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strang3lov3 · 2 months ago

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Mama's Boy, 18+

slasher Joel masterlist | problematic playlist | AO3

PAIRING: Slasher!Joel x f!reader LENGTH: 7.2k words and none wasted tbh SUMMARY: Dinner at his mom's house, mostly. WARNINGS: 18+ dark, unsafe PinV, gunplay, degradation, a bit of angst, a whiff of incest, dark!reader, major revelations (!), feelings maybe? (god help us), mommy and daddy issues, slasher Joel needs a hug. NOTES: Today is not only mother's day, but also the 2nd anniversary of his first fic. This is packed. @flawssy-227 ty for your activism. And @thesummerpetrichor, I thought of you 🖤. Joel can carry reader.

It's Sunday. He lets himself in.

“Still in bed? Must’ve been ass up face down pretty late last night, huh? Told ya i'd pick ya up… ”

You squint at him as your eyes adjust. “What are you talking about?” He has something draped over his shoulder.

Too much talking. Not enough fucking.

He scoffs, “ Really? Sunday dinner, slut. ” He marches over to your nightstand with a snarl, picks up a folded piece of paper, and tosses it at you like a frisbee.

Oh yeah.

You unfold it as if it's the first time you've read it: “ pick u up sunday .” There's a sketch of his fat cock and a thinner outline of what's presumably a dong next to it. “ p.s. u need a real toy .”

Well, here he is. Picking you up on Sunday, and he's even kinda cleaned himself up. A plaid shirt and jeans tighter than his work uniform. Looks like a normal guy you could pass in the supermarket, none the wiser that he’d shove a huge tool up your cunt.

He stands by your bed holding up one dress in each hand. Neither of them yours.

“ Now put on somethin’ decent .”

He throws them onto the bed, then pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. “ What do you think? ” He gestures between them with the gun.

One of the dresses is simple, clean lines, not far off from something you might normally wear. But it has a brown stain and a frayed edge. It doesn't feel right.

The other dress is a strawberry plant pattern with short sleeves that puff out. It's faded and outdated, but clean and in decent shape–from what you can tell, at least.

“Got my own clothes,” you tell him.

But he insists, “ This ain't the street corner, sugar. You're gonna pick one of these .”

“I'm too tired for this,” you complain, then add, “I dunno what makes you think I wanna go to your mom's house.”

“ Come on, baby… ” He looks at the gun. “ I don't wanna use this… unless I'm stuffin’ your muff with it later .”

After looking at both the dresses, you can't bear to put on the stained one and choose the strawberry print. You feel unexpectedly cute in what could have been plucked from a mid century catalogue for housewives, although it’s probably from modcloth circa 2015.

Turning around in the mirror, it’s actually really flattering, and there’s something kinda sexy about dressing up like this degenerate's pretty little wife…Yep, you're really doing this.

Maybe it’s partly out of morbid curiosity, wanting to know where he came from.

How he…. happened.

He brings you a pair of your own shoes and puts them down for you to step into.

“ Yeah, that's my girl ,” looking over your right shoulder at the bathroom mirror, he grabs your ass, then sticks his hand between your legs from behind, hooking his hand under you to reach your clit. Your feet spread reflexively, giving him more room. Still holding the gun in his right hand, the hand between your legs tents the dress as he strokes you, and your gut begins to swell with need. He spreads his feet and angles himself slightly toward you, getting close enough to press himself against you, letting you feel the warm log in those tight jeans, gun held against his meaty thigh. Your chest heats up and you adjust your tits in the dress, copping a feel of yourself while you’re at it.

“ Good girl ,” he mutters. With a glint of affection in his eyes, he says, “ You were born to wear this dress, kitten .” Now that he’s got you dripping, his fingers slip into the crotch of your panties and he shoves one, then two, inside. “ Mm ,” he grinds against you as he stuffs you with his fingers. Then he pulls them out and squats down. He lifts the skirt of the dress and yanks the panties down to your ankles. You lean forward and brace yourself on the sink. He stands up, slides the gun between your legs and the smooth, cool metal of the top of the barrel rubs through your slippery seam. Your hips tilt and he slides it forward one last time, before taking it away. He pats your ass, and says, “ Now c’mon, let's go. ”

Not even the decency to fuck you first. Not even with the gun.

You scowl at him in the mirror.

He asks, “ Am I gonna have to drag you, kickin’ and screamin’? ”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply.

“ Alright ,” he agrees, all too happy to oblige. He puts the sticky gun in the back of his pants, bends his knees. and lifts you over his shoulder with a grunt.

He steps through your open back door and slams it behind him with one hand, his other arm braced over the bare backs of your knees.

You yoink the gun from the back of his pants and he says, “ God damnit, be careful with that, ” without putting you down.

“You seem pretty sure I won't shoot you,” you observe.

“ Course ya won't. Be like a … like a drug addict shootin’ their dealer… nah, shootin’ the drug cooker. Yeah. And he's the only cooker .” He's getting slightly out of breath as he walks. Or maybe it’s the effort of all that thinking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask.

“ Cock hungry whore ain't gonna kill off the biggest cock she's got .”

You press the edge of the barrel against the small of his back and nudge it into his jeans, then demand,

“ Put me down .”

He groans in exasperation, stops, and sets you down in the side yard.

You almost forget to point the firearm at him. Almost. With the gun raised, you ask,“What’s with the gun anyway? Thought knives were your thing.”

He shrugs. “ Special occasion? ”

“Why do you want me to come to dinner so bad?”

“ Cause I told her we were comin’, okay? Told her ya liked the casserole .”

For the first time, you notice his hair is a little bit combed. You ask, “What'd you tell her about me?”

“ Uh ,” He scratches the back of his neck. “ She knows we met when I was workin’. Knows I gave ya a ride….knows ya ain't like other girls ”

“What’s that mean?” You ask, adjusting your grip, even though the safety is on.

“ I dunno… ” He shrugs, then gets frustrated. “ I ain't brought home a girl home in a long time, okay? And she's gettin’ old, and… ”

When you've lowered the gun, he lunges forward, muttering, “ Gimme that ,” and disarms you with ease that makes your heart skip a beat. He grabs you by the arm and marches you to the Volvo. He opens the passenger door and manhandles you into the seat.

When he gets in the car, first he leans over and buckles your seatbelt for you. He smells clean and minty.

As he puts the car in drive, you ask, “What else did you tell her?”

“ Uh…. She knows we ain't been on many dates .”

“Not many?” You ask with a laugh. “You mean none?”

He glances at you twice, suppressing a flattered smile at the implication he perceives. He wets his bottom lip. “ That mean ya want to? ”

He holds the gun against his thigh and steers with one hand.

When you get to his Mom's house, he warns, “J ust don't talk about all your whorin’ around, okay? She won't like it .” He checks his hair in the rear view mirror.

You laugh, “What whoring around?”

“ All those skinny dicks in your phone, ” he mutters, getting out of the car.

“Excuse me?” You ask, still sitting.

“ Just tell her about your day job instead ,” he says, as if you genuinely don't think or talk about anything other than cock without prompting. Wait, skinny dicks in your phone?

Your train of thought dies when he puts the gun in the back of his pants, and in doing so exposes a few inches of skin, and the tail end of a scar. After he shuts the driver side door, you open yours while he hurries around to help you out.

“ Come on ,” His big hand wraps around your inner elbow again. “ We're gonna be late .” He's slightly in front of you

“Bringing a gun to your mother's place?” you ask as he pulls you along.

He freezes, then mumbles, “ You're right. Don't want her to think you're a bad influence. Even if ya are .”

What a gentleman.

He goes and puts it in the glovebox, then jogs to catch up with you again.

When she opens the door, Joel's mother beams at the sight of her son. She steps outside, frail and slow moving. She's pretty, with silky white hair that looks older than her face. The storm door creaks to a stuttering close behind her.

At first, it's like you're invisible. He lets go of you, and they embrace. She reaches for the back of his neck and says, “C'mere, baby,” pulling his face to hers. He kisses her on the cheek, she kissed him, and then, as they separate, Joel gestures toward you. Her eyes are curious when they meet yours, then her face comes to life as her gaze falls down your body. She puts a hand on her hip as she checks you out, her other hand rising to her mouth for a moment, then resting on her chest, fingers centered in the hollow of her collar bone.

“Joel,” she half-laughs in flirtatious accusation, then narrates, “Well, there she is…”

“ Don't she look nice? ” Joel asks with a subtle smile and blush.

His mom admires you with an air of disbelief, then goes in for a hug. Her fragrance isn't entirely new to your nostrils, and the sensory recall brings an unsettling tingle to your loins: The night Joel brought the leftovers.

She holds you close, pressing her body all the way against yours without fully relaxing. Firm and in control, and yet , she feels softer than she looks. Her bosom is like a warm pillow. Like a relic of young motherhood, reaching through time, tickling your inner child awake.

As the hug ends, she gently pinches the puffed sleeve of your dress and says to Joel without looking at him, “Yes, baby. She looks real pretty.” Then, glancing up from your dress, she tells you with a smile, “can't promise strawberries, but I do have cherry pie. Come on in.”

“Thank you, ma’am” you nod.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she chuckles, “You can just call me Mama.”

It sounds like you should know better. Like ‘Mama’ is the most obvious option. You glance at Joel, and he nods with a little smile of permission, as if that's what you’re looking for, and he's glad to give it.

Might as well rip the bandaid off. You say, “Okay… Mama… well, it's nice of you to have me over.” In the back of your mind, you hope Joel doesnt think this is any special effort on your part. It's more like, your job requires manners, and this is your default setting with older folks.

She holds the door open with her body and you have to graze past her. “Smells delicious,” you observe with genuine hunger, having slept through the first two meals of the day.

She straightens her frilled apron with a smile and suggests, “Joel, why don't you give your girl a tour while I finish up?”

This is a relief - you hadn't been consciously dreading it, but worst case scenario, she would've asked you to help in the kitchen. She seems like that type.

–

It’s a humble brick ranch. Dimly lit. Everything is out of style, but tidy. There are a few bedroom doors, but he doesn’t open any of them, and you don’t pry. The paint in the hall is disrupted over a poorly repaired dent in the wall. You try not to look at the stains on the ceiling.

One of the living room walls has a fireplace, and one wall is lined with pictures. There's a bare corner with nothing but a crochet rug – a rounded rectangle, with raised crosses. The paint is newer over there. Bubbling and wanting to peel as the wall approaches the perpendicular wall, the one with the fireplace.

Before you can get a good look at anything, Joel steers you outside. In the small backyard, a wooden garden bed has overgrown with weeds. The lawn is nice and trim. “You help out with the yard?” You ask.

“ Uh, sometimes ,” he answers. “ She's got somebody else too .”

He rocks forward on his feet, arms crossed.

“You gonna fuck me in your boyhood bedroom?” You ask, and he clears his throat with a forced smile, brows knitted.

“What?” you ask. “Why the hell else would you take my panties?”

“ Sorry ,” he mumbles, allowing himself only a brief glance at you, until he does a double take and admits, “ Fuck, you look good .” He seems more distressed by it than anything.

No such luck, you guess, raising your eyebrows at the visible outline against his thigh. Never would've pictured him in jeans.

He runs his hand through his hair, puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, and adjusts himself with effort before leading you back inside. His boot grazes the side of a metal bowl, sloshing water into dark spots on the cement.

She pours Joel a glass of milk with dinner, and when you politely decline, Joel says, “One glass won't hurt ya, baby .” Mama seems pleased to bring over the old fashioned bottle of milk. She rests her free arm on the back of your chair, with the fine lines of her cleavage near your eyes as she fills your glass.

The meatloaf is delicious, with sauce that reminds you of barbecue. The mashed potatoes are over-buttered, but they hit the spot. She smiles to herself, satisfied to watch you eat.

“So tell me about yourself,” she says. “Do you work?”

You swallow your food, nod, and tell her which clinic you work at.

“Oh,” she recognizes the name. “The one over on Main Street?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“That's nice,” she says. “Joel's going to own his own business one day. Do you ever want to own your own practice?”

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” you answer, then ask Joel, “What kind of business?”

“Joel, I'm surprised you haven't told her,” his Mom says, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial volume to tell you, “He’s too modest.”

“ Ya know, I guess a tow and repair one-stop shop,” Joel says. “Not a lot of guys do both, but I can really take care of ya. Same night, even. Late hours, too .”

His mom nods. “I always knew he'd be successful,” she says. “Even in the darker days.”

Joel tenses and begins to tap his heel. “ How about you, Mama? ” he asks, “ What have you been up to? ”

“Oh, you know, this and that,” she says. “Crossword was a doozie today!” she laughs. “What are you two gonna do this week? Anything special?”

You shrug and look at Joel to answer.

He starts, “ Uh… ”

His Mom bails him out, “You oughta take her to the drive-in like I said, baby,” then she asks you, "Would you like that, honey? You like the drive-in? We used to go, it was so nice.”

“Sure, I like movies,” you answer.

“See, Joel? She likes movies.”

Joel finishes his meatloaf relatively quickly, and his mother puts another generous slice on his plate.

“ I don't need any more, Ma ,” he says, but she doesn't listen, and he digs into it anyway. By his third slice, he’s pushed back in his chair, adjusting his belt. He pats his tummy and says, “ There's nothin’ she makes that ain't good .”

“Only the best for my boy,” she agrees, then asks you, “Ain’t that right?”

“Of course,” you agree.

–

“Oh! I saw Randall Junior earlier,” she says. “He came by and did the lawn.”

“ Randy ,” Joel corrects her.

“Yeah, Randall’s son.”

“ Randy ,” Joel repeats. “ He ain’t even a Junior, Ma. He’s the third .”

“Well, it was nice to see him,” she reminisces, fiddling with the corner of her placemat. She catches herself, smooths it down, then brings her hands together, fiddling with a thin, gold wedding band. “I swear, that boy’s an inch taller every time I see him.”

“ He’s in his thirties,” Joel tells you, drawing a genuine smile to your lips. One that brings a sparkle to his eyes.

“Well, anyway,” she goes on, “A face like that belongs in the movies,” she chuckles to herself. “Of course, he’s nowhere near as handsome as my Joel,” she looks at you reassuringly as she says it. Lest you pine after Randy the third .

A silence stretches on until you say, “Well, this was delicious. I’d love the recipe…” You dab the corners of your mouth and put down your napkin.

“Oh, it’s not a recipe, honey,” she boasts, “It’s somethin’ ya do from the heart.” After a moment, she adds, “But I can write down the ingredients! Now, how about some cherry pie?”

She stands up, puts her apron back on, and you help her clear the table. “Go on Joel, we’ve got it,” Mama tells him, and he goes to sit in the living room.

“Okay,” Mama whispers to herself as she plates the first slice, a generous one. “This one’s for him.” You take it to Joel with a knife and he sits up from the couch to accept it with a thank you, reading your face for signs of how things are going. You flash him a small, unrevealing smile. “ Gonna take a piss ,” he mumbles, and his eyes ask if that’s okay. “Sure,” you say with a little curtsy, trying not to smirk as you turn and head back to the kitchen.

Mama’s about to plate the other slices of pie when she lifts a finger in the air and says, “Oh, let me write this down before I forget,” then retrieves a notecard and pencil from a drawer. She puts on a pair of glasses and smiles to herself as she jots down the ingredients. You dwell in the threshold of the living room.

She looks up like she’s trying to remember something, then looks down and keeps writing on the notecard.

You begin to look at the pictures on the wall. Some are of Joel, and he’s straight-faced. Some are of cats. Charmingly, a blurry photo of a black cat has been deemed frame-worthy. It sits within a bigger rectangle, the shadow of where a different frame used to be. There are a few spots like this. There are a few relatively recent photos of Joel and his Mom. None with his father, as far as you can tell. None now, and none then. But when you look closer at the older ones, it’s clear some of them have been trimmed.

“He hates having his picture made,” Mama startles you from less than a foot away.

“You two seem really close,” you offer. “Just the two of you?”

She raises her eyebrows in amusement and lowers her volume. “Oh, Joel made sure of that .”

A chill in her voice hardens your nipples and dries your mouth. You search her face for more, but her eyes have wandered, and her face has fallen. “Been about thirty years, just the two of us—-well, just me for a while…” You follow her eyes to the corner with the crochet rug, and she squeezes your arm.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

She eases her grip and manages a little smile. “Yes, dear.” She hands you the notecard.

Her handwriting is beautiful. Captivating.

You stay there, eyes scanning the photo wall, while she finishes plating your pie and hers.

One of the frames catches your eye. It’s the first one you’ve really zeroed in on, looking at the faces and not just the context. The picture is faded and yellowed.

Joel is young and smiling, with a pin-up looking woman hanging all over him.

A rush of begruding jealousy begs the question, who is that?

And then, your stomach turns.

It’s a much younger Mama, with dark, loose curls befitting of a centerfold. All dolled up and glowing, with her arm around his middle. And god damn, her tits are swelling up out of her neckline. She looks…. Hot. Your lungs go hollow, then your chest expands with a deep breath. Something's stirring in your gut. Arousal? Attraction?

Your eyes pan down to her Mary Jane heels, but the swell of her breasts, those bouncy curls… the sight of itl tugs at your peripheral vision, pulling your eyes back up her dress. The dress is cute, and proper. Innocent, even. But the way she wears it… Sweetheart neckline, puffed sleeves… You squint for a closer look, and your breath hitches. Heat rises to your face, to the tips of your ears. Your heart races. You pull your eyes away, chest burning, and pretend you don't notice anything.

Something soft brushes your calf and you gasp and jump as you look down to see a black cat thread between your legs.

“Oh, it’s Daniel!” Mama says. “He must’ve come in behind you. Not allergic, are you? Here’s your pie, honey.” She sets down your plate on the coffee table.

“You good, baby?” Joel asks.

Taking your place on the sofa next to Joel, you sit like a lady, one foot tucked behind the other ankle, minding your lack of panties. The dress is just long enough to cover your knees.

The three of you finish dessert in silence aside from forks scraping good china and Daniel purring from that rug in the corner. Joel finishes first, and stretches his arm behind you on the sofa. When you finish, you sit back with him, knee brushing his. You will yourself to relax. You will yourself not to ogle his mother in trying to reconcile her fragile frame of today with those curves of yesteryear.

She looks back and forth at the two of you sitting side by side and smiles. She puts down her plate, crosses her legs toward you, and clasps her hands. A smile rises through her pretty cheekbones as she looks directly at you.

“Ya know, Joel was top of his class.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Joel takes his hand off the back of the sofa and leans forward, forearms on his knees, full belly filling out the plaid against his lap as he wrings his hands. “ Mama .” Joel’s tone is cautionary, but his face is more pleading . He shakes his head ever so slightly.

Ignoring him, she smiles proudly at you.

You try not to sound as skeptical as you are when you ask, “Really?”

She nods.

“ Mama ,” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm,” she smiles.

He sits up straight, wipes his hand down his whole face and sits back in defeat. His arm doesn't return behind you.

She continues, “There were a couple other boys, went in ‘round the same time – took’em three tries to get their GED. Three tries, at least. Not my Joel. He got his on the first try,” she beams. “The warden shook his hand.”

“Okay,” Joel mutters.

The Warden. Your heart skips a beat and your face gets cold, but you pray it doesn't show.

You turn and congratulate him, “That’s great, Joel.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. He’s looking at the carpet with a defeated scowl, jaw flexing, chest heaving, arms crossed limply over his stomach. He tries to manage a smile of acknowledgement. You can see the effort, but humiliation prevails.

You feel for him and add, “Really, babe.”

His face softens, but his posture doesn't change. After a moment, without looking up, he mumbles, “ Long time ago. ”

“Yeah,” his mother nods. “He's always been a smart boy.” She starts talking about his favorite subjects, and how he could have gotten his bachelor's too, three times over, if the program was worth a damn, and state funding, and blah blah blah, riots, and understaffing, and shanks hidden in law library books, and a few bad apples spoil it for everyone…

Your eyes are on him, tuning her out, best you can, despite your curiosity. You rest your hand on his knee, and he relaxes a little. And then, once your face turns toward his mom again, Joel looks at your face, assessing the damage.

You want to hear it all– how long he was locked up, how he ended up in juvie. You're afraid you already know that part.

Daniel purrs loudly from the crochet rug, and you will yourself not to look in that direction.

Joel's Mom looks at Daniel and gets quiet as her eyes wander up that wall that must've been painted over, god how many times in the past thirty years? She idly caresses her left ring finger.

You squeeze Joel's knee, slide your hand up his jeans a couple inches, and squeeze again. You tap your thumb, and his hand joins yours.

“ We oughta get goin’, Ma ,” he announces.

“Oh,” she frowns, slumping in defeat.

“ I'm workin’ tonight, and she's gotta work early .”

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, stands up, and smooths her dress.

—---

“It's nice to know there's a good woman looking after my son,” she says as she bids you goodbye with another hug.

Your heart swells at the praise, you can't help it. Her apparent sincerity weakens your eyes, makes you shake away your own memories and steel yourself as she says goodbye to Joel.

“Chin up, baby.” She holds Joel's face, makes him look at her. “Give your mama some sugar.” She gives him a smack on the lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he does accept her hug.

He pulls up his jeans on the way to the car. Almost forgets to open the door for you.

He doesn't look at you, even when he buckles you in, which you would have done yourself if you hadn’t froze.

He swallows more thickly. His posture is less proud.

For the first few minutes of the drive, you ride in silence. Then you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He grumbles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, tummy tickling with a pang of genuine sympathy for the man.

“No,” he answers flatly with no hesitation.

“You don't have to,” you reassure him.

“I know I don't have to,” He snaps. “God, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about.”

You watch him scowl at the road, clenching his strong jaw. His gaze is so dark. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. As if noticing this himself, he stretches one hand out, spreading his fingers before assuming a more relaxed grip.

You wonder… was he born a killer?

He's got this tough, violent shell about him, and now you know there's something else under there. Is he sorry he brought you to dinner, you wonder? You don't want him to be.

“Well, it was nice meeting your mom,” you remark. “Meatloaf was fantastic…. The pie, too.” You cradle the Tupperware stacked in your lap. “You wanna hang out for awhile?” you ask.

“Gotta work,” he answers flatly and swallows with his eyes still on the road.

“Well, that's too bad.” It teally is. Cause you're not any less horny than he got you in your bathroom two hours ago. Wetter, if anything, you realize, and warmth blooms in your cheeks. Now the sun is going down. You reach back and put the Tupperware on the back seat, then shamelessly turn toward him. You lean your temple against the headrest and watch him drive.

He’s hard-working. Complicated. Private. And his mom’s right, he is successful, all things considered. You wonder where his dad is buried. Whether he was handsome, like Joel. Maybe . But with or without him, Joel got those looks from Mama.

Joel glances over and shoots you a dark look. A warning.

“ You don't gotta play nice ,” he says.

“I'm not playing anything,” you protest.

He chuckles.

“Pull over,” you tell him.

“ For what? ” He asks. His meaty thighs are spread, swelling in those tight jeans. He follows your eyes and squints at you, then slides his hand under his belly and adjusts his belt, annoyed.

“Just pull over Joel,” you repeat.

“ Ain't in the mood for your games, sweetheart ,” he says.

You open the glove box, then close it with the gun in your hand. You point it at him. “Pull over, god damn it,” you tell him.

He squints and looks at you up and down before dismissing you with a silent, condescending laugh.

Keeping the gun trained on him, your free hand unbuckles your seatbelt, then slides between your legs. You pull the skirt of the dress all the way up to expose your cunt.

“ You serious? ” He asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” you confirm. And that's not what killed his dad , you think.

It must've been messy.

He must've deserved it, by the looks of Joel's back. The way the moonlight skidded over his scars.

Joel shakes his head, keeps driving, and you lift the gun to his temple. “Pull over right now,” you repeat, quieter.

“ Jesus, FUCK ,” he relents, neck vein bulging as he veers toward the shoulder.

It's just past dusk on a suburban road, and you're half way out of the seat before the car's in park.

Stretching your leg over the center console, you help yourself into his lap, straddling him, still.

holding the gun. With the other hand, you begin unbuttoning his shirt.

For a moment, all he does is stare at you and breathe heavier. “ You're fuckin’ with m e,” he tells himself out loud, not wanting to fall for a joke. He has his elbows back and out of the way, one arm on the door, one on the center console, but he’s itching to have you. You can see it in the way his biceps twitch. His stomach rises and falls with heavier breaths under his white tee.

“I’m not,” you assure him.

He lets you pick up his hand, and you guide it between your legs so he can feel how wet you are.

His face darkens, and his hand reflexively grabs your cunt.

“ Somethin’ wrong with you? ” he asks.

“That’d make two of us,” you answer.

You glance at the gun to make sure the safety's still on, then point the barrel at his chest and reach down to grab the massive bulge in his jeans. The largest you could imagine, for a cock that’s not quite hard. And he chubs up quick under the lustful pressure of your palm.

“ You're into this shit ,” he says. “ Like some kinda kink.”

Ya think, you manage not to say out loud. But you get the subtext. He’s a real person. With a real big cock that swells harder in your palm as you massage him slow with your breasts heaving. He cups your bare ass cheeks. You slide your hand up the front of his jeans, and his hips lift under you, chasing your palm. The heel of your palm presses into his gut as you unbuckle his belt. You rest your wrist on the seat, gun pointed toward the back of the car as your hand continues its work between your bodies. With his belt buckle out of the way, you grope at his cock through the denim again, then unzip his jeans and rest your hand on the curve of his belly, splaying your fingers out before sliding your hand down into his jeans. As your hand engulfs the mushroom shape of his cockhead, then his swollen shaft, you moan at the girth. “Yeah,” you breathe, “You gonna fuck me in your mother’s dress?” You end the question with a firm grab of his package, and he grunts, nearly breathless, then sighs as you palm his cock hungrily through the cotton of his boxer briefs.

“Looks really fuckin’ good on you,” he answers with a nod. Blood’s still rushing to his cock, responding to its need to stiffen up and plug whatever gaping hole appears in front of it.

“Looks good on her too,” you note.

“ Fuck ,” he breathes under your slow but aggressive massage. His eyes pour over your chest and he says, “ Looks better on you. ” If he’s not lying–and it looks like he’s not–-it’s quite a fucking compliment. His shaft plumps with as much as blood as it can hold, stiff as a rod, fat and juicy, hard as hell, spilling precum in his boxers.

“ Ohh, fuck ,” he moans. His hips lift and his abs tense and his belly swells against your forearm.

You slide your hand up again, and under his waistband. You brace your wrist on his shoulder, pointing the gun toward his neck as your hand slides into his warm boxer briefs to feel the smooth skin of his aching manhood.

“ You wanna put that down? ” he asks.

“No,” You reply, unable to connect your thumb fingers around his girth.

“ Man, when you need it ya need it, huh? ,” he murmurs, eyelids heavy. “ Need this cock real bad, don’t ya? ”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“ Need to pack that droolin’ gash ,” he says. “ Pack it full. ”

“Yeah,” you nod and raise yourself a few inches. You get his tip at your entrance, then slide it through your dripping pussy. “ Oh, fuck, ” he moans, “God damn sex kitten.. . FUCK , youre ho t”

He breathes audibly, watching you with forced patience as you notch his broad tip at your hole. You start to sink down on him with some difficulty, face scrunching, biting your lip in frustration, eyes watering with need.

“What's the matter, sweetheart? Forget how to take a cock all the sudden?”

You lift yourself up and sink down a little more, swallowing the tip.

“ Oh fuck ,” he moans. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you down with an upward thrust, spearing you on his monster girth.

“ Yeah…oh, fuck, ” he breathes, not quite bottomed out. “ Ugghh ,” he groans, pulling you down more with an upward thrust to the hilt, fully seated in you at last.

“ God, you're filthy.” He wets his bottom lip, admiring what a mess you’ve become in his lap. “ Hot little slut like you…. Oh, you're trouble, ” he says.

You begin to lift yourself, letting most of his meat out of you, tip dragging thick and tight through your walls, your slick beading under the crown and sliding down his shaft. Then you sink back down, splitting yourself open on his girth with a sigh.

The sky has erupted into shades of pink and purple as the begins to sink past the horizon.

Electricity runs through your blood. Your skin hums. His neck glistens with goosebumps and the hues of his shirt look brighter in the almost-dark.

He grabs your hips as you ride him, then moves his big hands to your waist. Each time you slide up his cock, it’s easier to sink back down. Your body’s hungry for more each time. You can feel it pulsing wider around him, welcoming his girth, hungry for more.

“ Yeah ,” he encourages you as you find a rhythm. “ Like that.”

You seize one of his wrists to move his hand to your neck.

“ You're a real freak, baby ,” he taunts you, brushing his thumb against the delicate skin of your neck before carefully positioning it and raising his eyebrows at you. He closes his eyes as you sink down on him again and his girth slides easily through your soft walls. When he opens his eyes, his massive hand gives your neck a little squeeze, and you moan in appreciation.

“Guess it takes a freak to fuck a guy like you,” you spit back.

He scowls, and his nose twitches.

You go on, “Mighta picked the only freak in town who’d fuck you by choice,” you tell him. “Lucky call,” you say. “Lucky you have such a fat fucking cock,” you taunt him and study his face, hopeful for a sign that he could snap. “What else do you have?” You ask, and it feels almost too cruel. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lot to have… fuck,” you breathe. “Mmm,” fully stuffed by his girth.

“ Quit runnin’ your damn mouth ,” he snaps and grabs the gun by both ends at once, smoothly disarming you with an effortless twist of his hands. He places the barrel against the hollow of your neck and asks, Is “ That what ya want, ya dumb slut? Tryna get yourself killed? ”

You freeze, half-way on his cock, getting lost in his eyes.

“Well God damn, if you're gonna ride it, ride it. I'm gonna lose my goddamn patience ” he warns.

When you don’t sink down fast enough, he gets rougher, putting you in a bruising grip, arm wrapped around you, tightening like an anaconda.

He fucks up into you from the bottom, both arms behind you, with the gun held vaguely to your neck.

“Yeah,” you moan.

He growls, pushes his back against the seat, and his stomach pushes against your front, pushes and rubs as he fucks you harder, rocking the car.

The windows fog up.

He unzips the back of the dress and tears it down to reveal your breasts.

He watches them move as you’re bounced on his thick manhood. He snarls and grunts like an animal possessing his prey.

“I see you,” you whisper, intoxicated by the rhythmic stroke of him up in your guts.

“ Fuck you ,” he rasps.

“Fuck me ,” you retort, “Fuck me,” you repeat, “Fuck me, killer,” your cunt spasms with the word.

“ Knew what I was, don’t act fuckin’ surprised .”

Fuck, you moan, swallowing up his cock with your cunt. “I'm -mmm- m’not,” you say. “I'm turned on.”

“You’re sick,” he says, burying his cock in you fully, once again.

Your nipples harden, you moan, and he looks at you skeptically, even as he feels your walls twitch around his absurd girth.

“ Know that pussy's hungry for something bigger ,” he says.

“Like what?” you ask and feel the gun leave your neck.

“Get up.” He checks the safety.

When you rise up, he holds the gun near his dick, making the barrel of it look like a twig.

“ Best I got here ,” he says with your pussy clinging to his shaft as you let out all but the tip.

“ Think she can take it? ” he asks. “ Shit, we know she can .”

You lift all the way up onto your knees, letting his cock fall out. It bounces, bringing a string of slick with it, and stands stiff at attention.

He works three fingers into you with ease.

“Gimme your hand,” you ask.

“ Hand's fuckin’ busy ,” he says, referring to the one holding the gun.

“No, gimme your whole hand,” you demand greedily, and grab his wris with his fingers still buried in your cunt.

“ Attagirl ,” he says, then works a fourth finger into you. “ Best I can do here, sweetheart ,” he winces as he fucks you with four clustered fingers.

“ Fuck this ,” he decides, unable to stand his throbbing cock growing ever colder outside your cunt.

He positions you over his dick and the gun, uses his fingers to spread your pussy around both, then pulls you down.

“Uh–ughh,” your mouth is agape as you sink down the shaft and barrel, taking them both.

You’re a quivering mess.

He holds the handle steady and says, “ Good girl. ” .

You don't go all the way down. Just the cool barrel against one side of, Your walls.

“ God damn, this hungry pussy ,” he pants, cock stiff against the gun. “ God damn, i know she can take more, ” he says, frustrated without much more to give you.

“How do you know?” you ask

“ Cause I've seen ya gapin’ wide open, sweetheart. ”

You moan at his words, pussy quivering around his cock and gun.

“ Wide fuckin’ open, ” he repeats. “Y a take my fist… take two dicks…fuck ,” he twitches inside you. “ Took my goddamn wrench…. greedy fuckin’ cunt, ” he goes on.

Then you're seized by a swell in your belly…. The pressure that’s been simmering quickly boils over, and you whimper as you come on his cock and the gun.

“ Yeah ,” he pants as your walls flutter and your thighs quiver.

He lifts you up with one arm, and takes out the gun, putting it aside. Then he slams you all the way down on his cock. “ Oh god, yeah ,” he pants, “ Freak nasty whore .”

You moan and let it ride, clenching around his cock, your walls hugging it tighter each time, with the girth of the gun no longer holding you open.

Your climax wanes and your legs are weak. “ Oh fuck ,” he pants, “ Gonna fill this dirty snatch ,” He sweats and grunts. “ Gonna stuff her with my load ,” he warns, “ Bout to fill this gash right up .”

“ Fuck ,” he breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust up into you, then slams you down, and with an upward jolt of his hips begins to drain his massive balls. “ Fuck ,” he sighs as he comes inside. “ Fuck, you're crazy ,” he says with another rope, warm and sticky, hitting your womb.

“ Tryna get knocked up by some psycho killer ya picked up on the side of the road ,” he says. “ Fuck, you goddamn freak .”

Still milking his cock, something possesses you to cradle his face as he slows down. Another burst of warmth in your core, as your face approaches his. He starts to turn his cheek, but your hands become forceful “ C’mere, asshole ,” you demand, grinding into him with his cock pulsing deep inside again. His neck begins to relax, and he sighs with his eyes closed. You hold his face steady and bring your face to his. When your lips meet his are limp and open.

Another warm spurt into your womb, and when you moan against his mouth, he moans back. His lips soften, then cradle yours. Your tongue slips into your mouth, and his pushes into yours. He grabs the back of your head, pulling you into his face as he kisses you, releasing a final burst of hot seed. “ Mm ,” he grunts into your mouth, hands holding each other’s faces. Glued together, consuming each other in the dark. The passion simmers to something gentler as your loins twitch with aftershocks, becoming over-sensitive.

You break away to breathe, gasping for humid air in the fogged-up car.

He pants, looks up at the ceiling. His neck vein pulses. His skin is clammy looking, dewy with cold sweat,

“ Fuck ,” sighs, his chest heaving, “ Still got your goddamn tits out .” He admires them, then feeds himself one. He tongues your nipple, and when your cunt squeezes him, he winces, letting it out of his mouth.

A tractor trailer whizzes by, shaking the whole car.

“ Alright ,” he says, and nudges you off his lap. “Now pull yourself together.”

He takes the gun, wet with your juices, puts it on the dashboard near him. He looks over at you skeptically when you've climbed back over the center console into your seat.

“ You better stuff that dress between your legs ,” he warns. “ Don’t want ya leakin’ all over the goddamn place .”

THANK YOU FOR READING.

Believe it or not, I cut two scenes from this lol so I might put them in a little bonus visit between Joel and his mom soon.

Look, this took me a year and I feel like I've finally done my mental vision justice lol. So, please interact 🧎‍♀️🥺🖤

#dude. Tox.#this was well worth the wait #you killed it no pun intended #fuuuuuuck I wanna fuck everyone in this fic. mama and joel and reader #what a bunch of freakazoids #I love it #you did amazing 🖤🖤#thank you for writing and sharing #going to do violent and horrible and romantic things now #dark!joel miller #slasher!joel #joel miller smut #slasher!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut

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mihii-i · 5 months ago

Text

form of worship.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, redo of the brothel vision scene because I fucking hate it, flashback yippee, you’re not here w her unfortunately mizu just thinks of reader, I made this more passionate because I just don’t like taizu and I get more action than taigen cause I’m her wife obvi, praise, fingering, crying, sough rex, the kink where you drag your nails along someone’s back (do not tell anyone I have that this stays here.), mizu’s confused about gay people lmfao, hehehehe switch mizu yes I live for switch mizu, bottom lean tho cause im thirsty rn, not proofread.

A/N: here’s the little poll winner request cause you freakazoids (lovingly) requested anyway this is literally just the brothel sequence but with mizu imagining you instead of baldie (I hate that scene sm I pretend it doesn’t exist lmfaooo) anyway have fun cause it’s almost midnight so writing might be a little off. 🕯️

“He was honest with his desire, that is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul.”

Madame Kaji’s smooth voice rang around the thick atmosphere clouded with lust, her voice soft like a bundle of silk running fluidly without any openings or stray threads. Slim spills of golden light poured out from the thin, rectangular peephole that slid open to observe such acts through the periphery a singular eye.

Orange glasses lowered to rest atop the bridge of her nose, Mizu couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the raw skin to skin contact, both a woman and the samurai from the duel earlier brushing up against each other so sinfully, while another man pressed against the samurai’s back to loom over his wide shoulders. Her pupils dilated wide within the rim of her cerulean eyes, fixated on how the dull yellow brightness outlining their bodies in the midst of a firey passion scorching within the confines of the heated ambience.

She had solely convinced herself that such acts were nothing but a medium of self indulgence in the pleasure of another. An addictive feeling that is solely useless to partake in. Sexual pleasure could either be a soul entangling act of love, coursing through the veins in an ardent ache throbbing within someone to love and please the other. While on the other end, it could be the exact opposite. A heightened, sadistic thirst to satisfy one’s selfish desires to bask in, as well as inflict harm upon another in rugged destruction where the reciever pleads for it to be over. The duality alone was enough to draw Mizu away from the prospect of something supposedly disgusting to her.

So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away from the two men, engaged so deeply in their fervor together?

Mizu opened her mouth to speak for a moment, eyes still locked onto the grasp of the three in the room rocking against each other as a chorus of quiet moans gradually grew louder from the inside. Her mouth hung dry in response though, not a single word rasping out of her mouth in the usual stern tone that lowly hummed against her throat. She wanted to deny the potential thought of sex being an act of worship as Madame Kaji had proposed, trying to force out the words of desire being beyond the need of her purpose.

Madame Kaji only flashed her a satisfied smile at the sight of her gaze transfixed onto the passionate act between the three within the room. The corners of her cherry lips perked up at the sight, cautiously stepping toward Mizu.

“Has the gentleman finally caught sight of an act that piqued his interest?” She inquired, under the impression that sexual relations with a man was what Mizu had desired.

That wasn’t it.

A man with another man? Although quite different to her, the act itself between two of the same sex seemed beautiful in her sights, a fresh bond between the two men being honest with their desires in a way that wasn’t the norm nor taboo, yet was rather welcome as a beauty of preference to one another.

Could two women partake in the same act?

Mizu blinked at the abrupt thought she had, her bottom lip curled into a thin line dashed below her nose. She wondered to herself that if women weren’t so confined in such a society, remaining as open to several options as men were…could two women be honest with their desires in the same affection to crave one another?

Her mind began flood with scenarios as she blankly dulled her eyes into the two men’s lips smashed up against one another’s, not particularly looking at them with much interest. Rather, she wanted to know how it would feel to outline her hands along the smooth skin of another woman. Head racing with scenarios of you in particular, rather than some random woman she picked up on. It was clear Mizu had missed you, yet she didn’t think it was to the extent where her thoughts were clouded with fucking you in the same way the do in these brothels.

Face flushing deeply, the upper end of the bridge of her nose was dusted in a gentle blush of pink, diffusing to the thin bones of her cheeks. All she could picture in the moment while staring blankly—were the calloused ridges of her fingers tracing along your curves as her palms carefully dug into the plush of your bare skin, handling you cautiously as if you were a porcelain doll, fragile to her unmerciful hand.

Lips grazing the flesh of your throat while her skull was nothing but a whirlwind of desire for you, longing to hear your drawn out noises as the compulsive need to feel you clenching around her waned at any composure she kept within her. Mizu continued to observe the acts of the two, with less interest in what they partook in and rather what she wanted to lock you into, imagining the infatuating sight of your nude frame sprawled out below her, legs held up to your chest with only one of her hands as her gloves chafed against the bristles of hair on your knees.

Mizu bit her bottom lip subtly at the lone idea itself of her free hand sunken into your cunt while she took in your cries of pleasure circling her, the heightened want and desperation in your voice bouncing off the walls into every corner of the room as you enclosed the velvety warmth of your walls around the ridges of her digits. Simply burying them knuckles deep in you, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust as she kissed you all over as a sweet act of love coated in pleasure until your inevitable climax.

Gods, she couldn’t keep you out of her mind.

Even when the two men flipped over, Mizu strangely enough was only able to dissolve her previous thoughts into a whole new scenario, one of which made her skin burn as a bead of sweat built up directly below her jaw on the vein of her neck. Feeling as if her head was throbbing at the influx of perverted thoughts, she didn’t attempt to push away any idea of you laying on top of her as well, hands flat against her waist to press her into a tatami mat.

Such a shameless thought of you taking her on the floor itself only sent her reeling into a mess, brain short circuiting as her knees pushed closer together than they already were. Attempting to push back the simple, raw idea of your fingers brushing along that spot within her, massaging the spongy end that addictively buries your fingers into the soft warmth of her pussy, was nothing but a futile attempt.

It was hard to push back, especially darting to the idea of your teeth grazing the edge of her collarbone as you hummed against the crook of her neck, uttering out soothing words of praise along her skin as a shiver racked Mizu’s body. Tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as her legs tightly coiled around your bare waist, obscene moans she attempted to suppress spilling from her lips as your fingers sunk into her cunt enveloping you with a welcome warmth.

Each gentle word of affection rasped out by your hushed voice against her throat serving to prick more tears welling up in her eyes from the sheer emotion blending into the sensation of pleasure arching her body in a dome off the ground as your palm ground against her sensitive clit. Her fingers traced along your back as you rammed your fingers into her against the mat while her body jousted upward with the slam of three of your fingers inside her, nails dug into your back as she raked down your skin in a wake of bright red blooming along the ridges of goosebumps.

Mizu knew how damn loud she was, the fact even coming to enticingly haunt her in her fantasies as she envisioned the lewd noises wrenched out of her throat while she dug her nails into your back, your fingers nudging up against her g-spot as she let out a pleading sob at the sheer stimulation driven by your love. Only being able to imagine the blanking feeling mentally as she snapped from her climax, her lithe figure arching to the cool air assaulting her bare skin as it drew in shiver along her exposed tits, chest heaving up and down as you captured her in a gentle kiss.

Her imagination subsided as soon as she lost sight of the three within the room upon grounding herself back into reality, the heat dusted across still lingering along the midpoint of her sharp facial structure. When Mizu had imagined your hands on her, or even her hands pressed onto your body, she couldn’t help but ponder Madame Kaji’s words once more…she wanted you in a way that could be considered a form of worship.

“Have you found your desire?”

Madame Kaji’s words cut through Mizu’s elevated state as she stared through the warmth of her glasses wide eyed, swallowing back the embarrassment accumulated from the strangely detailed scenario. Mizu only shook her head in response, replying in a hesitant voice firmly.

She shut her eyes under the facade of being calm, her fingers pressed to the wood before dragging it across to slide the window closed as she pursed her lips shut.

“Desire is beyond the need of my purpose.”

A/N: bye I have midterms next week anyway this is fine but like yall voted for this don’t even

ily all no matter how freaky yall are (im acting like I’m not)

I was gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing this and it’s 2 am I’m sleepy gn.

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bluem1lls · 5 months ago

Note

hey *leans against table and winks or smth* can i request se-mi x reader on where they’re roommates but fucking HATE each other but se-mi has a onlyfans account (because she’s a freakazoid👅👅) and reader finds out so like when reader confronts her about it or smth se-mi somehow magically gets reader to join her and they become scissor sisters (also se-mi with a strap i DONT fear..) and become lovers..?? sorry if this is to much or shitty

✧₊⁺ show me who you are

se-mi x fem! reader

✦ synopsis: having a roommate you hate is annoying. and it becomes even more annoying when she gets all your good angles in the porn video you both filmed. tw: minors dni, smut w plot, and they were roommates!, fingering/oral (r!receiving), scissoring, sub!reader, dom!se-mi, degradation (a little?), choking, a bit of slapping authors note: hi! for the girl who also requested enemies to lovers IM SORRY i lost ur request but here it is! tysm for reading and the requests, i hope u like it!

"this is important!" thanos said, making me sit down besides nam-gyu in our living room as i stared at my other best friend from the corner of my eyes. nam-gyu shrugged as i sighed.

"yes?"

"we're in debt with the landlord"

"we knew that" nam-gyu said as i nodded and thanos rolled his eyes.

"no like.. we actually need to pay him back a shit ton. but he said we could do it per month. the thing is none of us has any more money, so here's my idea.. a new roommate!"

"cool" nam-gyu said.

"no way" i said at the same time.

"listen to me" thanos grabbed my shoulders. "i hate the idea too, but we're poor. my room can be her room and i'll share with nam-gyu"

i stared at both of them as nam-gyu turned to him. "wait- like bed and-"

"no, not the bed dumb ass" thanos smacked him as the other one nodded. "so? are we getting a new roommate?" he repeated to both of us. i sighed and nodded. nam-gyu did too, making thanos smile. "great! because her name is se-mi and she's about to be here in 30 minutes"

my eyes widden. wait what?

"what-wait. oh my god. you knew we would say yes so you already took the interviews and picked a random person? are you fucking insane?" i stood up, hitting him as he winced.

"auch- i knew u two would say yes because we don't have another choice. plus min-su's best friend was looking for a place so i told her and she agreed. never thought that could lead to my death, jesus." he stared at me with a frown as he rubbed his arm.

"oh wait, the tall girl with the short hair? oh i like her, she's cool" i stared at nam gyu with my mouth open.

was i the only one who had no idea of who she was? i've been so busy with school that it was hard to keep a pace with the guys. we've been a group ever since i can remember. nam-gyu came after, at first it was just me, thanos and min-su, then it was just the four of us. we decided to live together once we were old enough and it has been that way since. min-su stayed out because he said we were 'a mess' and he didn't had to pay rent at his parent's house.

i heard the doorbell ring as thanos ran to the door, opening to reveal a tall girl with short brunette hair, piercings on her lip and nose.

oh, she's pretty.

"come in! so you know him, and this our best friend and third annoying roomate!" he said as i told her my name. she stared up and down, biting her lip in a nervous manner.

"se-mi" she introduced herself with a head nod.

i smiled at her as he showed her around. it was a normal apartment with a living, one bathroom, three rooms and a small balcony (usually used for the hangouts and to smoke).

as she looked at the place, nam-gyu left her stuff in her new room. once he came back, he wrapped his arms around me, giving me a light squeeze.

"hey, it'll be fun. plus you get along more with girls than boys, you'll love her. maybe she'll even be your new best friend."

"if you don't like it then MOVE OUT!" i shouted at her. my breath shaking with anger.

"well, guess what doll? i live here too! and if you don't like it, then go find a new place, but we both know you won't because your real issue is that you just love to complain. you're just a brat who cries when she doesn't get what she wants!" se-mi screamed back, standing up from the couch to face me.

"go fuck yourself!" i replied, grabbing the keys and my phone before slamming the apartment door.

i quickly texted my best friend to meet up at our usual coffee shop as i walked through the cold streets, trying to cool off. once i got there, i ordered the usual; ice coffee and chai tea latte for jun-hee.

i saw her sat in one of the booths. "i will kill her. i'm not joking" i said as sat down. she chuckled, this wasn't a new subject for her.

"you never gave her an actual chance th-"

"she doesn't need it! i don't need it! she's been a bitch to me ever since she came. everytime i wake up, when i hang out with the guys, she's always there! it's like she became part of the group!"

she stared at me with a sympathetic smile as she drank her chai tea.

"she is part of the group now, love. and i don't think that's changing, if the guys like her, you know they'll keep her around, mostly now that she lives there. so you can choose to fumble everytime you're around her or try to at least ignore her to be at peace" jun-hee said as i sighed. my hands rubbed my face as i groaned.

"i'll try. doesn't mean it'll go well" i said, still not uncovering my face as she gave me a soft chuckle.

"you'll do great!"

as i came back to the apartment, i could hear the moanings even from outside. i took a deep breath to cool down as i entered. of course the moans came from her room.

ever since she got here, she brings a different girl every fucking weekend. nam-gyu and thanos are staring with their mouths wide open when they open the door to find (once again) an another beautiful blonde standing there. they also stare disappointed when se-mi appears with a quick hi, kisses her and guides her to her room.

a long line of girls walk into that room and leave with messy hair, hickeys, messy clothes and a relaxed and very fucked out face.

"it's ridiculous, what is she, a pornstar?" i tell jun-hee as she lays in my bed while i pace in my room. she bites her lip to supress a smile.

"so... i have something to tell you. or show you."

i stared at her, sitting in bed to watch while she tapped on her phone, looking for something.

"so we have talked about this countless times since she moved in, right? so i searched a bit and.." she turned her phone, her only fans profile appeared as i gasped and covered my mouth.

"you have to be kidding me!" i stared wide eyed, taking the phone. "oh my god jun-hee did you fucking bought her content?" i open my mouth, staring at the doe eyed girl besides me.

"research purposes. take a look. oh wait, i'll send them to you"

as the photos and videos arrived to my phone, i went through each of them and oh my god. my face flushed crimson red as i stare at one particular photo. you could see from her bare chest to her crotch. she had a strap that hit her lower stomach with her hand wrapped around it, looking like she was stroking it like it was her cock. i licked my lips as my mouth felt dry and my head dizzy. jun-hee sent me 5 videos, se-mi fucking a blonde girl in all fours, another one scissoring, fucking in missionary, a pretty redhead riding her. she knew how to attract people to buy her shit, and she knew how to make the content.

"she's hot" my best friend said with a soft push on my direction, making me snap from my thoughs as i shrugged.

"doesn't make her any less annoying"

"can i buy-" he said, as i quickly cut him off.

"no."

"but you've seen it-" the other one said, as i, once again, cut them both off.

"no one is buying anything!" i rolled my eyes at both guys. "this is a secret i shared with my best friends. not with my lousy roommates, got it? if i hear that se-mi found out from either of you, both will be very much dead. like dick? cut off" i threated them as thanos stared down at his crotch with his eyes wide. they both nodded.

"man, i wish a had a girl" nam-gyu stared at a blank point.

i told them once again 'not a word' as i headed back into my room. i heard the door closing as the guys left. they mentioned in the morning they were going at min-su's, i told them i'd stop by later. i heard the door open again just as they left, probably se-mi.

as i looked for my charger in my room, i started to get annoyed. the three of them steal it all the fucking time. i leave my room to bash into nam-gyu's and thanos room, taking a quick look in the dark. no signs of the charger.

as i close the door, i see se-mi staring at me with a smirk on her face. her arms crossed on her chest with an amused expression.

"did you take my charger?" i asked as she hummed.

"maybe" she replied as i let out a groan of exasperation.

"se-mi."

she let out a snort as she went into her room, quickly coming back to throw the charger at me, as i pressed my lips to not curse her. outloud.

"it would be my pleasure if you stopped grabbing my stuff without my permission"

"mine doesn't charge as fast" she replied, the amusement on her face never leaving as i rolled my eyes.

"one would guess that with all the money you make with your only fans you could afford a new charger" i mumbled under my breath as i turned around. i felt her hands quickly grip my arm tight as i winced. "auch-"

"what the fuck did you said?" the smirk on her lips faded as she stared intensely at me.

well that was a mistake. but i can't back up now, can i?

"i said" my tongue did a quick 'tsk' as i stared into her eyes, her gaze felt intense and cold. "one would think that with the money you make at only fans you could buy a fast charger, but i guess it isn't going as good as i guessed?"

i could feel my back pressed against the wall, making me let out a small wince. she pinned me, her head slightly down to fixate her gaze on me. i could see her annoyed expression.

"and how would you know that?" she spit. her eyes never leaving mine.

"it's not that hard. a little research and all i can see is why so many girls come in and out every weekend. your videos are boring, by the way."

her angry expression turned into a... confused one? an amused one? a scoff escaped her lips as they curved into a small smirk.

"oh. so you watched them?"

fuck. fucking jun-hee for the details. and fucking jun-hee for that strap photo that's all that's been going through my mind the last few days.

"w-what? no, no" i said as she slowly pressed her body against mine. one of arms left to wall to grip my waist, holding me tightly against her. our eyes never stopped meeting in the silence of the living room.

"you've watched them. you're noisy and you know too much not to. and i bet you enjoyed every single one of them" she replied in a low voice. her eyes roamed over my face, searching for a hint of a lie, but all she could find was the embarrasement in my eyes, making her let out an amused scoff. her fingers softly began to trace circles on my waist as a shiver ran through my spine. "bet you even got wet watching them"

i bit my lip in response. not getting out of my head the amount of times i squeezed my tighs when i saw the videos and photos. the heat that pooled in my panties everytime i saw her thrusts inside of one of her girls. the way she'd make them suck her strap as if it was her real cock, the grip she hold in their hair made me even wetter, but when my hand lowered to take care of my ache, i had stop myself, reminding me how this was just my insufferable roommate.

"were you just mad because you wanted to be one of my girls, doll?" her finger tilted my chin up to stare at her. the room felt heavy with tension as her other hand held me in place. a blush placed on my cheeks, making me feel ashamed because i knew she was right. i did wanted to be one of them. the silence was the answer she needed. she bit her lip piercing as she couldn't help the smirk that escaped.

i felt her hands dip underneath my top as i let out a shaky breath, i could feel my heart stammering on my chest, my legs felt like they could no longer hold me, the only thing keeping me standing was her firm grip. she closed the distance between our bodies, as her lips gently caressed mines without kissing me.

"i bet you're such a whore, you'd even love if i filmed you, hm?"

my cunt aching as i heard her words. i could feel my thong getting pooled with arousal. the proximity between us only made my heart beat faster as i softly nodded, her gaze never leaving mine as her eyes darkened with desire.

she took a step back, grabbing my hand as she pulled us both into her room and closed the door. i could see her blue duvet that i recognized from the videos. she even had led lights to make the entire room feel more like a porn video with high quality.

i didn't even got to process the other furniture as she pushed me against the door, her grip once again holding my waist.

"you really know how to push my buttons." she said leaving wet kisses on my neck as i leaned my head, giving her acess to more space as she groaned. the feeling of her lips making me whine. "you're such an insufferable little brat"

"then do something about it" i replied, a smirk curving my lips as she licked hers.

she lets out a huff. "it really sucks when the most annoying person i know is the one that arouses me the most" she said, my eyes filled with surprise as she crashed her lips with mine in a harsh, desperate kiss.

i quickly melted to her, my arms wrapped around her neck, grabbing the nape of it. bringing her closer as one of her hands left my waist to slowly trail down to my ass, squeezing and giving it a harsh spank as i whimpered in between kisses.

she broke the kiss to speak. her voice husky. "you can't tell the guys about this. not a single word"

"i still hate you" a dry chuckle escaped se-mi's lips at my reply, kissing me again. i felt pure desire through my body as her hands roamed all over.

she moved me out of the door and pushed me to bed. an arrogant smirk tugged at her lips at the sight of me in her room. her gaze taking my entire body with a mix of lust and excitement. she took a few steps to set up the camera in the tripod. as her finger posed on the little 'on' button, she stared at me.

"are you sure you want to do this?"

"yeah. turn it on"

she bit her lip as her fingers pressed the 'on' button. my heart stammered from excitement as she placed herself between my legs, on top of me.

our lips finding eachother once again, her tongue entering my mouth while her hands wrapped around my throat, giving it a light squeeze to test as i moaned in response.

the kiss felt rough and raw. she could feel the vibration of my moan against her as her grip tightened. her body pressed against mine made me feel the heat radiate from her. our bodies molded together.

she slid her knee between my legs, the pressure against my core sent a wave of pleasure, making her break the kiss to press her lips on my neck as my hands went to her hair, tugging her closer.

"my needy girl" i nodded in response as she licked and bit my neck. "now be a good girl, stand up and take your clothes off" she ordered as i did what she said.

my wobbly legs trembled at her intense gaze on my body. i let my leggins hit the floor as i slowly pulled the shirt out of my head, her eyes tracing the curves of my body, making me shiver as i was only left on my bra and panties, i tried to move aside the feeling of being so exposed. as my hands moved to my back to remove my bra, she sat on the the edge of the bed. her arms sneaking around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

"maybe let's leave this pretty set on" she said, staring at my pink underwear as i nodded, feeling dizzy and flushed under her look.

my legs straddling her thighs as i sat on top of her. her hands moved to grab my ass, giving it a light squeeze as our lips found once again in a lustful kiss. she moved me around so i was laying underneath her. her kisses lowered to my neck, down to my chest. the trail going downwards to my cunt. as it reached, she left a soft open-mouthed kiss on my clothed clit. her fingers trailed a path from my thighs to my desperate cunt, who was begging her for attention.

she softly traced over my panties, one finger circling my clit as the wet patch on the lingerie spreaded. her fingers moved up and down my soaked center, pulling my thong aside.

"could you hold this for me, doll?" she said as i nodded, my eyes becoming watery as i bit my lip. i felt her hot breath against my bare cunt, making me shiver as she placed her hands on both of my thighs to spread me open and hold me in place.

her tongue went straight to my clit, giving it some short but pressured licks, making me throw my head back as my hand never left the hold on my panties.

she kept licking, making me moan and whimper from pleasure. my free hand grabbed one of my tits, giving it a light squeeze as i pinch my nipple.

i could feel her eyes on me. "what a slut. you're a natural" her words causing vibrations against my cunt, making me clench around nothing as i kept moaning louder.

i felt as she left the space between my legs to pick up the camera, handing it over to me as i looked at her dumbfounded.

"could you hold it for me, princess? so everyone gets a closer look at how good i eat this pussy"

her words making me whimper as i hold the camera with one hand and still hold my panties with the other one. she gets back between my legs. this time, two of her fingers enter without warning in my warm cunt as my eyes roll back, feeling overwhelmed by how well her tongue swirls around my clit and the fast pace that her fingers pick out.

she thrusts harsh, scissoring with her long fingers inside of me, removing them to dip them once again, her movements make my moans get even louder and louder.

i clench when i take a look at what the camera is recording. her face in between my legs, her hair sticking to her forehead as she eats it with pleasure, moaning at how good i taste.

her fingers follow her tongue pace, making me squirm in pleasure as she holds me in place. i can hear the squelching sounds my pussy makes as she thrusts.

"nu-huh. if you're gonna cum, then do it on my mouth baby. i'm not stopping"

she goes quicker and harder as i feel the heat on my lower stomach about to snap. i rut against her face, needy for release as she gives me a soft chuckle at my desperation. i feel her lips wrapping and sucking around my clit as her fingers curl inside of me, making my entire body tremble. my vision goes white as i roll my eyes back, feeling the orgasm run through my entire body. my toes curl from pleasure as she never stops, only when my body goes numb and i'm whimpering and whining from the overstimulation.

i open my eyes as i looked at her through the viewfinder of the camera. her chin and lips covered with my glossy release. her tongue licks her lips as she hums at the taste, her gaze almost black as she stares at my fucked out state. she props herself up from in between my legs, snatching the camera from my hands. she points it towards me, recording my face as her fingers enter my mouth. i suck them clean, tasting myself as i watch her half-lidded eyes and her teeth nibble at her lip piercing as she hums.

she holds the camera with one hand, while her right hand grips my face, squeezing my cheeks. only releasing to give a harsh slap as i whine. "such a whore, hm?"

she stands up, leaving the camera on the tripod as she quickly swifts off her clothes, throwing them somewhere in the room.

she gets in bed again, lifting my leg to place it on her shoulder as she positions on top, lining herself up against me.

we both moan at the contact. her dripping wet cunt rutting against my sticky pussy. her moves are harsh and fast, creating a rhythm that's followed by our moans and slick sounds.

my nails claw at her thighs, making her speed up. i throw my head back, chanting her name like a prayer.

her eyes are fixated on my expressions. she bites her lip as her hair sticks down to her forehead with sweat.

"hear those wet sounds doll? that's how wet you get me by being a fucking brat" her words hitting right to my core as i lift my hips, our clits bumping. "stay like that" she says in a moan, rutting faster. both desesperate for release.

"fuuuck" her teeth clench as her hands wraps around my throat, making my eyes roll back as she lets out a shaky breath, her eyes shuting close while her head falls back as she grinds herself faster.

i could feel the tight sensation wrappping me once again.

"gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum" i chanter as her grip around my throat tightens.

a loud moan escapes my mouth as the feeling snaps. heat on my lower stomach as my release makes her cum. her eyes roll back with a loud moan escaping her lips while she keeps grinding, making our releases last longer.

she slids from on top to stand up to. she turns off the camera, falling into bed, besides me. her chest going up and down with heavy breaths as i try catching my own, my cheeks burning red.

"not a word about this to anyone. this was a one time thing" i murmur, slowly getting up to find my clothes.

she lets out a sigh, replying. "yeah, not a word. we're not doing this again"

and one week later, i'm watching my own porn video posted on her only fans while she's between my legs with her tongue swirling around my clit as she speaks:

"do you like watching yourself while i eat you, doll?" she says as i nod. my hands grab her hair, tugging her up to leave my cunt. she gives me a heated kiss, making me taste myself on her mouth.

"let's do it again" i mumble in between kisses as she smirks, lowering herself down.

it's about to be a long night.

#lesbian #wlw #squid game smut #se-mi #player 380 #player 380 x reader #squid games #squid game #squid game 2 #squid games x reader #se-mi x reader #se mi x reader #se-mi x reader smut #se mi #se mi squid game #se-mi squid game

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vinnyvamppp · 1 month ago

Note

NEED MORE NO GOGGLES MARK FICSSS U WRITE HIM SO GOOD!!!🙏🙏

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner? (The Psychopath)

Note: This is the sixth request. Considering I've made almost two or more fics for certain variants, I decided to feed you guys a little extra today. Here you go, FREAKAZOIDS.

Synopsis: When dinner with friends turns into a silent war of tension, touch, and self-control, it becomes clear Mark has zero intention of behaving. From under-the-table teasing that ends in a ruined pair of pants to a post-party bathroom brawl with slaps, spitting, and broken plumbing, you both spiral into a night of explosive mutual destruction.

Warnings: Smut, Switch Dynamics, Poweplay, Mutual Choking, Slapping, Dry Humping, Under-the-table-action, Public Teasing, Bathroom Sex, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Degration Kink, Ring Imprinting, Mild Blood From Slaps, Dumbification, Borderline Unhealthy Levels of Devotion, Mark Being all bark all bite and all whimper, etc. WC: 2.5k

Lensless/No Goggles Invincible x Fem!Reader (possibly releasing male ver tmrw)

The dinner party is… normal. That’s the strangest part. The food is good. Your friends are laughing. No one suspects that the man sitting beside you, who has one arm slung casually around your chair and who’s making everyone laugh with his chaotic “that one time I punched a meteor” story …is currently rock hard and getting worse.

You sense it before you feel it. There’s a slight twitch in his jaw, a tension behind that cocky, charming smile that no one else seems to catch—but you do. Then, without looking down, his hand grabs yours beneath the table. You assume he’s reaching for it just to hold—until he guides it. Down… lower. Until your fingers are flush against the heat and pressure of his bulge.

Your pulse spikes. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he look at you. He’s still smiling at your friend who’s telling a story about their dog or something equally innocent. His grip tightens on your hand, keeping it there as your fingers twitch. It's barely noticeable, but enough. Enough to rub against the thick ridge straining beneath the fabric of his jeans. Enough to make him inhale too sharply through his nose. You’re enjoying this too much, perhaps. The slightest smirk playing on your lips as you nod absentmindedly amidst banter.

His cock is heavy, hot, and twitching beneath your touch—like it’s begging to be freed. You feel it jump slightly when your pinky brushes the base. Your hand starts to pull away—panic creeping in—but his grip tightens. Then you look at him. His smile’s still there—but it’s cracking. The teeth stay, but the light in his eyes dims like a glitching puppet. His top lip twitches, and his eyes are glassy, almost like he’s short-circuiting. His cock pulses again, visibly straining now, it’s tip swelling—and you feel the fabric damp with the tiniest smear of precum. Your fingers run a stripe down the underside of his cock, feeling its arousal coat every vein. He finally turns to you, and under the table, your hand trembles in his. Then, through clenched teeth and a smile that’s slowly bleeding into something ravenous, he whispers: “Dude, what did you just do to me?”

And that’s why you bolt to the kitchen. It's quiet, almost too quiet amongst your thundering heartbeat. You’re elbow-deep in a salad bowl, which is probably the most tragically mundane thing to be doing when your boyfriend is absolutely feral and lurking behind you like a panther in heat. Disregarding his antics, you glide across the kitchen and to the stove. His hands are braced against the counter behind him, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying so hard not to fuck up. You bend over slightly to check the oven. He’s behind you in seconds with his chest pressed against your back. Shaky breaths fanning against your nape as they traveled the curve of your neck. ”Dude, you touched me like that again, and I almost came in front of everyone,” he mutters low in your ear. “I’m gonna make you regret that slap was the last thing you did to me today.”

You laugh, but it catches in your throat when his hands grab your hips—tight, fingers digging in like you belong to him. “You slap me like you own me, and then expect me to behave? I’m unwell.” And then he grinds. Slowly and deliberately, with the slightest swivel. His hard-on presses right between your ass cheeks, hot and heavy through both your clothes. You could practically feel his dick straining. Your whole body stiffens. Not now, you mouth silently. Don’t be weird. Please don’t be weird. “People are literally—like—five feet away.”

He grins against your shoulder but doesn’t move. “So? You slapped me in the face and rode me like I owed you money less than 48 hours ago. You think I care about an audience?” You shoot him a warning look, jaw tight. “You promised you’d behave.”

“I lied,” he says, way too cheerfully. Then, he goes quiet. Eerily quiet as his eyes bore into you, countenance cracking by the second. Still touching you, fingertips brushing your sides like you’re delicate, but his tone shifts.

“Dude,” you hiss, pulling against his ever-tightening grasp with a nudge to the ribs. “That’s the safe word, babe.” He groans, lips fervently kissing your neck. Your legs are spread, braced against the lower cabinets now. Mark’s hips rut against you, slow and mean, fabric dragging between you like a tease. The cold metal of his zipper kissing your clit. “Say it again while I hump you against this stove.”

You gasp when he thrusts again—frantically, rubbing up against you like it’s been weeks. You reach down, fingers slipping between your bodies, and palm his cock through his slacks. He groans, almost too loudly. “Oh my God. That’s so fucked up. Feel that?” he whispers, panting. “I’m fucking soaked. You made me leak through my pants, babe.” You press back against him deliberately. He gasps—high and ragged, like the friction hurts but he needs it anyway. His breath stutters against your ear. “You want fucked up?” you mutter, voice darkening. “Fine.” Your hand slips lower, between his legs—right to his balls. You squeeze firmly, just enough to test. He shudders, his hips twitching as a rasped whimper scratches his throat like he’s about to lose it. “Holy shit,” he swears. “That’s—God, babe, don’t stop—”

You grind back into him and squeeze again, gently, then firmly. They practically turn blue within your grasp. Mark jerks forward, a choked groan falling from his lips. His hips stutter through trembles, and his forehead hits your shoulder. His hands grip your waist hard enough to bruise. Your fingers wrap around his throat, and he lets out a sound, half-laugh, half-groan, like he’s choking on his own need. “You look so pretty when you're trying to kill me.”

The sight alone causes his thighs to jerk. His head drops against your shoulder, his body convulsing with broken little thrusts, his cock twitching in his slacks as his orgasm hits him like a train. He doesn’t even get his pants off. Just fucking finish in them, breathless and panting, hands gripping your waist like he’s drowning. You feel it. The heat. The tension. The way his cock throbs against your ass, pulsing, spilling into his pants as he dry humps through it. You don’t stop touching him. Don’t ease the pressure on his balls. He’s panting and whimpering shamelessly. He moans, his body locking up against you, his hips grinding helplessly as he rides out the orgasm like it’s ripping him in half. His hips hold a hasty rhythm, like he's imagining he's fucking his seed into you again. His mind feels melted, his tongue darting out to taste your sweat on his lips.

His cock pulses again and again—wet against your ass—until finally, you whisper, “Did you just cum in your pants?” He groans, “Shut up. I’m emotionally vulnerable right now.” You laugh. He buries his face in your neck. “You're evil. I'm obsessed with you.” He kisses your neck once—fast, soft—and then pulls away just before someone walks in. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, heart a little too loud in your chest. Later that night, the dinners ended, and you both sauntered into the restroom. His arms crossed behind his head like he didn’t threaten to snap and beg in front of your friends an hour ago. Voices are strewn beneath the bathroom door as questioning voices begin to grow louder. Your fingers tighten around his throat, just enough to make his breath hitch. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, chest rising fast beneath yours. He looks—enraptured and all too willing.

“You gonna be good for me?” you murmur, tilting your head. “Or do I have to keep slapping the attitude out of you?” Mark grins through clenched teeth. “Babe,” he rasps, “you slap me again and I might fall in love.” You blink curiously. “Might?”

He leans up—nose brushing yours, still grinning, but now it’s meaner. The edges are just a little too sharp. “Too late.” He grabs your waist, flips you fast—like he’s been holding back all night just for this. He pins your wrists above your head and leans down so close his lips brush your cheek.

“You forget who you’re dealing with, huh?” he whispers, breath hot. “I let you slap me. I let you choke me.” He pauses, almost for dramatic effect. “You’re mine, babe. You think I don’t want you taking control? I do. But don’t confuse permission with surrender.”

You arch into him, teeth bared in a grin. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who came in his pants earlier.” He makes a sound between a groan and a chuckle. His hand trails down—fingers pressing between your legs, firm enough to make you gasp. “Yeah?” he breathes, lips at your neck. “Then what’s this?” “Feel that? That’s mine, too. So let’s call it even.” You grab his hair and pull hard. He gasps with a yelp, hips grinding into you on instinct. “If we’re calling it even,” you murmur, “then I think I owe you one more slap.” His eyes flutter, lips parting in a whimper. “Do it.”

He’s still gasping against the bathroom sink, his cock twitching and spent in his pants, the mirror fogged up and streaked from where you pinned him. You’re watching him, studying him. And he knows that look. That hungry, assessing, calculating stare that turns his spine to static. “Babe,” he murmurs, voice rough, still dazed. You yank him by the collar and slam your lips into his, teeth clacking, tongues aggressively chafing against one another. He grabs your waist—tight and possessive—but you slap his hand away and pin him again. “You’re not in control yet,” you breathe, biting down on his lower lip. “Earn it.” His laugh is shaky. “You’re gonna make me beg, aren’t you?”

You run your hand down his chest, past his abs, until your palm slides into his ruined pants again. His cock is still thick, softening—but twitching back to life in your grip. “Looks like you’re already starting to,” you murmur, fingers curling around him. “Dude,” he gasps. You lean in, lips brushing his ear. Then he strikes. In one breathless motion, he shoves you back against the door, lifts your thigh high around his hip, and presses his mouth to your neck so hard your knees nearly buckle.

“You wanna play power games?” he smirks. “Then let’s play. I like games.” You claw at his shirt as he helps shove it off. You’re both panting, desperate to win something you’ve already surrendered to each other. His hands are rough and greedy as they grab your hips, pulling you tight against his crotch, where his cock is prodding at you, thick and full and sticky with need. His clothing clumsily clacks against his hips as it pools around his ankles. Your clothes hang loose, half torn and forgotten.

You roll your hips into him, causing his eyes to roll, a grunt slipping. You press harder, and he grinds back. You grab his ass—firm, strong, fingers digging into the flesh—and pull his weeping tip into you. “There you go,” you whisper. “Rutting like a good boy.” Mark whimpers, chest heaving, “I’ll break this fucking sink,” he pants, and you grin weakly. “Then do it. Show me you’re strong enough.”

He lifts you—easily, angrily, adoringly—and sets you on the counter, already shoving your panties aside. The stitches ripping. “You think you’re in charge?” he snarls. “You think I’m gonna let you own me without a fight?” He lines up—his cock now painfully hard, flushed dark, and pulsing—and thrusts in one brutal inch. You both gasp and go silent, like the air’s been sucked out of the room. Your walls flutter around him, greedy, slick, hugging every vein like they missed him. You’re slicking down his length like you’re trying to keep him there forever.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You’re so—thick. It’s like—” “Like I was built to split you open,” he finishes, mouth to your jaw, hips jerking forward. “Or did you forget? Dude, what was it you said last time? ‘You're so fucking big, where were you hiding this thing?!’ You’re funny.” He mocked, chuckling to himself, only to be interrupted by the stings of nails gouging into his shoulder blades. You claw down his back as he plummets in the rest of the way. That veiny, lipstick-kissed cock nuzzles its way into your womb. The stretch, the burn, and the heat are all enough to make your vision blur. You take all of him, the thickness pushing your walls to their limit, every nerve ending lighting up. He groans into your mouth, swallowing the choked moans that slip through. Each sound cascaded louder across the tile walls. “God, you’re tight. You’re choking me. You want me to lose, don’t you?”

You smile, half-lidded, drunk on the feeling. “I want to watch you try.” Then your hand slides back up to his throat. You squeeze hard enough to watch the cold metal of your rings redden his skin. Your grip hardens just before he can implore you to be rougher. His eyes flutter, lips twitching uncontrollably before his hips slam forward. He loved fucking like this, like you hated every fiber of his being. Mark him. Break him. With every thrust, the arousal that dripped down his length smacked haphazardly against your ass, messy and loud in the quiet between moans. His cock was soaked—both of you slick enough that every movement sounded pornographic. You could feel him twitching inside you, leaking more with every grind, his tip kissing your cervix like it knew exactly where home was.

It's brutal and messy as arousal drips onto the bathmat below. The sink creaks, the counter groans, and Mark’s hands dig into your thighs like he’s promising to never pull out. His cock drags through you with every thrust—heavy, throbbing, aching—slick and twitching inside your soaking walls. He could tear the door off its hinges. He could bend the sink in half. But instead, he just begged to be used, just as much as he used you.

The seam of your ass slowly goes numb as his heavy balls slap against your flesh, smearing what he can barely identify as pre-cum. Its sting slowly becomes numbing, his abdomen tightens, and his dick goes blissfully numb at the dual stimulation. You slap him, then immediately grip his throat—watching his eyes glaze over as his cock pulses like it’s answering your call. “There’s my good boy,” you purr. “No… that’s not right. You’re my slut, aren’t you?” You grab his jaw, thumb slipping into his mouth. Mark’s mouth was open—slack and panting, eyes glassy like he couldn’t believe this was happening, like he was on the edge of filling you to the brim. His brows knit together in something between bliss and disbelief—a single drop of spit clinging to the corner of his lip before his tongue flicked it away. His jaw clenched around your thumb with every pulse of your walls, like he was trying to hold in every sound and failing miserably. He'd beg for this again; he didn't want to be normal when he could have you like this.

“Yes, fuck yes, just keep using me. I’ll do anything. It's so good,” he chokes on a moan. “Too good—I’m gonna lose—fuck—take it.” You slap him again, ringside up. He moans into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip and pull, spitting into his saliva-soaked mouth. “Shut up and fuck me right.” He groans needy and feral—like he’d do anything to earn that praise. And you? You’re not safe either. Because when he angles his hips just right and hits that spot, your whole body convulses. The sound that leaves you is shameless, his lips curling into that signature grin of adoration.

“Mark—fuck—Mark—” He’s chasing it now. Every movement a punishing rhythm, cock sliding deep and fast, dragging wet sounds from both of you. He kisses you like he’s drowning in your mouth. Moaning into it and swallowing your sounds like they’re the only thing he wouldn’t dare rush.

You feel your orgasm building—heat curling low in your abdomen. “Cum for me,” he chortles, that grin playing on his lips as he watches amusedly. “C’mon, cum all over my cock.”

You look him dead in the eye. “You first.” His moan is desperate, a whine. And like clockwork, you deliver a head-turning ricochet across his cheek. His head snaps to the side from the slap, and when he turns back, there’s blood at the corner of his mouth and a smile you could drown in. Your pussy clenches around him—and he breaks, thrusting erratically as his rhythm falls apart. “I’m gonna—gonna—fuck—” The wet sound of flesh meeting between

You dig your nails into his ass. He screams into your neck as he cums—hot, thick, messy—spilling into you in wave after wave. His knees wobble. “Milk my cock. Squeeze me like you want me gone forever.” And that, you did. His eyes begin to water as he stares, not daring to miss a second. He voice cracks with a pathetic sound between a laughs and desperate groans. His cock jerks inside you, the heat flooding your cunt as your orgasm slams into you, clenching hard around him, legs wrapping tighter. The sink creaks, and one of the knobs snaps. Neither of you cares as your hips stutter, rocking lazily. “I can’t stop,” you whisper. “You’re not supposed to.” He responds, teeth tugging at the shell of your ear. “This pussy feels like home. You think I’m gonna stop when I’ve got paradise clenching around me?”

Sweat dripping, his cock twitching in your spasming pussy with cum everywhere. And then you see it. Your rings. Still on your fingers… And on his face are indentations. “Don’t move.”

“Dude.”

“I said—don’t move.” You yank his head to the side. “Oh my god,” you gasp. “Mark. The rings. I branded you—” He grins, utterly dazed as he grins like a cat after cream. “I’m gonna frame this memory. Carve it into my soul.” You try rubbing at the indents, panicking. “You have, like, symbols on your cheek. Are you okay? You’re literally embossed.” He grabs your hand. “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t ruin it.”

“So… You’re gonna walk out there with my ring branded into your face.” He shrugs. “You think I won’t tell everyone I got jumped by my girlfriend mid-salad course? I’ll make it sound romantic.” You didn't just brand him physically; you branded him spiritually. Sexually. Spiritually. Though that explanation might not be needed as you peek out of the bathroom to see all eyes on you...

A/N: If you made it this far, congrats... that was nearly 2.2k words of full-on smut. ALSO, WE'RE ALMOST AT 800 FOLLOWERS, WHAT THE FUCK. Knowing that 800 people either see of interact with most posts had me doing laps. PLEASE, leave a comment, I love speaking with you guys!

P.S. since no one’s done it to my knowledge, should I do one where he’s tied up one day?

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

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lateatnewyork · 2 months ago

Text

GRID PRINCESS | 001

pairing: f1 grid x reader, milo manheim x reader

part 1 | part 2

extra information: nicole scherzinger and lewis hamiltons kid, let’s pretend they dated when lewis was 20 making the reader 20 currently; nicole and lewis are not married but still friends

summary: the one where the grid princess falls in love OR the one where she leaks her own boyfriend

a/n I SAW SOMEONE DO THIS NOT WITH HAMILTON!READER BUT WITH LIKE GRID PRINCESS AND MILO MANHEIM GUYS I CANT FIND IT ANYMORE pls tag the creator if u guys find it

fc: most images are faceless or soft launch photos but sole pictures are ileana cirino

liked by nicolescherzinger, lewishamilton and 893,472 others ynhamilton digi cam finds view comments

carlossainz send me that photo of me and charles please ➥ ynhamilton do you want the other 387 photos im running out of storage ➥ user78 oh she a charlos shipper ❤️ by creator landonorris who is that ➥ ynhamilton carlos ➥ landonorris no the other one ➥ ynhamilton charles ➥ landonorris not that one ➥ ynhamilton my mum ➥ landonorris NO THE ONE NEXT TO HER ➥ ynhamilton ME DAFUQ ⁉️ ➥ landonorris NO YOU NUMPTY THE OTHER PICTURE ➥ ynhamilton oh idk 🤗 ➥ user85 poor lando getting edged sabrinacarpenter hmmmmm ➥ megdonnelly hmmmmm ➥ ynhamilton oh i hate u both. lewishamilton does your mum know about this? ➥ ynhamilton you took the photo? she birthed me? ➥ lewishamilton you know that’s not what i’m talking about ynmywife NOT YN DEFLECTING THE SOFT LAUNCH ➥ ynhamilton what soft launch 🤔 milomanheim thats interesting 🧐 ➥ ynhamilton what is ?? ➥ milomanheim i took that photo of charlos?? ➥ ynhamilton yabba dabba doo user87 milo ????

liked by milomanheim, kimiantonelli and 447,834 others ynhamilton got bored so watched the race with a view view comments

lewishamilton WHERE IS THAT HAND GOING ➥ nicolescherzinger calm down hes a good kid ➥ lewishamilton YOU KNOW ??? charlesleclerc why aren’t you supporting ferrari ➥ ynhamilton kimi’s grandma made me pasta ➥ kimiantonelli 🥰🥰 ➥ charlesleclerc OUR ENTIRE TEAM IS ITALIAN lewishamilton i got you ferrari passes ?? ➥ ynhamilton i like mercedes better ?? ➥ ynhamilton why’d you move 😞 landonorris ho is you a mclaren fan ➥ ynhamilton NO (he is tho) lilymhe STAY NEXT TIME PLS ➥ ynhamilton only cos of you milomanheim nice socks ➥ alexalbon OH WHO IS YOU ➥ milomanheim her boyfriend sabrinacarpenter oh you is both freaky ➥ ynhamilton be quiet

liked by nicolescherzinger, oscarpiastri and 927,491 others milomanheim me in her view comments

milomanheim WAIT NO ITS MEANT TO SAY ME IN HER CAMERA milomanheim IM NOT FREAKY I SWEAR user97 never beating the weirdo allegations 🙏 sabrinacarpenter this is insane ? ➥ milomanheim bruh sabrinacarpenter i wanna see her face not yours ❤️ by ynhamilton ➥ milomanheim ITS MY ACCOUNT ?? ➥ milolover oh yn u is not slick ynhamilton what a freakazoid user83 why are yn and milo in each others comments ➥ ynmiloshipper theyre friends ➥ user97 what how ➥ ynlover yn is friends with sabrina and they became friends through her

liked by ynlikesmilo, milolikesyn and 67 others haveuevertriedthis1 bro im gonna CRASH OUT if i see them make out one more time tagged: ynlikesmilo, milolikesyn view comments

zombiemegslays THEY NEED TO BE STOPPED ➥ ynlikesmilo let a girl live ?? ➥ haveuevertriedthis1 be quiet milolikesyn fan behaviour ➥ ynlikesmilo FACTSSSSS

norizz requested to follow you ? albono requested to follow you ? warningsainz requested to follow you ? pastry requested to follow you ? maxemilian requested to follow you ? tsyuki requested to follow you ? leclair requested to follow you ? hamsandwich requested to follow you ? tposerussell requested to follow you ? fastestrookie requested to follow you ?

liked by albono, norizz and 67 others ynlikesmilo 1) hottie 2) post sex princess 3) man needs spf view comments

haveuevertriedthis1 oh shit yn you’re cooked norizz wait why he kinda ➥ ynlikesmilo LANDO LEAVE MY BF ALONE ??? ➥ milolikesyn 🥰 hamsandwich yn what is this ➥ ynlikesmilo dad im twenty i can have boyfriends ➥ hamsandwich i know that but you could’ve told me ➥ cocacola she wanted to but we didn’t want to distract you from the season ➥ cocacola and theres worse posts than this one ➥ ynlikesmilo alright mum thanks for that

liked by cocacola, pastry and 83 others ynlikesmilo bro is a sub but sleeps like a dom view comments

haveuevertriedthis1 OH NAH zombiemegslays SHE CALLED YOU OUT leclair what does the caption mean? ➥ ynlikesmilo dont play alex told me u a sub ➥ leclair WHAT hamsandwich YOURE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS ➥ ynlikesmilo YOU WERE TWENTY WHEN YOU HAD ME albono wait he kinda fine ➥ progolfer double date ?? ➥ ynlikesmilo YES !! milolikesyn I AM NOT THE SUB AND THERE IS PROOF ➥ ynlikesmilo BE QUIET

liked by lilymhe, alexalbon and 847,392 others ynhamilton DATE !! and our bfs ig ? view comments

lilymhe please we should just hang out ourselves ➥ ynhamilton yes cos why were our bfs in love with each other alexalbon not you intruding on our date (me n ****) ➥ alexalbon when can i uncensor his name ➥ ynhamilton soon ➥ user83 BF REVEAL ???? ynlover hear me out guys? it’s milo ➥ user89 officer it’s this one ➥ user01 yeah no ➥ user64 yall wont let anyone be friends landonorris i know who it is ➥ oscarpiastri yeah mate everyone does ➥ ynhamilton yeah u aint special

liked by megdonnelly, lilymhe and 1,384,724 others ynhamilton MORNING AFTERNOON NIGHT IN THE KITCHEN BEDROOM LIVING ROOM MISSIONARY COWGIRL DOGGY TILL I CANT WALK view comments

ynlover user89 user01 user64 APOLOGISE RN. sabrinacarpenter YN THIS IS YOUR MAIN lilymhe NOT YOUR SPAM YN landonorris i feel like she forgot something megdonnelly YN HELP milomanheim i thought we were gonna soft launch more ? user73 oh yn done messed up alexalbon real. ➥ maxverstappen i knew you were gay mckennagrace not what i was expecting on a tuesday maliabaker parents !! georgerussell i dont think this was planned lewishamilton 🤦 nicolescherzinger yn dear this is not your private

‼️ this post is now deleted ‼️

a/n IM GONNA CRASH OUT I REACHED THE 30 PIC LIMIT PART TWO COMING BY TOMORROW

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f4ggydog · 3 months ago

Text

misty x reader: freakazoid

(this will definitely be a multiple parter. we’re just kind of building up stuff here rn but I promise this’ll get more interesting)

anyways no real warnings are needed here since this is just the beginning. just a note that there’s a bit of stalking and mari also drops the f slur.

word count: 4.2k

She's the textbook definition of an outcast. Others avoid her like she's a hazard. Misty doesn't remember the last time someone has approached her willingly. Whenever Misty lurked around, it was always good to make sure she didn't spot you first. That way, she wouldn't invite you to a conversation less preferable than shitting your pants.

You sometimes passed Misty through the hallways. No words were exchanged and a glance was barely given. You tended to follow the orders of others and evade eye contact with her. But you were captivated by the lone wolf who yearned to find her pack.

Today you noticed Misty Quigley sitting alone at lunch, as per usual. You took a good minute staring at her before Mari nudged you on the arm. Oh yes, a typical advocate against befriending Misty or speaking with her at all for that matter.

"Whatcha looking at?" Mari asks, chewing on her Fruit By The Foot.

"N-Nothing." You shrug, hoping Mari didn't catch you observing the only member of the social suicide squad.

"Yeah sure," Mari laughs. "Were you looking at the freak too? I don't blame you. Look at her. She's so fucking creepy."

Akilah chooses to ignore the conversation and chew on her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She could always resist the allure of juicy gossip. Akilah cared mainly about her friends and scoring exceptional grades on her SATs. She was too pure of heart for her own good.

"I hear people say similar things," you say. "But nobody ever mentions anything specifically, aside from rumors that seem too dramatic to be true."

"You don't know her," Mari says. "Trust my judgement. It's not just one person that doesn't like her. Literally nobody likes that weirdo."

"That's not very nice," Akilah mumbles.

"What!? It's true. Look, you don't have to be nice about it. I'm just telling it how it is. You'll know just from being in a room with her, trust me."

"She can't be that bad," you reassure Mari. "I think not enough people have given her a chance."

"If you want to befriend the oddball, be my guest. But I'm not coming to rescue you if she does some crazy shit. Call the cops, not me."

"You make it sound like she's a wanted criminal,” Akilah says. “It’s not like she’s gonna kill anyone.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Mari responds. “Let’s be real here.”

“I’m gonna talk to her,” you finally declare, slamming your hand on the lunch table.

“What?” Mari gawks. “Why? Do you have to work with her on some project?”

“N-No? I’m doing this because…well…what can I say? I’m interested.”

“Please tell me this is some sick joke.” Mari shakes her head. “Oh my god, are you on drugs? Do you have a dealer? Can you hook me up with them?”

“I’m not joking, Mari. I think it could be a cool experience.”

“Don’t word it like that,” Akilah suggests. “Sounds like you’re using her. You’re…not using her, are you?”

“No!” You reply. “No, of course not. I think I should genuinely get to know her. I know Mari’s looking at me like I’m an idiot right now.”

“You definitely are one,” Mari confirms. “I mean, seriously? Misty fucking Quigley? Do you want nobody at school to ever talk to you again? Do you want to embarrass me, embarrass Akilah?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Akilah says.

“Shush. You will be.”

“I won’t.”

“It hasn’t happened yet, Akilah. That’s why. It will, though. Ugh, why do neither of you know how to navigate the social hierarchy that is highschool? I’m stuck with Quigley 2.0s!”

Now that felt like an insult and a half. Akilah didn’t seem fazed, but you appeared slightly more perturbed. Perhaps you were falling into the hands of the school wide propaganda against this one teenage girl.

Nope. Despite the lack of support from your friend, you were going to introduce yourself to Misty. You didn’t have a planned out opportunity or designated time where Misty would become your acquaintance. Whatever scenario that felt into your lap would be the proper one.

You wanted to let things progress naturally. Start off with a simple accidental conversation and develop the bond from there. Ugh, all this contemplation was already too much planning. Just bump into her accidentally. Don’t even cause a distraction. Just say hello and see if she waves back.

You knew Misty Quigley was on the Yellowjackets team. However, you also understood that she didn’t play a particularly huge role on the team. She served only as the equipment manager from chatter you’ve heard. From that information alone, it made sense why her popularity didn’t match that of some of the other Yellowjackets. Arguably the most insignificant role on the team, arguably the most forgettable one. She may not have to be unknown much longer though.

You’re not gonna turn her into some movie star. No, her name isn’t going to be put on billboards or teen magazines. But maybe you can cause the girl to feel less alone in this cruel, dog eat dog world. Maybe Misty’s outer shell could be cracked with gentle talk and genuine intrigue. Mari was always overly harsh on people. Maybe this girl just needed someone to care about her for fucks sake. Fuck it if the idea sounded ludicrous.

On the way to Mari’s soccer practice, you stop her in the middle of the hallway with a tap to her shoulder. She groans and turns around, relaxing when she realizes it’s you.

“Hey, Mar. Um, I wanted to know if there was any chance I could…watch you practice today. Y’know, just for fun. Just to cheer on my friend.”

“Why the hell would me or Coach say yes to that?” She laughs in disbelief. “Um, no? That’s not how that works.”

Mari squints her eyes. She suspects an ulterior motive, but you don’t reveal explicit details.

“Well, I kinda wanted to see if I could make the team.”

“Tryouts are already over,” Mari states. “You missed the window. I feel like you knew that already, though.”

“N-No it’s just….” You try to think of a decent excuse. “I thought it would be fun to observe, Mari. Is it such a big deal that I want to watch you practice?”

“You’re not like…crushing on me, are you?” Mari arches an eyebrow. “Are you a fag? Oh my god, are you a fag, Y/N?”

You brush Mari's crude question aside. "So that's a no then?"

"It's not like I don't want to hang out with you," Mari reassures in a moderately vexed voice. "But I don't see why you just can't wait after practice. It makes me think you're plotting something without me. And I can't figure out what."

"Don't worry." You tap Mari on the shoulder before she gets more doubtful, walking away on the route to your home.

Once you arrive home, you find something sticking out of your mailbox. You poke at the slip of paper. You weren’t anticipating any mail, so your eyes naturally widened at encountering the odd white sheet.

You struggle to pull the sheet of paper out of the gray mailbox. The paper is deeply jammed in there and when you finally manage to grab it out, a corner of the paper rips.

The sheet of paper reveals a drawing in black ink. There’s no writing or words on the letter for that matter. There’s only a drawing of a person petting a dog. They’re next to a pool and the unknown person is on their knees. The drawing isn’t colored in. It’s completely black and white and the illustration is reduced to simple stick figures.

It’s not the best piece of craftsmanship you’ve been, but the illustration is cute enough. You slip the picture into your pocket without suspicion and head into your house.

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“Akilah,” you call out your other friend’s name, hurrying over to her as she travels home the next day. “Hey, wait up a second.”

She stops for you. She always does.

“So, I just wanted to say that…the drawing you left in my mailbox was pretty cool. I don’t really know what it means, but I appreciate it nonetheless. It’s cute.”

Akilah stares at you like you just spoke a foreign language.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look there’s no need to be shy about it,” you smirk. “It was sweet. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a nice gesture from a friend, I guess.”

“Don’t start this.” Akilah shakes her head but remains polite. “You’re the one who used to have a crush on me, remember? And I didn’t send you any drawings.”

Now you felt like a complete dolt.

You scratch the back of your neck. “I’m sorry, Akilah. I didn’t mean to bring that up again. I just thought that you were trying to win me back or something.”

“There was nothing to win back,” Akilah sighs. “I never reciprocated your feelings.”

“Please don’t make me look more stupid,” you respond sheepishly, knowing it’s better to admit defeat. “I got the wrong person. I just figured it couldn’t be Mari, since Mari would never do something nice for me like that.”

Akilah giggles at your shifty eyes and awkward stance. However, she doesn’t thrive on your embarrassment. Akilah would rather see you guided by confidence rather than crawling into a hole from mortification.

You didn’t wish to imply that your friendship with Mari was less genuine. But, it would be moronic of you not to note how upfront Akilah is with her benignity compared to her counterpart.

The two of you take a detour from Akilah’s home, traveling down a grassy path. Akilah nearly trips on a rock lodged in the dirt, but you firmly grab her hand before she manages to slip.

“Watch it,” you warn sternly.

“I’m fine,” Akilah reassures, but you still choose to not release her hand. “Was just a little trip.”

The next thirty seconds of the walk are silent. Then, Akilah drops a question on you, your hand still interlocked with hers.

“Why did you never pursue things with me?” She lowers her head. “What stopped you from, y’know, trying?”

“Well, it was always the age gap for me. Didn’t feel comfortable going out with a junior. That always bothered me when I had my crush on you. Made me feel like a predator.”

“You do realize I’m only one year younger, right?” Akilah snickers. “I’m a junior, not a freshman. It wouldn’t have been that weird.”

“Didn’t feel right. I think we were always better off as friends. And I think you know that too.”

“Maybe. You never did give it a shot though, Y/N.”

You let go of Akilah’s hand and slide your own hands into your pockets.

“I’m sorry, Akilah. I didn’t want that to get brought up again. I know it’s awkward for the both of us. I’m trying to move past that.”

“Are you still not over me?”

“No, no I am. I just still get embarrassed when I think about…yeah.”

A few feet away, Misty Quigley is tucked behind a bush. She’s jotting down every single line from the conversation you’re both having. When she senses you both are getting close, she freezes up like a deer caught in the headlights. Then, she goes back to writing.

Usually, Misty’s handwriting is neat, bubbly letters with a heart replacing every dot on the letter i. However, she doesn’t want to miss a single piece of information, anything that could be crucial to getting close with you. Her hand trembles as she writes, but Misty ignores the cramping.

Misty’s eyes are locked on you only, not even bothering to focus on Akilah’s presence. You were such a fascinating being. How had she not studied you earlier? Imagine if she hadn’t eavesdropped on a conversation between you and Mari in the halls.

Soccer practice. What a joke. Most people don’t randomly gain an interest in soccer within an hour. Misty was correct to suspect another motive. And thank god she pursued her suspicions.

“It’s okay to be shy,” Misty whispers. “Everyone’s a little afraid of me. But, it looks like I’ll have to lure you closer to me instead.”

Misty hums, creating a little doodle in the corner of the page.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind a little challenge. You’ll see just how good I can be to you. And then, you’ll never want to be apart.”

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You could’ve sworn you just saw Misty Quigley stand uncomfortably close to your locker. You didn’t see what she did there or if she did anything for that matter, but you know she lingered there too long. Oh well. Mari did say she was a weirdo. You supposed that was part of her charm.

Wait, there was your chance. She’s hanging around. Mari’s not there to discourage you from gaining some new allies. Face your fears. Go up to her. Who gives a shit what people say?

You follow your heart. Though to your surprise, Misty turns around before you even get a chance to tap her on the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry I-“

“It’s fine!” Misty cuts you off, smile unnaturally wide. “Isn’t it cool how you were gonna speak to me first? But then I read your mind and totally beat you to it? Isn’t that insane?”

Oddly coincidental, but you play along.

“Sorry.” Misty lowers her head. “I’m not used to people going up to me. So, I get kind of excited when I see someone actually wants to talk to me. Nowadays, it feels like the only person I really get along with is my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone. Doesn’t sound like you’re that lonely.”

“Welllll…okay, technically we’re still in the talking stage. He totally has a crush on me, but he doesn’t really know it yet. He lets stupid things like societal rules hold us back.”

“Societal rules?” You blink. “Um, is this relationship illegal?”

“It’s totally not! It shouldn’t even be controversial if you’re a true romantic. But I think the fact that he works at this school makes this a more, um, forbidden romance.”

Eh, you didn’t understand Mari’s warnings. Misty was quirky, very quirky to be honest. But she was also seemingly harmless.

“May I ask who exactly this forbidden crush is?”

Misty leans in dangerously close. Her voice shrinks down to a whisper.

“Can you keep a secret, Y/N? Like a real friend would?”

“F-Friends? I didn’t even realize we were friends.”

Misty gives you puppy dog eyes and frowns. “You don’t want to be my friend? I thought we had a connection.”

“N-No, it’s not that! Misty, I just didn’t know if you wanted to leap that far since we just met.”

“It’s fine,” Misty sighs. “Guess I’ll just go back to being myself, hanging out alone and sulking at the wall. Having people make rumors about me and having nobody to back me up, not being able to develop secret handshakes and keep secrets like two BFFs would.”

“No, it’s fine. Misty, it’s fine. Don’t feel bad. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just initially shocked. But, I wouldn’t mind being your friend. Of course I wouldn’t mind.”

Misty’s grin is restored.

“Do you mean that, Y/N? Okay, great! Listen, this secret is super juicy though and I can’t let it get out to anyone! So, you gotta make sure that you keep this under wraps.”

“No problem.” You nod your head. “Yeah, go on.”

“So,” Misty begins to murmur. “I have a huge crush on Coach Ben. You know the assistant coach on the Yellowjackets team? Yeah, I have a huge thing for him.”

“B-But he’s way older than you. That sort of relationship wouldn’t actually be able to form, unless Coach was a creep.”

“He needs some convincing anyway,” Misty continues. “He loves playing hard to get, but I see those glances he gives me when I’m helping out with the equipment.”

You shrug, merely listening to the rant.

“And besides, who wouldn’t crush on him? I mean, that luscious hair and those chocolate brown eyes. And his physique too! God, he’s irresistible.”

“I don’t see it personally.” You shrug. “But your secret is safe with me. Not that I think you have any competition with him.”

“That’s nonsense! There’s gotta be another girl in the school that likes him. He’s too hot not to be liked. But hey, if no other girls like him, then I won’t need to compete like you said.”

“Well, I’m flattered that you’d trust me enough to tell me about this.”

“I can already tell we’re going to get along great!” Misty slaps you playfully on the back. “I don’t think we have any classes together, but I could always invite you over to my house. Maybe we can talk about your own crushes. I’m a pretty good secret keeper myself.”

“Back to your home? I-I—would I even be welcome? We just met. Not that I’d mind! Just that it’s very soon.”

“Friendship waits for nobody, Y/N. If there’s a click, there’s a click. There’s no point in waiting around if we don’t have to.”

“You have an…interesting friendship philosophy, Misty. But, why not?”

“If it’s too sudden, we can just hang out somewhere outside of school. C’mon, we could go to a local spot that’s got cool burgers. Or a place with really good slushees. We could go wherever you want to go really. I promise!”

“Nice sweater, anal lover!” A girl passing through the halls loudly laughs. “Was Goodwill having a sale?”

The pair of girls strolling with her also giggle and whisper something about Misty’s ‘poodle hair.’

Misty’s mood instantly shifts. Her hands ball into tight fists and her body vibrates. She covers the cat print on her sweater, dropping her head in shame.

“My mom made it for me,” Misty grumbles. “My mom was the one who knitted it.”

“Hey,” you attempt to console, petting Misty’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you. They’re just assholes. I think your sweater really stands out, in a good way. It’s the first thing I noticed about you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you compliment eagerly. “It’s really eye-catching. I think those idiots are jealous of you because it makes your outfit pop. It’s unique and looks neatly put together.”

“Woah. I-I, um, well…nobody’s ever complimented my sweater before. People are usually quick to make fun of it.”

“Don’t worry about them, Misty. What matters is I like the sweater.”

Misty feels like sunshine has been brought back into her world. She squeals and grabs you by your hands, holding them close to her and nuzzling against them. Kindness towards her was such a rare occurrence that your praise felt unbelievable. Misty didn’t feel like herself. There was a whole other person being complimented. There’s no way she would be rewarded for her style of all people.

Please don’t be a sick prank. Please don’t be an early April Fools joke. Please don’t lead me into a pit of tragedy where I’ll be disappointed and it’ll damage my psyche. I’d never recover. Please be kind to me. Please be kind, cruel world.

“I knew it right from the start, Y/N. Right when I first laid eyes on you, I knew we would be incredible friends! Ugh, I should’ve meant you sooner.”

Misty had so much gratitude stored in her. The stories you’ve heard about her must be clear exaggerations. You’ve never met someone so relieved to be receiving a compliment. You literally saw the light enter Misty’s eyes again. It’s as if you found the cure to loneliness.

“We’ve got to hang out, Y/N! Oh, it’s a must! Wait, wait. Let me start writing down some places we can visit.”

The late bell rings.

“Holy macaroni,” Misty says.

“Shit, I-I guess-“

“We gotta-“

“Yeah. Um, it was really great meeting you Misty. Maybe we can meet outside of school, today or tomorrow.”

“Absolutely. Y/N, I think we’re going to get along better than you even expected.”

Misty watches you walk off hastily, a smirk forming on her lips. Her hand twitches, reaching back into her pocket for her notepad. She plans out the next breadcrumb she’ll place on the trail.

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“Whatcha thinking about?” Misty pokes you. You’re both sitting on the grass outside of the building together and she senses that you’re in your head.

“Fucking trigonometry,” you reply. “As stupid as it is. Mr. Levine’s assignments have me in a chokehold. I can barely remember anything from the lesson.”

Tutoring, another perfect opportunity to get closer to you. Oh, everything was falling into Misty’s lap.

Now even Misty had to be honest with herself and admit that mathematics wasn’t her strong suit. Her strengths were more suited to the various sciences that existed. However, if she could sound intelligent enough, you might buy her fibs. She could pass off as a genius if the correct wording was used. Misty just had to appear confident, like she knew what she was doing.

“Trig isn’t that bad!” Misty beams. “It just takes some practice to get good at. You should really let me help you.”

“Maybe you’re better at tutoring than that clown. Mr. Levine talks at about a 100 hundred miles per hour. And then he’s got the nerve to act confused when we ask him to clarify what he means.”

“I’m a great tutor!” Misty encourages. “I have a lot of experience, amongst other things.”

“What do you mean other things?”

“Shhhh,” Misty coos. “Don’t worry about that, silly head. Now come on. Let’s take a look at this problem together.”

You nod and review the problem with your new companion. All that registers is degrees and angles. It’s only the first word problem and you can already feel brain fog clouding your head.

“So first,” Misty instructs. “We have to decide what function to use. Would it be sine, cosine or tangent?”

“I don’t even know what those last few words mean.”

“Allow me to assist.” Misty takes on the role as your personal teacher with pride. “So for this particular problem, you would have to use the tangent function. Do you remember the equation for it? Or do you need a refresh?”

You shudder as Misty rubs your hand.

“Misty, I’m completely lost. I gotta be honest. Like I know fuck all.”

Surprisingly, Misty doesn’t lose her patience.

“So for an equation regarding the tangent function, you need to have a fraction. The opposite side goes on top and the adjacent side goes on the bottom.”

Blah, blah, blah. This conversation was boring. Misty took her job too seriously. You thought tutoring with your friends was about accomplishing less work and using your time to crack jokes instead.

“Oh.” Misty leans her head on your shoulder. “I know you’re overwhelmed. But with my practice, you’ll become the best mathematician in the world.”

“I think I just want to pass trig for now, Misty. Then maybe I can focus on being a smarty pants later.”

“Tell you what,” Misty says. “Maybe I can host some private tutoring lessons at my place? This school environment might be overstimulating you a bit. Y'know, all those kids chatting and the sounds outside.”

“Are you sure that’s the issue?”

“Yeah! If I can get you in a secure and private place, then I’ll be able to teach you trig concepts more effectively. Doesn’t it make sense when you put my reasoning together?”

Misty just wants to help. She needs to serve a purpose. She desperately needs to belong to someone. She’ll obtain any connection that’s in reach.

“I’ll make it worth your while. What do you say? Come on, it won’t be a big deal! My parents won’t mind.”

What reason do you have not to accept her offer? It’s a simple choice. Attempt to receive lessons from Misty or fail trigonometry. The decision shouldn’t seem so complex. But there’s an odd feeling in your gut telling you that the scenario is too good to be true. Still you ignore it and brush it aside. You’re not the math whiz here. What the hell do you know?

“Sure, it’s a deal.”

“By the way, your backpack is so cool.” Misty’s hand lands on your backpack, pretending to feel it. But she secretly slips her hand into one of the outer pockets, pulling out a pencil of yours when you’re not paying attention.

After you guys make your plans, you wish Misty farewell and leave. She stares at your pencil like she’s acquired a rare copy of the Mona Lisa. Another souvenir to take home, another treasure of yours to treat like a pot of gold.

“My precious,” she sighs dreamily. “You’ll look great in my collection.”

#yellowjackets #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley #misty yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets fanfiction #yellowjackets fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #mari yellowjackets #mari ibarra #akilah yellowjackets

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brights-place · 5 months ago

Note

I’m thinking Floyd x Reader for Valentine’s Day, where, Reader really likes Floyd but is obviously too scared to say anything(like a lot of ppl would be with him…) because of the obvious fear he won’t like them back due to his nature of frequently changing his interests, and his mood swings as the added bonus.

Floyd, however, is also taking a serious liking to Reader but he doesn’t realize it himself, just following his instinct that Reader is really important to him, but both Azul and Jade can tell quite well that he’s not just “normal” about Reader. Reader is oblivious to his actions cause they think it’s normal, but they both are eventually given a slight push to confess by Jade and Azul, Azul does it more so for the sake of his business, but after that, then happily ever after…BOOM

WRITE IT OR DON’T, FEEL FREE TO CHANGE OR INTERPRET ANYTHING DIFFERENTLY IF YOUD LIKE :3

(Damn I yapped too much…and you totally don’t know me or have been talking to me…and we’re totally not moots…totally, and I’m definitely not MsCherub, like I’m definitely not her, she sucks <3)

[TWST] Floyd Leech X Reader

Warnings: Floyd Leech

A/N: Ah yes this def isn't my mutual sure sure... anyways FLOYD OUT OF ALL PEOPLE YEESH your a freakazoid... (I literally love octanivelle but I will take that to my grave) also I'M SO TIRED WTF DID I EVEN WRITE I THINK I HALF ASSED IT OMG CAUSE I WANTED TO TRY SOMTHING NEW THAT WASN'T HEADCANNONS Also like I think I dropped this on its head because I dont usually write You/your in first perspective only headcannons cause its short so this made me die IM SORRY ANYWAYS HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYBODY! If your like me and have nobody or are also like me who hates couples/J then YAY we can celebrate that together. I plan to be a menace to my friends relationships and make them pay for my food when we go out cause Yes anyways enjoy this and happy valentines day or whatever you celebrate!

Summary: [MC] has a crush on Floyd but they can't talk to floyd out of obvious fear for not only who Floyd is known as but aswell as the fear he won’t like them back due to his nature of frequently changing his interests, and his mood swings as the added bonus. Floyd, however, is also taking a serious liking to MC but he doesn’t realize it himself, just following his instinct that Reader is really important to him, but both Azul and Jade can tell quite well that he’s not just “normal” about Reader. Reader is oblivious to his actions cause they think it’s normal, but they both are eventually given a slight push to confess by Jade and Azul, Azul does it more so for the sake of his business, but after that, then happily ever after…BOOM

Being interested into Floyd Leech was already a warning sign from the start. Out of everybody you could be able to like it was somebody with a bad reputation for one of the many scary things in NRC.

Not only was your crush from Octanivelle one fo the shadiest dorms even if being dubbed A dorm based on the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence but one of the Tweels a Leech twin the one who is known to be filled with mood swings and quick to loose interests faster then the speed of light could even react to was a crush YOUR crush. A huge mistake on your part not only for falling for him but for having Grim staring at you and shouting at you hitting you with a pillow for being a baffoon for falling for Floyd. The guy was unable to read along with the fact he and the other two in octanivelle had him work in soapy dishes how could you do this to him :O When Ace and Deuce figured out that well you liked Floyd they stared at you as if you got possessed by a demon even worse is the fact you were in ramshackle overthinking plotting every outcome every change every thing that could happen for better or for worse as Ace and Deuce 'helped' more like Ace was asking if you were mentally okay and Deuce awkwardly telling you that he supports your choices but floyd was unpredictable someone who could get bored of you easily.

Which always made them all wary since Floyd was getting close to you abit too much how he was close to you looking over your shoulder clinging to your body boredly calling you out and cheering when seeing you but when floyd isn’t in the mood he’d scowl even when he goes to find you. Nobody knows why but it scares the shit out of Ace and Deuce who were still trying to convince you that it might not be a good idea due to how unpredictable he is which you already knew.

Floyd leech was a person who was unpredictable always switching up and that fear knawed at your chest. His mood swings make it hard to predict what he'll say or do next aswell so the thought of him denying your relationship hurt but the other hand is if you did start to question what if he lost interest fast what if he wouldn’t hang around you anymore because you became Boring. Yet fear still lingered as your hands gripped onto a sheet of paper in front of you one of the basic ways of confessing yet the paper in your hands was something that you put effort into.

Recently through days you would have the letter inside your blazer pockets. Walking class to class passing in the hallway to head to the cafeteria where Grim, Deuce and Ace were.

You couldn’t help but keep your attention focused on the floor weaving through people shoes clacking against the tiles below mind rambling with thoughts.

Though today a certain twin eel spotted you head down headphones in and heading towards the cafeteria "Shrimpyyyy" you couldn't help but freeze when you saw Floyd wrap an arm over your shoulder bending down to your face as you let out an awkward chuckle greeting the male who made you tense tighter with his hand placing on your waist for a moment. You smiled towards the male who grinned lazily "Open your hand" you couldn't help but blink before opening your hand out to floyd who held your hands for a moment before he closed your hand into a fist before he plopped his chin ontop of your head as you opened your closed fist to see a pearl covered in a silver and gold mixed band that wrapped around it. A sound of confusion came from you as your eyes continued to lay onto the pearl ring "Ya like it?" your eyes snapped back into focus to floyd as you blinked nodding slowly "yeah... thanks" Floyd beamed before the two of you continued to walk together many students left the hallway trying to get away from where you two were standing. Where FLOYD was standing. Most people in school avoided the eel like the plague yet here you were close to Floyd who was rambling to you "So where we goin?" "OH I just plan to eat with Ace and Deuce" Floyd couldn't help but hum before looking away to the garden grinning to see a small pond before grabbing you and yanking you towards the direction "Sounds boring let's go there!" "EH?! FLOYD!" Even with him dragging you around you couldn't help but giggle at how he was dragging you around with a huge grin rambling to you. Clinging to you. Though Riddle would now seem to bolt out of the room. You have never scene the boy run so fast in your life not even in beanfest but when it came to Floyd? and now You he was gone in a flash because wherever you were Floyd would somehow appear. This would happen even more recently now he'd cling to your body threaten to squeeze someone and would drag you around with a lazily smile eyes staring at you. Unaware of Jade and Azul watching from afar with a fussing Grim who was trying to get them to leave you alone.

When Floyd got pointed out by Jade how he seemed to be getting very close to the prefect Floyd would shake it off until jade would mock his brother with a grin with how he's been doing mer courting and eel mating rituals. Floyd scoffed at Jade "Eh? Shrimpy and I are just friends" "Indeed so but what about how you two were knotted together one time when at the library?" "They were cold" "And when you yawned showing your teeth" Floyds eye twitched towards his brother as Jade continued "Dancing with Shrimpy in the sea at school hours nuzzling against them aggressively and Creating a pearl ring for them without knowing anything about jewelry, giving them scales, a tooth, along with-" Floyd was so close to tackling his brother in annoyance scowling as Azul even agreed how Floyd has been not going to many of his shifts but he didn't know the reason why. Floyd though soon realized that he may have been doing merfolk courting rituals. Though he didn't find it any change he still like shrimpy for being shrimpy so he continued to do what he did anyway even with a pissed off Azul trying to find him when he randomly disappears.

After that he’d keep approaching you with odd and sweet gifts. He'd hand you shells, metal, shiny items, and three times with someones tooth that he got... along with a handful of scales that you paled at awkwardly taking them. Floyd has never experienced the crush stage and he doesn't want to after all that's boring but hey he enjoyed seeing your little reactions.

The sound of clanking utensils, chatter and jazz filled the room of monstro lounge along with the wafting scents of different platters of food escaping the kitchen where a certain Tweel was cooking with an annoyed look plastered onto his face.

The male infront of the pan stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to a octanivelle student beside him who flinched. Floyds right gold eye glinting with his olive brown one “Oy… take my shift” he said leaving the pan and chucking the apron onto the students face causing them to flinch and let out a noise of confusion turning to try get their upperclassman to get back to work yet was met with the kitchen doors shutting as the student frowned “Thats so not fair”

Floyd trudged through monstro lounge passing Jades post where he was cleaning the glasses the other twin staring at his brother “Floyd leaving once more?” The male leaned against the counter grinning lazily “yeah I got bored” Jade let out a loud hum of acknowledgment smiling at floyd.

“Are you off to visit the prefect?” Jade questioned as Floyd moved lazily to his brother and grinned “Yeah I’m visiting shrimpy” Jade hummed closing his eyes and giving another grin “Well then maybe give them some of the chocolates to try out for monstro lounge that Azul has made for our valentines day menu” Jade placed down the glass he was cleaning to the side. Floyd let out a tired “Sure” before snagging one of the decorated heart boxes leaving monstro lounge door closing behind him.

The moment Floyd left Azul walked over to the bar where Jade was stationed “JADE! Where is floyd he’s on his shift and I usually wouldn’t care but were dealing with rush hour right now” Azul said fixing his glasses with a strained tone “Ah… He left to visit the prefect” “Again?!” Azul replied eyebrows furrowed biting his lip in annoyance at the amount of work that Floyd has recently been avoiding “Tsk… It seems we have to have a chat with the prefect so we can discuss why floyd keeps on leaving his shifts… such a hassle” Jade handed the octopus mer a glass of water that he drank quietly “How long do you think Floyd will last?” Jade questioned Azul causing his boss to look at him confused “With?” “The prefect… You know it I know it. It’s been quite entertaining to see the Prefect relax around Floyd, and Floyd being more affectionate in a way with the prefect infact last week he went to the beach and got them a pearl he was showing it off to me after he got it asking if I knew how to make it a ring” Azul’s face paled “He WHAT?!” Jade grinned behind his hand staring at him “Oh he mustn’t have told you” “FLOYD”

Floyd started heading over to ramshackle hands playing with the weird heart shaped box filled with sweets a look of boredomn on his face before hearing quiet muttering up ahead of a famillar person. You Floyd grinned to see you hunched over muttering to yourself while holding a piece of paper an envelope in your hands "Shrimpyyyy" You couldn't help but flinch snapping your head over to floyd while you gripped onto the envelope "Floyd!" You exclaimed eyes wide and body tense as Floyd grinned "Whats this" he said taking the envelope from you handing you the chocolate box "Oh yeah Jade and Azul wanted you to try those out... I think I just snagged one" he shrugged leaning beside you on a pillar as you awkwardly thanked him but tried to snatch back the small envelope in his hand that he lifted away from you grinning as he kept a hand on your head to keep you down. Floyd eyes wandered through the letter his teasing grin pausing as he had a blank face one that he'd use when he'd find someone annoying or boring eyes focused onto the sheet of paper in his hand. He slowly turned to you as you stared at him with sheer panic and shaky pupils "I- Just let me explain! just if you don't like me back thats fine completely ignore me just don't hold this against me ignore everything I said please-" Your rambling was cut off when you felt arms grab onto you swaying you around giggling happily with closed eyes "AHH SHRIMPY~! Your so stupid" he beamed squeezing you tighter in a bone crushing hug.

Later on you'd somehow find yourself dragged back into monstro lounge by Azul with Floyd appearing every now and then grinning at you. Unaware if you were dating or not but with how affectionate he's been getting recently after that gave your answer. Azul though would now have to start paying you to come to monstro lounge so Floyd doesn't leave to go find you more as he continued to complain about financial funds but hey you finally got to date a moray eel mer... who surprisingly clings onto you when you cuddle and sleep together chewing on your shoulder lightly while drooling. Bonus OF WHAT THE FUCKERY:

Azul: BOBBY (Floyd) ! Floyd: AAAAAGHHHH Azul: I just bought this imaginary festival. Now I want you off the roof Floyd: IM ON DRUGS Azul: The only drug you're on is loneliness [MC]: Is- is this normal... Jade: Mhm

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uyinq · 17 days ago

Text

THE CONTAINMENT INITIATIVE ☆ B.R

chapter 2 — not quite invisible

[bob reynolds x AFAB! reader, psychic!reader, empath?reader,slow burn,fluff,angst,slow burn,eventual smut, messy co-dependent relationships]

❱❱ WORD COUNT ﹕4,005

❱❱ SUMMARY﹕

Valentina starts to think you're weak. You need to shut the door behind you when you crawl into someone's mind. Some newfound friends start to teach you how.

❱❱ WARNINGS ﹕ profanity, violence, trauma, eventual smut, psychological horror, mentions of: needles, injections, torture, and human testing

❱❱ NOTES ﹕ found family dynamics heal my childhood trauma one sarcastic joke and concerned glance at a time. please excuse the heavy focus on yelena and bucky during this chapter, i love them dearly.

(divider from uzmacchiato)

★ chapters ﹒﹒ masterlist

★ tags - empty for now (ask to be tagged!)

The door slamming shut is what brings you back to the moment.

Cold, still shaking, and zoned out in the boardroom.

Valentina lets out a weary sigh as she places her hands on your shoulders, trying to get you to look at her. Bucky stands off to the side. He could’ve easily gone with Bob and let Val have her moment with you. But he didn’t. He didn’t trust her.

Valentina crouches a little, voice soft but sharp enough to cut. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly. Pathetically.

Her lip curls before she catches it.

“I need you to stop.” The words come low and sharp– more hiss than whisper. It stuns you enough to stay quiet.

You open your mouth, but she lifts a finger. “No. Listen.”

She leans in slightly, eyes level with yours. Too close.

“We cannot afford to lose this. You cannot let him get to you. You cannot let him take you like that. Not again. Not anymore.”

“I’m not letting him–”

“Yes, you are.”

Val’s hands slide from your shoulders to your wrists, curling your fingers into her own. A deliberate gesture. A challenge.

She’s not afraid of what you are.

“When you try to make this... connection with him, you’re opening yourself up. That’s your mistake. You don’t have to be the vulnerable one.”

You take a shaky breath, and you want to argue. But you can’t. She’s right. You are opening yourself up when you reach for him. You’re letting your walls crumble because that’s the only way you know how to use your powers.

“She hasn’t had any practice.”

Bucky’s words cut through the smoke, and he steps forward, close enough to make Val release your wrists.

“It’s trial and error, Val. You’re making her leap before she’s even learned how to walk. If this is going to work, maybe she should start with someone else.”

The suggestion settles over your shoulder like a weighted blanket. You let out a shaky sigh when Val steps back, tilting her head in that irritated way that she always does when someone is right and she’s wrong.

“I guess you have a point.” She grumbles, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Can–can you two try? Just… don’t go all freakazoid Winter Soldier mode on her, okay?”

Bucky snorts under his breath. “No promises.”

You expect Val to snap at that, but she doesn’t. She just sighs again, rubbing her temple like the conversation’s giving her a migraine. Then she turns on her heel and leaves the room, boots echoing down the sterile hall.

The silence she leaves behind is oddly comforting.

You glance up at Bucky. He looks… calm. Unshaken. Like he’s seen worse, been worse, and made peace with it.

He walks past you and settles into a chair at the table.

“You okay to try?” he asks softly, like he’s asking if you’re okay to breathe.

You hesitate. Then you nod.

He doesn’t hold out his hand the way Bob did. He just rests it on the table between you, palm up. Waiting. Letting you decide.

You take a step closer, hand resting on the edge of the conference table like his hand is a loaded gun.

“I… Bucky, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You finally admit it, and he shifts in his seat, looking up at you with furrowed brows. He gestures for you to continue speaking.

“Do any of you know how I got this power?”

Bucky shrugs.

“Not for certain. We all have our own ideas, though. Based on the way you follow Val’s orders like a loyal dog, I would assume forceful biological experiments and manipulation. But hey, that’s just my guess.

You huff out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Wow. Okay.”

“I said it was just a guess.” His voice is flat, but not unkind.

You glance down at his hand again. He doesn’t look at you like Val does, like he should lead and you need to follow. He looks at you expectantly, but not forcefully.

“Valentina says I was born with it. Says I was always like this. But there’s this gap in my memory– years I don’t really remember. Just static. Flashes.”

Your fingers twitch. You don’t know why you’re telling him this. Maybe because he’ll understand. Maybe because you hope he won’t.

“They used to put me in a room. Hook me up to electrodes. Run tests on me. Make me touch someone while they tortured them, see how long I could keep them from screaming.

Bucky doesn’t move. Not a muscle. But something in the air around him shifts– tightens. Something like understanding tints his gaze without him meaning for it to.

“I didn’t want to hurt people. I just didn’t know how else to survive.”

His hand turns ever so slightly. Not pulling away. Just... offering more.

So you take it.

And the moment your skin meets his–

The cold hits first. The rush of snow, steel, and silence.

Then: Russian. Sharp words hissed under the breath of the wind. Screams. Gunfire.

But Bucky’s voice cuts through it like a knife:

“Stop. Don’t dig. Just feel.”

You do.

And what you feel isn’t rage or violence.

It’s shame.

Grief.

Hope, buried like a mine too deep to reach.

When you pull back, you’re both breathless.

Bucky wipes the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s wiping away blood. “Yeah,” he mutters. “You need practice.”

There’s not much to do in the Watchtower, other than rot.

So you start to work out between sessions with Bucky and the quiet moments you spend alone in your room.

You’re far too calculated to start on a whim. You watch videos, you read–you overanalyze the whole process, really– before you start going to the gym.

You start small- treadmill, stair master, sit-ups, push-ups. You even switch up your diet, making it more consistent than a mystery that no one else in the tower can seem to solve.

You’ve been avoiding the punching bag like the plague.

You’ve never been someone who enjoys fighting. You’re still quite weak, mentally and physically. And opening up the possibility of being sent on missions sounds like a nightmare. But you’re halfway to being an Avenger, so it feels like you’re supposed to know how to fight. Just in case aliens come knocking on the door, or some adjacent shit like that.

You stare at the punching bag like it just insulted you.

You’ve circled it for fifteen minutes now, hands on your hips, sweat beading at your temple. You keep trying to visualize a punch that won’t feel like slapping a raw steak. But it’s not happening.

"You planning to hit it or ask it out?"

The voice makes you jolt. You whip around.

Yelena stands a few feet behind you, blonde hair slicked back, one hand shoved in her hoodie pocket while she gnaws on a protein bar.

"I was… working up to it."

"Uh-huh. So was Napoleon. How’d that work out for him?"

You blink. She was so sharp, but she was hilarious. You’d give her that.

She walks over, tilts her head toward the bag. "Go on. Show me what you’ve got."

You give it a tentative jab. It sounds like a mildly annoyed slap.

Yelena’s brows lift. "You call that a punch? Please. You are making the bag sad.”

"I don’t like hitting things."

"Too bad. You’re here now. Welcome to the Thunderbolts."

She steps behind you, takes your wrists without asking. Her grip is strong, correcting your posture, squaring your shoulders. She smells like mint gum and gunpowder. When she leans in, her voice drops.

“You think you need powers to be dangerous. You don’t. You need control.”

You swallow thickly. “I don’t think I have that.”

Yelena moves in front of you, deadly serious now. “Then let’s find it.”

Yelena’s instructions start simple– jab, block, duck. She calls you stiff, throws her head back, and laughs when you flinch or make an embarrassing mistake.

“You hit like a baby,” she mutters, circling you like you’re prey she’s only half-interested in. “No, I think a baby could hit harder than you.”

You scowl. “I told you I don’t like fighting.”

“Good. That means you haven’t gotten cocky yet.”

She swings without warning.

You yelp and instinctively duck, nearly losing your balance. She doesn’t stop. Just enough pressure to keep you reactive– ducking, dodging, blocking with sloppy form. You’re breathless and irritated, and your hands hurt like hell.

And she grins. Wide and wolfish.

“There we go. That’s better. You’re thinking less.”

“That’s because you’re trying to kill me.”

“Exactly, it’s instinctual that way. Even if your instincts are shit.”

You lunge– more out of frustration than strategy– and she catches your wrist, twists, and pins you against the wall in one clean movement. You let out a startled, strangled sound. Her knee is braced against your thigh, her palm pressing against your sternum.

Everything flares.

Not physically– psychically.

The wall melts with color. Her memories flare like embers: a voice in Russian, the sharp crack of glass, the pulse of an old mission. You feel it. She feels you.

You gasp, and she pulls back– but not all the way.

Her eyes flick over your face with that soldier’s calculation. Then something softer. Almost amused.

“...There it is,” she murmurs. “You’re scary when you’re pissed off.”

You blink, chest heaving. “Did you feel that too?”

“Of course I did,” she whispers. “I felt your edge. That’s where your real power is, isn’t it?”

Your breath trembles.

“I liked it,” she adds, and steps back, all at once, as if nothing happened. Like she hadn’t just ripped you open with her bare hands and taken up with the darkness she saw inside.

“Same time tomorrow?” she calls over her shoulder as she walks off.

You don’t answer.

But you know you’ll be there.

You have a routine now.

Wake up and complete casual, mundane tasks like any other normal person. You follow the Thunderbolts to their briefings and de-briefings, sometimes you sit in the control room and monitor them. Their readings, their vitals. When they get back, you find Bucky.

Bucky sits with you in an empty room, not a sterile one with gray walls and buzzing lights, but a quiet room. One where Valentina can’t pick you apart piece by piece and tell you what you’re doing wrong.

You’ve started calling it the quiet room in your head.

It has a window. A real one. With sunlight that leaks in soft and gold in the morning, and turns orange near dusk. You don’t talk much in there– not at first. Bucky usually takes the armchair, legs spread, hands clasped between his knees like he’s always waiting for something bad to happen.

You sit across from him on the floor.

Sometimes you ask if you can try. Sometimes he nods. And you reach out, fingertips brushing his wrist, the way you always start now. You dip in slow. You listen.

You feel.

And it’s complicated. More than you expected. The shame isn’t clean or easy. It’s sticky. Interwoven with things you can’t fully name. Regret like old bloodstains. Fury that isn’t always directed at himself. Pieces of Hydra left like landmines in his psyche, still waiting to detonate.

But then there’s the good.

The warmth when he catches Yelena laughing across the room. The dry satisfaction when he outmaneuvers Walker in sparring. A fragile, unspoken pride when you reach a new threshold and don’t even flinch.

You tell him he feels like late autumn. Sharp at first. But soft underneath.

He calls you a ‘damn hippie’ and flicks a pen at you.

You duck, laughing, and feel the smallest ripple of something bright between you, like you’ve pushed past the threshold of a real connection.

It’s not romance. It’s not even therapy.

It’s recognition.

Two ghosts in borrowed bodies, trying to claw their way into something that feels real.

The mornings are quiet with Bucky. The evenings are chaotic with Yelena.

You used to think she hated you when you first arrived. She was all sharp stares and cold comments until you realized she liked you, and that was her way of showing it.

She finds you in the gym most nights, usually right when you’re about to give up on the punching bag again. She throws her water bottle at your feet like it’s a challenge.

“You hit like a librarian,” she says.

“Librarians are strong,” you mutter, wiping sweat from your brow.

She grins. “Sure. In the brain.”

You don’t remember agreeing to regular sparring sessions with her, but she shows up like it’s gospel. No warnings. No mercy. She goads you, taunts you, and makes you work for every inch of progress. And when you finally land a hit that makes her stumble, she laughs.

“You’re learning, little zaika.”

Sometimes she pushes too hard– not cruel, just intense. A twist too sharp. A kick too hard. A shove that lands you flat on your back. And the worst part?

You like it.

Not the pain. Not the pain that leaves you bruised and sore for days. But the fact that someone believes you can take it. That Yelena sees something in you worth hurting you for.

“Again,” she says, breathless and smiling down at you. “Come on. Before I get bored.”

You groan and drag yourself back up after she’s swept your feet out from underneath you for the third time in one afternoon.

She calls you a bitch in Russian and you’re 75% sure it’s affectionate.

You swing– she ducks. You block, she jabs you in the stomach. You’re starting to get frustrated again, narrowly avoiding one of her famous kicks again.

You catch her off guard.

It’s not graceful– more of a desperate swing than a strategic strike– but your fist connects with her shoulder, and the momentum of it shoves her back a step. You expect her to laugh it off, to smirk and throw something sharp at you like she always does.

But she freezes.

Just for a second, because the hit wasn’t just physical.

You feel it– that familiar jolt through your arm, except this time it’s not electricity or heat. It’s something cold. Distant.

Your vision tilts.

And suddenly you’re somewhere else.

Not entirely, just a whisper of a memory that isn’t yours.

Snow. The forest. A book hitting the ground. A gunshot.

You rip your hand back like it’s been scalded.

Yelena reels– not from the punch, but from whatever you pulled up with it. Her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale, and she stumbles, blinking at you like she doesn’t recognize your face.

“What the fuck was that?” she breathes, low and dangerous.

You shake your head, stunned. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to–”

“No,” she snaps, and for a moment, her expression is unreadable. Not angry. Not afraid. Just… exposed. “You didn’t have to.”

The silence that follows is heavy. You think she might walk away. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. But she doesn’t.

She breathes through her nose, rolls her shoulder out, and nods once.

“Again,” she says. A little quieter this time. “But next time, keep your ghosts to yourself.”

You don’t mean to end up near him.

It just sort of… happens. You’re walking past the observation deck when you notice the light’s still on. Everyone else is winding down for the night– showers running, music low in someone’s room, the sound of Ava yelling at Walker over Mario Kart.

Bob’s standing at the window, wearing that same blue, woven sweater he clings to for something grounding and familiar. He’s picking at a thread on the sleeve, jaw twitching as he stares at the cityscape.

You hover in the doorway a beat too long.

He doesn’t turn. Doesn’t flinch. Just says, “You can come in. I won’t bite.”

So you step through the threshold, taking the steps down to where he’s brooding. You twist your fingers together, intertwining them as if that’ll make you less nervous.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You whisper, more for your comfort than his. He chuckles, finally looking over at you when you come to stand beside him.

“But you’re wary.” You nod once, glancing up at him. The moonlight catches his chiseled jawline, highlighting the way he almost wants to smile at you. But it feels wrong. Dangerous.

You lean against the railing beside him, silent for a moment. The stars don’t look real from this high up. Like someone just pinpricked the dark with a needle and called it a sky.

“I think I get it now,” you murmur. “What you feel when it starts to creep in.”

That gets his attention. His head turns slightly.

“You do?”

You nod. “I feel like something is always watching me. Like it’s seconds away from seeping through the cracks.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He lets the silence stretch for a moment before he shifts, turning his body toward yours. He doesn’t step closer or invade your space. He just sighs.

“Yelena told me about… your sparring thing.”

You swallow out of guilt, looking outside when he brings that up. You didn’t mean to take her there. You didn’t even know you could use your powers without thinking about it.

“It’s getting stronger, isn’t it?”

You glance at him, hating how easily he can read you. You weren’t close– not like that. You knew far too much about each other, way too fast. It wasn’t a natural connection; it was like a science experiment. Like you were two random chemicals, and Valentina had poured your vials into a beaker and hoped for the best.

You could explode. You could mix and turn a murky, ugly color. Or you could make something beautiful.

Bob decides to hold his hand out. Not palm up. Not demanding.

Just close enough that you could take it if you wanted.

“We can practice,” he says. “Together. No pressure. No Val. Just us.”

You look at him for a long moment. He’s far too sweet for someone with so much baggage and pain. He’s far too easy to get along with– It would be suspicious if it weren’t for those baby blues and that little smile spreading across his lips.

You reach out and rest your pinky against his. The smallest kind of contact.

You don’t explode. You don’t fall into a void. He doesn’t lose himself.

The quiet room has gotten more and more comfortable over time spent with Bucky. It started small, you accidentally brought a pillow from the couch when you were half-asleep one morning, and sat on it. Then you brought another chair in. So on and so forth, until it became the way it is now. Comfortable, quiet. Like a doctor’s office, but way less organized and more home-y.

The atmosphere is lit only by the salt lamp in the corner, casting a low amber glow across the floor. You usually have your meetings with Bucky in the morning, but the team came home particularly late from a mission, and he couldn’t wait ‘til the next day.

Bucky sits across from you, legs folded, hands resting on his knees. He looks calm, but you can feel the shift in him the moment your hand brushes his. The walls in his mind don’t crumble so much as bend. Like rusted metal. Sharp around the edges.

You don’t mean to reach deeper. You don’t even realize you are– until your head twitches slightly to the side, and everything goes cold.

Something sharp and icy snakes its way through. A shadow in the corner of your thoughts that wasn’t Bucky’s.

Not guilt. Not pain.

Hunger.

Your breath catches. Bucky notices. “You okay?”

Your hand trembles as you pull away, shifting uncomfortably on your pillow. Your mind is sore, throbbing like you’ve been bitten by a snake.

You close your head and try to force it out, but it bears down harder, sinking its teeth even deeper into your psyche.

It’s always dark behind your eyelids. But it only gets darker when it speaks, low and like a hiss.

“I liked it better when it was just us.”

And it releases you.

You swallow thickly, eyes opening to find Bucky leaning closer with his hand on your arm now. He whispers your name, and you barely hear it.

You had seen the ugly things in his mind many, many times before. They never failed to make you shiver. You thought about his pain way after your sessions were over. But Bucky didn’t feel like that. Yelena didn’t feel like that. Bob didn’t feel like that.

Bucky doesn’t ask what you saw. He never does, it’s part of the deal. It makes you both feel better in the long run.

But this time, he looks at you like he wants to.

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “That… wasn’t you.”

Bucky pauses, mulling your words over in his mind. He pulls away from you, eyes still set on you like you could evaporate at any moment. “Was it him?”

You don’t answer.

Because it wasn’t Bob, either.

Not the Bob you know.

Not the version that wears too-soft sweaters and holds your pinky like it might break.

It was something deeper. Older.

And it doesn’t want to share you.

Later that night, long after you’ve returned to your room with your skin still crawling and your mind still sore, Bucky finds Yelena pacing outside the gym.

She’s half-dressed for bed, hoodie tugged over her head, boots still on. Her jaw is tight. She doesn’t flinch when Bucky approaches; she just glances up at him expectantly with her hands on her hips.

They’ve had several talks about you. In quiet moments like these, when no one else will hear or see. Especially not Valentina.

Yelena can tell by the look in his eyes. Like he’s found something out that he wasn’t quite ready to know.

“She got to you, didn’t she?’

Bucky purses his lips, leaning up against the wall with a shake of his head.

“No, not exactly. She just…wasn’t alone tonight.”

That gives Yelena pause. She chuckles in disbelief, glancing down at the floor before she finds his eyes once more.

“Bucky, I don’t want it to happen again.”

He knew exactly what she meant, and he hated the pit that settled in his stomach when she said it. She didn’t want a repeat of Bob. Someone with untapped potential being manipulated by Valentina, her feeding into that damaged part of them that needs reassurance and guidance. Molding someone new into another all-powerful being.

You’re scarier than Bob, in a way.

Sentry was a powerhouse, for sure. He put every single member of the Thunderbolts on their asses in a couple minutes without breaking a sweat. Bucky barely even got him to flinch when he hit him. But Sentry couldn’t render someone useless with a gentle touch and emotional manipulation.

That was scarier. Especially to someone like Bucky.

There’s a pause. It stretches longer than it should.

“She doesn’t even know she’s doing it,” Bucky says eventually. “I don’t think she can tell the difference anymore. Between what’s hers and what’s not.”

Yelena’s quiet for a moment, then glances at him. “You think Valentina knows?”

His nostrils flare, and he nods once.

“To an extent. Not like we do. She still thinks she’s too soft.”

That part, they both agree on.

Yelena crosses he arms, taking a step closer to him without even realizing. “She’s stronger than anyone realizes.”

“She’s stronger than she realizes.”

“And if she snaps—”

“She won’t.”

He says it fast. Too fast. Like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

Yelena watches him for a long beat, then nods slowly. “Then we train her. And not the way Val wants. Our way.”

Bucky finally looks over at her. “And if she pulls a Bob?”

Yelena shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #bob reynolds fanfic #afab reader #reader insert

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chlix · 6 months ago

Text

treatment resistant

bf! chan x fem! reader: he comforts you during a mental health episode

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ANGST like seriously, turns into comfort at the end tho 🙏🏾

word count: 4.7k

warnings: graphic depictions of depression, anxiety/anxiety attacks, and psychosis (paranoia); self worth issues; general self-loathing

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting about six months ago and deliberated posting it, but it's almost the end of the year so i feel like i should release it. i used to feel so validated by fics where reader is depressed and gets comforted, but she was never as depressed as i sometimes was, so i drew a bit from life for this one. everyone please be safe and read the warnings <3

It doesn't start with the dishes. In fact, you think your therapist might tell you that it's not about the dishes at all, but about your own poor self-image, or lack of emotional regulation, or about a thousand other things that are wrong with the way you perceive yourself and the world.

The truth is that lately you've been sleeping way too late and waking up too early, and you're so tired that you can't eat, which makes you so hungry that you can't take naps. You're between jobs and the outlook hasn't been great, your best friend keeps blowing you off in favor of her new boyfriend, and just this week you found out that your favorite bakery is no longer making the souffles that you've been using as a pick me up since you moved into this building.

You don't do well with change, or rejection, or honestly anything, lately. You wake up stressed and you go to sleep stressed. You keep your phone on Do Not Disturb because you can't bear receiving notifications. Just today you've talked yourself out of taking showers twice, only to have a meltdown when you tried to sit on your bed because you felt too dirty to touch your own sheets. You sit on the floor instead. You eat a singular banana for lunch, just to make your headache go away. Your headache does not go away. You feel both unreal and painfully solid, sinking into the ground and on the verge of floating away.

Your boyfriend, Chan, keeps texting you updates about his day, and answering them feels like an exercise in performance art. You scroll through your previous texts to make sure you're adding the right amount of exclamation points, that you're using the same recent emojis. It's like cosplaying a happier version of yourself. A better version, a version that he could love, as opposed to how you are now: greasy and gross and plastered to the floor in your hallway. The idea of him seeing you like this fills you terror, or at least it would if you hadn't burned out your capacity for feeling things already.

A new message pops up.

Chan: Hey baby ❤️ Was thinking of swinging by tonight after work? I can bring dinner with me

Just the thought of eating threatens to make you vomit. You suck in a breath and hold it as you type,

You: If you want something specific go for it! I already started cooking but we could have it another time

Chan: I don't want to waste all your hard work. We can have what you're making. I'm sure it'll be delicious :)

You: I can promise edible. Delicious is up in the air rn 😭

Chan: I have faith in you even if you don't ❤️. I'll be there around seven today

You: Okay! I love you sm, see you then! ❤️❤️❤️

You lock your phone and throw it across the room. Why do you do this to yourself? "Already started cooking?" You haven't showered today. Normally you try to deter Chan from coming over when you're having a freakazoid episode, but now you've basically invited him in? You have to be normal for an entire evening?

You fall on your back on the ground and put your hands over your face, blocking out the sunshine that insists on steaming through the cracks in the drapes. Your heart is beating so hard you worry you're going into cardiac arrest.

Get off the fucking ground, y/n, you tell yourself. You have to go cook dinner for your boyfriend.

"There is something very wrong with me," you say out loud, very quietly. The silence of your apartment swallows the words. They vanish, as if never said.

You get up.

It takes you two tries to make something even passing as edible. Your head is all over the place, and you burn batches of oil and veggies before you manage to stay in your body long enough to finish making anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of pans and spoons and bowls to make something that should be simple, and as dishes pile up in the sink you feel stupider and stupider. Why are you acting like you don't know how to cook? It's not hard to make some vegetables in stew. You don't know why it's taking every appliance in your kitchen and all of your concentration to execute such a simple task.

By the time you're done cooking, you've stressed yourself out enough that you're getting a tension headache. You close your eyes and brace yourself against the sink, rallying yourself.

Just do these dishes and then you can sit down, you think. Just one more thing.

You pick up a sponge.

You put the sponge down.

There is no way you can do these dishes.

It doesn't so much hit you like a train as the realization slowly creeps up on you. It's not that many dishes, really. It looks like a lot, because the pots and bowls are so large, but numerically there's very few items in your sink. It wouldn't even take 30 minutes to clean everything and leave it in the rack for later.

But that's not happening. The idea fills you with a cold and genuine dread, just as strong and perverse as when you'd tried to shower earlier, or sit on your bed. You can't turn on the tap because then the water will touch you, and it will feel Wrong, and then your whole body will feel Wrong, and then you'll die of Sudden Onset Wrongness. And now that you think about it, a lot of your anxiety today has revolved around water, and isn't that a symptom of rabies? Hydrophobia? Did you get rabies somehow? Would you know if you had rabies? Maybe that's the thing that's wrong with you- you're not depressed or insane or just a terrible person living a terrible life. You're just rabid. There's something eating your brain, and that's what's making you into such a fucking failure of a person.

While you're debating the possibility of brain-eating viruses, Chan comes home from work. You automatically turn towards him, a bright smile on your face, and rush to greet him.

"Hey, Channie!" you say, bouncing over to him with a pep you do not feel. "I'm so happy you're here!"

And you are, mostly. You love your boyfriend, really you do. He's loving and attentive, and he's never made you feel like anything less than the number one priority in his life. You have similar values and work ethics, which keeps you on the same page through most difficult periods in either of your lives and careers. You haven't been together long, but your bond is solid, and you really believe you're going to make it far together.

You also really believe you won't if he ever finds out what a complete nutcase you are. So you hide it. You grin at him and you appear light and joyful and easygoing and you brush off his concerns with adages and placations, and you redirect the conversation back to him, because you're a good listener and you love the sound of his voice and you much prefer that activity to any activity that involves you explaining how you laid on the floor for five hours and had an emotional breakdown while slicing cabbage. He has other things to worry about, other problems to solve without adding yourself to the list. You're supposed to be his respite, not another draining task. He doesn't need to know how hard it's been lately. You shouldn't have to say it.

So he doesn't. And you don't.

"Hey baby," he says. He sets his stuff down and kisses you in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Okay," you say. The answer feels curt, but you don't want to ruminate any more on your absolutely fruitless afternoon.

Chan doesn't comment on your strange answer. He takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat, and as he's about to walk past you he spots the mountain of dishes in the kitchen.

"Oh, were you about to do the dishes? I can do them if you'd like."

"You just got home," you protest. "You should go sit down."

"But you've been standing just as long cooking dinner, right? I should do my part."

His insistence is making something terrible expand in your gut. Instead of being flattered at his offer to help, his words feel like a violent condemnation. You should've done the dishes before he got home. You should've finished cleaning the kitchen altogether, so that he can relax in a clean environment. What kind of stupid fucking girlfriend are you, where you can't even do basic chores around the house?

"No, it's okay. I already psyched myself up to do them, so I'll do them."

Chan hums in a tone that's either playful or mocking, you genuinely can't tell which. "Okay, if you say so. Don't be afraid to tap out if the dishes get the better of you."

Great. He thinks you're so stupid you couldn't do the dishes if you tried.

You subtly regulate your breathing as you turn towards the sink. Chan disappears into the apartment out of view, and you give yourself thirty seconds to push your freak-out as far down inside you as you can.

"You're not an idiot, y/n," you tell yourself. "You can do some fucking dishes."

You reach under the sink and pull out some disposable plastic gloves. They make your hands look weirdly swollen and unfamiliar, as if they aren't your hands anymore. For a bizarre moment, you're convinced that they're genuinely not, that someone else's hands have been put on your body. You close your eyes so hard sparks fly in front of you.

Stop being crazy. Do the fucking dishes.

You turn on the water and pick up a bowl.

Chan reappears. You flash him a smile, but say nothing. Chan grins back, all dimples and crescent eyes. He's so handsome it makes you want to rip your own skin off. You thank God every day that you were born beautiful, because you could never have caught his attention with your personality alone. He'd be completely out of your league, and honestly, maybe he still is.

That thought gets shut down and pushed away. One crisis at a time. You don't have hands and you might have rabies, but you definitely have a boyfriend who loves you. There's no point in kicking yourself while you're down.

You turn back to the sink.

You cannot do these fucking dishes.

"Work was funny today," Chan says as he moves over to the stove and opens the pot.

"Mm?"

"Just some technical issues in the studio. Nothing serious, but it gave us some good bloopers."

You pick up a glass cup. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in the curve, and your eyes are so wide. Have they always been that wide? Are your eyes drier these days than they normally are? You can't tell, because every part of you feels both dehydrated and submerged under water.

"This is really good, babe," Chan says.

You blink. "What?"

Chan holds up his bowl. "The stew. It's great. I told you it would be delicious."

You let out a pleased sound. "Thank you baby. Your encouragement really motivated me."

It was the wrong thing to say. You have no idea how, but from the way Chan's expression changes slightly as he looks at you, you know he's caught on to you acting weird.

"Is everything alright?"

Shit.

"With me? Yeah, I guess so. I've just been really tired lately."

"On the job hunt?" he asks sympathetically. It's like a stake in your heart.

"As always."

He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your hair. "Don't worry, baby. You're super qualified in your field. You'll find something soon."

You need him to stop touching you or you'll start throwing pans at the wall.

"I hope so," is all you say.

"I know so. Just keep faith."

You hum again, noncommittal. It's like you're slowly losing the ability to speak. And the gloves are too tight and the water is so loud and you're nauseous and your head still hurts and it's probably not even the stress, it's probably the rabies, it's turning your brain into swiss cheese as you speak.

After another tight squeeze, Chan lets you go and retrieves his bowl from where he'd set it down. You hope he might leave you to go eat in the living room, but instead he hovers on the opposite side of the island, and continues telling you about his day. Normally, you'd love to hear the play by play of every crazy thing that happened with his group members and managers. Today, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The story is endless, keeps weaving around other anecdotes and tangents and you wish he would just shut up for one second so you can pull yourself together but you can't say that, because he isn't doing anything wrong, you're just being crazy, you're a bad and lazy girlfriend and you can't even put your own issues on hold long enough to listen to your boyfriend talk about his day. Everything is wrong wrong wrong, and you're Wrong and something is Wrong With You and it just keeps going it never stopswhy can't it all just stop-

"Y/N?"

Your name sounds like it's coming from a thousand miles away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turn to look at Chan, see his eyebrows pinched together in concern. You have no idea how long he's been saying your name.

Very calmly, you strip your gloves off and lay them to the side. You turn off the water.

"Sorry," you say. "Give me one moment, please."

You walk past him and down the hall to your bedroom, where you very calmly and gently close the door behind yourself. You climb on to your bed, filthy clothes and all, and pull two of the pillows from the end to rest on top of each other. You tie your hair back with a hair tie, press your face into the stack of pillows below you so that your whole face is covered.

And you just start screaming.

Screaming is therapeutic, apparently. Or at least, it's on the approved list of emotional regulation activities your therapist had given you. As long as you aren't screaming at anyone, it can be an effective form of release. It helps you release the tension from your core and focus that nervous energy into sound and action.

You scream into the pillow as loud as you can. You aren't sure how much it's doing to muffle your sound, but the belief that it's helping allows you to let go. It's tearing at your throat, the intensity of it. Once you start it's hard to stop, you just keep going and going and going, as if you're expelling demons.

When you finally peter out, you pause for a moment, then push yourself onto your knees. You're dizzy. Blood is rushing in your ears. It's oddly hard to breathe, as if you can't get enough air in your lungs. Even the fact of your own body is too much for you. You wish you could abandon it, just for a moment. You wish you could observe this from the outside so that you would better know how to fix it.

Eventually, your breaths calm. The buzzing recedes, leaving room for rational thought. And your chest feels....lighter. No longer is there a bomb sitting in your sternum, waiting to explode. The pressure has equalized. You look down at your hands, fisted in your bedsheets, and they look like your hands.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

You think you can probably do the dishes now.

Gingerly, you climb out of bed and make your way to the door. You open it, prepared to put your smile back on and apologize for your rude exit.

Chan is outside your door.

His eyes are wide with alarm. He looks stiff, hesitant. One of his hands is outstretched towards the door, as if about to knock.

Your face goes blank, wiring short-circuiting as you try to figure out what to say.

"Hey, y/n," Chan says, slow, testing. "Are you okay?"

Your script restarts, and a big smile automatically draws itself on your face. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though. Come on, you can finish telling me your story."

You grab his hand and try to pull him away from the bedroom. He doesn't budge.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

You turn back to look at him. "Nothing's going on."

"Baby, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it yet. But you don't need to pretend there's nothing wrong. You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I heard you screaming in there."

Ice flushes through your body.

"Ah. Well, it's like I said. I got a little overwhelmed. I'm not hurt or anything. Sorry if I worried you."

"A little overwhelmed?" He's getting frustrated now, put off by your blase tone. "You look like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"No, I don't," you say, because you don't. You know what you look like when you get like this. You've trained your expressions so well that your face doesn't flush. Your eyes don't tear up. You have to look put together, because if you don't look put together then you can't convince yourself that you are put together.

"Y/n. I know you. I can tell when something's up." He sighs. "I've thought you were a bit distant for the past couple of weeks but I figured you would come to me eventually. But here we are, and you're having an anxiety attack right in front of me and you won't even admit it."

"I'm not having an anxiety attack."

"Love, I know what anxiety looks like. If you'd just let me help-"

"I'm not having an anxiety attack. I don't have anxiety. I would know if I did."

"Everyone has bad days and hard times, baby. You don't have to be defensive. I'm not accusing you of anything."

"You say you're not accusing me of anything after unilaterally diagnosing me with anxiety?"

Chan lets out a long breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I just mean-"

"You can't just assign me disorders when you decide I'm acting irrationally. You don't know my medical history. You don't even know me that well. You don't know if my behavior is normal or not."

"You can't be getting upset at me for 'not knowing you' when it's clear you're actively hiding things from me," Chan says, patience thinning. "I see you're in distress and you're picking apart my wording? I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't say I wanted your help."

"You're my partner! Of course I'm going to help you!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" You choke on it and slam your lips shut.

Chan's face is drawn in irritation. He makes a go on gesture. But you can't go on. It's like the words are trapped in bubbling tar.

Your silence stretches. Chan sighs and drags a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd gone out of his way to come visit you and now he regrets it. You've wasted his evening and ruined his mood. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you ruin everything. Hell realize he's drowning in all your mess and decide to save himself, and then you'll be alone again.

You draw in a breath of your own, but you're still lightheaded.

"Why did you invite me over if you didn't want me to see you like this?" he asks finally. "You don't have to see me every day if that's not what you want."

All the anger is gone from his voice. He's being so patient that your own stubbornness is acrid in comparison. You swallow, hard. Every muscle in your body is tense. You have the pull the words out of your throat with hooks, one syllable at a time.

"I wanted to see you," you explain, stilted and pathetic. "I thought I could pretend for long enough."

"Pretend what?"

That I'm not crazy. That I'm not falling apart. That I'm normal and easygoing and a joy to be around and definitely not rabid.

It's impossible to say. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know that something is. You can't do the dishes. And you can't do this.

Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor of the hallway.

"Y/n?"

You don't respond. You're just staring straight ahead, all your thoughts whirring so fast that you're having trouble parsing any of them.

"Y/n? Hey, baby, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

You blink, and he's in front of you, on your level. He's trying to look calm but you can see the panic in his eyes. It only makes your chest tighter. You're dragging him down, you're cursing him. He needs to get out or you'll have his blood on your hands.

"We need to break up," you whisper.

Chan reels back like he's been slapped. "What?"

"We can't- we need to break up. I shouldn't have invited you over. I'm sorry."

"I..." Chan is at a loss for words. "You don't mean that."

But you do mean it. With everything in your body. "We can't be together."

"Baby, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have to break up if you don't want to. I don't want to break up."

You feel sick with his sureness. How can he claim to know you better than you know yourself?

"You don't get it," you say. Your tone is unnatural, words strange on your tongue. "We just can't be together."

"Can you tell me why you feel that way?"

"Just look at me."

"I am looking at you. And all I see is my beautiful, wonderful, perfect girlfriend who is having a very bad day and might be making some hasty decisions."

"Not a bad day. A bad life. I'm fucked up, Chan." The words come out with such a quiet malice that it shocks even yourself. "I can't even do the fucking dishes."

"I can do the dishes, love. I said it wasn't a big deal."

"No no no. It's not about the dishes." You're struggling to explain- the words are getting twisted, the thoughts all merge together- "I can't do anything. It's not about the fucking dishes. It's about- I can't-"

And you burst into tears

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm really sorry. I just-"

"It's okay," he soothes. "It's okay. I understand now."

He doesn't. He can't, and you know that full well. You shake your head, vision blurring from your tears. You're so embarassed and it's making you cry worse. You think you must look so ugly right now. He must be repulsed by you. You're repulsed by yourself, your own misery making your skin crawl.

"Can I touch you, baby? I want to hold you."

You shouldn't. You'll infect him. You'll ruin him and take away everything that makes him good. Why is he even still talking to you? Why doesn't he leave?

"You don't have to-to feel obligated. I can just- if you give me a second-"

"I don't feel obligated," he says, patient but firm. "I love you. I want to hold you all the time."

Something in your chest cracks. You're so weak. It's pathetic. But you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please," you whisper, defeated.

Chan reaches out and pulls you into his arm. You're both still on the ground, but he rearranges you so you can hide your face in his shoulder, and you do, too humiliated by your tears to be able to look at his face. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and your traitorous body relaxes without your permission.

"You've been struggling for a long time haven't you?" he asks. "You didn't want me to pity you."

You don't say anything. You can't bear to.

"Well, I don't pity you. I think you're very strong, trying to deal with this on your own. You made me dinner today even though you didn't really want to, right? That was very kind of you to do. You take such good care of me, baby. You light up my life. Isn't it fair that I should get to take care of you too? Can't I return the favor by helping you now?"

"It's not the same," you mumble into his shirt, because the magnitude of the two asks isn't comparable. You chopped up some vegetables and threw them in a pot. He is witnessing you have a mental breakdown in your hallway. You're not equally yoked. It's too much to ask of anyone.

"Whether it's the same or not doesn't matter. Love isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be equal effort every single time. This isn't a favor I'm returning. I'm comforting you because you're upset, and I hate to see you cry. Do you believe me when I say I want to see you happy and smiling? That I would do anything to ensure it?"

You finally pull away from him, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. "You might have to go find a new girlfriend then," you say, voice cracking from the tears and the weight of your despair.

"I don't want a new girlfriend. I want you." He's hesitant, but he continues. "There are ways of getting help, you know. We can try some things, like therapy, or medication. I can help you. You don't have to feel this way all the time."

You shake your head. "I'm in therapy and on meds already. None of it really....works on me. I have fewer bad days than I used to but they still leave me like...like this. And they just drag on....it turns to weeks and months, and I can't....I can't do anything." You let out a shaky breath and make yourself stop talking. Even after all this, the urge to hold back is engrained in you. "You deserve better."

"I think I decide what I deserve," Chan says. "I know it's hard to open up about things like this, but what's worse than you being depressed is you hiding it from me. How can we work on this if you're pretending it's not real?"

"I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be...to be easy."

Chan leans forward and cups your face in his hands. He looks you right in the eyes, and you see that they're glossy with their own unshed tears. "I don't need you to be easy. No one is. I just want you to be you. And I want you to let me be there for you. In everything. Including this. I want all of you. Do you think you can do that? Can you try?" He wipes away your tears with his thumb.

You swallow harshly. It goes against everything in you, everything you've taught yourself. Chan loves you. He wants to stay. Even though it may all crash and burn later, even though he might still turn on you or reject you or give up on you and declare this all a lost cause, right now he wants to stay. He believes in you. And you want to hold on to that belief as long as it lasts.

"Okay. I'll try."

A relieved smile stretches across his face.

"That's my girl," he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It makes something like pride settle in your chest, as if the part of you that cracked earlier might not stay jagged forever.

"Let's get off the floor, hmm? I feel like you might've spent enough time down here today."

You definitely hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he really does understand more than you'd thought possible. You don't know exactly how to feel about that, but you allow a bit of gratefulness to come through as he stands up on his own and reaches a hand down to pull you up. You wipe your eyes one last time, let out a breath, and take his hand.

#skz x reader #skz angst #skz x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst

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d0llcuries · 9 months ago

Note

hiii im new to your blog so idk all the rules yet but I was wondering if you could do a neteyam x navi reader ofc like when they first arrived to the reef you and tuk clicked immediately you both have a really close bond like you two spend a lot of time together weather it’s swimming together or making matching jewelry🩵 and that’s kinda how you and neteyam even started dating because of how much tuk would talk about you !!!! I hope this isn’t too much sorrrryyyy❤️ I love your work btwwww

TIDES THAT BROUGHT ME TO YOU

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: the sullys arrival to awal'atu causes a stir among your people, though you could care less about their presence. that is, of course, until a certain forest girl changes your mind

author's note: i fear there is an inexplicable pull within me to write yn as an absolute freakazoid in every oneshot i create. that being said, if you want yn to be normal in your request plspls specify her personality type otherwise she'll come out acting like winona rider from mermaids (1990). kinda fumbled this one too i should not be writing on my period 🧍

the first thing you notice about them is how thin they are.

their descent from the sky on their great winged beasts stirs up the sand in great, sweeping clouds, but it does nothing to hide the way their limbs, long and lean, cut through the air as they dismount. forest people. they move with a lightness, a caution that seems strange to you. the metkayina are not built like them. they are broader, bodies strong and firm, their muscles shaped by the tides and the weight of water. and their tails—their tails—eywa, they are so thin! practically useless. you wonder how they manage to balance at all.

you and tsireya emerge from the water, sliding off your ilus in one fluid motion, the cool spray of the ocean dripping from your skin as you wade through the shallows. the soft sand shifts beneath your feet, and your tail flicks lazily, trailing behind you as you approach ao’nung and rotxo, who stand together just ahead. tsireya pushes a strand of wet hair from her face, her movements graceful, her eyes immediately catching sight of the sully brothers—the skinnier of the two stares at her a little too long, his expression a mix of curiosity and something almost like awe.

you almost laugh when he nods in her direction, his voice low and far too confident. “hey.” (miles morales ahh)

tsireya’s face flushes a familiar shade of soft blue, and you cringe inwardly, the secondhand embarrassment hitting you like a wave. her reaction is painfully obvious, her wide eyes as she bends her head, a hesitant smile betraying her. you glance sideways, searching for a distraction, and rotxo is already there, as if sensing your discomfort.

“look at them,” he mutters under his breath, his voice pitched low so only you can hear. “how do they even manage with tails that thin?”

ao’nung, standing just beside him, snickers, his broad shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. it's the kind of laugh that is infectious, spreading like ripples across the surface of the sea, and even though you are not cruel—even though you know it’s wrong—you can’t help the small tug of a smile that curls at the corner of your mouth. it’s all in good fun, after all. forest people, clearly they have wandered too far from where they belong. surely they won’t be here for long.

it is not that you want to make fun of them, these strangers who have come to seek uturu, but something about them seems... wrong, somehow. misplaced.

you were still laughing when you caught neteyam’s eyes on you.

his gaze was steady, calm in a way that she didn’t expect, and she felt the weight of it like a shift in the tide. not accusing, not angry, but watching. taking her in as if she were something curious. something strange. her smile faded, the amusement leaving her as she pulled her gaze away, pretending not to care. what was he looking at?

you shift your weight slightly, your arms hanging loose at your sides as you observe the exchange between the sullys and tsireyas parents. she watches them with a quiet, thoughtful expression, her brows knitting together in concentration. there’s no judgment in her gaze, no hint of the amusement that had touched your own. she looks at them with nothing but curiosity, a flicker of compassion lighting her features. she catches your eye and raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to soften. you sigh, the weight of her gentle disapproval settling over you. of course tsireya would be the first to see beyond appearances. she always does.

you’ve known her for as long as you can remember, since you were both small and would spend your days swimming out into the open waters, daring each other to dive deeper, pushing your lungs to their very limits. she has always been the heart of your little group, the steady, guiding force that tempers ao’nung’s bravado and rotxo’s sharp-edged laughter. where they tease and taunt, she soothes, her voice like the steady rhythm of the waves, always pulling you all back to center.

it’s no surprise, then, that you find yourself drawn into spending more time with the newcomers, tsireya’s gentle insistence pulling you along as she helps guide them through the early days of their stay. you are metkayina; you know the ways of the water, the ebb and flow of the tides, the secrets that the ocean keeps. it’s your responsibility to teach them how to live in this world, even if you don’t want to.

at first, you hang back, letting tsireya do most of the talking, watching as she shows them how to breathe, how to move, how to swim like the metkayina do. it was exhausting just to look at them. lo’ak struggles to hold his breath, his frustration palpable as he tries again and again to stay underwater. kiri moves with a sort of distracted grace, her attention more focused on the creatures of the reef than the lesson itself. you observe them with detached interest, your thoughts drifting like the waves.

you don’t care about them. you don’t.

and then, tuk happens.

you hadn’t meant to pay attention to her. in fact, you had barely noticed her at all in the beginning, the youngest of the sully siblings blending into the background behind her older brothers and sister. but tuk has a way about her, a brightness that’s impossible to ignore. she’s all wide-eyed curiosity and boundless energy, so unlike the others, who carry the weight of their family’s uncertainty like a heavy cloak. while they are cautious, tuk embraces everything around her with an infectious enthusiasm that makes her impossible to overlook.

you catch her one day after a particularly long lesson, her small hands fumbling with a piece of seaweed, attempting to braid it into her hair for whatever reason. her brow is furrowed in frustration, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration, and something about her determination—her fierce little spirit—draws you in before you even realize what you’re doing.

“like this,” you murmur, kneeling beside her and gently taking the seaweed from her hands. your fingers work quickly, weaving the strands together with ease. “you have to twist it more. it’s not like the vines in the forest.”

tuk’s eyes widen, her expression lighting up with awe. “wow! you’re really good at that!”

and that’s it. from that moment on, you can’t seem to shake her. tuk becomes your shadow, or maybe it’s the other way around. wherever you go, she’s there, trailing after you with an endless stream of questions, her small footsteps pattering through the sand as she tries to keep up with your longer strides. her curiosity knows no bounds, and you find yourself drawn into her orbit, unable to resist the bright spark of joy that seems to follow her everywhere.

the first time she swims with you, her movements are awkward, her limbs too quick and too stiff, and she sputters as she breaks the surface, her wide eyes filled with frustration. “it’s too hard!” she huffs, pushing wet hair from her face. “i’ll never be as good as you.”

“you will,” you say gently. “you just have to feel the water. do not fight it.”

tuk frowns, unconvinced, but she doesn’t give up. over the days, you watch as she grows bolder, more confident in the water. you teach her how to control her breathing, how to let go of her fear, and she listens, her small face set in determined concentration. she clings to your arm after each lesson, her bright laughter ringing in your ears as she pulls you back to the beach.

and with tuk, inevitably, comes neteyam.

at first, you barely notice his presence, too busy entertaining tuk. he lingers on the outskirts of your time with her, watching from a distance, never quite joining in but never too far away either. it’s easy to forget he’s there, his quiet nature blending into the background.

but neteyam has a way of making himself known, even in his silence.

it starts small. you feel his gaze on you more often, the weight of it something you try to ignore at first. he never says much, never interrupts your time with tuk, but you notice him lingering just a bit closer with each passing day, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and tuk as she chatters on about whatever has caught her attention in that moment. sometimes, you catch him smiling—those soft, fleeting smiles that seem to disappear before you can fully register them. they’re rare, but when they happen, they make your heart stutter, a strange warmth blooming in your chest that you quickly dismiss.

he’s deliberate, thoughtful, always watching, always observing. you can feel his attention like the gentle pull of the tide, steady and unyielding. it’s unsettling, but not in a way that you dislike. in fact, if you’re honest with yourself, it’s kind of... comforting.

tuk even speaks about him sometimes, her admiration for him clear in every word. “neteyam would love this,” she says one day, as you show her to repair a torn fishnet. “he’s so good at everything. you’d like him, i think.”

tuk had been telling you some story about their home in the forest, her small hands moving animatedly as she spoke, when neteyam quietly joined the two of you. he folded his legs beneath him, watching with that same gentle expression he always wore when tuk was around. you paused, hands stilling over the bracelet you were working on, and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“you do not have to stop,” he said, his voice low and easy, the corners of his lips lifting in a small smile. “i am just here to watch.”

you thought about running away, getting up and leaving after making a up some excuse to remind them that you had better things to do than sit with them in the sand making bracelets. something about the way he spoke—his voice so warm and unhurried—caught you off guard. the way your heart bested faster when he was around, the way you caught yourself blushing like tsireya whenever lo'ak opened his mouth was... unusual. it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite put into words.

the three of you sat there in comfortable silence as you finished the bracelet, your hands working on autopilot while tuk chattered on, oblivious to the subtle shift in the air between you and her brother. you were grateful for her presence, for the way she kept things light without realizing it. by the time you tied the last knot and secured the bracelet around tuk’s wrist, you hadn’t noticed that neteyam had been watching you the whole time, with a softness that made you feel like he wasn’t just looking at you. he was seeing you.

“you are good at that,” he said quietly, his voice barely louder than the sound of the waves.

you tightened your grip on the edge of the bracelet you’d been working on for yourself, gaze dropping to the sand. “i have had practice.”

he nodded, still watching you. the weight of his gaze felt like a physical thing, pressing against your skin, exposing you in a way that made you feel uneasy. you were used to keeping your distance, keeping your indifference like a shield between you and his family. you had learned to tune it out, the presence of others—your people, the sullys—but with neteyam, it was different. you couldn’t ignore him the way you did the rest. but neteyam was quiet, his presence like the sea on a still morning, surrounding you without making a sound. you liked that.

as the sun dipped lower, casting warm golds and pinks across the sand, you tied the final knot and slid the bracelet onto your wrist. it wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it felt right, the weight familiar against your skin. you held it up, inspecting your work, twisting your wrist slightly to catch the fading light.

“that one is beautiful,” neteyam said softly, his eyes on the small woven beads, the shells glinting like scattered stars. his gaze flicked to your wrist, then back to your face. “you should make me one.”

you blinked, your lips parting in surprise. “you want me to make you a bracelet?”

he smiled then, a small thing that felt like it could crack open the horizon. “well, you made one for tuk. i feel a little left out.”

you glanced at tuk, who was too busy showing off her new bracelet to the other children playing by the water to notice the exchange.

“i do not know,” you said slowly, turning the bracelet on your wrist. “i do not usually make things for people.”

neteyam tilted his head, his expression open, waiting. “you made one for tuk.”

“you do not even like it here,” you said suddenly, sharper than you intended. the words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he opened his mouth to respond, but you continued before he could speak, your voice quieter this time. “you do not like us.”

the truth of it lingered in the space between you. you hadn’t forgotten the way they’d arrived, tense and uncertain, the way his brother had snapped at you and your people, the way his parents had worn their worry like a second skin. they didn’t belong here, and they knew it. the thought had made you laugh at first, but now, sitting here with neteyam, you didn’t know how to feel about it.

for a long moment, he was silent, his gaze turning out toward the sea, his expression unreadable. the light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the sand, and you could hear the distant calls of the other children as they played by the water. tuk’s laughter echoed somewhere nearby, but it felt distant, like the tide pulling away from the shore.

“you are right,” neteyam said finally, his voice low. “we do not belong here.”

the words were a simple acknowledgment, but they landed heavy between you, pressing down on your chest. you didn’t know why it bothered you to hear it. they didn’t belong. that was obvious. but there was something in the way he said it—something quiet, resigned—that made you realize just how heavy that truth must have felt for him, for all of them.

“but we are trying,” he added after a moment, his voice soft. “we are doing our best. even if it does not seem like it.”

your fingers tightened around the bracelet on your wrist, the edges rough against your skin. you could feel the weight of his gaze again, warm and steady, and for the first time, you met his eyes without looking away. there was something in them, something that caught you off guard. not sadness, exactly. not defeat. but acceptance. a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t so different after all.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i will make you a bracelet,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “if you still want one.”

neteyam smiled again, that small, warm curve of his lips that felt like it could light up the entire ocean. “i would like that.”

over time, it became harder to stay distant, your walls cracking under the weight of his quiet companionship. you didn’t even realize how much you’d begun to change, how your awkwardness softened, until one day you caught yourself laughing at something neteyam had said—really laughing, not the half-smile you usually gave. it wasn’t that you’d stopped being strange or different, but it didn’t matter so much anymore. neteyam had a way of making you feel like it was okay to be the way you were, that there was no need to force yourself into shapes that didn’t fit. the space between you that once felt wide now felt smaller, warmer, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind the closeness.

he listened, the way he understood things without needing to say them. they spent more time together, sometimes with tuk, sometimes just the two of them, and slowly, quietly, something grew between them.

it was in the small moments—the way his hand would brush against yours when they walked, the way he’d smile at you from across the water. you didn’t fight it, didn’t push it away. you let it come, let it settle into your bones like the rhythm of the waves.

one evening, as you sat together on a small outcrop of rock, watching the sun sink into the horizon, neteyam turned to you, his expression soft and open in the fading light.

“you know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “tuk talks about you all the time.”

you smiled, “does she?”

he nodded, his gaze warm. “she adores you. she’s always telling me how you are the best swimmer, the best jewelry maker. she even started asking me to tell her stories about the forest, because she wants to impress you.”

her heart tightened at the thought, and she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “tuk is very easy to like.”

neteyam’s smile grew, and for a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently at the shore below. then, quietly, he added, “she is not the only one who talks about you.”

you glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. “oh?”

his gaze met yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes was enough to make you breath catch in her throat. “i do too. all the time.”

his gaze meets yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “i do too. all the time.”

you blink, caught off guard. a breeze rolls off the sea, pulling strands of your hair into your face, but you can’t bring yourself to move. his words hang in the air between you, sinking into your skin like the warm sun after a cold swim. all the time.

“why?” your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. you’re almost afraid to hear the answer, as if it would shift the ground beneath your feet, change the delicate balance that has settled between you both.

neteyam’s gaze softens, his lips curling into the smallest smile, and you realize, with a start, that he isn’t nervous at all. he seems sure of whatever it is that lingers in the space between you. quietly confident, like always. “i guess because... i think about you a lot.”

you open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but before you can find the words, a small voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

“hey!” tuk’s voice, sharp and high, breaks your quiet. you both turn to find her standing at the edge of the rocks, her little face pinched in frustration, her hands on her hips. “i knew it!”

your eyebrows shoot up, startled. “knew what?”

tuk stomps closer, her bare feet padding noisily across the stone. “i knew neteyam would steal you from me!” she jabs a finger in his direction, her small frame shaking with righteous indignation. “you’re my friend, not his!”

the words hit you like a slap, and you glance at neteyam, who looks equally taken aback, his mouth parting in surprise. tuk’s big eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and something in your chest squeezes painfully. you hadn’t even realized how much time you’d been spending with neteyam, how it must have felt to tuk, who had so eagerly claimed you as her own from the start.

neteyam steps forward, hands raised in surrender, his voice gentle. “hey, tuk. no one is stealing anyone.”

but tuk isn’t having it. her little fists clench, and she whirls on you, eyes wide and brimming with hurt. “you promised we’d make more jewelry! and swim with the ilus!” her bottom lip trembles, and she takes a step back, as if the distance will make the ache in your chest less sharp. “you said you were my best friend.”

guilt washes over you like a cold wave, chilling you to the bone. you kneel down, reaching for tuk’s small hand, but the little girl pulls away, hurt radiating off her in waves. “tuk, i did not mean to—”

“you don’t like me anymore.” tuk’s voice is small now, defeated, and your heart breaks at the sight of it, at the raw pain in her eyes. “you like him more.”

the words leave you stunned, speechless. you look to neteyam for help, but he stands frozen, his jaw tight, clearly torn between comforting his sister and letting her work it out. after a long pause, he crouches beside tuk, his voice soft and reassuring.

“that is not true,” he says quietly, his hand resting gently on tuk’s shoulder. “she is still your friend, tuk. i am just... lucky to be friends with her too.”

tuk sniffles, her little fists rubbing at her eyes, and your heart clenches in your chest. “but i found her first,” she mumbles.

you can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips at the child’s words, your heart aching in the best way. “you did find me first, tuk,” you say gently, finally managing to reach out and take her hand. tuk lets you this time, her fingers small and warm in your grasp. “and you are still my best friend. nothing is going to change that.”

tuk looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, still unsure. “promise?”

you squeeze her hand, your voice soft. “promise.”

after a moment, tuk’s shoulders relax, and she swipes at her face with the back of her hand. she glances between you and neteyam, her lip still trembling but her anger starting to fade. “okay,” she whispers, “but you have to make me another bracelet first.”

a small laugh escapes you, and you nod, relief settling into your bones. “deal.”

tuk brightens instantly, her smile returning in full force. “and you both have to swim with me tomorrow. no skipping!”

neteyam chuckles, brushing a hand through his braids. “we would not dream of it.”

satisfied, tuk gives a dramatic sigh before turning and running off toward the other children, her earlier tears forgotten. the weight of her outburst still lingers, though, and as you both stand there in the quiet aftermath, you realize just how much tuk’s words have struck something deep inside you. you like him more.

it isn’t true, is it? or maybe... maybe it is. you’re not sure anymore. the thought makes your throat tighten.

neteyam seems to sense the shift in you, his gaze turning serious as he watches you carefully. “you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, a little uncertain.

“i do not know,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “it feels...different.”

neteyam is silent for a long moment, his brows furrowing slightly as he steps closer, his presence a steady, comforting weight at your side. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful. “what does?”

you look up at him then, the words heavy on your tongue. “everything. you, me, tuk...”

neteyam's voice is quiet, almost hesitant as he asks, “is it a good different?” his eyes search yours, the question hanging in the air between you. there's an openness to him now, a vulnerability that makes you pause. you see him clearly in this moment—the forest boy with his thin tail, strong but out of place here in your world. his presence is unfamiliar yet comforting, the way his skin contrasts with the sea, the way he stands rooted even on shifting sand. the difference is undeniable, but it's not unsettling. it feels like something new, something good.

you meet his gaze, and in that instant, everything falls into place. his eyes, a deep shade that reminds you of the forest he came from, hold a quiet kind of warmth, like the steady burn of a fire. you're different, yes—he, with the wilderness in his bones, and you, with the sea in yours—but that contrast feels like a harmony rather than a divide. with a small nod, you let the truth settle between you, firm and certain. “yeah,” you murmur, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “it is.”

i'll proof read this when i get back home i have to go out now 😭

#neteyam x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam oneshot #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam drabble #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x na’vi!reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #atwow #avatar way of water #d0llcuries stuff ꫂ ၴႅၴ

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ithinktheyloveme · 8 months ago

Text

Baby, I Fall Inlove Every Summertime

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Sunsets at the beach with Satoru

ᯓ★ Gojo Satoru x g/n reader

ᯓ★ cheesy fluff!!

ᯓ★ wc : 740~

a/n : been rewatching some 2000s romcoms recently, so this is gonna b rly cheesy and ironic hehe enjoy.

A beautiful symphony of waves gently crash into eachother, birds sing into the hazy orange hues of the sky, yet all you can focus on is your stupidly pretty boyfriend. You look down to see the strongest sorcerer, the Gojo Satoru, reduced to a fluffy heep, laying comfortably on your stomach. Most of the beach-goers have already settled, either already gone, or packing up, leaving the scenery feeling perfectly intimate. You peak at the silly manga Gojo's reading and card your hand through his milky white tussle of hair, feeling each soft strand slipping in between your fingers.

"What's wrong, sweets?" He asked while reaching out to your hand, his eyes lighting up with a playful glint. You chuckle at the feeling of his tender touch and continue brushing through his hair, "it's nothing...just wondering how the hell you can get this kind of hair using crusty 3 in 1 shampoo." Gojo abruptly drops his manga and pouts, looking up at you "Heyyy! It's not my fault I'm so perfect and—ouch!" He gasps as a flick lands on his forehead, cutting off his cocky ramblings.

From this angle, you can see the warm glow of the setting sun illuminating his heavenly blue irises in the just the right ways. You think you might get hypnotized if you stare too much.

He suddenly cups your face with his hands, snapping you out of your trance. Gojo's hands are warm on your cheeks, though still wrinkly from your previous beach endeavors. His blown out pupils dialate even more as he inches closer. "You know," he murmurs, "I could get used to this whole 'admiring' thing, since you're always sooooo mean to poor old me." He drags out his syllables like a fussy kitten clawing for your attention.

You blink at him, speechless.

“Owwww!” he whines, feigning hurt as you land yet another soft flick to his poor forehead. "You're such a freakazoid, Satoruuuuu!" you whine, trying to push him away. His hold on your face doesn't falter, now squishing your cheeks together. "But I'm yooouuuuur freakazoid, baby," he says, mushing your face against his palms. "Sato—" you struggle to utter his name. "Ruuu—". He abruptly stops his devillish ministrations, "Yesssss, baby? he chimes in a sickeningly saccharine tone.

Just as you're about to retort, Gojo leans impossibly closer to you, as if observing every inch of your pretty face. His mischievous grin never faltering, but theres a new formed intimacy in the air. And for a moment, everything around you seems to disappear--just the two of you, sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the faint scent of salty air, and his handsome face perfectly enveloped in a warm orange glow. In his intense eyes, you see pools of celestia, vast and endless. His pale blue irises speckled with silvers of stardust and glimmer, swirling in his eyes. They hold the quiet majesty of the heavens, as though the very essence of the universe were poured into him.

You can feel the comforting weight of his body, along with the intoxicating warmth of his breath on your skin, contrasting the cold gusts of wind. A swelling feeling builds up from inside of you, softly squishing your chest. You divert from his gaze to fight your sudden wave of nervousness.

"Hey, eyes on me, pretty," he coos, his voice low and tender as he softly directs your face towards him. "What? Do I make you nervous or something?". You feel the bubbling warmth in your chest quickly rise to your face, now blushing at his bold advances. His teasing demeaner is still present, but now you see a glint of something else. "Cat got your tongue huh? What is it you were gonna tell me, baby?".

You shift your position to sit up, his head now laying on your plush lap. His words hung in the air, the tension felt ten folds thicker. Your heart was beating out of your chest, following the rhythm of his, as if mending together into one.

And suddenly, without thinking, without hesitation, you kiss him.

You feel his soft lips caress yours as he melts into you. He rests his hand on your face and holds you like porcelain, as if you're the most delicate thing in the world. The feeling in your chest intensifies with every touch, intoxicating you.

And the world fades into the backround, leaving only you and Gojo.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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hiiikiko · 6 months ago

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 [deadpool x spidey!ellie]

caught in your web m.list | tlou m.list

“You gotta trust me, Sheriff, I don’t know her at all!” Spidey yelled from behind the bars of the jail cell, her hands tightening around the bars.

A dramatic gasp echoed from behind her, “How dare you say that?! Throwing away all those late night rendezvous and nights full of passion and sloppy sex?!”

Ellie groaned and trapped the masked vigilantes collar, “Shut it, you’re only making this worse.”

“Ooh, I like it when you’re rough with me,” she giggled and wrapped her hands around Ellie’s arm.

Ellie knew there was no winning when it came to her… ‘Deadpool,’ ugh, what a stupid name. This chick was the absolute worse, the way she was obsessed with Ellie gave her the chills… not to mention how this chick knew EVERYTHING about her?? Even her name?? On top of all that, she was annoying as hell and a total poser! Like, come on! She obviously ripped off Ellie’s costume, right?!

“Sheriff, please, she’s the bad guy, not me,” Ellie groaned and slumped against the wall.

“Sorry, Spidey, but I don’t see a reason why a ‘hero’ should hide behind a mask like some damn criminal,” he chortled and took a sip of his coffee, exiting the room.

“This is all your fault,” Ellie mumbled and leaned her head against the wall.

“How did it all come down to this is what you’re thinking right, dear reader?” Deadpool turned to the wall.

“What the fuck,” Ellie quirked her brow and turned to see who the hell this freakazoid was talking to…. she was talking to no one.

“Well, it all started five hours ago when I met, Spidey, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the keeper of my heart, my snuggle bunny, my baby kitten, my.. well, you get the gist. I was lucky enough to run into her at the police shootout, she was tackling some lizard man and I was passing by when I saw the glimmer of red… I quickly helped her and may have accidentally shot a few officers… but, who cares about that right? Anyway, we made our daring escape and to this alley where I found out she’s a girl?? Like, whaaaaaaat?? I found out because I felt boobs when I tackled her, although… they’re kinda small..”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, so I dragged her along to this amusement park where she proposed on top of the ferris wheel—.”

“I was trying to tie my shoe.”

“We shared a romantic dinner at the pier—.”

“You stole a slice of pizza from a old lady.”

“She won me a teddy bear—.”

“I was trying to escape through a booth and the bear wouldn’t come off my hand because of these stupid webs.”

“It was the most romantic night of my entire life,” she sighed dreamily, “but then just as I was about to kiss her, this dumbass runs towards a police officer and gets us both arrested, me for breaking a few laws here and there and her for being the best person ever?? Stupid, right?”

“Uh, no, you’re an actual murderer.”

“I’m a changed person now, honey,” Deadpool quickly turned to Ellie and nodded, making a heart symbol with her hands.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t take our masks,” Ellie groaned and flipped her off.

“Ooh what would’ve happened? Would you have put me in my place? Handcuffed me? Maybe spanked me?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned as red as her mask, “Shut up! J-Just find me a way outta here,” she grumbled and paced around the cell, looking for anything to get them outta there.

“Oh, is that what you’ve been waiting for? Why didn’t you say something, I stole that pig’s keys two hours ago,” she dangled the keys in front of her, Ellie couldn’t see her face but could feel the smirk radiating through the leather of her mask.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled and unlocked the door.

“You can’t say that in bed,” there she goes again, Ellie rolled her eyes and pushed the door open.

“Here’s the plan, we—.”

BAM!!

“What the fuck!” Ellie yelled as Deadpool kicked the door down and quickly knocked the guard out, reaching behind the counter to grab her guns and katanas, “A warning next time, will you?!”

“Ohh, so there will be a next time then,” she giggled and tied her gun holster around her waist, “Can’t wait.”

Ellie shook her head and made her way for the exit, “I sure can,” she muttered as she exited the building and swiftly put as much distance between her and that deranged woman.

Upon returning back to her apartment, Ellie climbed through the window and flopped onto her bed, rummaging through her backpack for her phone when a piece of paper fell out… it read: ‘Spidey x Deadpool xoxo’ and had a picture that looks like it could’ve been drawn by a toddler of her and Deadpool making out… and not to mention the 136 page handwritten smut filled fan fiction attached to it..

“Gross,” she grimaced and threw it into the paper bin.

That was when Ellie decided to never, ever get involved with Deadpool again..

[a/n:] I FINALLY WROTE IT YAYYYYYYYYY, kinda short but I wanted to write something today :3

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hartleychristopher · 1 month ago

Note

I KNOWW I literally JUST sent a request but omg when inspiration strikes it STRIKES, and I can’t write for shit!!!

Chris and controlling your vibe in public from his phone!! He’s too embarrassed to do much at first but the second it starts happening, he forgets you’re even around people and definitely takes it just slightly overboard

(P.s take literally all the time in the world, Ik u must be flooded with requests ‘em!!)

😛😛

Pairing: bf!chris x fem!reader

Summary: it was just supposed to be a normal, nice dinner date… that was the plan until you decided to put in a vibrator that your very nervous, very horny boyfriend has complete control over. Now you’re sitting at the table at dinner trying to have an inconspicuous orgasm.

A/N: I AM SCREAMING. I love this prompt so much!!

Warnings: smutty!!! 18+, remote controlled virbrator so: exhibitionism/public play (no non-consenting exposure, like they’re in a very public place but no one notices!), soft dom!chris, kind of loser!chirs?? Chris is a nervous pervert lol, lots of pet names, orgasming in public. Chris and reader are of drinking age!, drinking is also involved so dubcon because of that but also there are so many consent checks!

Chris is tech savvy, he has an app for literally everything, so when he saw an ad for a vibrator that he can control from an app on his phone, he bought it immediately. His horny brain was clouded with thoughts of his pretty girlfriend whining and moaning and he didn’t think it through okay?

Had he ever used a vibrator on you before? No.

Had he even asked how you would feel about using a vibrator that he has complete control of? Also No.

He was thinking with his dick when he hit purchase. Sue him.

So when the vibrator is delivered at the door right before you guys are about to go out for dinner he’s nervous immediately. Cursing himself for his horny impulse-purchase. How is he going to explain this to you without looking like a kinky freakazoid?

He walks into the bathroom where you’re still getting ready with the box in his hands. You’re looking in the mirror, putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you see him in the reflection behind you, staring at the box intently.

“What’s that?” You ask, not stopping from swiping on a final coat of mascara.

“Uhh… well..” He stammers, a blush tinging his cheeks. His nervous energy is palpable.

This has your attention, why is he so blushy and nervous? You turn on your heel to face him.

“What? What is it?” You ask again, ready to take the box from his hands

“No wait—“ he holds the package tighter “let me explain first—I just bought it without thinking but—I don’t want you to think I’m a total perv or anything.” He’s really blushing now.

“Chris?” You ask with a little exasperated laugh. What could it be?

“It’s… uhm… okay…it’s a toy… for you.” he says awkwardly. He actually kinda wants to throw the box away and pretend this didn’t happen. “It’s like—it has an app that it pairs to and I would be the one to control it—“ he’s looking at the box, not at you. He’s too embarrassed for eye contact.

‘Oh. OH.’ You think.

“And you want me to—to have it in me tonight… at dinner?” You ask blushing, trying to understand what he wants.

“W-What?? What-what? no no no” He says quickly, he’s so nervous. “N-no it just came in the mail—it was delivered to the door just now I wasn’t—I didn’t plan this—you don’t have to use it now—I mean you don’t have to use it at all!” He squeaks, his whole face is red.

“Chris—baby” your hands come to cover his larger ones over the box, trying to soothe him with your touch. “It’s a vibrator, for me, and you’re gonna control it from your phone?” You ask for clarification, trying to put all the bits of his rambling together to complete the story.

“No—well yes… if you… if you want me to…” his eyes finally meet yours; sparkling blue, so sweet and timid. Angel boy.

“That is so fucking hot.” you breathe.

He visibly relaxes. His shoulders sag with the breath he lets out.

“Yeah?” He asks hopeful. “You—you think so?” A little smirk forming on his lips.

“God yes, let’s open it! Does it need to be charged before we go?” You ask, your eyes twinkling with excitement as you look up at him.

“I—uhm—I don’t know.” He shakes his head, he can’t take his eyes off of you, you look so beautiful in your ‘going-out’ outfit, and you look so excited he feels he could faint. How did he get so lucky to get the most beautiful and vibrant girl he’d ever met to fall for him?—Not to mention be so on-board with him being a total pervert for her.

You two open the box together, figure out the instructions—thankfully it already has a charge—and Chris downloads the companion app and learns how to use it in a few minutes.

You slip off to another room for privacy while you insert the vibrator and when you come back out, you give Chris a bright smile.

“Ready to go!” You tell him. And he thinks you look incredible, but the fact that you currently have a vibrator inside of you that he has control over is making his brain short circuit, it’s sending his tummy in knots and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to eat dinner now.

Chris drives you both to the fancy restaurant he made reservations for a month ago, the whole drive he can feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket, he thinks about the app… how easy he can just start the little vibe up inside of you. But he keeps a tight grip on your thigh instead as he drives with one hand on the wheel.

When you get to the restaurant at the top floor of the high-rise, you’re both led to a cozy booth by the window, overlooking the city. That was why you had to wait so long for the reservation; it was the nicest, most secluded booth in the restaurant and Chris wanted you to have the best.

Once the hostess has seated you and left you two alone you look over at him, noticing the booth was a bit further from the rest of the tables in the restaurant.

“Are you sure you didn’t plan for me to have this—” you gesture to your lap, “—in tonight?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No—I swear, I really didn’t mean for it to work out like this—I didn’t know.” He shakes his head, wiping his clammy palms on his pants.

“Okay” you shake your head with a smile. “Are you—are you going to give me a warning or…?” You ask playfully, putting your chin in your hands as you rest your elbows on the table, your eyes darting to his phone that’s sitting face up on the table.

“For?” He starts before he realizes what you mean “oh! I mean—yes… do you want a warning?” He asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Uhhh,” you think for a second “surprise me.” you push his phone towards him, so he can take it off the table and you won’t be able to see when he touches it.

“Sweetheart—are you sure?” He asks gently “we don’t—you don’t have to do this y’know.” he assures you. “Just because I bought it doesn’t mean you have to… do this… we can even use it at home—” he starts to ramble, feeling anxious that he might have pressured you into this by presenting it to you before you left for dinner.

“No—baby, I want to!” You grab his hand from across the booth, “I think it’s really hot… do you want to, baby?” You ask gently.

Chris takes a steadying breath. Yes. Yes he really does, he’s just never done anything like this before and he’s nervous.

“I really want to.” he nods, and you smile at him. That seems to help him relax a little.

The waitress comes by to take your orders for food and drinks and you both fall into easy conversation.

The waitress recommended a bottle of wine that paired well with both of your entrées. Chris is sipping his glass of wine, letting the alcohol put him more at ease. He almost forgets about the fact that you have a vibrator inside of you until dessert comes and he’s watching you lick the chocolate sauce off your spoon, your tongue darting out to clean the sweet confection off your plump lips.

That seems to flip a switch inside of him.

Chris’s hand twitches at his side, he keeps his eyes on you as he reaches for his phone, keeps eye contact with you while he unlocks it. As you look away to pour yourself another glass of wine, he taps the power button on the companion app to the little vibrator nestled inside of your unsuspecting cunt.

Your eyes widen, your hands going slack on the wine bottle you hadn’t lifted all the way yet. Thankfully it’s only about an inch or two off of the table when bottom of the bottle thumps against the hard surface, slipping from your slackened grip.

“Do you need help with that, honey?” He asks innocently, the wine and your wide eyes are filling him with a confidence he did not posses 45 minutes ago.

You nod, dumbly. And Chris realizes if your eyes weren’t so expressive he wouldn’t even know if the damn thing worked because it’s absolutely silent inside of you.

He reaches for the wine bottle, pouring you a glass. He watches your fingers clutch the edge of the table a bit as your eyes stay glued on his face.

“Everything okay?” He asks lowly.

You nod quickly.

“Good” he purrs. “How is everything? Are you still hungry?” He asks coolly, his eyes darting to his phone next to his lap, his finger hovering over the sliding dial, ready to turn up the intensity on the vibrator. “Would you like more?” He asks.

“I want—yes—I want more.” you breathe softly, you both know you’re not talking about food.

He slides the dial up higher.

“Anything for you, beautiful.” he says sweetly, he doesn’t take his eyes away from your gorgeous face, watching the way your eyebrows subtly pinch together in pleasure as you try to hold yourself back from moving or making any noise.

He reaches forward to grasp your hand from the edge of the table, pulling it towards his face so he can leave chaste kisses on your knuckles, looking totally normal and romantic to any onlooker.

“Does it feel good, babygirl?” He murmurs against your knuckles

“Mhmm!” You squeak softly “so good!” You whisper sharply, your hand is trembling in his grasp, gripping him tight.

The vibrator is nestled right up against your g-spot, you’re not going to last long. You can feel your cunt fluttering around the little silicone bullet as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life.” He says adoringly as he watches you tremble. his cock is rock hard and throbbing in his pants. The table, the cloth napkin in his lap, and the dim lighting in the restaurant are working together to conceal the tent in his pants.

You screw your eyes shut at his compliment, gasping a little as you squish your thighs together instinctively.

Chris looks around to make sure no one is watching you squirm like this, he is quickly comforted by the fact that everyone in the restaurant is engrossed in their meals and their company; no one is watching his gorgeous girl fall apart for him. He looks back at you.

“You’re doing so good, honey.” he marvels “I didn’t even know you could be this quiet.” he says smiling.

“I can’t—can’t get us caught” you gasp softly, your hand is still gripping his over the table.

“That’s true—can’t have everyone hearing all the pretty noises you make for me, huh? Those are just for me. All mine” he smirks.

He watches as you start to squirm a little more, your chest is rising and falling quicker as you get closer to climaxing. You’re letting out soft little gasps.

“Almost there baby?” He asks “gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” he whispers lowly, so only you can hear him.

“Yes!” You squeak a little loudly, but the sound is easily drowned out by the commotion of the bustling restaurant.

“Shhhh, shhh.” he says softly “you have to be quiet or I’ll have to turn it off and you have won’t get to cum.” he says, a little bit of his nerves creeping back in when he thinks of someone noticing what’s happening to you right now.

You don’t trust yourself to answer him, you can’t let a word out, in fear it will come out too loudly or too whiny.

You nod quickly, your body trembling even more and your mouth falling open as your orgasm starts to crest. Your eyes are screwed shut and you lay your head down on the table to hide your expression as you come undone, your legs shaking, your body tensing as you cum with a quiet gasp.

Chris wants nothing more than to hold you and feel your pussy flutter with your orgasm but he stays unmoving in his seat as your hand crushes his fingers together in a vice grip. It might actually hurt if he wasn’t so turned on that his cock was aching in his pants.

“Good girl” he purrs softly as he watches your body slump in the booth, he slides the intensity down on the vibrator, helping you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he shuts it off completely. “Suuuccchh a good girl” he coos, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“Can you lift your head and look at me?” He asks gently.

You do as he says, your eyes meeting his as you try to pull yourself together as fast as you can manage, remembering you’re in public. You give him a lazy, satisfied smile.

“There she is.” he says sweetly.

“I’m feeling a little tired, baby.” you tell him, trying to mask the bliss you’re feeling with the excuse of feeling sleepy. “Can we order espressos?”

“You bet” Chris winks at you.

#chris hartley #christopher hartley #chris until dawn #chris hartley x reader #chris hartley smut #answered #my writing #chriswriting #Chris Hartley x you #x reader #x reader fic #until dawn smut #chris hartley until dawn #until dawn #until dawn chris #smut #chris hartley x reader smut #Chris until dawn x reader #until dawn chris x reader

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