯┆ w/c; 3.8k

♯┆ a/n; plot-heavy, somi park training arc 😭 help im so tired. also a pt.2 of my previous shingen fic ^^

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That night you rested in his loving arms, his hair draping over your body. No matter how gentle he were, singing you sweet lullabies when he realised you were still awake, your body simply refused all efforts to relax.

Stress has taken over your mind, and it’s as if your not the one in charge if your body. Has anything even changed? Everything you did seemed futile. Whats the point of even trying anymore?

Your turned your body more into his warm chest, and tried to forget everything. Clear all these useless thoughts, push them to the back of your head and finally let your mind relax. They crawled from the pit you banished them to and caused trouble as if to taunt you.

What did Shintaro mean that day? Rebellion. Shingen, pronounced dead? There’s a reason why he’s the leader, have they all forgotten? Deep down you know he will remain undefeated, yet the thought of him paralysed on the floor, crimson blood pouring out of his body gnaws at you. What would his last words be? Why, what, when, who — is it just impossible for you to rest easy?

Shouldn’t you tell Shingen? Sitting up, his hand draped from your waist to your thighs, and he wearily blinked awake.

“What’s the matter? Can’t sleep again?” Shingen muttered, half-asleep.

“Yeah. I’m going to go get some fresh air and a drink. You go back to sleep, alright baby?” You placed a kiss upon his forehead, and he rested against the pillow once more, taking your word.

The cold breeze of the night calmed you only a little as you walked towards the kitchen. Stars and moon alike, you watched as they formed detailed constellations upon the sky — one of a knife and a moon. That reminded you: Shingen would always call you his star, and you’d call him your moon. His favourite inanimate thing was the moon, shining brightly at night and disappearing by day. He’d say it’s represent him as youth, however not going to deeply into it. Shingen’s expression whenever it came up in conversation were.. unusually troubled. As if it haunted him and had to shut it out for years, just for it to reappear when he least expects it.

It made you wonder what happened, who made him this way? If anything, you wanted to seek revenge, and yet you couldn’t.

Rules must’ve stopped him from falling in love with you in the first place, just like how rules are stopping you now. If it wasn’t so frowned upon, you would’ve taken uo marital arts and higher education. Being born into this life stopped you from being you, stripping you from your talents to being in a uniform, dystopian society called impossible expectations that we name as the ideal life for women and those alike. Same with Gun, your only son, becoming a slave to this system.

Letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you were holding in, you carefully slided open the door, revealing the room you were so used to seeing. Leaning against the counter, taking steady small sips while sneakily opening a tablet of sleeping pills, you could only hold your head in your hand. You’d be damned if anyone realised you snuck in pills like these, yet you needed them. You hated the fact you needed them. Each time you swallowed it down your throat, it only reminded you how you were so dependent on this clan. Having your families reputation boosted this way was the only way to recover it in the first place, realising how much they’ve messed up everything.

You cursed under your breath, and a headache came upon you. It must be from all these unwanted thoughts reappearing.

“I see you’re up late.“ A familiar voice echoed in your ears and you turned to look at the tall figure, Shintaro. Worst timing. You were only wearing a small nightgown, you were dressed too informally to be met with someone of upmost authority. Undeserved authority. Rules were the only thing he cared about. Setting aside his own emotions and others morals, he made sure everyone fit into this idolised society. Its was as if it were our fault we were born and raised into this life. The way he re-enforced these problematic beliefs were like it were law, despite not abiding to the real law in the first place, resorting to violence when and whenever he pleased. His manipulative tactics made it seem as if he were a befitting leader for the clan, drawing everyone in with the whip of his fan and his smooth tone of voice. Shintaro’s undeniably astounding looks have him the upper hand, even the other ladies from other clans chattered amongst themselves when they found out weren’t married yet, flirting with him whenever the opportunity arises. As they say, ‘you should marry into power and wealth.’

It wouldn’t be wrong to say they gained and admired Shintaro more than Shingen’s leadership. Shingen may be blinded at times, yet he had the brain capacity to understand complex situations and arise new rules and regulations when change were necessary. He weighed the benefits for the people, always upholding them as first in his mind, as they were to live peacefully under his guidance. On the other hand, Shintaro twisted the rules to fit his own narrative, manipulating them as to seem Shingen made it this way, to seem as it were his fault the Yamazaki were so divided. You didn’t trust him and avoided all communication and conflict, as he’ll make them turn from you too. It was no use anyway — they already wanted your head on a pitchfork.

“Yes. My apologies for any disturbance I’ve caused, I’ll go back to my room—“

“Wait.” Shintaro started, taking slow steps towards, gazing down upon your avoidant one. The moonlight cast shadows over the room, completely still, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Every ounce of your being anticipates his next move, and your breathing stopped.

“Why won’t you rebel? Can’t you see we’re all unhappy under his rule?” His hand lifted to rest upon your shoulder, the force crushing your collarbone just enough not to break it. The knife was sitting there in its rack, and it felt as if it were staring at you, begging to picked up. If this were to go on, he may as well break your shoulder.

In one swift motion, you ripped the knife out of its rack, its sharp end reaching his lips, glistening in the moons radiance.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Unless you want your head splattered on this floor for me to clean up, I don’t want to hear another word.” Stern, serious and strict. Underneath this facade, you were shaking. Knife trembling in your fingers, you upheld your scrutinising gaze, watching as his hand fell to his sides. Shintaro didn’t want to admit that he saw Shingen in your eyes, the same look he gave him that day. The same strength that beat him once before was in you. It dawned upon him that you may have the ability to become as strong as Shingen one day, however that was only a meaningless hunch. Someone like you is simply just a joke.

“I could make you my wife, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Unlike him, who only disappoints this clan. Why would you want a leader like him? Talk to the people of this clan, wouldn’t you?” Grasping onto the knife, Shintaro pointed it towards the ground gently.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to hear another word from you?”

“One last chance. I’ll give you one, last chance.” He swerved in closer, breathe cold against your ear. Gripping onto his collar, you shivered, pulling him away.

“Get out of my sight, you hear me? Next time, I’ll delve this knife into your throat.” You growled, the thought of it all making your blood boil.

Shintaro sighed, accepting that boneless threat as an answer. “Fine, as you wish.” Yet you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he would do this. Having you in his side would make one less corpse to clean up, and an easier way to excuse the bloody murder he were scheming.

The two of you exchanged one last glance, and the tension eased as you were left alone to your own thoughts. All this time you avoided troublesome matters like this, and it finds you when you least want it. The knife rested in its holder once more, and you took a deep breath. Ignoring this won’t do you any good, yet telling your lover he may perish in cold blood doesn’t seem exactly appealing. In fact the opposite. It pains you to even think about it.

Again, you’re up until morning once more, resting in the sun’s golden rays. Taking a deep breath, you entangle your fingers in your lovers hair, eyes lingering over his facial features. He slowly winked awake and rested his hands over yours, mumbling a ‘good morning’ under his breath.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I just woke up early, that’s all.” You sighed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Of course, you didn’t want him to worry, he must be too busy himself anyway. For years you’ve been independent, so it won’t be any different now.

“There’s no need to lie. If there’s something the matter, I promise I’ll make it right.” The gentleness in his eyes soothed you, yet not enough to let those damned words spill out of your mouth.

….,

Word has spread that Gun has taken up Aikido. That day you prepared his lunch, and decided to watch him train. The smile on his face when he saw you sitting in the side warmed you, as you enveloped him in an embrace.

“Mum, youre here.” He cheered, doing small punches in the air to show off what he’s learnt.

“Of course. I’ve just been a little busy lately. Look, I made you tteokbeokki.” You smiled. It was your favourite thing to watch him being happy, knowing it might not last long.

“My favourite!” Gun licked his lips, clasping onto your hands. “I’ll train extra hard today, okay? Watch me, watch me!” He hadn’t seen you in ages. As a young boy, he wouldn’t understand, and doesn’t need to even take notice of your situation.

“It’s time for training.” The Kojima brothers, also one of the many supporting Shintaro’s leadership. As if they’re his personal bodyguards, they spread his propaganda like major gossip. Perhaps the news about the rebellion is being tossed around as the second passes. Shigeaki passes a distasteful glare at you before diverting Gun’s attention to the task at hand.

Since Gun was only young, they decided to teach one of his nephews how to do Aikido as well. They couldn’t personally spar with him because of the height, age and experience difference, and an intelligent opponent like Haruto would be well-suited.

Similar in age, the only difference was their upbringing. Haruto was a secluded boy who was subjected to the cruel opinions that he were useless because of Gun’s existence. Instead, his mother offered reading. In her view, if he couldn’t be the best at fighting, why not intelligence?

It almost reminded you of Shingen’s and Shintaro’s situation. He was born to succeed, while the other was made to cover up after his mess. Since Shingen were the oldest, he were given privileges like fighting and only sometimes playing around. Shintaro, on the other hand, were interested in martial arts yet never got the opportunity to persue it like he did. The notion that he were to protect his brother — no, dedicate his life to him — eventually seeped through the cracks, and jealousy took over. Nobody cared what Shintaro did, whether he ran away or not, he was always in the shadows. Shintaro always presumed he never struggled, having everyone by his side supervising him, yet little did he know he did.

He didn’t know that Shingen didn’t like training for so long, knowing his only purpose being only to prosper and become the heir to the Yamazaki clan. They only praised him for his fighting abilities, nothing else. This clan only critizied his interest in artistry’s and such, To leave a peaceful life and play games with his brother were his goals, yet Shintaro only treated him with coldness. The awkward, suffocating air between them never subsided, and still persists until today.

For centuries it was like this, and old tradition that you plan to cease from existence.

Haruto used strategic methods to trick his opponent, Gun, to the floor. What the Kojima brothers didn’t know was that intelligence and usage of technique was also important in a battle. Jonggun was trained to use brute force, which was in fact also crucial, yet he didnt have the ability to predict his next moment, therefore his next attack was based off of quick thinking. The way he grabbed his arm and flipped him into the floor resonated with you, something inside made you want to learn that too.

Then again, it would be against the rules.

“Auntie, did you see that?” Haurto smiled, pulling you in to a hug. He’s just a young boy too, why can’t he also train to be the best? Why are we, as humans, so dependent on a genetic abnormality?

“I’ll beat you next round!” Gun pouted, sticking his tongue out, teasing the other. Haruto made a snarky remark back, and they quickly started getting ready to spar for another round of Aikido.

Haruto’s mother doesn’t deserve him. No, not at all. You’ve noticed how he always comes to you for his troubles, advice and support. On the outside, she seems like the perfect mother — sparing only kind words to her only son, caring for him — yet in private, what does she do? Those bruises speak for themselves; just what has he gone through? At the occasion his long sleeves that he always wears slips up, a new one appears, and he shakes it off like it’s normal, changing conversation or distracting you while he pulls it down. Guilt washes over you as you couldn’t bear to admit that his experiences would haunt him for the rest of his life. Nobody deserves that.

“Mum! Are you watching?” Gun’s voice, steady with his hands in starting position, bring you back to reality. You clap and cheer with a smile, and watch each and every step. Haruto wins once more, and Gun slumps over towards you, disappointed.

“How about you two teach me how to fight in Aikido style, and I’ll give you the tteokbokki I made. Fair trade, huh?”.

…..,

In Korea, Gapryong’s Fist Gang rests in the comfort of their calm surroundings, under the warm light of a chandelier in the midst of a cafe. Warm light crests a warm atmosphere, the coffees fumes diffusing into the warm breeze the windows let in. Idle chatter

Jinyoung’s mysteriously studying human anatomy, sneering while holding his pencil ever-so intimately. Gapryong peers over his shoulder, taking a quick peek of the monstrosities he’s been hiding recently. Strangely scientifically accurate art pieces of the human skeleton, limbs, organs and veins. His obsession with skulls were disturbing, graphically capturing every hollow, rounded and crisp surface of the cranium. Teeth. After beating his victims, he’d pull out their teeth, collecting them in jars to preserve them. Not just any tooth, the wisdom tooth were his favourite. If he could, he’d slice each finger — in fact the whole hand — and inspect each and every crevice. Teeth were easier to steal and nearly as satisfiying.

No matter how close these four men were, fighting all their battles together, none of them knew the twisted layer under his skin that were slowly taking over.

Jinyoung has suspiciously became quieter recently. Before he’d wear a smile on his face and kick up conversation like it was nothing, offering hand wrestling or the sort. Now? He’s preferably keep to himself, not saying much and focusing on that sketchbook. The scratching across the page, eyes peeled, breath becoming more dragged by the second. Insanity? He’d be the last one you’d suspect. Someone as outgoing as him would never, or so the other three members thought.

Do they even know eachother?

“So, about the Yamazaki Clan,” Gapryong starts, finger tapping against the table. “The police showed up last time, and we had to flee. What a bore.”

“That’s right. I’m sure they’re dwelling in Korea still.” Elite yawned, breaking eye contact with a grin that didn’t seem so frustrated.

“I’m sure we’ll get em next time, y’know?” Gapryong bites his bottom lip, leaning back in his chair.

Silence dawned over the atmosphere, as if someone was wanting to say something, yet left it to the next person. Elite took a sip of his tea, not lifting his eyes off of his cup while tapping his foot on the wooden floor. You could never tell what thoughts were running through his mind. Its was only obvious by his course of actions, what steps he took and what blood he shed. Actions and foreshadowed speech were the way to figuring out his intentions, it were no use to just ask him, being such the perfect liar he is. Precisely, this is the reason they didn’t predict his newest project, designed to leave thousands of corpses, particularly the three bodies he wanted. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Call him greedy as you may, but a guy like him has no bounds to getting what he pleased.

Maybe it’s the trust between them all, why they didn’t suspect him. All these years must’ve meant something to all of them. To Gapryong, it was true friendship — who didn’t like someone to trust and keep company? To Tom, it meant loyalty, a group you could share anything to. Nowadays it felt like that idea has went astray. To Jinyoung, — well, the Jinyoung they used to know — it was exploring the world with the people you value most, laughing all night with a couple of drinks. To Elite… What was it to Elite?

He pulled up his glasses, scanning their troubled faces that avoided the other’s eyes.

Tom sighs, taking it upon himself. “You’ve all heard about that clan recently taking over…” Elite’s breath stopped, batting his eyes in disbelief. Jinyoung paused, letting out a sigh before continuing scribbling. Gapryong frowned, running his hands through his hair, swigging his chapstick out of his pocket.

“That’s right. It’s becoming worrying. I beat down some of the lapdog’s of the organisation, yet none of them will speak, no matter how much you torture them.” Jinyoung spoke softly, voice remaining neutral, yet his heart felt like it was the end of the Fist Gang. No, it can’t be over yet. Not before his plan takes place.

“Then we’ll have to talk their boss.” Gapryong spoke, stern, completely set on the idea. Whether it meant a simple polite introduction or a brutal brawl rid of mannerisms, his determination remained intact. Gapryong wasn’t the type to give up.

“Y’know what? Let’s drink tonight, I want to meet some lovely ladies before I do.” He smirks and passes a seductive wink over to the barista standing behind the till, watching her blush and rush to cover her reddened face. “Who’s with me?”

Tom agrees and Elite pauses for a second, eventually nodding. Jinyoung sits still, despite the wait for his reply. They all expected him to cheer and boost the atmosphere.. Yet nothing passed his lips.

“You’re not coming again, eh?” Tom breaks the silence once more, trying to look in his eyes for answers but to no avail, as his overgrown hair drapes over his face. Jinyoung shakes his head.

“Hey, you’ve been slouching all this time, shouldn’t you stretch? C’mon, it must be tiring. Loosen up a litle.” Tom tried to use the enthusiasm Jinyoung always used to and reach his hand over his shoulder. However before he knew it, his hand was squeezed with a strength he had never felt before. It felt as if his grip has restricted blood flowing into his hands, making them begin to numb.

Jinyoung’s gaze finally lifted over his sketchbook, and they finally got a glimpse of his face. His twitching eyes were an unusual shade of crimson red, each vein eeringly connecting from his sclera to the inside of his lower eyelid. Jinyoung always loved applying chapstick, loving the soft and glossy feeling upon his lips, except this time, they were chapped, with open, bleeding wounds and drool edging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m fine.” Jinyoung muttered, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes. No one muttered a word, staring with shock. What could they even say? Their friend — their once friend, as they could barely recognise the man he’s become — is now.. insane? Insane was the first word that came to mind to all of them. And all of them knew they weren’t far off.

….,

“Shingen. Haven’t you heard about that new clan has risen recently?” You ask, while raising your fork to your lips.

“Mmm. It seems so.” Shingen’s voice trails off, taking a sip of the transparent wine provided. “Perhaps it could be a problem. Especially since the Fist Gang and our clan are still under conflict… It is a relief we wasn’t arrested last time.”

“We’ve recovered well. Although a third party seems suspicious. Someone must be backing them, not every odd gang that shows up can be that strong and popular that quick.” You mention, and now that you think about it properly, hidden forces must at play here.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, huh? It won’t be a big deal. Like any other gang, they’ll fall to the hierarchy around here.” Shingen tries to reassure, using his authoritative tone to try and distract you from the concern written all over his face. He already knows they’re wiping out other small gangs and clan, then heading for the big prize. Nobody can be certain that they’re next, therefore it’s no prediction that they’re preparing their forces.

A third force making things complicated at a time like this cannot be a coincidence. At first, Shingen figured it must’ve been that cursed man’s Fist Gang, yet it’s unlikely they would. Someone’s pulling the strings behind the scenes, however there are no leads to show so. Only mere baseless intuition.

It makes you wonder — who? Each are loyal to their own side, especially during a tense time like this. They must’ve known a huge scale war between two major clans were going own, taking this into their advantage. Your eyes look down upon the food in front of you, then to your lover sitting opposite you.

Him, as a corpse? Dead, in front of you, his body cold. His pulse not throbbing anymore, breathe not passing his lips. Blood spilling under his body gallon by gallon, at an alarming rate. You could only cry as his eyes didn’t flutter open no more.

You’re overthinking again. Just another one of your tainted daydreams.

[random-blurbs]

I Need You

Summary : Kidnapped and beaten you need to live. The hunger to live is diminishing. The memories you shared with Reid gives you the fighting chance you need to hang on a little more. The chance for him to come save you.

“I don’t know…there’s just something that’s bothering me.” Looking at the whiteboard with all the pictures displaying the victims you can’t help but furrow your brow.

“What else can be bothering you we caught the UnSub.” Morgan said ripping down the photo you were staring at intently. “Let’s just take it as a win and get out of here.” JJ chimed in as she was putting the files in their respective boxes. “Maybe you’re just tired?” With a small smile Spencer came in placing a hand on your shoulder massaging it softly. Sighing in relief you held his hand thankful at the moments relief.

“Yeah maybe. I think I’m just overthinking it.” You finalized still not convinced. “You guys really are a match made in heaven.” Morgan poked as you both rolled your eyes at his comment. Two over thinkers in a relationship what can go wrong?

Walking out the police station all sort of thoughts whirled your head. Spencer typically finds it cute as the furrow of your eyebrow and your little thinking pose makes his day. To be fair anything you do makes his day. But when it comes down to cases he can’t help but worry. Considering everyone in the team felt on edge since the victims looked exactly like you.

“What are you thinking about up there? Maybe I can help you all things considered.” As he pointed at his genius brain. You felt crazy trying to explain it to him as the unsub Mike Loze fits the profile perfectly. Honestly he fits too perfectly and that’s the part that bothers you. His arrest was done in a nice little bow perfectly presented to the FBI.

And that’s what stuck out to you. “Can we get a quick ice-cream as I try to explain myself?”

“Of course I think I saw one down this street.” Following his lead you wrapped your hand around his. As you babbled on what you swear was the wrong arrest. “You don’t think it’s weird as soon as we landed we caught him within seconds? Usually it takes us weeks but this one was just… it feels weird especially the last victim.”

“Are you talking about the words he lured her in?” Nodding you recount how all the other victims were taken. Typically pushed into a dark alley and strangled there. Almost like the street you guys were walking down. It’s weird how the city hasn’t put that many lights out. Maybe after this they will. It wasn’t until the last victim was taken that they saw that a rock was used to knock her out. No signs of blunt force trauma in the other victims. So why the last one when they landed?

“He probably messed up and was afraid to get caught so quickly knocked her out. Not all kills go out how they would imagine it.” Knowing he would probably say the same thing as the others you just pointed at the ice cream shop a couple feet away trying to now change the topic. “I’m not saying you’re thinking without reason but there’s no point in stressing that wonderful mind of yours about this ok?” Turning you to him he placed a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked back at him. His eyes were always so loving.

You wondered how a man like him carried so much.

“Thank you Spence. Since you said that I’ll pay.” Doing his dorky little victory dance he let you latch back onto him as you got closer to the shop. Giving you one last kiss on your knuckles as you got closer to the shop.

“It’s fine like I said probably overthinking i-.”

It happened too fast.

Spencer had dragged you down with him as you let out a yelp. “Spencer! What the-!” Taking a quick look at him you saw blood running down his temple as his eyes were shut in pain.

In a swift motion you had unholstered your gun before meeting the same fate. Yours more unfortunate as it didn’t knock you out.

Knocked out of air you groaned in pain as you couldn’t feel your gun in your hands anymore. “S-Spence?” Worried the assailant will do something to him you crawled your way to his body.

“How sweet.” A cruel voice whispered at the sight. It was quickly finished as he brought the rock back up to finish the job.

-

Groaning you tried touching your head as the metal clacking made you realize your position. “No no no no!” It was useless tugging as you whipped your head around to find anything.

“There’s no point.” You couldn’t see the voice he sounded so far away. Biting your tongue you knew better to spite the person who seems very willing to jab a knife into you — you tried collecting your thoughts.

And your first thought was Spencer.

You couldn’t help but look around anxiously for the man you loved before hearing a chuckle. “I spared him! You can’t say I’m not nice.” The voice teased as you couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh. Can’t be too relieved considering your position but somewhat. Looking up in the dark you can make out some other figure in the exact same position as you.

Same hair, same skintone, same general figure handcuffed to some blood soaked chair. “No… dammit it wasn’t only Mike.” You said in defeat as you realized you were right all along. “Too bad no one believed you. Maybe if they heard it from your boyfriend’s mouth they would’ve actually listened.” His voice was frighteningly close as you tried mustering all emotional strength you can. But the photos of the victims entered your thoughts; terrifying you. “Who the hell are you to him!”

You only saw the back of his figure as he walked closer to the other girl who was slowly waking up. Recognizing the glint of a knife you realized what’s going to happen. Looking away you quickly yelped in pain as another figure grabbed a fistful of your hair making you stare at the girl. “There’s m-more?!”

You’re panicking.

How wrong were you guys! Wiggling around it felt like your wrist was going raw with how much you were tugging.

“Mike was the one stopping us from doing what we really wanted.”

“But now he’s not here anymore.” He whispered into your ears as you yelled out seeing the girl get stabbed.

-

“Rose?”

“Doctor?” Giggling you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you in for a peck. It’s Halloween and Pen decided to throw a cute little party with the team. “I love you guys but please don’t shove your loveness and ooey gooey relationship to me.” Penelope whined as she drank from her glass making everyone laugh. “Don’t worry I can shower you with all this love babygirl.” Derek comforted her wrapping his hands around her making her happy all over again. “Here have this.” Passing you a glass of water he was watching you the entire night. Not in a stalker way at least he hopes. But more as in this girl can ruin my life type of way.

“I’m so happy you did this with me.” He whispered into your ear as you heard the happiness lace his voice. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of the show after Rose left but you always sat on that couch right beside him. Season after season. You would join him in his rewatches as you couldn’t help but see his excitement. That dorky smile you love is what you want to protect for the rest of your days.

-

Letting out a pained yell you doubled over as the knife was dragged down your shoulder. With a similar cry let out in front of you the girl was made to watch the same scene you watched a couple hours ago. “It-it’s ok, it’s ok just go anywhere else don’t be here.” You gasped tirelessly as they’ve been at it for hours. You’re dying and you feel it. You sense it. And you see it. Pooling at the bottom.

Another yell escaped from you as he finally stabbed the knife into your side. “Please stop! Please you’re killing her!” Choking up you tried talking but all you met was blood. Focusing on the droplets that fell you tried. So hard. It hurts. Everything hurts.

I want to go home.

I want Spencer.

-

“It’s ok! It’s ok!” Your panicked gasps was all you two can hear as you wiped your hair from your face. Sticky with uncontrollable sweat. Looking around wildly your eyes finally focused on him. On the person who always brings you back. “Just follow me.” He took a deep breath in and you followed suit. One two. One two. One two. Your throat felt dry as you tried swallowing down the fear. You couldn’t get her eyes out of your head. Out of your dreams, she’s following you everywhere. “You’re ok I got you.” Sweating from every part of your body, with disgusting body heat he pulled you in. Smoothing out your frizzed hair and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With that calming voice of his making it all you hear.

“I can’t stop. She won’t leave me alone Spence.” You cried out into his arms as he held you tighter and tighter. “I know sweetheart it’ll pass. It’ll pass I swear to you it will pass.” He promised you giving you a kiss on the head. This is becoming a normal thing of sleepless nights. Every night you will wake up screaming as her eyes haunted you. And it didn’t matter to Spencer. He would hold you till the latest of night. Till the sun comes up he holds you. Even if it means his eye-bags are getting worse, and maybe he needs stronger coffee in the morning. He’ll hold you until it passes. It was a promise.

-

Her screams sounded so muffled and in a sick way you no longer care. You don’t care. You have to live. Just thinking is killing you. Time is killing you. Dried blood while new blood takes place is becoming common place. Every breath you take is met with drops of blood falling to your lap. It hurts.

It’s killing you.

-

“SpencerSpencerSpencer!” You anxiously said as you gripped his hand tighter. “How did you convince me to do this!” A yell that sounds more like a baby whine you guys were at the top. Rollercoasters. Something you love something he hates. But whatever you love he won’t love but he’ll tolerate. Thats the type of man he was. Which you love.

As the coaster sped down you heard his terrified yells as they excited you in a very non sick way. You were glad he gave this a try even if he won’t hear you out for anything more for a few months. With a sudden stop you let out a sigh of relief as the arm bar went up. Hopping off you see Spencer shaking as he got off. A baby deer.

Laughing internally to not make him feel embarrassed you let him grab onto your arm. “I can’t I’m sorry sweetheart but that’s the last one.” Now voicing out your laugh you gave him a quick kiss on his lip as you guided him to the gift shop. “Don’t worry I won’t make you suffer physically.” Pulling out a cute headband that you noticed couples wearing around the park you placed it on top of his handsome head. “Maybe emotionally wearing these.” Putting on some matching ones you took out your phone opening the camera. Facing it towards you he immediately made a kissy face towards you, and in turn you squish his cheeks together happily. “We look so cute!”

“You look cut-.” Putting a finger over his lips you shake your head. “Don’t ruin this.” He laughed in response as he saw you click buttons that he didn’t understand. “Look!” There you guys were on your phone wallpaper capturing the love you share for one another. A love you can’t have with anyone else but him.

And you both loved it.

-

The same wallpaper you had was teased so far away from you as Spencer was calling endlessly. You couldn’t hear the girl across from you anymore knowing you’re not too far away from her.

It hurts.

You want to give up.

You were giving up.

-

“When do you think we should tell them?” You fiddled with the bracelet that had the silver ring around it. It doesn’t look suspicious in anyway simply new. “Whenever you’re ready.” He wants to go at your pace, whatever pace you want he’ll follow right behind. “It feels nice having this just for us.”

You remembered the intimate date Spencer had set up. It was your anniversary as he opted out for a fancy restraunt dinner than home-cooked one. He knew you would’ve appreciated whatever he called dinner by the end of the day. But the nerves were eating him alive he needed to make sure everything was perfect. Just for you. It felt like every other dinner date just a little fancier. And it was a nice change of pace. It was becoming slowly obvious what Spencer was going through. Sweatier palms than normal, bouncing knee, having to clear his throat every few minutes. You understood clearly what was going to happen. You were a profiler after all.

But it didn’t matter if you knew. Opening the gift it’s a vintage jewelry box you’ve been eyeing for years. As the small intricate details made it pop so much more. You adored it. As you opened the box there was the two rings. A hidden engagement ring and one that would put anyone’s to shame. Not in a wow look at me stone. But a beautiful simple cut. “O my god Spencer…it’s so freaking pretty.” You gushed as he grabbed it and put it on you. He didn’t need to do the speech, you’ve guys talked in length of how marriage life you guys would want it. Two over thinkers after all you both need the confirmation with one another. Even though it’s clear the one or the other can’t live without one another.

“I’m probably going to keep on referring you as my boyfriend… I feel like it’s going to be hard to remember.”

“It’s ok it’s better that way for now.” Placing a soft kiss on your hand you etched his smile into your memory. Forever and ever. The love he had in his smile gave you a sense of joy that you needed.

-

“Y/N? O my God I found her! H-here open your eyes.” Feeling cold hands meet your face she tilted it up and you see its Emily. They found you? Really? It can’t be true. Trying to speak you sputtered whatever blood you had left as you slowly blinked. It was hard.

“Sweetheart? No no no.” You see Emily moved out of your way and there he was. Your fiancé. “I remembered…” You mumbled out knowing you sound insane it’s been so long since you heard your voice. “We need medic in here right now!”

“I got you here please stay with me.” He sounded desperate, a tone you’ve never heard before. And it was because of you. Your chest hurts physically and mentally. “Please I need you just stay awake a little bit longer.” You heard him cry out as his grip on you tightened refusing to let you. He can’t, he won’t. He needs you. Without you he’s gone, he won’t be him. You became another piece of him you can’t just leave him. He didn’t care as the tears fell freely as medic felt like it was taking forever. Doing what he can he whimpered as he saw all the marks made on you as you barely registered the pain as he put a cloth over it. You are alive he saw you alive. But as he was pulled away by Morgan as the medics needed to get to you. He can’t forget it. How the sweet head he used to leave kisses on fell limply to the side.

He wants you to stay alive.

It was hard. And you just couldn’t.