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yanderedrabbles · 16 days ago

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Yandere Wild West Gang - Noncon

Your life is all planned out for you. Marriage. Children. Settling down in your little town and growing old. But a gang of outlaws and their wicked desires change everything.

Tags: (6) yandere males x fem reader, noncon, loss of virginity, choking, spitroast (hell yeah), oral fixation, 12.3k words

I blame the ridiculously talented @fangdokja and The Red Ledger for inspiring this btw.

They came for you in the middle of the day.

Shameless. Better men would at least wait for nightfall, would at least try and hide their intentions behind the cloak of darkness. Not them though.

They kicked the door in when your family was just about ready to eat lunch, the food still steaming and your ma still in her apron.

You didn't even have time to scream.

One outlaw smashed his rifle butt into your pa's temple and the old man was out like a light, still clutching the knife he'd grabbed to defend you. Two others grabbed your mother and shoved her into the pantry, blocked the door with a tipped over cupboard.

You ran. Or tried to at least. They were crowded into your kitchen, laughing as you turned from one to the other.

"No way out, beauty."

"Too late to run now, darlin'. Shoulda started before we even got here if you wanted to get away."

"Look at her all scared. Ain't it just adorable?"

With near identical duster coats and bandanas tied across their faces, you couldn't tell them apart.

They were closing in on you, a little at a time. You tried to fight, to pull away when one of them grabbed you. But they were dust bitten outlaws and you were just a rancher's daughter. It wasn't even a struggle.

The tallest one slammed you down on the kitchen table, his fingers digging into your shoulders and his belt buckle grinding against your ass.

Your mama's good milk jug tumbled off and shattered on the floor. That was what you focused on as they tied your hands behind your back and gagged you. The shards of blue and white ceramic in the puddle of milk.

Not their hands running over your hips, not their laughter. Just the milk and your ma's favourite jug all in pieces.

You could still hear your mother screaming for you when they pulled you outside. That was what hurt the most about that entire awful day. Your mama, pleading and begging and panicking and unable to save you.

Their horses were waiting, another outlaw standing guard with his rifle out.

"Boss, let her ride with me."

"With you? Ain't no way in hell my girl is riding with you."

"Your girl? She ain't yours. Boss, tell 'em she ain't his."

"Runnin' to the boss again? Yellow belly."

It was the tall one who settled the argument. His voice wasn't as rough as the others, but that didn't put you at ease in the slightest.

"She's riding with me."

He still had one hand curled around your upper arm and he pulled you towards his mustang. You dug your heels in as hard as you could, pulled back with all your weight. It just made him sigh.

"Ain't even started yet, and she's already being difficult?"

The outlaw that spoke was already on his stallion. All you could see of his face above the bandana was a pair of blue eyes, lined at the corners. The boss maybe?

"Just some...growing pains. She'll settle down soon enough."

The tall one leaned down and hoisted you over his shoulder. You squirmed and tried to kick your way free, but he kept one arm tight around your knees.

You thought all your panicking would frighten the horses, but no such luck. He tossed you across his saddle and climbed up behind you. The saddle horn dug into your belly until he pulled you into a proper seat, one arm curling around your waist. You could feel his chest against your back, every inch of it firm, hard earned muscle.

He dropped his head and spoke directly into your ear.

"No trying to jump off the horse. No trying to run away. I'm in charge of you until we get back and I won't have you hurt on my watch."

Your only response was to try and smash your head back into his nose. He straightened up just in time and all you managed to do was hurt your own neck.

He sighed again, and spurred his horse forward.

"Well, I suppose it this was easy, it wouldn't be nearly as fun."

The outlaws formed a loose ring around you as you rode. You tried to twist and look back, but your captor was holding you too tight. You didn't even get to see your home shrink into the horizon. Didn't even get that one small goodbye.

They rode for at least two hours, the sun climbing down from its zenith as they took you across rivers and down secret little paths. You knew your ranch and the area around it like the back of your hand, but even you were well and truly lost when you finally arrived.

It was a ranch, but there weren't any cows in the fields or corn growing in neat rows. The house was a big, whitewashed thing. Pretty once, but fallen into disrepair. Just a hideout. Not a place they stayed at for more than a few months.

The blue eyed one pulled you off the horse without breaking a sweat.

You could feel their eyes on you again. God, how many were there? Five? Six?

"You goin' first boss?"

The man looked down at you. He had a hand around your upper arm, but his grip was more firm than rough.

"I reckon I should. Can't trust you lot to be gentle or slow enough."

That made some of them jeer and complain.

"I'll be real sweet, boss. I promise!"

"We can be nice too. Really."

The man snorted. "Nice? I ain't never seen you dogs be nice 'bout nothing. I'll break our filly in. You lot just be patient and don't bother us none."

What were they talking about? You didn't have time to puzzle it out before the boss started pulling you toward the house. Seeing that building looming closer made you start fighting all over again, biting down on your gag and pulling back as much as you could. Like a mustang digging it's feet in.

It didn't last long. The boss leveled a look at you, met your eyes straight on.

"You really gonna be difficult with me, girl?"

Oh, what frightening eyes he had. Bright and clever, a blue so striking you could feel it right through your soul. A mountain lion would have eyes softer than his.

You stopped resisting him. Let him pull you along besides him. What else could you do? He had a gun on his back and a knife in his boot and years of experience wrangling stubborn animals. And you were just a girl out of her depth and far from home.

You didn't see it, but the outlaws looked at each other, impressed. Only the boss could tame a filly with a single look.

The house was much cooler than outside, but the boss didn't give you any time to examine it. Just guided you up the stairs and into a large bedroom. White curtains stirred in the breeze, the bedding neat and clean.

He locked the door behind you. A quiet click that made your heart race.

You jumped when his hands came to rest on your shoulders. You could hear the other outlaws outside, the clink of harnesses and buckles as they let the horses out to pasture.

His hands moved from your shoulders to your upper arms, squeezed.

"Do you know why we took you?"

You shook your head. Ransom, maybe? But your pa was just a run of the mill rancher. Surely there were better targets for quick cash than you.

The outlaw laughed quietly, just a soft breath of amusement.

"Not the faintest clue, huh?"

He let go of you and you heard the soft rustle of material as he shrugged out of his duster.

He turned you around and you finally got to see his face. He'd taken off his Stetson and bandana too, and the man looking back at you was a hardened outlaw in every way. He was a lot older than you, with thick blonde hair going to grey at the edges. Handsome, with a strong jaw covered in light stubble. Grizzled, but muscular and lean for his age.

There was a small, amused smile on his lips.

He kept his hands on your arms and guided you backwards, until your back hit the wall.

"You wanna take a guess? Why'd we ride all the way out to town to steal you?"

Whatever you said was muffled by your gag. He clicked his tongue.

"You're gonna have to use your worlds, darlin'."

He ran his thumb across your cheek, across the gag. "Or maybe not. I like you just like this too."

He was close. Closer than any man had ever been. It was terrifying. Tears spilled down your cheeks, running across your gag and soaking in.

He sighed, caught one on his thumb.

"None of that now girl. I ain't gonna be rough with you. And in time, I reckon you'll come to like it."

Your dress was buttoned at the front, all the way to your neck. He grabbed both sides of your collar and ripped.

You tried to jerk away from him, but he was too close and the only way out was blocked by the wall. Buttons scattered across the room with little plinks.

The only thing keeping your dress on was the fact that your hands were tied behind your back. But the outlaw didn't let that stop him for long.

He leaned down and pulled a knife from his boot.

"Don't squirm 'round and I won't cut you, alright?"

Sound advice, but not something you were about to listen to. You thrashed in his grip, twisting as much as you could. You didn't want that thing anywhere near you.

He grabbed your hair, and yanked your head backwards. You screamed into your gag, your whole scalp aching.

You might have continued fighting, but that's when you felt the cool metal of his knife at your throat. Not the sharp edge, but still enough of a reminder to keep you still.

"Good. Not so hard, is it?"

The knife moved away from your neck and to your sleeve. He slipped the blade between your skin and the fabric and yanked upwards.

Your sleeve tore with an ugly ripping sound, all the way down to the wrist. You whined into your gag, but he ignored you and repeated it on the other side.

He was breathing heavier now, even though the work of keeping you still couldn't have been much of a challenge for a man as strong as him. He put the handle of his knife in his mouth and used both hands to pull your dress off you. It pooled at your ankles, ruined.

You still had your chemise, but the thin white fabric was almost as bad as being naked. Your nipples poked through and he narrowed in on them, one hand coming up to cup your breast. His teeth were biting into the handle of his knife, hard enough to leave indents in the wood. Like a man struggling to control himself. He breathed out slowly, just feeling the weight of your tits in his palms.

You were crying so hard you almost couldn't see his face. A mixture of pity and want.

He kneeled down to put his knife away and stayed on his knees, hands coming to your hips. He looked up at you, blue eyes bright with something you didn't yet know how to recognise. Lust. Want.

His thumbs stroked circles into your skin, your chemise the only barrier between you and him.

"If I was a better man, I'd almost be sorry about this."

He grabbed your leg and hooked your thigh over his shoulder. You almost stumbled, forced to keep your back against the wall if you didn't want to loose your balance.

His fingers gathered your chemise from the hem up, pinning it at your waist with his palms. You were wearing stockings, simple white ones that reached your mid thigh, and plain lace garters.

All in all, it was a damn nice framing for your bare cunt.

God, he could practically feel his mouth watering.

He didn't give you any warning. Just slipped his tongue between your lips. Hot, wet, like nothing you'd ever felt. You tried to squirm away, practically tried to climb up the wall to get away from him. But he had you trapped, one massive palm on your hip and the other on your thigh.

He found your hole real easy. Slipped his tongue all the way in, the bridge of his nose grinding into your clit. You whined at him to stop it, to please just let you go, but with the gag, all he heard was a pretty little sound that made him keep going.

He sucked on your clit, his jawline standing out in sharp relief. His stubble scraped your thighs. So masculine, so unbearably, overwhelmingly manly.

With the way he held you still, you couldn't do anything except take it. Feel even inch of his tongue, feel his hot breath on your skin, feel his nails scraping your thigh. You wanted to hate it. You wanted to be disgusted by it.

But oh, it felt good.

Sometimes, when the neighbour's handsome son came over, you'd feel a little throbbing ache between your legs. This was exactly like that, cranked up to a thousand.

You whined again, and he must have been the Devil's own son, because he just doubled down. Swirled the flat of his tongue across your whole clit and then ran it down all the way to you ass.

You thighs were shaking, and the pit of your stomach felt tight with something your couldn't explain.

"That's my girl." He sounded pleased, smug. Practically cooing at you in his rough baritone. "Feels real good, don't it?"

If he didn't break soon, you felt like your whole body would. Something inside you was building, getting closer to the edge. And you were terrified of it. You breath was coming hard and fast.

Mercifully, he pulled away. Kissed the triangle of your pussy and then your inner thigh. You could feel his teeth against your skin when he smiled.

"Not yet. I ain't nearly close to done with you."

He stood and you weren't sure whether to be thankful or upset. You felt woozy, hot. Like heat stroke, or like getting drunk.

His mouth and chin glistened. He rubbed it dry on his palm, smirking all the while.

"I bet you feel real empty inside, huh sweetheart?"

You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. You did feel empty. There was a hot, throbbing itch in your stomach that you had no idea how to scratch.

"Aww, poor thing. I can take care of that for you."

His hands moved to his belt, blue eyes pinning you to the wall. When he smiled, there were lines around his eyes. They should have been comforting, a mark of someone who laughed often and laughed easy. They weren't.

You shook your head, pleading with your eyes. The tears were starting to come again, thick and fast. For a second or two, with his tongue deep in your core, you'd forgotten that he'd want something in exchange.

His eyes hardened, his smile not moving an inch.

"I will take care of it, girl. You can cry if you want, but we've come too far to stop now."

He grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up, forced you back against the wall. Your whole cunt was wet and glistening with his spit.

Something hot and hard rubbed between your pussy lips. You shuddered, tried to move away. His other arm came around your waist and he pulled you against his chest. The smell of him was overwhelming - gunpowder and leather and whiskey. He smelled like a man. He smelled like your ruin.

Your forehead fell against his collarbone, and his chin came to rest on the crown of your head. The same way a father might hold his daughter after a nightmare.

But there was nothing fatherly about the cock nudging at your entrance.

"Shhh, you're okay. It ain't gonna hurt."

Liar. Terrible, heartless liar.

He pushed in and it felt like your whole body was splitting apart. It burned.

You sobbed into his chest, not entirely sure what was happening to you. This was the sort of thing that was only whispered about. The sort of thing that was kept vague for good, obedient girls until their wedding nights. The only thing you knew for a fact was that it hurt and you wanted it to stop.

He groaned, pressed a kiss against your hair.

"Sweet little thing, ain't ya? Gonna be good 'fer me? Gonna take it nice and deep?"

You couldn't answer. There was only the stretch of his cock inside you and the oppressive tightness of his arms.

He set a slow, drawn out pace. Cock pulling all the way out to the tip and then sliding right back in. You could feel every inch.

Not gentle, but not needlessly mean either. You were shivering in his arms, pussy fluttering like a heartbeat around him.

No one but him knew how fucking difficult it was to keep so slow. Tight, tiny little thing bleeding and crying all over him. Any red blooded man would want to rut into you like a stallion. See just how many tears he could wring out of you.

It was only experience and determination that held him back. If he was a younger man...

It was the right decision to have you first. Not even his second in command - that tall bastard with all the self control in the world - could have managed this.

He huffed out a laugh.

"You're little too young for me, doll. Reckon I could be your father."

He slid back inside you, grinding against your clit in a way that made you whimper.

"Shitty fucking father though. To be doing this to my little girl."

He let go of waist and cupped your jaw in his palm. Tilted your head back, his nose and lips skimming up your neck. You smelled so fucking good. Nothing in this world was as sweet as a needy, crying girl.

"You gonna call me daddy, little girl? Gonna beg me to be nice and let you go?"

You whimpered, a pathetic little sound through the gag. It only made him smile against your neck.

"Thaaat's it. Just take it. Let me break you in. Gonna be all stretched out and sweet when I'm done with you, yeah?"

He sucked at your neck, at the delicate spot where your shoulder started to slope away. A little immature maybe, to want to mark you up like an animal, but wasn't he being plenty mature already? Wasn't he being just saintly in his patience?

"Fuck, you're getting close, ain'tcha? Can feel you gettin' all tight."

He pulled back to look into your eyes, overflowing with tears and just so damn scared.

"You ain't got no idea what's 'bout to happen, do ya?"

He pulled almost all the way out, and then slammed back in, hard. Your tits jumped and your eyes fluttered shut.

"Just relax and let it happen. It's gonna feel reeaal good."

You tilted your head back and he followed you, lips right back at your throat.

He picked up the pace, trying not to be too rough and slowly failing. The closer he got to his own end, the less important kindness seemed. It wasn't long 'fore he was slamming into you so hard he could feel your tits bouncing. His breath was coming fast, each exhale almost a growl.

"Take it, just like that. C'mon doll, just let me fuck you. Just let me make you mine."

You bit down on your gag and came. Your whole body shook, your nails digging into your palms. You didn't now what he'd done to you, but you couldn't stop it. Your pussy was a clenching, sensitive mess. You felt light headed enough to faint. And the only sound and thought in your head was his voice, right in your ear and rough with barely held back want.

"That's my girl. My good fucking girl."

A good man might have slowed down then. Might have realised just how sensitive you were. He didn't. He kept pistoning his cock into you, fucked you through your orgasm.

You writhed on his dick, in pain and overwhelmed and more scared than you'd ever been. And all of it just served to make him harder, to bring him closer. Even he had to admit he was a bastard for enjoying it so much. He didn't deserve something so sweet. All he deserved in life was a short dance with a noose. But who gave a fuck about that? He'd taken you, he'd stolen you, and like any good thief, he was going to enjoy you.

You felt it when he came. His cock pulsed and twitched inside you, and something hot dripped down your thigh.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hands so tight on you that you felt bruised.

He came down slowly. Kept you plugged up with his cock while he softened. The only sound in the room was his harsh breathing. You couldn't even cry anymore. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep and make the pain disappear.

He pulled back and tilted your chin up.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, tears still caught in your lashes.

"There she is. Ain't so bad, is it?"

All you could do was sniffle and hope he was bored of you.

He let you down carefully. You weren't steady on your feet at all.

"I've had a lot of blood on my cock over the years, darlin', but I reckon yours is the finest."

He kissed you. You were still gagged, so it was less a kiss and more so his lips pressing against yours.

When he finally stepped away from you, you almost wanted him back. You sank down to your knees, too dizzy to stand.

"Poor thing. Too much to handle, doll?"

He ran his fingers through your hair.

"You did so good, princess. Now just stay so sweet, and the rest of this day will go a hell of a lot easier for you."

You were too out of it to figure out what he meant. You closed your eyes and heard his spurs jingling as he walked away. The door creaked open and then he was gone.

You might have tried to run for it, but you ached so bad that even the thought of it was painful. Your hands were still tied as tight as they were before.

You didn't notice the footsteps or the voices until they were right outside the door.

"So much for bein' nice. Boss left her a right mess."

"Better than you woulda done. Least she's still in one piece."

They came to stand in front of you, two men with their bandanas pulled down around their throats.

You recognised their voices. These two were the most quarrelsome of the bunch. They still had their gun belts on, both of them carrying revolvers. Gunslingers then. Every gang had them.

"Look at her already on her knees 'fer us."

"Why you cryin' pretty girl? Was the boss too mean with ya?"

You looked up slowly. Boots first - silver spurs, well worn leather. Then their belts. And finally, their faces.

One was dark skinned, a crescent scar on his cheek and his hair cropped short. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at you, a half smile showing pearly white teeth.

"Oh, would ya look at those eyes? A man could drown in 'em."

The other was tanned golden with the sun, his eyes a pale green. He was still wearing his Stetson, and his dark hair was long enough to brush his shoulders.

"Boss must be getting old. He left some of her clothes on."

That made the dark one laugh. "Nah, I reckon it's meant to be a treat just 'fer us. Like unwrapping a present on Christmas mornin'."

The green eyed one squated down in front on you and grabbed your jaw. His hands were rough from labour, and his callouses scraped your skin. Whatever he saw in your eyes made him smile, but it didn't have a lick of kindness in it.

"Look at that...Boss really did break you in, didn't he filly?"

He stood and pulled you up with him, hand still clutching your jaw.

"I reckon she's gonna be real sweet to us. Gonna be all nice and obedient."

The other one came to stand behind you, his fingertips brushing the nape of your neck as he moved your hair out of the way.

"That right, filly? You gonna be all sweet?"

The green eyed one nodded your head for you. His eyes had a certain cruelty to them that made you want to step away. He seemed the type to use spurs and whips both, and to use them often.

He let go of your jaw and focused on the rest of you. And oh, what a lovely sight you were. All tied up and crying, your tits just visible through your chemise. A little virgin about to loose the rest of your innocence to his teeth. A fucking vision, a fucking dream.

He pinched one of your nipples and rolled it between his fingers. Your thin chemise wasn't any protection at all.

"Sensitive, ain'tcha?"

You whined. Not sure whether to pull away or step closer.

The gunslinger behind you wasn't in the mood to be left out. As his partner tugged and played with your nipples, his hands came to rest on your waist. And what huge hands they were. You could feel the heat of him even through your clothes.

He dropped his head to the nape of your neck and inhaled, his nose buried in your hair.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble.

"What do you want?"

The green eyed one looked you up and down, weighing his options. Finally, he smiled.

"I'll take her mouth."

Your whole body went cold. He couldn't mean...

"Hmm. That's fine with me." His hands dropped from your waist to your ass, squeezing. "I want to have her from the back anyway."

They must have been in perfect sync with each other. The one in front of you stood aside and the one behind you pushed you towards the bed. You stumbled, landed on the duvet chin first, your teeth slamming together despite the gag.

You didn't have time to push yourself up before they were tearing your chemise off. The thin straps ripped and your last bit of modesty floated to the floor in a tattered white heap. You were left in just your stockings.

The dark one pulled you up by your hips, one hand grabbing the rope around your wrists to keep you steady.

Smack.

Your whole body jerked forward, your ass cheek stinging.

One of them laughed, mocking. "Bet that'll leave a mark."

The dark one ran his palm over the welt, smiling though you couldn't see it.

"We promised the boss we would be nice, remember?"

The green eyed one circled the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your naked skin, your stockings, the tears soaking your gag.

His hands were on his belt. Not undoing it yet, just watching you.

"Y'know, I give that tall bastard a lot of shit, but even I gotta say he was right this time. She's a real cute thing."

The man behind you was still stroking your ass, squeezing and watching your flesh give under his fingers. So soft, so fucking pliable.

He hummed quietly, more concerned with you than with his partner. He slipped his thumb down between your cheeks, catching on your asshole for a second. That sent a jolt of panic through you. They wouldn't...

He must have felt you moving, because he sighed and let his fingers continue downwards. Smearing cum and blood across your pussy lips.

"Not today," he said, soft enough for just you to hear. "Boss wouldn't like that."

That wasn't reassuring to hear. It meant that he still wanted it. Wanted to fuck your virgin ass without any care for the pain, for the hurt. The thing stopping him wasn't empathy, but obedience.

He rubbed tight, harsh circles into your clit. You were still sensitive and you pleaded into your gag, asking him to be just a bit more gentle. Either he couldn't understand you or didn't bother to even hear you, because he carried on, fingerpads rough as sandpaper.

The green eyed one noticed though. He seemed to notice just about everything.

"Want me to take that gag off sweetheart?"

You nodded your head frantically. The sides of your lips felt raw and you couldn't stand the taste of it.

He kneeled with one leg on the bed and undid the material. When he pulled it away, thin lines of spit followed.

You sucked in a lungful of air, coughing. He gathered your hair out of your face, held it all in a loose fist at the back of your head.

"All better?"

Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"...yes." You swallowed, your voice still hoarse. "Thank you."

He tilted his head, smirking.

"So polite. Boss really did a number on ya, huh? Or are ya just a well bred little lady?"

You didn't get a chance to answer, because the other gunslinger ground his palm against your cunt. You yelped and jerked forward on instinct.

The green eyed one tightened his hold on your hair.

"None of that. You can take it."

"I can't! It hurts."

His free hand tugged at his belt, pulling it free of the belt loops. You blanched. What the hell did he need that for?

"Ain't even been a minute and you're already whining? C'mon pretty, there's better things to do with your mouth than that."

He let go of your hair long enough to loop the belt around your neck, the leather wrapped around his fist. He tugged and it tightened, metal buckle pressing icy cold against your skin.

He pulled upwards, forced you to look at him. His cat eyes were mean, amused at seeing you leashed.

"You even think 'bout usin' your teeth and I'll pull this so tight you won't even be able to think 'bout breathing. Got it?"

What was he talking about? Your teeth?

Your answer came soon enough. With his belt off, it was real easy for him to take his cock out. He sighed, relieved to have it free.

The only thing keeping you in place was the belt around your neck. Even still, you pulled backwards until you couldn't go any further.

It was huge.

Thick, with veins running all the way to the tip. That was supposed to fit inside of you? You'd never seen a man's cock before. Even when the boss fucked you, you'd only felt it. No fucking wonder it hurt so bad, if they were all this size.

It was horrifying, and still you couldn't look away.

"Ain't it a sight?"

He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked your head down with the belt, until the tip brushed your lips.

"Come have a closer look."

Maybe if your hands were free, you'd be able to pull away. But as it was, you were staying balanced only because of his grip on the belt and his partner's grip on your arms.

He rubbed the tip across your lips, leaving behind a sticky coating of precum.

"Don't be shy," he purred, "Give it a little kiss."

The belt tightened until you listened. You pecked the side of it, where it wasn't so gross and sticky.

"Atta girl. Now open wide."

You desperately didn't want to. He tasted of salt, and his cock was so hard that you couldn't even imagine how it would fit.

You didn't want to, but what choice did you have?

You opened your mouth and he pushed himself past your lips with a groan. The tip scraped against your tongue, soft as velvet and tasting like the sea.

He let go of his dick and tangled his hand in your hair, pushing your head lower. Until the tip brushed the back of your throat. You gagged, shivering all around him.

"God, your mouth is fucking heaven sent."

He pulled out slowly, until it was just the tip sitting in your mouth.

"Are you gonna join me or what?"

The other gunslinger snorted.

"Fucking impatient. You gotta treat a lady gentle on her first time."

You heard the rustle of clothing behind you, and the hand that was playing with your cunt came to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the flesh for a good grip.

Your cunt felt cold without his touch, but his fingers were quickly replaced with his cock. The head nudged at your entrance, hot enough that you could practically feel it radiating. The leaking pre mixed with the sticky come already on your lips, thin strands of white pulling and breaking as he settled himself against you.

You wanted to say something, anything, to make them stop, but the gunslinger still had his dick in your mouth.

"Hmmm. Nice and warm and I ain't even pushed inside yet."

"Ain't she? Like she was made for us."

His hand slid from your hair to you jaw, thumb tracing your cheek. He could see the bulge of his cock against your cheek - it made you look a little chipmunk getting all cozy and ready for winter. Your tears were caught on your lashes, silver dew drops like you just took a swim.

"You heard me, baby? You're made for us. Made to fuck us and keep us happy. Our little lady."

They both pushed into you at the same time.

Thick cock bullying into you, trapping you between them with nowhere to go. You wanted to scream, but you couldn't. You couldn't even think. Couldn't even breathe.

The green eyed cowboy pulled on your leash and forced you to tilt your head back, bare your throat to him. He pushed deeper into you, until his dick was down your throat and your nose was brushing the hard muscles of his stomach.

He held you there, cock down your throat and tears collecting in your eyes, while his partner started thrusting.

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't pull away, couldn't fight him. You could just look up at him, eyes all wide and scared. Your panic was thick in your blood and he drank it in.

Smirking, keeping you at his mercy. He knew you couldn't breathe, and he still held you on his cock.

Your heart was racing and you felt light headed before he finally pulled out. You gasped, thick strings of spit connecting you. He only gave you enough time to catch a few deep breaths before he was back in your mouth, thrusting. Going just as deep but thankfully pulling out.

You gagged and choked and felt like you were drowning on his cock. And all the while, his partner yanked you back and slammed balls deep into you.

It was too much. You couldn't focus on anything. You were limp in their hands, letting them fuck you and just trying to survive it.

You weren't sure how long it took. Your whole world was narrowed down to just them - their hands on you, getting tighter and meaner the closer they got to coming.

The one fucking you from the back let go of your hip and curled his whole arm around your waist, leaning over you until his lips were on your neck. Fucking you hunched over like a dog in heat.

He bit your shoulder, sunk his teeth in with a snarl.

They didn't talk much anymore. There weren't any words left. Just the need to fuck and claim and come.

The sounds were the worst. The slick squelching of a cock in your cunt, the slap of skin on skin, the heavy snarls for you to take it like a good girl. And their raspy breathing, like stallions after a gallop.

The gunslinger pulled harder on your leash, keeping you still while he fucked your face. He's teeth were gritted tight, his eyes narrowed and focused entirely on you.

The dark one must have hit something deep inside you, because you made a whining, moaning sort of noise that vibrated all through his cock.

That was what did it. He forced his cock all the way down your throat, held you in place while he came.

When he pulled out, you were coughing so hard your whole chest ached.

That's when you felt it - hot spunk splattering all over your asshole. Your whole body shuddered at the feeling.

The man behind you kissed your back between your shoulder blades and slowly moved down. When he came to your ass cheeks, he sunk his teeth in with a playful growl.

He flipped you onto your back, and you sunk bonelessly down onto the covers. Your nipples were tender and your neck was a patchwork of marks.

The dark skinned one flopped down next to you and threw a possessive arm around your waist. He hummed, pleased as a bear before winter.

"Best fuck I've had in ages."

His partner was silent, his fingers toying with the belt still around your neck. You tilted your head back to look at him.

He was smiling, not soft exactly but about as close as a cruel bastard like him could get. He was so handsome, when he wasn't trying to choke you.

He sighed and let his fingers drift up your cheeks.

"I wish we could stay, pretty. But the day ain't done just yet."

The other one grumbled. "Can't we just lay here for a bit? I've got my girl all nice and snug. Why should I let her go?"

"Boss's orders, that's why. We gotta play nice and share."

"Why? Those bastards don't deserve her."

"And we do?"

He didn't bother to answer, just pushed himself to his elbows and looked down at you. His eyes were a deep brown. Sweet, almost.

"No," he said quietly, "We don't."

He leaned down and kissed your cheek. Soft, like a husband would. He stood and only looked back at you when he was at the door. Hard man, killer and gunslinger that he was, you thought you saw just a little guilt in his eyes.

When he was gone, the green eyed gunslinger ran his hands through your hair.

"He's right, y'know. We don't deserve a girl like you."

There wasn't any guilt in his voice, just a deep sense of satisfaction.

"But we've got you anyway. If the world gave folk what they deserved, you'd never have been so unlucky to catch our eye in the first place."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your other cheek, and then nipped at your jaw. A coyote savouring a bone.

"You'll learn to take it, sweetheart. And when I'm done, you'll learn to like it."

He left his belt around your neck and let the door slam shut behind him.

You could hear when they joined the others out in the yard. Their laughter drifted up to you, sharp as a wild dog's bark.

You closed your eyes. On your back in nothing but your stockings and a leash. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd ever imagined as a possibility. Hell, a lot of today was filled with things you'd never even thought about.

You hurt in just about every place. But parts of you throbbed with a pain that wasn't entirely unwanted.

Traitorous body, traitorous mind.

You couldn't possibly like this. You were being used by criminals, killers. Your virginity was just another prize for them to steal. You were a good girl, raised in a good home with upright, moral parents. You weren't some lady of the night, some harlot, to enjoy their roughness.

Right?

When the door sighed open, you didn't even bother to open your eyes.

"These young ones don't know any gentleness, eh beauty?"

His voice was calm. The sort of soft tone you'd use with a filly still nervous 'bout the bit.

You could hear his footsteps. Heavy boots but no spurs.

You flinched when he touched the belt around your neck, but he didn't do much more than run his fingers across the leather.

"Let's get this off you. Idiots. You don't harness a creature so fine."

He pulled it off your neck carefully and then touched the bruises it left behind.

"Open your eyes for me, beauty. Let me see you."

You almost didn't. What more was there to see? Another man with too tight hands and a hunger that wouldn't end?

It was his voice that did it. So kind. No growl behind the words, no clenched teeth snarl.

The first thing you saw were his eyes. A dark hazel, like an eagle's.

"Ah, just as pretty as I thought. Do you want to sit up for me? Those ropes must be hurting something awful by now."

He was older than you, but not by too much. Older than the gunslingers, but not nearly as old as the boss. His hair was tied in braid that fell almost all the way down his back. Lakota, if you had to guess, or maybe Crow.

There was a pair of workman's gloves shoved in the pocket of his jeans, but he didn't carry a pistol. The wrangler most likely.

You sat up slowly, wary. He didn't seem awfully worked up about a naked woman sprawled on the bed in front of him. Maybe he wasn't so bad...

He untied your hands without letting his own wander.

You flexed your fingers and carefully brought your hands to your lap. Your shoulders ached from being stuck in one position for so long.

"Will you let me go?"

"Oh, beauty." He touched his knuckles to your cheek. "That's what you want, isn't it? To go back home?"

"Yes." Your throat felt tight with tears. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes.

"It hurts to see you cry, beauty. It hurts to see these marks on you. But even if I was the only one holding you back, even if it was entirely up to me... I wouldn't."

"Are you going to do the same thing as the rest of them?"

He held your face in his palms, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. He smiled, but it was awfully sad.

"It's been real long time since I've had a woman, beauty. And never one so fine. I'm still just a man."

You were crying again, though you didn't realise it. Tears washing hot over his fingers.

"Shhh." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'll be gentle. I won't hurt you."

He undid his belt slowly, eyes on you the entire time. You were on your knees again, your stockings making you look oh so innocent and oh so filthy all at once.

He grabbed your hand before he took his cock out. You pulled away, but his grip was too strong. Not rough, not hurting you. Just too firm to escape.

He brought you hand to his crotch, pressed your palm against his cock. Even through the thick denim of his jeans, you could feel how hard it was.

"All your doing, beauty. That's all your fault."

He undid the last button and his dick pushed it's way free. Big and no less intimidating for being the second one today. His fingers were knotted between yours and he dragged your hand up his shaft. He sighed, a man finally getting release.

"Here, this will go faster if you use your mouth."

His other hand came to rest on the nape of your neck. Not forcing you down exactly, but heavy, inexorable. Trying to refuse him was like fighting the pull of the moon.

He didn't force himself into you like the gunslinger did. Just kept using your hand - still dry - to stroke himself.

"Come now beauty. Just a little lick and it will all be over. You want that, don't you?"

You did. You wanted this day to end.

You cautiously licked the head of his cock, your tongue almost blistering hot. He groaned and for just a second, the hand on your nape tightened. Like he really did just want to pull you onto him and have his own way.

"There you go. Not so terrible, is it?"

It wasn't. He tasted salty, but not in an unpleasant way. And hearing him groan like that made some part of your gut flutter.

You felt just a little braver. When he pulled you closer, you let him. He rubbed the tip against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over them.

You didn't want his cock down your throat. Didn't want to feel like you were choking. But everything he'd done to you so far had been miles different to the gunslingers. Maybe he'd be different in this too.

Slowly, you opened your mouth. You expected him to shove himself inside you, betray the tiny bit of trust he'd built.

He didn't. Instead, he stood perfectly still. He even stopped using your hand, though he kept it wrapped around the base. Just letting you get comfortable. Letting you explore.

It was what your daddy did when he was working to tame a colt. He'd let them get used to him a little at a time, until they didn't mind his touch at all.

You were too nervous to take him in much deeper than the tip. But he didn't complain at all, just watched you with those golden eyes.

You sucked on him. Just the tip, but you wrapped your lips around him and treated it like it was candy. You flicked your tongue across the underside of his head, eyes locked on his to see if he liked it.

And from the way his breathing was picking up, you reckoned he liked it plenty.

Hadn't the gunslinger wanted you to kiss his? Maybe that's what men wanted. You pulled off his cock with a wet little pop and turned your attention to his shaft. You kissed him - small, shy little pecks all the way down to his hand and then back up again.

He was smiling, head tilted. He almost seemed amused.

"So that's how you like it, huh?"

You hummed, not sure how to respond. Both the gunslingers and the boss kept getting faster the closer they were to finishing. Maybe if you used your hand...

He seemed surprised when you moved your palm, but it didn't last long. When he was sure of what you were doing, he let go of your hand and let you do it all by yourself.

There was a lot of friction and you couldn't go as fast as you wanted without yanking on him. You needed some kind of lube, something to make him all slick...

Oh.

Of course.

You licked him, all the way from balls to tip, trying to drool on his cock as much as possible. He shivered, voice getting just a bit tighter.

"Careful girl. You're playing with fire."

You didn't know what he meant. All you wanted was to finish this. Be able to rest and dream sweet dreams, dreams without men's hands on your body.

His cock was wet with your spit and when you started using your hand, it squelched lewdly.

He groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and his thumb tracing your lips.

"Open your mouth for me, beauty."

You did. You couldn't look away from his eyes. That burnished gold like dead man's treasure.

He pressed his thumb against your tongue, ran it over your teeth. He seemed just as captivated by you as you were by him. The men outside were laughing again, voices raised and vulgar. But he didn't for a second look away from you.

He smiled and said something to you in a language you didn't understand.

Your hand was moving a lot faster now that you'd found your stride, your thumb brushing over his slit on every third stroke. The only sign that he was getting closer was his breathing.

At the last second, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his tip against your lips.

Hot spunk shot at you, some of it dribbling down your chin and some of it coating your tongue. He groaned, jaw clenched tight. He was panting like a dog on a hot day, still looking at you like you were the finest thing he'd ever seen.

He pulled his cock away and replaced it with his thumb, smearing his load between your lips and across your teeth. He spoke in his language again, words just a little more forceful than before.

You thought he was done with you. Thought he'd be satisfied with leaving.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed you. One hand was still on your nape and you had no room to pull away.

It was your first proper kiss. He was hungry, his tongue scraping across your teeth. One hand came to rest behind you on the bed, and he slowly forced you down, still caught between his lips and his hand.

He ended up between your legs, still not letting you go even though you were both almost out of breath.

"Beauty," he muttered, lips pressing against on yours.

When he finally broke away, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You were sharing the same air, in that tight little space. And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else the outlaws had done to you.

He was practically lying on top of you, the hand that held your neck now tangled in your hair, and his other at your waist. He held you like a lover would.

A lover. Would you ever have one, if they let you go? Who would want you after your virgin's blood was spilled?

He kissed your cheek, slow and lingering.

"Oh beauty, how can I be so lucky?"

He didn't let you go. Just held you underneath him and laid his head on the side of your neck.

You were tense, muscles all coiled and ready to be hurt. But in his arms, you relaxed a little at a time without even realising it. This man wouldn't hurt you, whatever his reasons were.

His dark hair had come loose from it's braid and you absentmindedly brushed it off his brow. That made him smile just a little.

It had grown quiet outside and the only sound was of the breeze rustling the curtains and his soft breathing.

"How did such a kind man become an outlaw?"

You didn't really mean to ask that. And kind couldn't be applied to him without qualifiers. But in the face of everything that had happened to you, his softness was saintly.

He hummed against your neck.

"Bad luck. Bad people. Having nowhere to go back to. It changes you."

You swallowed, sad though you weren't sure why.

"I'm sorry."

He pushed himself up and looked into your eyes.

"Don't be. You're my reward, my reparation."

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek again. "I've waited my whole life for you."

You wanted to ask why. What made you so special? Why did he want to keep you?

The door opened with a bang.

"Are ya really still busy? That ain't fuckin' fair."

The gunslingers were standing in the door, both of them looking irritated. Your whole body tensed. They couldn't be back so soon, could they?

The wrangler pushed himself to his knees. The way he was sitting, your hips ended up on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He put a hand on your thigh absent-mindedly.

When he looked back at them, any softness in him drained away. He was just another outlaw with hard eyes.

"Is it the boy? Boss is really letting you go through with it?"

"It's 'bout time he became a man. And you're the one who was goin' on 'bout playing nice."

The wrangler sighed and looked back at you. When he spoke, it was just for you to hear.

"I don't want to leave you, beauty. But boss's orders."

He leaned down and kissed you, ignoring the gunslingers' cat calls.

When he stood up, you had half a mind to ask him to stay. You almost reached for him. But the gunslingers were watching you and something in you whispered that showing him favour was a terrible idea. You kept your hands knotted in the sheets. For both your sakes.

When he was gone, you sat up and pushed yourself all the way back to the headboard. Hugged your knees to your chest. You hadn't noticed him earlier, but the gunslingers had a boy with them.

They were half dragging him into the room, one with his hand on the boy's nape and the other with a fist in his shirt.

He was young, barely past eighteen. Slightly built, with pale eyes and bronze curls. He wasn't looking at you. Or more accurately, he was doing everything possible to avoid looking at you.

The gunslingers gave him a rough shove and he landed on the bed, bouncing a little before he pushed himself up.

"Gonna get your first taste of a woman boy, and she's a real fine one."

The green eyed gunslinger leaned over and grabbed your ankle. With one brutal yank, he dragged you away from the headboard and all the way to the foot of the bed.

"Missed me, sweetheart? 'Cause I sure missed you."

He caught one of your wrists and tutted.

"Just like him to let you loose. Fuckin' hell, don't he realise how much easier you are when you're all tied up?"

He knelt with one boot on the mattress and pulled you up, twisting your arm behind your back so you ended up with your head tucked under his chin.

"We was feelin' real bad 'bout hurting you, pretty. So we thought we'd make it up to you. Brought you somethin' you'll really enjoy."

You were skeptical of anything he did. He wasn't the charitable kind.

The boy finally looked at you. His eyes were round, nervous.

"Do... do you want this?"

The gunslinger slapped a palm over your mouth before you could answer him, dragging you closer to him at the same time.

" 'Course she wants it. She'd be fighting a whole lot harder if she didn't. Ain't that right?"

"Would be clawing our eyes out if she really didn't want it," the other gunslinger agreed.

The boy looked rightly skeptical. You were crying an awful lot for someone who "wanted it."

"But..."

The dark skinned gunslinger sighed and grabbed the boy's neck.

"Look at her. You're tellin' me you ain't getting just a little hard seeing her like that?"

"Yes but -"

"But what? You want her. And she's right there for the taking. It ain't complicated."

The man holding you was obviously getting impatient.

"You wanna be a man? Wanna come on jobs with us? Than fucking earn it."

That seemed to decide him. He crawled towards you, just as scared to touch you as you were to be touched.

"What do I do?"

"Open her legs and start eating."

He touched your knee. He gulped, focused entirely on the feel of you. He slowly let his hands drift up your thighs.

When he reached your mid thighs, he tried to pull them apart just a little. You kept your legs as tightly closed as you could. Whatever you tried to say was muffled by the gunslinger's hand, but it was enough to make the boy look up at your face.

You could see it in his eyes. The desire to have you and the horror at knowing this was all forced. In the end, guilt won.

"I can't."

He pulled away from you, his fingers shaking.

"She doesn't want this. How can you hold her down and make her take it?"

The dark skinned gunslinger clicked his teeth in annoyance.

"God, could you be any more pathetic? It don't matter what she wants. All that matters is that you're strong enough to take what you want."

The boy was almost off the bed when the gunslinger grabbed his hair and yanked him back.

"It's a lesson you gotta learn boy. Or you ain't gonna live long in this business."

The boy yelped, hands coming up to try and pull himself loose. You could have told him it was useless - you couldn't escape their hold no matter how hard you fought.

He dragged the boy across the bed and back to you.

The gunslinger holding you could see where this was going and he laughed, mean and mocking.

"Gonna be the hard way, eh?"

His hand dropped from your mouth and curled around your throat. He squeezed, just hard enough to remind you of his strength.

"Be a good little pet and open your legs."

You didn't. Hadn't they done enough already? They'd ruined you. Why not just leave the boy alone?

The gunslinger growled. "Ain't listening so well without my belt around your throat, is that it?"

He twisted your arm further up your back, until your whole shoulder was throbbing. You squirmed, arching against him to get the pressure off.

"Do I gotta teach you a whole new lesson in obedience? I promise I'm a much harder master than the boss."

He let go of you throat and grabbed your thigh, his fingers digging into the meat. His partner was quick to do the same on your other leg. It wasn't any good fighting them. They weren't scared of hurting you and they didn't care if they left bruises.

They wrenched your thighs apart and the gunslinger shoved the boys head between your legs.

"You ain't scared of a lil' blood, are ya? Clean her up nice and good."

The boy looked up at you with tears brimming in his waterline.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't have the boss's skill. His tongue was soft, hesitant. Probing, but totally unsure what to do.

You shivered at the feeling of his lips on your clit, his warm breath tickling your thighs.

The gunslinger growled and pushed him further down, until his nose was grinding into your folds.

"She ain't gonna get away. Use your whole tongue, suck on her, bite. Fuck's sake, do we gotta do everything for you?"

The one at your back laughed and nipped your cheek.

"She wants it though. Just look at those pretty tears."

The boy whimpered but did as he was told, dragging his tongue all the way up. His hands came to rest on your thighs, skin so much softer than the other men's.

His teeth brushed your clit and you gasped. The boy froze.

And then, he did it again.

You shuddered, thighs shaking just a little. He didn't seem to notice it, but his grip on your legs was getting tighter. He focused on the sensitive spot he'd found, raking his tongue across it.

You made another small, involuntary sound.

The man at your back purred. "There. Ain't that sweet to hear?"

The boy started to suck on your clit, tongue hot and wet. He pushed himself deeper, his nose and chin both buried in your cunt. He didn't even notice when the gunslinger let go of his hair.

He curled his arm around your lower back and pulled you closer to him, almost lifting you off the bed. The wet sounds of his sucking filled the room.

The gunslinger let go of you thigh, satisfied that the boy had a good grip on you. He kissed the corner of your lips, his hand coming up to play with your tits.

"Y'know, we never did get to make you come. Can't help wonderin' what you sound like."

You kept your jaw clenched tight. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction.

He must have read your mind, because he chuckled. Pinched your nipple hard enough that you bucked in his grip.

"Oh, you're going to come for us. Ain't that right boy?"

The boy muttered something and went right back to eating you out. You could feel the same heat in your belly as when the boss had you. Like a band about to snap. Every little move was too much, every flick of his tongue on your clit was somehow more intense.

You squirmed, trying everything you could to get him off. The boy ignored you. Just held on a little tighter and pinned you thigh to the bed.

"Please," you whined. "It's too much."

The gunslingers snickered at that.

"Poor darlin'. Does it hurt real good?"

"Don't fight it. Just let it happen. No one will know except us."

"And we're real good at keeping secrets."

The extra mean gunslinger pressed his cheek against yours and looked down at the boy between your legs.

"Don't tell me you're shy. We're real well acquainted by now, ain't we?"

You hated when he spoke to you like that. All sweetly condescending.

The boy wasn't letting up. Just kept sucking your clit and dipping his flexed tongue into your hole, switching from one to the other like he couldn't get enough. Like you were water in the desert and he'd drop dead without you in his mouth.

You fisted the duvet in your free hand, trying to distract yourself. No good. Your body had wants and needs of its own.

You could feel it building and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it.

You threw your head back and bit your lip, but it still wasn't enough. Small whines and gasps slipped through.

Your cunt was clenching, your whole belly a warm knot finally coming undone. It felt better than good.

It felt fucking incredible.

The boy didn't seem to notice. He just kept at it, even though your clit was swollen and aching and bright with blood.

The gunslinger noticed though. You could feel him smiling against your neck.

He tugged at your earlobe with his teeth and then kissed all the way down to your shoulder.

"Maybe we ought to be nicer, if that's what you sound like."

"Like a fox in a trap. Whinin' so nice 'fer us."

Your whole body felt like you touched lightening. And the boy's tongue was the worst if it.

"Please, enough. I...can't..."

The dark skinned gunslinger leaned closer to you, smiling in a way that wasn't nice at all.

"You're so sweet when you beg, filly. Ask politely and I'll get him off you."

You swallowed your pride. What was left of it after today anyway? They'd seen far too much of you for you to hold onto false modesty.

"Please. It's too much. Just make it stop."

Maybe it was your voice or maybe it was your tears or maybe he was just feeling merciful after emptying his balls inside you. He grabbed the boy's hair and hauled him up.

The kid's lips were red and swollen, his whole jaw slick with spit and spunk. He looked dazed, eyes still on the spot between your thighs.

"I'm not done yet. Can't I just..."

"Ain't complaining now, are ya? You see why we went through all that trouble for her?"

He was still holding onto you and he made a half hearted tug to get you closer to him.

"Five more minutes. Please."

The gunslinger scoffed. "You think just 'cause you had a taste you can make demands?"

He pulled the boy's hair and dragged him off the bed. His jeans were bulging at the crotch and his eyes never left you.

"But you said -"

"We said that you'd get a taste. Nothin' more."

The gunslinger holding you spoke up, his lips still pressed against your shoulder.

"You gotta earn it boy. Our girl ain't gonna be wasted on some greenhorn."

"Gonna have to make do with your fist, like the rest of us had to."

When the boy was off the bed, the gunslinger let go of your arm and shoved you forward. You landed on your forearms, your body sprawled in front of him.

He planted a hard smack on your ass and leaned over you, lips brushing your hair.

"You'd better dream about me sweetheart. Better feel me in your mouth when you close your eyes."

His fingers swiped across your cunt, rough and probing. You winced at the feel of him.

"Or else I'll just have to fuck you so hard the memory is burned into your mind."

You looked over your shoulder, eyes catching his for just a second. Long enough to realise he meant every word of his threat. He smirked, satisfied.

He stood and grabbed the boy by his upper arm. Together with his partner, they bundled him out the door. Business all finished, eh?

You sagged into the bed and watched them leave, your cunt still pulsing when you moved. You were exhausted and you looked it, too tired to push yourself up.

A hand caught the door before it closed.

Another one? How much more were you supposed to take?

The newcomer nudged the door back open and stood there for a minute, watching you. He had a bowl of water in his hand, a wash rag thrown over the side.

You hadn't seen his face before, but you recognised him. The tall, well spoken one who made you ride on his horse.

He was dressed better than most of the others. A black, silk waist coat and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A silver cross dangled on a chain around his neck.

It made you want to laugh. What God could he worship, when he was a sinner so black?

"Hello dove."

You didn't answer. Just watched him with your cunt fluttering and your lips bruised.

He was the palest out of them all, skin more like a scholar's than a cowboy's. He had black hair, as long as the gunslinger's, but tied back. He was probably Chinese, but born on this side of the Pacific. His accent was almost the same as yours.

He walked towards you slowly. Not nervous, but more like he was worried about spooking you.

He put the bowl of water down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, half facing you.

"It must hurt."

You stayed quiet. What did he know of hurt? He wasn't the one being held down and fucked.

He nodded at the bowl. You hadn't noticed it, but the water was a milky white.

"That's to clean you up. I reckon they left a few more cuts and scrapes than they intended."

You found your voice. Smaller, meeker than you remembered.

"Why do you care?"

"You think we don't care?"

You blinked. Of course you thought that. What else was there to think? They were outlaws who took you to satisfy themselves for an afternoon or two. What more could there be?

He laughed, but it was a bitter thing.

"Oh, qīn’ài de. If we didn't care, you'd still be a free woman."

You didn't understand what he was getting at. He sighed and reached for your ankle.

You jerked away. You didn't want to be touched ever again. Not by a man, not by anyone.

He sighed again.

"Don't be difficult. I want to help you."

"Why?"

He was quiet. Just watching you with his dark eyes. There was something familiar about him, though you couldn't tell what.

Finally, "You don't remember me."

You were in no frame of mind to care about his feelings.

"No."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on his knuckles. Like a man at prayer. He turned his head a little to speak to you.

"It's been a long time, but you saved my life once."

You frowned, totally blank.

"You were still just a girl. Thirteen or fourteen maybe. I'd just turned twenty, part of a gang for the first time and too damn cocky."

He rubbed the skin just above his thumb. There was an ugly scar there, the skin still raised and puckered after all these years.

"Our heist went wrong. Sherrif and his deputies were waiting for us. I got shot. Not so bad that it would kill me, but bad enough that I couldn't make it home."

You couldn't see where this was going.

"Ended up in a barn, bleeding everywhere. I heard footsteps and I thought for sure I was done for. That the rancher was going to blow my brains all over the wall. But it wasn't him that found me."

You sat up slowly and ended up on your knees, your back to him. You thought you understood now, but you let him keep speaking.

"Wasn't him, but his daughter. Dropped the milk when she saw me but she didn't scream. Just came over and asked how she could help me. Me. A wanted man who'd just killed six deputies."

You didn't know that part of the story. All you remembered was the hot summer sun slanting through the cracks in the barn, and the young man bleeding out in the hay. You remembered him digging the bullet out and asking you to stitch him up, his face going all pale.

You closed you eyes and it was like you were right back there, hiding him in the hayloft and telling your pa the blood on your dress was from killing a chicken.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Because you looked scared. And because I was a little in love with you."

That probably wasn't the answer he was expecting. You pulled in a shuddering breath.

"You were older than me, but still so young. The most handsome man I'd ever met. You told me you got shot by mistake, and not to tell anyone because it would get your little brother in trouble."

You could hear a smile in his voice.

"And you believed me?"

"Yes. Why would you lie to me? Outlaws were just a thing from stories. And I suppose I wanted to believe you. You told me I was going to be really pretty someday, that you'd have to come back and marry me. No one had ever said anything like that to me."

He hummed. "You really thought I was handsome?"

"Yes."

He still was, but he had none of the sweet, boyish softness you remembered. He was handsome in a hard, dangerous way. Diamond rough. You could cut your skin on the sharpness of him.

"But what does that have to do with anything? Why...why do this to me, if you owe me your life?"

He sighed and reached for you. He hooked his arm around your waist and dragged you onto his lap.

"I kept checking in on you over the years, do you know that? Every time I was near your ranch I'd ride out and look for you. Always watching."

"Why?"

"I felt like I owed you. I wanted to make sure you were fine. And when you got older...well, I just liked looking at you."

You shivered. There was something in his voice, a longing far deeper than anyone of the other cowboys'.

"Will you let me go when you're done?"

He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe that would be the merciful option. But we aren't merciful men."

He pulled your head onto his shoulder when you started crying.

"You're going to stay with us, qīn’ài de. For a very, very long time."

"Why now? Why..."

His hand was soft in your hair, his voice even softer.

"You're young, lovely, a rancher's only child. How much longer 'til your pa started to consider marriage? And who would come knocking on his door? No, I couldn't loose you to them."

"You're the one..." you tried pulling away but he kept you still, head against his shoulder.

"Me," he agreed, "I'm the one to blame for this. And even knowing that, I wouldn't take it back."

"The others..."

"Brutes, aren't they? But they're my brothers. And once they saw you, they wanted you too."

He said he couldn't loose you to another man, but that didn't make any sense.

"If that's true, why did you let the others..." You swallowed, not sure how to go on.

"Why did I let the others have you first?"

You nodded. He played with the cross on his necklace. Finally, he spoke.

"Because I want the most time with you."

He pulled away to look at you and you realised how wrong you were. It wasn't that he didn't feel any lust for you, it was just that he hid it far better than the rest of them.

But now... oh, his was the worst you'd seen. Boiling hot, on the end of its tether. This was a man who wanted you. Who'd spent years wanting you.

He laid a palm on your thigh.

"They got you for an hour each maybe. But I'm going to have you all night."

#Poly yanderes #Yandere Cowboys #Yandere Wild West #Yandere outlaws #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere lemons #yandere noncon #male yandere #yandere x darling

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mistyorchid · 7 months ago

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Meet-Cute

Old Man!Logan x fem! reader

summary: Failed talking stages inspire you to meet someone irl. Riding an older man in the backseat of his limo makes you forget about the immature boys who ghosted you on Hinge. Ch. 2 Ch. 3 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, fingering, riding, size difference, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, light slapping, oral (male!receiving), creampie, car sex (nobody's around tho), logan's slutty glasses. wc: 3k

Hinge. The app designed to be deleted. You smiled as you pushed the cart, daydreaming about chucking your phone into the nearest lake. The few matches that you received often ghosted you after a week, afraid of committing to a real date.

So here you were, aimlessly strolling through a grocery store. Desperately begging the universe for a real man.

You spent an embarrassingly long time curating the perfect outfit to attract a guy worth your time. Casual enough for a quick errand, but still chic. I want to be with someone who admires my confidence. They shouldn't reprimand me for expressing myself.

That's how the feminist part of your brain explained your attire. The other touch-starved half, however, wanted to wear the shortest skirt you owned just to feel men stare holes through it.

You turned into the bakery aisle and pretended to evaluate the nutritional contents of a massive chocolate cake. Maybe this could be plan B, if tonight's endeavor was hopeless.

The comforting hum of fluorescent lights softened the sterile environment around you. Memories of simpler times floated in your mind. Handmade school lunches. Gentle kisses placed on your knee after a bad fall. You closed your eyes, lulled by the promises of love you were granted as a child. Now an adult, you yearned for a partner that could nurture you in a romantic way.

Logan overheard a bag of produce spill onto the floor as he picked up a shopping basket. The cashier dropped it when he saw Logan's blood-stained dress shirt.

Mumbling a string of profanity, he decided to release some steam. "Show's over!" he snapped, flippantly tossing his right arm behind him.

Ignoring the shocked gasps of the other shoppers, Logan sulked further into the store in search of something to soothe his palate.

His doctor tentatively ordered him to "lay off the booze," a suggestion that left three deep puncture wounds in the drywall of his office. Alcohol numbed the emotional and physical pain that plagued him, but it also further delayed his healing powers.

Logan's skeleton was withering away, and all he wanted was a fucking sweet treat.

Your body braced for impact as your chest made contact with a shopper haphazardly turning into the aisle. After dropping the cake onto the pristine white tile, you closed your eyes again, salvaging the moment of peace that was stolen from you.

"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole." You reluctantly opened your eyes and were met with the solid torso of a man.

Slowly raking your gaze up his body, you raised your eyebrows at the sight of his bloody shirt before meeting his narrowed eyes.

Crows feet radiating from the corners. Prescription glasses. He appeared much older than you expected from your brief contact with his chest.

You silently cursed your luck. This meet-cute plan was steadily evolving into a meet-angry situation.

"Not smart to close your eyes in public," he huffed, staring pointedly at the fallen cake. It was hard not to notice your mini skirt. He hasn't seen a skirt that short since the 60s.

Although you had pulled away from him, the man's eyes lingered on your chest. The playful baby-doll top hugged your cleavage in all the right places. Your glossy lips donned a similar shade of pink. He quickly resumed eye contact, feeling like a dirty old man for imagining them wrapped around his cock.

She's too young, you sick fuck. Logan's internal monologue worked overtime to maintain a shred of decency.

Your face turned away from him at the impending embarrassment you were about to put yourself through. Smirking, you shyly retorted, "Not smart to stare at a girl's tits in public." You gently pushed up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

Closing the gap between your chests, you tip-toed to reach his ear before whispering, "It's okay . . . I want you to."

The answer to Logan's suffering was sweeter than any slice of cake he could have indulged in. A pretty little thing was actually flirting with him, a cynical ex-soldier worn by the unforgiving rings of time.

Logan's hands found the back of your elbows and slowly pulled you closer to him. You gasped as you felt his belt buckle catch on the flimsy fabric of your top.

"Careful, doll," he grunted, leaning down to meet the side of your face. "I'm old enough to be your father."

You defiantly peered up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, and . . .?"

The man slowly distanced himself from you, gently tugging the hem of your top down to its original state.

Okay, definitely not the best response to seduce an older man. You chewed the inside of your cheek, stunned by your juvenile comeback.

"I'm sorry, kid. Forget I said anything," he muttered before turning into another aisle. He mentally kicked himself for letting the interaction go that far. Although his aching body and mind yearned for some relief, he wouldn't take advantage of some young girl.

He hurriedly stomped past the cashiers, swiping a few cigars from a distracted employee's station.

After the initial shock wore off, you quickly followed the older man to the parking lot. Totally not stalker-ish at all, right?

You wanted to take care of him. His reluctance to return your lust-sick gaze should have deterred you, but it only made you more desperate.

You watched as his hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The chipper click of the limo doors unlocking motivated you to get his attention.

"Hey! Can we talk?" You yelled, raising an outstretched palm to stop him from getting inside the car.

Logan froze at the sound of your voice. He contemplated being responsible, slamming his door and driving off without a second glance.

The gentle pressure of your hand wrapping around his wrist made him think extremely irresponsible thoughts.

Turning around to meet your gaze, the older man swiftly opened the passenger door. "Get in. Now," he growled.

Words betrayed you. All you responded with was a surprised squeak as he used your grip on his wrist to push you further into the vehicle.

His eyes widened as you briefly parted your thighs to get settled in the lush leather seat. The sinfully short hem of your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear.

Logan whipped his head to the front of the limo, avoiding the sight of your body. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid how you felt against his. You sat at an angle towards him, knees pressing against his thigh. His body tensed as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why were you following me, huh?" he asked, finally meeting your eyes. "I've had a long fuckin' day and I need answers." He couldn't believe that a young woman like you would be interested in him.

"Yeah, you're old enough to be my father, maybe older-" you paused to move your left hand onto his thigh. "-but I'm done playing with boys." You shyly turned your head before continuing, "Need a real man."

Logan was done holding back. Now, it all made sense. Your lack of direction in the store, the low cut of your outfit that was way too sexy for a late night grocery run. We're both adults, he reasoned. She wants this.

He gingerly cradled your jaw with his large hand, turning your head towards his. "You sure about this, sweetheart?

You covered his hand with your own, bringing your lips to his in a spontaneous kiss. "I-I need to hear you," he stuttered.

"Shut up and fuck me, . . . " you sighed, pausing to ask for his name.

"Logan . . . call me Logan, doll." His left hand snaked around your waist, bunching the delicate material and exposing your breasts.

As you leaned into his palm, he fished the limo keys out of his pocket and clicked twice, locking the doors. He fondled the underside of your tits before rolling the sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You were grateful for the tinted windows that shielded your embarrassing moans from the public.

"Already whining for me, hm? So fuckin' needy," he hummed, pushing up your top even further. You crossed your arms to undress, but Logan swatted them away, explaining, "It's cute. Wanna see your tits bounce for me, baby."

He gripped your ass with both hands and effortlessly swung you onto the broad expanse of his lap.

Your back arched as his rough palm cupped your pussy, thumb languidly tracing your sensitive bud through the cotton.

"But this . . . has to go," he drawled, tugging the elastic of your panties before letting it go with a faint snap.

It was too much. You were splayed over the lap of a stranger, hips wantonly rocking yourself over his prominent bulge and mewling as your sensitive clit caught on the rough fabric of his slacks.

He stilled your movements with his hands, lovingly kneading the flesh of your hips. "You okay with this?" he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. "Yeah, Logan . . . more than okay. Need you."

You loved that he was confident enough to take what he wanted but also gracious enough to check in, unlike the boys you were used to fucking around with.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your skirt and panties, skillfully pushing your legs against your chest as he pulled them off. He decided against slicing them off with his claws, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck. You're so pretty. My sweet, sweet girl . . ." he cooed. You whined as your aching cunt was finally exposed to Logan's hungry gaze and the chill night air. He groaned as you resumed desecrating his lap with your juices.

Your breath hitched as Logan traced two fingers along your bottom lip. You granted him access, playfully darting your tongue around his digits.

After his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he used your saliva to gently trace your hole, noticing the faint flutter of your walls.

"Need me to fill you up, hm? Poor baby's clenching around nothing. Let me fix that . . ." Logan's palm brushed against your clit as his fingers plunged into you, setting a steady pace.

You were incredibly wet, but he needed to prep you for his thick cock. He drooled, collecting a heavy wad of spit onto his tongue before letting it fall onto your pussy.

"Ah-ah!" You exclaimed, surprised by the contact. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing at the lewd feeling of his spit mixing with your wetness.

He used his other hand to slap repeatedly against your puffy folds, mesmerized by how vulnerable you were being for him.

"Yeah, you like that?" He whispered, curling his fingers as they met your cervix. You covered your mouth, desperately trying to maintain some modesty. Logan withdrew his left hand to pry away your arm and swallow your moans, sloppily slotting his lips into yours.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt your cunt spasm around his fingers, gushing all over his tight slacks.

"Oh, fuck! Logan . . . " you mewled, biting his lower lip while he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

Your head fell into the inviting crook of his neck, nuzzling his graying beard. "Atta girl, come for me," he cooed.

Logan peered down at you, noticing wet droplets dampening his beard. You were silently crying, tears cascading down your puffy cheeks before landing on his face.

At first, he was alarmed. "Hey, hey, shhhh," he purred. "What's the matter, doll?"

His cock twitched when he realized you were smiling against his neck.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan . . . you make me feel so good, that's all."

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Yeah? Want me to make you feel even better? Fill you up for real this time?"

You nodded dumbly, still basking in the haze of your release.

"Nuh-uh. Words." The simple command made you rut into his lap.

You shuddered while responding. "Wanna feel you inside me. Need your-" Logan bucked up into you. "-cock."

He slid his hands under your thighs, briefly pushing you forward so he could unbuckle his belt. Your small hands slinked toward his waist. "Let me do it," you pleaded, hastily sliding his belt through its loops and tossing it to the floor.

You pulled his cock out of his slacks, leaning down to press sweet little kisses to the head. Your thighs burned with the effort, but it was worth it to feel him momentarily lose control. Logan hissed sharply, "Good girl, fuck-" before guiding his thick cock into your heavenly mouth.

You licked a prominent vein that teased its way above his waistband. The taste of him was utterly intoxicating. You moaned onto his length, choking back tears as he suddenly thrust up into your eager throat.

The delicious weight of his cock on your tongue was short-lived. He cupped your face, forcing your mouth to slide past the tip with an obscene pop.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, doll. Takes a lot less to get me riled up these days," he explained.

You nodded as you straightened yourself, using your knees to hover above his lap. He teasingly ran the flushed tip of his cock through your folds before sinking into your weeping pussy.

"Oh my god! fuck-" you cried, lowering your hips to embrace his full length. Your hands found stability on Logan's shoulders as you bounced on his cock.

Logan stared in awe at your tits. They were practically spilling out the sides of your cute top, jiggling with each movement of your hips.

As he admired your form, you drunk in the sight of his coarse salt and pepper beard. His wiry glasses barely held onto the slope of his strong nose due to your eager movements. You paid special attention to his crimson-stained shirt, wondering how he was enduring the wounds.

"You're hurt." You stated, pausing to slowly unbutton his dress shirt.

Logan's hands grabbed a handful of your ass and slammed you down onto his lap, forcing you to continue taking his cock.

"Never said you could stop," he huffed. "It'll take time, but I'm healing."

You gasped as your clit hitched on the bunched fabric of his slacks, frantically shrugging off his shirt in the process. A devastating moan ripped from Logan's throat as you peppered kisses on his wounds. The coppery taste of his blood was oddly soothing, reminding you that the man buried in your cunt was real and not just a figment of your lust-fueled imagination.

Logan loved how dazed you looked, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, your pupils dilated and glossy. His cock twitched every time your soft tits brushed against his face. You whined as the steady rhythm of your hips faltered, hinting at your imminent release.

"Lean forward, baby. Let your old man take care of you," he sighed, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to slump forward, arching your back and playfully wiggling your ass in the air.

You yelped as he slapped your ass with enough force to feel the sting radiate from his outstretched palm. "Such a fuckin' tease," he growled, filling you up in one thrust. He set a punishing pace that made you sob into his chest. The loud squelches of your release echoed throughout the limo, mirroring your high-pitched wines.

"Oh, my god! . . ." you mewled, savoring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. Your breath hitched every time his hips met yours, balls slapping against the sensitive skin of your ass.

He fucked up into your cunt, relishing the fact that you'd probably never had a cock as big as his. Logan stared at where you were connected, hypnotized by the subtle drag of your folds along his rugged length.

"Don't know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you." His teeth tugged on the delicate strap of your top, exposing your breasts. His mouth enveloped the bud, gently sucking and pulling as they hardened.

"Logan . . . can't take it anymore. I'm close." You clenched around him, earning another hard slap on your ass.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart, hm?" He somehow increased his pace, hips drilling into your sensitive cunt. "C'mon, come all over my cock. Such a sweet young thing, so eager to please . . . " he hummed into your ear.

"And just so we're clear, I am definitely older than your father." His filthy words made you arch even higher, stilling your hips mid-air and allowing Logan to fuck you through your release.

The sound of you faintly chanting his name as you came sent him over the edge. "You can take it," he encouraged as your pathetic whines intermingled with his unabashed groans. His hips drove home, bouncing you harshly against his tense thighs and spilling into you with a low growl.

You almost blacked out at the feeling of his cum spurting into your walls, reaching even further when Logan buried his cock to the hilt. You clenched around him, overstimulated and thoroughly fucked.

"That's it, just relax . . . You look so pretty milking my cock," he praised, brushing stray hair away from your face.

You managed to sit upright and shakily moved to lift yourself off his cock, but Logan quickly steadied your hips. He's still hard, you realized, fascinated by his renewed vigor.

He panted, obviously just as spent as you were.

"So, uh, tomorrow, the Italian place on fifth street, 8 PM?"

You narrowed your eyes, incredibly confused at his choice of words after experiencing the best sex you've ever had.

"Our first date," he clarified. He kissed your cheek and you blushed at the contrast between the innocent action and the fact that his hard cock was still buried in your cunt. "After all, I'm a real man, right? And real men plan dates." He plastered on a cocky grin, repeating your earlier statements.

"Okay, old man. It's a date." You smiled, kissing his mouth with passion.

an: Ah!!! I had so much fun writing this. Old Man Logan, when will it be my turn >:[

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enigmaris · 4 months ago

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Danny Kills the Joker AU

Danny is on the run in gotham, as you do in dpxdc fics. His parents are dead and he is trying to stay out of Vlad's custody. Gotham has plenty of ectoplasm to hide his ecto signature. It also has a high enough population of homeless people that no one would even notice Danny just showing up.

He's been living rough in gotham, mostly sticking to Crime Alley and The Narrows, sleeping in abandoned buildings or in relatively clean parts of the sewer system. He eats what he can find and does his best never to be seen.

Not good enough since he along with like 30 other street kids get picked up by joker goons and tied up. Joker is planning an explosive party for the city to watch and he needed guests. Joker literally set up bombs of joker gas around the city that will go off and send the entire city into pandemonium, killing millions. The only way to stop the bombs is to kill his guests (homeless kids from Crime Alley) which the city can vote on. Kill themselves or kill kids.

Danny is sitting at the edge of the group, listening as Joker televises his new plan to the entire city.

He really, really hates clowns.

He is also not gonna let this guy kill all of these kids. He may not be a hero anymore but those protection instincts didnt die with his parents.

And also fuck that clown.

He phases through his bonds, and then starts asking the various kids to borrow their hat, gloves, and scarf. Gotham street kids take one look at this out of town kid and mentally wish him luck while planning out his funeral. They keep on acting terrified because as stupid as this kid is being, they're not snitches either.

Danny puts on the borrowed clothes to hide his face and hair. He can't be identified, or Vlad is gonna be on his ass tomorrow. Once fully covered he gets up and into view of the camera. The Joker notices him, turns around to laugh and jeer at him. Probably shoot him for being impolite and interrupting him. Danny doesnt even pause just walks right up to the clown and coldcocks him.

Based on the sound of bones snapping Danny admits he might have punched a little too hard. Danny checks the Jokers pulse and immediately panics. Danny has Batman levels of fear around killing and he is panicking about becoming Dan.

"Holy Shit I killed him!" He says, to the entire city because the camera is still rolling.

Cue:

Danny running for his life, trying to hide away from his fear and guilt.

Red Hood becoming like his dad and drawing up mental adoption papers

Harley Quinn also drawing up adoption papers, paper ones, while Poison Ivy changes their home's 'no boys allowed' banner to 'son boy allowed'

Jokers goons trying to find Danny to kill him for killing their boss

City wide pandemonium as the jokers death is confirmed and people are partying in the streets, the mayor is planning on giving the street kid who did it the key to the fucking city

The batfam trying to find Danny to protect him from Jokers Goons (Bruce is third in line for custody not that he knows he is gonna have to fight both Harley and Jason for the honor)

The crime alley kids are still not snitching on the kid who saved them. Anyone who asks them about Danny only respond with 'what are you a cop? Fuck off pig'

Vlad Masters, as someone who has been punched by Danny, immediately recognizes the punch and flies to Gotham to find his wayward 'son'.

Vlad even meets with Brucie Wayne to ask for help in finding Danny. Bruce gets bad vibes from Vlad and is even more invested in finding Danny. The boy has dark hair, blue eyes, and a tragic orphan backstory. Its fate!

Danny meanwhile is hiding in some sewer somewhere breathing into a paper bag as he panics about becoming a world ending threat.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny kills the joker #danny and bruce are in a competition over their guilt complexes #impossible to tell who will win #jason is like 20 and ready to be a father #batman #jason todd #harley quinn #dc joker

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queer-cartoons · 1 year ago

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It's not even like I want to go after the vivziep*p girlies, they can enjoy what they want. But god I wish they would tag their hazbin stuff so I could just comfortably blacklist it and never have to look at the headache-inducing clutter of their screencaps again.

#why is everything so red and white and red and white and a little pink and a little yellow and red and white and red #i cant SEE anything in there #i dont plan to ever watch it anyway cause ive heard the notorious tale of how bitchy the creator is about criticism but #God Almighty #good luck girlies i hope you have fun being the TS fandom of the year 2024

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drdemonprince · 6 months ago

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any advice for coping with being on the receiving end of a public callout ?

Oh yes:

Do not acknowledge the callout publicly. It will only further its spread, lend it legitimacy, cause you to be interpreted as guilty, and convey to anyone who bears you ill will that you are rattled and feeling socially threatened.

Do not act out of urgency. One of the ways that cancelled people get themselves in far worse trouble is by spiraling due to anxiety and rushing to issue a statement about what has happened, or to attempt to socially manage public impressions about what has happened. Do not do this. Anything that you say will be picked apart and used against you. The situation is truly not as urgent as it might feel. A lot of times, doing nothing and being quiet is the best way to proceed, and the dust will settle better if you do.

Do not issue a public apology. If you truly feel that you have wronged someone, that conflict should be worked out in private with the people you have directly affected. You do not owe the anonymous public audience a damn thing. Do not apologize for something you don't honestly believe that you have done wrong. Take time and really think about what happened, and seek the counsel of people whom you trust in PRIVATE.

Do not attempt to disprove the callout unless you have crystal clear, smoking gun evidence that the person who accused you is actually victimizing you. And even then, probably don't do it. I have only seen a disproof of a callout work ONCE, and that was when Juniper Abernathy revealed the person cancelling her had been abusing her. Even if the facts are on your side, acknowledging the accusations will only make more people aware of them, give your detractors ground to criticize your every word, and will muddy the waters and make people find the situation confusing and troubling rather than clear.

GET THE FUCK OFFLINE. Delete your social media apps for the time being. Turn off notifications. Turn off DMs requests. Change your settings so that you only ever hear from people you already follow (I do this, on the advice of Philosophy Tube). Get away from the computer.

Connect with IRL friends. When you're wrapped up in a cancellation, the negative opinions of a handful of foaming at the mouth freaks loom way larger than they actually are. And social media dramatically skews our sense of social priorities such that the approval rating of complete strangers starts to seem more important than people we actually know, and trust, and who actually know us. Go get a meal with a buddy. Watch a dumb movie. Talk to your grandma about her plans for her garden. Surround yourself with real people you care about and focus on their life and problems, to help put things in perspective.

Find distracting, active, rewarding activities that bring you out of the digital space and into physical reality. Not everyone is talking about you, not everybody hates you, most people have no fucking clue what has been said about you, and most people do not give a fuck about you (that's good). There are so many areas of life that are completely fucking untouched by what a bunch of social media power users have to say online. Go volunteer to clean up a park, run some errands, take an exercise class, foster a dog, regrout your bathroom, knit a hat. Even if the worst case scenario happens and a cancellation sticks, it's really only among a certain very vocal group of miserable fucking people. There is a whole world around you that will not ever care, and you will have a life outside of this.

Good luck!!

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6toru · 4 months ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

synopsis. after many failed attempts of finding love, the end of your most recent relationship seemed to take the cake. just as you were about to believe that, maybe, romance was simply not in the works for you — fate had different plans, taking in the form of an app called heartchat.

pairing. gojo satoru x fem!reader genre. office au + s2l & smut cw. mature content (mdni), kinda fast-paced, phone sex, voice kink, public sex, rough sex, dirty talk / explicit language, pussy drunk!gojo, big dick!gojo, use of alcohol, annoying ex

wc. 14.6k

author's note. inspired by the manwha 'superstitious nine'! + another one of my top fav works ! enjoy & happy reading everyone <3

Throughout your twenty seven years of living, it was fair to say that you had little to no luck with men, although it was something that you’ve long grown accustomed to, or at least, tried to. Usually, it would’ve been easy to shrug off your misfortunes by telling yourself that you’d only be saving yourself from further disappointment, but nowadays, it’s gotten harder to ignore the vexatious turmoil steadily building up within your chest while you watch all your friends, one by one, get their happy ending and starting their families with their first love. You’d only gotten into three relationships, however none of them turned out successful – your first one being in your last year of highschool and your second being in your first year of college – none of which lasted more than a few months and kiss on the lips was the furthest thing you’d gotten. However, if your first two relationships disappointed you, then your third one would be a complete understatement.

Zen’in Naoya was a man of many facades, and you were a fool to believe that there’d be good in any of them.

Zen’in Naoya, heir of the ZEN corporate, also known as the general manager of your silly office job, was popular amongst the ladies for his good looks and charisma. The mere mention of his name gave a sour taste on your tongue. If you could describe this man in one single word, it would be suffocating. Beneath that charismatic exterior of his was a serpent ready to pounce on his prey when it was the time he deemed as fit.

In your pathetic, desperate attempt to chase after the love that you yearned for, you believed that he loved you. You believed that he loved you despite keeping your relationship a secret, his excuse being that he couldn’t allow himself to be seen romantically with a commoner. You believed that he still loved you when he’d act as if you were invisible as he entertained the other female workers. You believed that he still loved you when he’d sneak jealous glances towards you while you spoke with your other male coworkers. You believed his sweet, empty lies and you always ate them all up as if they were candy. Being with him felt suffocating – the mere idea of being kept as his secret lover, his toy – it was too much for you to bear, wishing for something more with someone who’d easily toss you to the side after playing with your emotions.

A damned fool, that’s what you were. If present you could smack past you, you would’ve and made sure that it left a warm, red print on it, too.

It was about time that you ended things with the Zen’in heir, after being involved with the snake for six months. If someone were to ask you why you hadn’t left earlier, you wouldn’t be able to tell them – not that anyone would ask anyways, your relationship with that man was something that you’d keep to your grave, entertaining him for half a year straight was already too humiliating to bear.

You shook your head rapidly as if it could swat those inappropriate and intrusive thoughts away from your mind. ‘It’s wrong to be thinking about these damn things during your best friend’s wedding, get a grip of yourself!’

Your fingers danced around the empty wine glass, your other palm resting on the sides of your cheeks as your gaze surveyed the reception hall. The music was blaring and you could make out the sight of your best friend, Riko, having the best time of her life dancing with her newly wedded husband. You cracked a small smile at the sight. She looked absolutely beautiful in the gown, and she definitely shone the brightest in the room. She glanced over to you, smiling widely as she blew multiple kisses and hearts your way and you laughed at Riko's adorable burst of energy.

You returned your attention to your empty wine glass, silently contemplating whether or not you should get a third glass.

“Y/N, babe, what are you doing out here drinking alone?” Ren, one of the bridesmaids – and one of your childhood friends, chimed in. You jumped a little at her sudden appearance, and then you followed with a light giggle. “It’s been a while since I drank something, I was honestly craving for some wine.”

“Is it just cravings?” She questioned, leaning towards you with her palm propped against her cheek and she stared at you intently. “You usually don’t enjoy drinking alone when you’re bothered about something. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Am I that easy to read?” You complained jokingly.

Ren rolled her eyes at your response before grinning. “Yes. Now spill.”

“I recently ended things with someone,” you said, keeping it fairly vague. “I just wish I did it sooner, you know? Instead of making a fool out of myself…”

Right after you said that, you could tell that she wanted to know who the mystery man was but she relented. For a minute she stayed silent, and it seemed like she was trying to formulate the right words in her brain and 50 different combinations.

“He already sounds like a pretty shitty guy,” Ren muttered under her breath before glancing back up at you with curious eyes, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you plan on doing next? Like, do you plan on being sad forever or…?”

“Being sad forever sounds good enough to me,” you joked, only to receive a light smack on the shoulder.

“Bad!” Ren laughed before pausing once more. “Anyways, I was just about to ask you if you were okay with trying something new. I think it could, you know, be entertaining for you.”

“New? And what do you mean entertaining—?”

“—Give me your phone, and I’ll show you!”

You were getting curious now. Raising a brow, you handed her your phone and she snatched it away from your grasp while cackling evilly. Minutes later, she handed you your phone and all that you could make out is a bright pink background and a heart in the middle. HeartChat, it reads. “What’s this supposed to be?” You questioned your friend.

“It’s something fun,” she replied, laughing giddily. “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

“This looks a lot like tinder,” you remarked, not looking very convinced with your friend’s words. You weren’t the type to use dating apps, after all.

“I promise you, you’ll be far more entertained.” Ren winked.

The blaring sound of your alarm resonated across the room, and you emitted a heavy, gruff sigh. Seven o’clock, it reads on your bright phone screen. You continued to stare at the screen for a couple more seconds, your body feeling lethargic and overall heavy from fatigue. You shouldn’t have left the reception so late. Groaning in disdain, you forced yourself up from the comfort of your bed and began your morning routine. It was around seven forty five when you finished, and with quick fingers, you grabbed your work ID, wallet and keys and shoved them into your bag before rushing outside your apartment. The walk to the nearest bus stop should take around four minutes, you thought to yourself.

Myriads of thoughts slipped in your mind as you walked closer to your bus stop, ready to consume you whole. You hadn’t seen Naoya for a week already since the day you left him, and needless to say that week had been one of the most peaceful weeks you’ve ever had since stepping foot in that workplace.

Sighing, you sat down on the bench and fixed the hem of your pencil skirt. Glancing at the time on your phone, seven-fifty, it read. The bus should be arriving very soon.

It was eight-ten when you arrived at work, and you rushed across the building — making a beeline towards the elevator.

Just as the elevator was about to close, a hand peeks out through the gaps, thus the elevator opening and it took all your self-control to stop yourself from scowling.

“It’s been a while,” Naoya walked in, feigning a smile. “It’s been a week, Mr. Zen’in.” you returned the smile.

The elevator closes, leaving you confined with the man you desperately wanted to avoid. He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes boring into yours. There was an uncomfortable tension lingering in the thick air. It seemed like he had many things to say to you but he relented, and you’d rather he keep it that way.

You looked away from the man, grabbing your phone in your bag. You pretended to scroll through your phone to pass the time.

After what it seemed like an eternity, the door to your floor opened and you rushed to your desk.

The Zen’in heir followed suit, heading towards his office. You could hear the whispers from your colleagues, theorizing as to where he might’ve gone in the previous week. You continued to set up your desk. You could honestly care less about the man’s business, though.

The rest of the morning was spent with you answering phone calls, typing, printing out papers, organizing files – the usual, might you add. Occasionally you’d stare at Ren’s empty desk and silently make wishes that she’d just appear – you already knew that she was probably having the time of her life sleeping in on her day off.

It was already time for your lunch break, if it weren’t for your two coworkers practically dragging you out of your desk you would’ve actually continued working until evening.

“Y/N, you gonna join us for dinner and drinks next weekend?” Your coworker, Haruto, questioned. You chewed on your lunch silently, thinking of an answer while he and Hirumi. waited with an eager expression. “I’m down,” you replied before teasing your friend, “is it going to be on you?”

“You wish,” Haruto rolled his eyes before taking a bite out of the onigiri he bought from the cafeteria, “boss said that everything’s going to be on him.”

You paused briefly. “That’s a first.”

“Right? This is the first time he’s actually gone out to join us for dinner. All it took was for Emi to invite him and he actually agreed.” Himari added.

A part of you wanted to turn around and tell them that you had plans, but a part of you already knew that there really was no point avoiding Zen’in Naoya. He was your boss after all, and as long as he didn’t give you a hard time at work, you were content. You were sure that even after you ended your questionable relationship with him, he’d still act indifferent. It was already a given that his status and reputation were the two most important things to him, so you convinced yourself that acting as if nothing had happened was the best possible solution.

“Hi,” a sudden voice caught your attention and you quickly glanced up from your meal to meet gazes with Emi, your new colleague. You remembered when she was first introduced, she was immediately loved by everyone due to her kind and bubbly nature despite the young woman being a little clumsy at her job. She appeared shy in front of your presence and she gave you a soft smile. “Can I join you guys?”

“Yes, yes! Come sit with us!” Haruto replied, almost immediately and almost too enthusiastically. Emi took a seat next to him and she exchanged polite greetings with everyone.

“Emi, just curious, how did you manage to bring Mr. Zen’in along? This is actually the first time he’s ever agreed to come join us for dinner and drinks.” Himari asked almost immediately and Emi’s cheeks were flushed a pale pink, surprised at her sudden question. You almost felt bad for Emi, watching her immediately getting put on the spot by your friend. Himari had always been the curious and nosy type, always needing some fresh gossip or anything to satiate her curiosity.

“I didn’t know about that,” she replied, laughing shyly before locking eyes with yours. “When I asked him while we were getting coffee, he agreed immediately. But now that Himari told me that, I’m just as surprised.”

“Also,” Emi said, “Y/N, are you going to come too?”

You nodded your head in response while you took a small sip from your water bottle.

“That’s great!” She clasped her hands together. “This would be both Y/N and Mr. Zen'in’s first time joining for dinner and drinks, then!”

You raised a brow at this. The way she put so much emphasis on you and your boss seemed a little uncanny – and you weren’t going to ignore the way she looked at you when she talked about him, either. You waved it off, though. Perhaps you were overthinking things and still felt somewhat cautious around the topic of your ex — if it was even right to be considered one, as embarrassing as that sounded.

After all, she was the flower of the office.

“Yeah, our Y/N’s been too much of a hard worker.” Haruto added before turning over to you, too. “I’m even surprised that you agreed. Imagine if you didn’t go – that would’ve been the third time this year.”

“She is someone that I look up to a lot,” Emi said briefly, giving you a soft smile. Not long after, she excused herself from the table. You silently watched her figure disappear the farther she walked. You glanced at the time on your phone and you sighed softly, you were going to have to return soon.

It was nearing seven in the evening when you arrived back at your apartment, immediately plopping down onto your couch and grabbing your phone. For several minutes, you boredly scrolled through your phone before you suddenly remembered what Ren had told you last night: “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

After changing into your pajamas and bringing your can of beer with some pork cutlet along with some dessert, you plopped back down on the couch. Opening the app on the phone, you raised your brows at your phone being bombarded with pink hearts before revealing the introduction page.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ WELCOME TO HEARTCHAT ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ if you're looking for a little bit of spice, you have come to the right place! before proceeding with the app, please confirm your age and date of birth: [date] / [month] / [year]

You followed the instructions, and surprisingly, that was all it took for you finish making your profile — if it was even considered to be one. There was no name, no profile picture, or no biography asked. "Interesting," you muttered to yourself as you explored the app.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged.

M 0524454: you married? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

Not even a hello? You decided to ignore the message, taking another sip out of the beer can. You turned the television on, watching a drama that Hirumi once recommended you while you ate your pork cutlet bowl. It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes that you received another text, and this time you could only stare at your screen in pure confusion and disbelief.

M 0497205: ntmy, hoay proceed to chat room? yes | no

"What the hell do those even mean?" You mumbled to yourself, staring at the screen with heavy eyelids as you declined the person's request. Looking at all those abbreviations were about to give you one hell of a headache, combined with the beer.

M 0529485: age? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

"Entertaining, my ass." You muttered as you pressed your cool palms against your flushed cheeks, swiftly declining the person's request to chat. At this point, you were beginning to question why Ren downloaded this app on your phone in the first place. There was nothing entertaining except for the confusing text abbreviations appearing on the screen.

Just as you were about to close the app and call it a night, your phone pinged once more.

M 0337411: Hello. proceed to chatroom? yes | no

'Finally, someone normal." You thought to yourself, your finger hovering over the 'yes' option. 'If this person's not any good, I'll delete the app.'

F 0236113: Hello. M 0337411: Have you eaten dinner, yet?

'Oh, he's polite too!' You grinned, and you got yourself more comfortable on the couch -- laying on your stomach as your feet dangled in the air. You took a bite out of your kikufuku, munching happily as you texted the stranger.

F 0236113: I just had some pork cutlet. What about you? M 0337411: That's funny. I also had pork cutlet for dinner. M 0337411: I'm eating kikufuku right now for dessert. F 0236113: No way. That's crazy because I'm also eating kikufuku. M 0337411: Imagine if we have the same flavour too F 0236113: Okay in three seconds we'll tell each other the flavour of our kikufuku F 0236113: Zunda and cream M 0337411: Zunda and cream M 0337411: It appears we have something in common.

You giggled a little, feeling your cheeks flush even more, unknowing if it was from the beer or from the excitement of clicking so quickly with a stranger -- or both.

F 0236113: Can I ask you something then? F 0236113: Which do you prefer: shoyu or tonkotsu ramen? M 0337411: Tonkotsu. F 0236113: I prefer tonkotsu, too. F 0236113: I promise i'm not copying you. M 0337411: Let me make sure. M 0337411: Do you like dorayaki or warabi mochi? F 0236113: Warabi mochi. Especially with the syrup! M 0337411: Ah, me too. The syrup makes everything better. M 0337411: I wasn't trying to copy you either. F 0236113: Would you consider yourself to be a sweets type of person? M 0337411: I'd consider myself one, yes. I mostly eat sweets because they stimulate my brain. F 0236113: I think sweets also gives me the same effects. M 0337411: You sure you're not copying me this time? F 0236113: I'm not!! M 0337411: Hard boiled egg or soft boiled egg? F 0236113: Soft boiled M 0337411: Soft boiled F 0236113: Hot soba vs cold soba? M 0337411: Cold F 0236113: Cold!

You kicked your legs in the air, giggling. Who could've expected that you'd have so many things in common with a stranger. You continued to text the stranger for what it seemed like an hour, or two. Any remnants of fatigue from work had evaporated like water.

F 0236113: What else do you like? M 0337411: Can I say something a little strange then? F 0236113: Sure, what is it?

The stranger didn't text right away, this time. It was silent on your end for almost two minutes. You were about to open your second can of beer until you heard your phone ping.

M 0337411: I like phone sex. M 0337411: Do you want to try having phone sex with me?

You almost choked on your spit, staring at the screen with wide eyes. If your cheeks had gotten any more hotter, it definitely wouldn't have been caused by the beer at all. Phone sex. Has this man gone mad? Your stomach churned a little and you felt your heart rate steadily increasing. You could only stare at his response, completely flabbergasted. Was this was Ren meant by entertaining?

F 0236113: Sure, why not?

However, it wasn't like you hated it. You were unsure if the main source of your arousal was from the beer or simply from the excitement you felt towards engaging in such acts with a man whose face you've never seen — let alone know their name. Nevertheless, you didn't want to miss this chance.

His response was almost immediate, your phone ringing against the oak table — the sound of the app's ringtone playing repeatedly as you slowly brought your phone to your ear and pressed 'answer'.

"Hello?" A deep, baritone voice filled the silence and you swore if your cheeks weren't burning hot before — they definitely were now. His voice was definitely your type.

"H-Hello," you stammered, an immediate wave of shyness hitting you.

"Your voice," he began, "were you drinking?"

"How did you know?" You questioned him. Was it that obvious?

"You're stalling your words a little bit.” He commented before, a soft laugh leaving his lips soon after.

Stop. Even his laugh is sexy.

“I-Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “your voice sounds really good. It’s cute, too.”

'It's cute, too'

You felt your body heat up even more. Something about his voice made you feel like melting in a pool of your own heat — perhaps it was the way he drags his voice, or perhaps it was because of how deep his voice is, or perhaps it was the way he sounded like he came out of a porno or drama CD — and as much as you hated to admit it, it was so obvious that this stranger had reduced you into a horny and nervous mess.

"I like your voice too," you confessed.

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes."

You could hear the man chuckle a little before speaking again, "You'll hear much more of it very soon."

You blushed even more at his words. Was this man teasing you?

“Then, where are you right now?” He questioned.

“Um, I’m on my couch right now in the living room.” You replied back to the man.

“The couch is pretty boring, don’t you think?”

“What makes you say that? I personally think it’s pretty comfy.”

"I do too, but the space's pretty narrow for you to be thrashing around while I fuck you, no?”

“T-that’s true,” you stammer out. You were really going to melt right there and then.

“Let’s move to the bed, then.”

The moment you stood up from your couch, you thought you were going to fall right back down. You could practically hear your heart beating through your ears, growing louder and louder, as you neared the bedroom.

"Are you nervous?" The man questioned you, the timbre in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Just a little bit," you confessed, "I've never done this before."

"It'll be okay. Just give me the red light, and we'll stop. Sounds good?"

You hummed in response as you entered your room and plopped down your bed.

"I'm guessing you're on the bed now."

"Hm, that's right."

Your ears flushed red when you heard the man’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Well then, want to take your pants off?”

“Actually,” you giggle, “I’m not wearing pants right now.”

“Haah, fuck.” The man groaned from the opposite line. “You’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

“Why won’t you strip out of your shirt then, princess? Do it nice and slow for me.”

You placed your phone down on the nightstand, and you followed the man’s instructions; slow hands the hem of your shirt before you pulled it over your head — you were practically naked now, all that was left were your panties.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice breathless.

“It’s your turn,” you said breathlessly, “to take off your shirt.”

“As you wish.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and pressed it against your ear, you could faintly hear the man unbuttoning his shirt before it dropped down to the ground, and lewd thoughts immediately came rushing into your mind, the heat pooling between your legs becoming even more unbearable.

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“Take off your pants,” you ordered, your voice quiet.

You could hear shuffling on the other end once more, your imagination running wild as the sounds of the belt unbuckling and dropping to the floor resonated in your ear as if it was a mild echo. He must be tall, judging from how long it took off his clothes. You closed your eyes, imagining that you were there with him, watching as he stripped out of his clothes in front of you.

“I’m all naked now,” the man finally said.

A soft moan slipped past your lips almost immediately after he uttered those words, your hips involuntary bucked against the mattress.

“Does my voice turn you on?” He questions you in a teasing tone, but it was evident that he was just as affected as you were.

“Yeah,” you admitted bashfully, your voice breathless.

“Your voice is a huge turn on for me too,” said the man, “turns me on so much that I wanted to things like this the moment I heard your voice.”

How could he sound so composed? You attempted to stifle a small whine — his voice and your imaginations were driving your senses wild. Despite being all alone in your bedroom, you swore that you could feel strong hands trailing their way down your body, travelling lower and lower.

“Now then,” he began, “put your hand in your panties and softly rub your clit for me.”

With shaking hands, you followed his commands in concupiscent obedience, slipping your right hand into your panties and rubbing the sensitive bud with your pointer and middle finger.

“Mhhm, aah.” You were already breathless, despite it merely being the beginning. You could hear the faint noises of the male jerking off in the other line, his soft groans were music to your ears.

“I need more,” you panted, “I wan’ more.”

“Take off your panties, then, and continue rubbing that pretty pussy of yours with more pressure.”

The speed you took your panties off was almost embarrassing, knowing that a stranger — whose name and whose face you’ve never seen before — managed to reduce you into a desperate mess with just his voice. Plopping your back down on the bed, you spread your legs wide as your hand slowly returned to the sensitive bud.

Your soft moans of wanton filled the room, only getting louder from hearing the man groan. You imagined him on top of you, his breath hot in your ear — as he rubs your clit greedily with his large hands. You could feel your body growing lighter the more you continued with the assault on your clit. The pressure in your abdomen continued to build up, and your moans were raising in volume — sounding more lewder. You were getting closer to your orgasm, the sounds of the stranger playing with his cock along with his soft groans were itching you closer and closer to your release.

“I-I’m so close,” you let out a small whimper, bucking your hips desperately against your hand.

“Put your two fingers in,” the stranger said, almost in a pleading tone, “make yourself come like that, sweet girl. Imagine it’s me stretching that tiny hole of yours.”

You complied, inserting two fingers into your sopping wet cunt, sucking them in almost immediately. The wet sound of your pussy taking your fingers in made the man moan almost immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is that all for me, huh?”

You could only moan in response, your hips thrusting into your hands, trying to reach deeper.

“Go faster.”

You listened to him and you picked up the pace, the pressure building up in your abdomen steadily increasing the closer you got to your orgasm. The sounds of your sopping cunt filled the room, together with the sounds of your needy moans and whimpers as you went faster and faster. In your pornographic imagination, his large fingers replaced yours — toying with your hole as his other hand played with your nipple. “Mhhm,” you arched your back, “I’m so so close, please—Ah!”

“Keep going princess, and don’t you dare stop.”

As if his words had cast a spell on you, your pace increased and your moans gotten even louder. Your imagination getting more and more vivid by the second.

"I'm cumming -- I'm cumming!" you babbled out, crying out in a desperate moan as you arched your back, letting your orgasm wash over you.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” the man groaned out, and you replied with a soft laugh through your heavy breathing.

“I’m so close,” he spoke through heavy breaths, “get on your knees and raise your ass up for me.”

You followed his words, adjusting your position on the soft mattress so that your chest was pressed against the mattress and your ass high up in the air. You could feel warm hands travelling down your back and up to your breast -- Fuck, you were sensitive all over.

"Oh, how I'd love to fuck you like this." He said, chuckling lowly as he breathed heavily. "Make yourself cum for me, again. Think about my cock fucking your pussy."

You moan at his lewd words, your hips bucking up as you entered your two fingers back into your sopping hole. Your fingers weren't enough to stretch you out. You wanted more. You needed more. Your hips thrusted back against your fingers, hungry for more friction. Scenarios of the stranger fucking you played in your mind like it was a porno movie, you could imagine his nails gripping into your hips, his cock reducing you into a dumb mess.

"Ahh-- Fuckk.. By the way you're moaning right now, I can tell that you're close to coming. I-I'm getting close too -- Ah. Let's cum together. Tell me when you're cumming, please."

There was a certain strain in the stranger’s voice as his pace on his cock quickened, his voice breathy and low as he muttered a jumble of praises. At this point, you felt yourself growing even more lightheaded while another moan leaves your drooling lips.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told the man in a breathless whimper, and you could hear the sound of fapping quickening in response to your words.

“Cum for me.”

And just like that, your mind went completely blank as you came in your hand. A muffled moan escaped your lips, your face pressed into the pillows.

The man lets out the most sexiest moan soon after, almost whimpering as he rode out his orgasm.

There was a minute of silence between you both, shaky breaths filling the room as you both attempted to control it. You rolled onto your back, staring at your hand which was drenched in your juices.

“How do you feel?” He later broke the silence, and you let out a soft laugh. “Really good,” you told him, “I enjoyed it a lot.”

“That’s good, I really liked it too.”

“You know,” you began, “you talk super differently on call compared to how you text.”

“Oh? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it.”

“I-I never said I didn’t like it!” You retorted. “It was just an honest observation.”

“Anyway,” you continued, “I’ve got to go now, it’s getting late now and I have work tomorrow…”

“Alright then,” replied the man, “but can we call again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was a new day with same, old, usual routine. Groggily getting up from your bed as the sounds of the alarm blaring from your phone resonates athwart your bedroom. As if your body was set into auto-pilot, the rest of the early morning spent preparing for work turned into a blur, and it wasn't until now--while commuting to work--that you could feel your phone vibrating in your hand.

M 0337411: Good morning. Did you sleep well?

Oh.

Memories from last night suddenly came rushing in, and you never wanted anything more than to crawl into a hole and stay there, and rot for the rest of eternity. A warm incarnadine flush returns to your cheeks as you recollect the events that passed, the sheer embarrassment washing over you; the images of you -- evidently drunk, horny, and naked on your bed--engaging with such dirty acts with a stranger over the phone. A stranger.

It took almost everything in you to not scream in embarrassment in the bus, your palms lightly smacking your cheeks in hopes you'd cool off the heat in your cheeks. You were for sure going to melt.

Moments later, you found yourself staring at the tall glass building before you in a complete daze. All of a sudden, you didn’t really feel the need to work.

The rest of the morning was spent with staring mindlessly at the computer screen, restless fingers tapping on your desk. The computer was taking its sweet time connecting to the office printer, the ‘retry’ window popping up for the three tries you had attempted. Sighing softly, you slumped your back against your seat as you turned over to Ren, who busied herself with (discretely) playing solitaire on the computer.

Silently, you wondered how she’d react if you told her what had happened last night.

You switched your gaze back to your stubborn computer, eyes glaring into the bright screen — daring it to try defying you, one more time. With focused eyes, you watch as your computer slowly connects with the printer; silently praying that a ‘retry’ window wouldn’t appear this time.

Printer connected. 1 out 8 documents printing…

You clicked your tongue, the corners of your lips curling up into a small triumphant grin. It was about damn time. The weight on the plush of the chair was lifted once you stood up from your desk, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you made your way to the printer athwart the office. You lean your back slightly against the table, and you open your phone to pass time.

F 0236113: Good morning. I’m sorry I didn’t reply right away, I was caught up with work. How are you now? M 0337411: I'm so sleepy. I can't stop thinking about last night. F 0236113: Last night? M 0337411: Don't tell me you forgot... You're despicable

You attempt to stifle a giggle at the man's texts, your hand covering your mouth in an effort (though, it was in vain) to hide the huge grin growing on your face. You knew very well about stranger danger, but for some odd reason, whenever you open your phone, you always —somehow— get gravitated towards him. Of course, you had your cautions, but if you told Ren that this app wasn't at the least amusing, you'd certainly be a whole ass liar.

F 0236113: I'm kidding. How can I ever forget that? M 0337411: Of course you can't. Care to remind me who said that my voice turned her on last night? F 0236113: ...Who's the despicable one, now? M 0337411: You're not denying it.

Shaking your head in amusement, you stuffed your phone back inside the pocket of your blazer and you grabbed the finished documents out of the machine, and organizing the sheets of paper with one hand while reaching out for the nearest stapler in the other. As much as you were enjoying your silence, it wasn't long before it had to be interrupted. In your peripheral vision, you could make out someone's hand placing a cup of coffee on the table, and your gaze snapped over to a familiar blond male — his sharp eyes making it much easier to identify the man. You held yourself back from rolling your eyes, and you feigned a smile towards your boss.

"You've been working extra hard these days, Y/N." said Naoya. "Here, I got you one of your favourites."

"Thank you, Mr. Zen'in." You thanked the male as you grabbed the cup, it was your one of your favourites — one that he'd always get you back when you used to be together. "I was just about to hand you these documents."

You handed your boss the finished documents, ready to excuse yourself back to your desk.

"Hold on," Naoya said, "we still have some things to discuss."

What’s even there to discuss? You scoffed in your mind. Beyond a doubt, there was the slightest bit of hesitance into making your decision — however, you were more curious than you were cautious or nervous at this point.

"Okay," you said, smiling softly at the man. "What is it that you want to talk about, hm?"

Your soft words were laced with some form of venom, your eyes staring at the man expectantly.

"We can talk about it in my office," said Naoya before muttering, "follow me."

You followed Naoya compliantly, however, you couldn't ignore the unbearable tension filling the air between the both of you. To be completely honest, you were beginning to regret even agreeing to follow him. Even if he had many things to discuss with you, what exactly could you reply to him with? Should you just stare at him and smile? Whilst rehearsing lines of excuses in your mind, you found yourself in his office, already seated on the sofa across from him.

"You moved on quite quickly," was the first thing Naoya uttered, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you. "You already talking to someone new?"

"I honestly thought that our conversation would be work-related, was my judgement wrong? Besides, whether or not I moved on shouldn't be a concern to you." You replied, your usual (fake) soft tone now replaced with a certain sternness.

Naoya clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. The usual friendly, charismatic facade that he had always kept on eventually melted off -- his imperturable expression now plastered across his face. He raised an eyebrow towards you, his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity — at first glance, anyone could've easily mistaken it as some ardent desire.

"Is there anything else that you want to tell me?" You questioned him. "If not, I can just leave."

"You know, many days were spent with me wondering what went wrong between us to make you leave." He said before standing up from his couch, inching his way towards you. This ignorant fool. How could he act so stupid, unknowing of what caused the downfall of your relationship. He lowered himself, his eyes meeting your evidently vexed gaze.

"I missed you," he confessed, and you lightly scoffed at his words.

"Naoya," you said his name, your voice harsh, "everything was what went wrong in this relationship. You're my boss. There was no hope for the both of us -- I was practically invisible to you unless you needed something from me. Tell me this, Naoya, do you really mean it when you say you miss me? Or do you miss the woman that was easily wrapped around your finger?"

Naoya stared at you, shocked at your words before his lips curled up into a small smirk. A small chuckle left his lips, laced with contempt. “Now, what are you trying to say, Y/N?”

“What I’m saying is, Mr. Zen’in, don’t spout shit you obviously don’t mean. Besides, it appears to me that someone new caught your eye. Emi, was it?”

The mention of Emi was genuinely impulsive on your part, but you obviously had your suspicions with how easily he’d get swayed by her, and how fixated she was on the mere topic of the Zen’in heir, as well as how you noticed how close they’d been getting prior to the breakup — but his reaction told you everything you needed to know and you chuckled quietly.

Naoya’s facial expressions dropped, it was almost cold. You knew all too well that this man had a knack for control, but that gave you even more of a reason to not waver underneath his cold gaze. You knew, coming into his office, that you were going to have to play quite a difficult game with this man. You had already grown a skin of steel (at least you hope you did) from the constant gaslighting you had to endure from him.

"Y/N," he said your name sternly, "what the hell are you even saying right now? That doesn't make any sense—"

"—I have nothing left to say towards you, Mr. Zen'in." You said while smiling apathetically at the blond male, who seemed visibly displeased at your words. "Were you not even curious as to where I might've went this past week?"

No, not really. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you soon realized that trying to save a relationship with a man who wouldn't even bother with you was straight up pointless. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you realized that you no longer wanted to be concerned with him.

You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as you stood up from the sofa, making your way towards the door.

"I'll take my leave now, talking about this will only bring us nowhere. I suggest we continue acting like nothing happened between us — work will be easier for us that way.”

The Zen'in heir opened his mouth to retort, but no words could come out of his throat. He was a man who had grown accustomed to getting things his way throughout his twenty seven years of living, and to say that a mere employee could cast such an effect on him--there were many phrases that were forming in his mind, but he relented, once again.

Once again, he watched your figure getting farther away from the sofa, your hand reaching out of the door.

There was no way in hell that you’d allow to cross paths with him, or any man like him. Your relationship with him was awfully hot and cold — one day, he’d invite you to a hotel room under a false name, and shower you in his so called ‘love’, and the next day he’d treat you like you had never existed, flirting with all the other women who worked higher up in the hierarchy all the whilst giving you false reassurances. However, you knew far too well that your status could never satiate the man’s hunger for climbing up in the social ladder. All the fake love he gave you, and all the time and energy wasted on him — no matter what he chose to do next, for sure wouldn’t affect you.

You attempted to hide your shaky breaths. You had bursted out like that — not only towards your ex-boyfriend, but your boss. With slightly trembling hands, you twist the knob open, ready to dart out of the office and make a beeline towards the exit.

The door swung open, and rather than leaving immediately, you found yourself frozen in the doorway as you stare into bright, cerulean eyes with your watery ones.

"Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes widened. That voice — his voice. Perhaps you were just overthinking, but it sounded all too familiar. No, you had to be overthinking. His ivory locks framed his pale face, his business formal attire adorning his tall, lean frame — his features, in general, were a literal godsend. He appeared incredibly rich and powerful, much like your boss, the Zen'in Naoya — if not, maybe even more. You mentally smacked yourself, how could you possibly make such baseless assumptions towards a man you had just seen.

"Gojo Satoru," Naoya said, his voice laced with obvious annoyance. "You should've texted me that you were arriving earlier than usual.”

Almost immediately, you moved out of the way, sending the tall man a small smile of acknowledgement as he entered the room. The white-haired male leaned against the wall beside you, rather than getting himself comfortable on the exorbitant-priced furniture.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man whose name was Satoru apologized weakly; his tone almost apathetic, “my flight arrived way earlier, and I was bored, so why not pass some time?”

The blond male tutted in response, shaking his head towards Satoru before darting his gaze over to you, whom in which made a discrete attempt to escape his office. “L/N,” Naoya called out your last name, his lips curled into a grin, “do you have time to show Gojo around the building?”

It was evident that Naoya wanted nothing to do with his guest, it was all plastered across his face.

Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why couldn't he call his secretary himself? You pondered to yourself as you returned the plastic smile, hoping that Naoya could see the vein that popped on your temple. You weren't in the mood to retaliate any longer, though. If this meant that you could leave his office, then it was fine.

"Yeah, of course." You switched your attention to the taller male, "Is there anywhere in the building that you haven’t seen yet?”

Gojo stared at you, almost surprised, for a moment before grinning. There was something in his gaze that made you want to shrivel up into a ball. As much as you wished to deny these intrusive thoughts that were lingering in the back of your mind, there was simply no way that he could be the stranger that you spoke to. However, the way he spoke — his pronunciation, his tone, the way he dragged his words, his voice — it was all too similar.

“Let’s get out of this office first, and then I’ll tell you.” Gojo said, smirking before shifting his gaze towards the glaring Zen’in.

The walk down the hallway was dreadfully silent. For a man like him who was verbose from the past minute, he was almost silent as you both headed for the elevator. “Mr. Gojo,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this your first time in the building?”

“Yeah,” he replied almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you to speak. “By the way, your name is L/N…?”

“Y/N,” you finished, your pointer finger pressed firmly against the ‘up’ button. Then started the waiting game.

“Oh, Y/N.” Gojo repeated your name, his lips curling up into a small grin. “You know, you sound awfully familiar for someone that I’ve just met.”

“That’s interesting,” you said, your voice suddenly going quiet underneath his cerulean gaze. This awkwardness and tension lingering in the air was going to be the cause of your demise, you swore to yourself.

“Ahem—I suppose you don’t know where the meeting will be held later,” you said quickly, your voice getting higher in pitch, “there’s this huge conference room on the tenth floor, I’ll lead you to it.”

“No need to be so tense,” Gojo laughed, “I promise I don’t bite. So, speak normally with me, like how you would with a friend.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, if someone found you speaking informally to someone as high up in the business hierarchy such as him, they would definitely get the wrong idea, and the possibilities of rumours spreading in the office were high. Rumours were always a pain in the ass to deal with, so you really didn’t want to risk it.

“I still have to be careful, Mr. Gojo.” You smiled at the male. “It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I’m seen being informal towards you inside the building.”

“Will you be less tense with me if we talk outside the building, then?”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Mr. Gojo.”

The ding! coming from the elevator instantly broke you out of your thoughts, rushing into the empty space while uttering a quiet, “Come in,” towards the business man.

You stood across from Gojo, your eyes darting across the space — looking at anything, just anything besides him. You crossed your arms close to your chest, almost as if it could give you extra warmth aside from your blazer. Despite after crossing paths with him, you could already tell that Gojo Satoru was an unpredictable man. It was killing you.

You snapped your gaze towards the little screen above the sliding door, watching as the number slowly increased while the elevator lifted higher and higher. Six more floors to go.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me making a phone call.” Gojo said in a singsang tone, his large hand pulling out his phone out of the pocket of his trousers.

“Go ahead,” you muttered out, sparing the man a quick smile before your attention returned to the screen above the elevator door. Three more floors to go.

Just as you were about to relax, closing your eyes while waiting for the elevator to reach the tenth floor — you felt your phone violently vibrate inside your pocket, and shortly after, the HeartChat app ringtone echoed in the silent space. You felt your sweat run cold, rushing to get your phone out. Glancing up at the white haired male, you realized he had been staring at you the whole time with the phone in his hand, amused.

M 0337411 is calling… [accept | decline ]

All those intrusive thoughts that you tried so hard to ignore were right, after all.

You were simply going to die of embarrassment.

“What a coincidence. So, I was right after all. As soon as I heard your cute voice I automatically knew it was you.”

Everything was literally thrown at you today—first, having to deal with your ex (who wasn’t aware in the slightest clue with what he did wrong) and second, being put into the corner of the elevator with Gojo Satoru, as known as the stranger you had phone sex with. You didn’t have a mirror with you to know what kind of expression you were making in that moment, but you for sure felt an overwhelming surge of mortification.

Out of all days, it had to be the day after — especially when the memories of the night before were still fresh in your mind.

Out of all people, it had to be Gojo Satoru, the new man in the building.

“And given your reaction,” Gojo said, gently tilting your chin to meet his eyes; a hint of amusement present in his gaze, “you also recognize me.”

You swore you were going to melt, not only from embarrassment but, as ashamed as you were to admit it, him — it was even more embarrassing as you had grown aware of the wetness between your legs accumulating, only hidden by your black pencil skirt. Gojo Satoru, he truly was a sight to behold given his godsend features and his voice. The arousal that you had tried to suppress from last night slowly returns — all those lewd thoughts you had about the stranger, and he was there — within your reach.

“Not here,” you whispered, lightly smacking the man’s hand of your face. The look of chagrin was plastered all across your face, your cheeks stained with a bright incarnadine hue and your eyes darting away from his. He found it utterly adorable. “The door’s going to open any moment now.”

Right as you said that, the door opened—and thank god there was no one waiting on the other side of the door. There would simply be zero explanation that would be able to save you — his body was close to yours as you were nearly pressed in the corner of the elevator and hot, unbearable tension flooded the thick air.

“A-Anyways,” you stammered out, rushing out of the confines of the elevator, “to the conference room, it’s uh— this way. If you’ll follow me…”

Gojo followed suit, walking in a languid pace as he watched you speed-walk down the hall before stopping in front of a large opaque grey double door You pushed it open, signalling the man to enter.

Shortly after, you entered the room. “To be honest, I never stepped foot inside this room before—until today, that is.”

You traced the tips of your fingers along the sides of the large wooden table, your eyes scanning your surroundings. It actually looked really nice and clean. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, too.

“Are you here for a business project with Mr. Zen’in?”

“I suppose you can say that, but I’m mainly here to speak with Zen’in Naobito .”

“Ah, the CEO then.”

“That’s correct.”

Then returned the silence, as well as the growing tension in the air. Just you were about to turn around and open the door, a strong hand stops you in your tracks. “Wait,” Gojo grabbed your attention, pulling you closer so you could face him.

You frantically glanced toward the door, afraid that someone could walk in.

The tension between the both of you was so strong, anyone could've cut it down with a knife, but there'd still be some struggle to it. You could barely breath; the air between the both of you felt warm, and only increased in temperature the longer you stayed in the room.

“This room will be empty for hour and a half before they arrive and start the meeting,” he assured you before leaning his face closer to your ear, his breath hot as he continued to speak. "Besides I still couldn't help but think about last night. Does last night still play fresh in your mind?"

Oh, Lord. You swallowed your saliva, the warmth in your cheeks quickly returning as you stared at Gojo with a flustered expression plastered all across your face. He pulled you closer, and you didn't fight against it; the pleasant smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you could grow addicted to it.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all," you replied, your voice quiet.

That was enough of an answer for him. "Good," he said, grinning.

You couldn't ignore the utter lack of distance between both your bodies; your chest pressed against his with his one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand caressing your chin — tilting your head slightly while he silently examined your lips. You also took this as a chance to stare at his features up close, and you were right when you told yourself that he was blessed by the gods and your eyes lingered to his lips; they looked so soft, it almost made you wonder what it'd feel and taste like. You didn't want him to go.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you, however, there was something in his azure eyes that begged you to tell him to keep going — there was a certain desperation to it. You looked at Gojo with a pleading gaze, however you also appeared to be dazed by his baritone voice, your lips trailing down to his lips.

"Kiss me," you told him, your voice dripping with arousal.

There was a stifled groan coming from the man before he pulled your face to his, his lips devouring yours. His lips tasted of honey, sweet and addicting; his hand pressed strongly against the small of your back as he walked you against the table. Large hands played with the hem of your skirt while you softly moaned in his mouth, your hands playing with the soft cushion of his ivory locks.

All rational thoughts had slipped out of your mind like butter, and all that took over was the pent up sexual desire and pure arousal.

You both briefly pulled away, a string of saliva was connected from both your lips.

“What if someone walks in on us?” You questioned the male, your voice nearly breathless.

“Don’t worry, sweets. The doors are locked, and room’s soundproof too.” Gojo replied, his hands slowly caressing up your skirt, “I’m surprised that no one hid the remote, too.”

"And fuck, have you seen yourself in the mirror? It's almost like you're begging to be fucked by me." He said, relishing the sight of your flushed face with your eyes staring up at him in wanton, as well as your cleavage firmly pressed pressed against his chest; the first few buttons had already gotten undone, revealing your black lace bra.

You briefly remembered telling him about how he sounded so different compared from how he texted when you first called him, and now that you were face to face with him — you soon came to realize that whatever words he spat out of his mouth were nothing but prurient, with you at least.

“Dirty girl, we just met and you’re already giving me that look. We’re in the conference room, too.” Gojo continued to tease, the tip of his finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

“It’s your fault,” you bit back playfully, “I bet you’ve kissed many women to be that good at kissing.”

Gojo immediately laughed at your response, “I’m honoured, but this is actually my first.”

“T-That's bullshit,” you said, surprised. “there’s no way that this is your first—Ah!”

Your own words got cut off by a surprised gasp, your head thrown back as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He had pushed the slick fabric aside, and he easily eased a large finger inside your heat. Fuck. His fingers were far more better than you could’ve ever imagined — they were slender, yet girthy. His one finger could stretch you out more than your own two fingers could. Gojo eased his middle finger inside and fuck, was he about to cum by the way your pussy greedily took him in.

“Ho-ly shit, sweets. So fucking wet that my fingers just keep getting sucked back in.” He said through gritted teeth, a hoarse chuckle slipping past his throat.

You tried to muffle your moans, covering your trembling mouth with both your hands as you succumbed to the pleasure that this man was giving you. You, for sure, had gone crazy — crazy to the max. Just earlier you were worried about getting caught being informal with him, but here you were, getting your pussy fingered by him in the conference room. Not only that, that man currently working his fingers into you, Satoru Gojo, was the stranger you had phone sex with last night. You were absolutely insane.

His pace quickened — it was almost merciless, his thumb eventually joining into the mix to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves; the sounds of your drenched pussy being absolutely ravished by his filled the room, along with your muffled whimpers. With his empty hand, he grabbed both your hands and held them in a vice grip, dragging them away from your lips. "Hearing you moan in person is so fucking hot. I want to hear more."

And if he wasn’t rough with his fingers before, he definitely was now; desperately trying to draw all sorts of sounds from you — from the squelch of your wet pussy to your pretty moans, he wanted more. You, however, were completely writhing underneath his grip; your body sensitive from how well he was treating your needy hole. You could feel yourself coming close, the taste of orgasm was merely on the tip of your tongue, and all you could think about was how well his fingers were stretching you out. It wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, and Gojo curled his fingers — making contact with the rough, spongy skin that made your toes curl. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his — moaning his last name softly as you rode out your first orgasm. Gojo groaned along with you, muttering a line of praises as he slowly pushed his fingers in and out, relishing the aftermath of your release; coated with your juices.

Gojo’s patience was already thin, as you could say, it was treading on thin ice.

"Fuuck, you're so hot — you're gonna make me cum, I swear." rasped Gojo, his breath hot on your ear. He pressed lingering kisses across your neck while his hands traveled to your clothed breasts, giving them a light squeeze, "I just want to eat you up."

With how seductive his voice sounded, you were convinced that you were going to cum for the second time; right there, and then.

With one swift movement, he pulled your skirt down (along with your drenched underwear), threw the thin pieces of fabric at his side and got himself levelled with your pussy, now all bare for him to savour. His mouth watered at the sight; he could see how your hole pulsed, needing something to fill it back in. God, he needed to fuck you.

“You feeling shy now, hm?” Gojo teased, his eyes snapped over to your flustered ones.

You’ve never felt so exposed before, your legs spread wide apart as you leaned further back against the table— you were completely under the mercy of this man, and it only made you further aroused as a result. Something about doing something so lewd in the conference room, at your workplace, let alone with a stranger as handsome as he was — you’ve never felt so thrilled. You were probably going to smack yourself later for being so reckless and irresponsible, but right here at this moment, you were going to savour every sensation; his touch, his taste, his voice, everything.

Without ever breaking eye contact with you, he licked a long stripe of saliva over your already drenched folds and your hips automatically bucked up at the pleasure. He watched as you writhed underneath his touch, a shuddering breath leaving your swollen lips. You were truly a sight to behold, and if it weren’t for the location, he would’ve had you completely naked for him. Thoughts of you never ceased to part from his mind, from hearing your voice to mere imaginations of fucking you senseless. Needless to say, his imaginations could never ever compare to what was unfolding before him.

He let out a satisfied hum against your folds, emitting light vibrations through your veins, just before he dug his face deeper in between your legs — it was almost as if this man was starved; his tongue and lips greedily sucking onto your clit, twirling the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue. You shivered against his touch, "G-Gojo--Fuck."

"Satoru," Gojo corrected you for a moment before returning to his ministrations, "wanna hear you say my name."

This time, he stuck his tongue inside your pussy — his finger returning to rub on your clit.

"Satoru," you moaned his name, "fuck, that feels so good."

Gojo moaned into your pussy in response, his actions only getting more messier and more carnal the more he tasted you — he was getting drunk from the mere taste of you.

It wasn't long before you felt your impending release, the second one at that, and you gripped your fingers tightly around Satoru's ivory locks, muttering out a line of curses and 'i'mcoming'imcomingi'mcoming—' as your body shook around his head.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl." You heard Satoru mumble out praises as he lapped up all your juices, relishing in the sweet scent and taste of pure arousal that dripped down his cerise lips. “You taste so fucking delicious, I was seriously about to cum.”

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself, and you could hear the sounds of his belt unclasping — dropping to the floor. He was growing even more needy for you, and his horniness level had honestly gone through the fucking roof at this point. All he wanted to do now was to fuck you senseless.

"Satoru," you muttered his name, voice laced with pure desire, "want you to put it in already."

“There’s no way I won’t fuck your pussy today,” replied Gojo, discarding his undergarment, and almost immediately, his erect cock sprung up and your mouth began to water at the girth and length. Just how was that going to fit inside you?

Your reaction didn't go by unnoticed by the ivory-haired male, and his voice got a little gentle. He rubbed his cock against your slick folds, and you both shuddered at the sensation. "You'll be okay, just relax. You can do that for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded your head, almost a bit too frantically. Given the limited amount of time that you both had, you needed him inside now.

"Take a deep breath for me, 'kay?"

You complied to his words, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply -- however, you nearly choked on your spit when only his tip entered. Satoru constantly gave you gentle reassurances; gently rubbing the sides of your hips, all while he pushed himself deeper into your walls. There was simply no way this was his first time, you thought to yourself silently — but all your thoughts instantly turned into mush once he hit the hilt; his tip meeting your cervix. You moaned his name, your eyes slightly rolling back at the immense pleasure the man had been drowning you in.

Satoru groaned at the delightful sensation before chuckling through strained breaths, "See? It wasn't so hard."

He gave you a brief moment to recollect yourself, three seconds in fact, before he began to roll his hips against yours; pulling his cock back until the tip was barely inside, and he plunged back in. He did all this at an almost rapid pace, making your whole entire body turn into jelly.

"Look at your pussy, sucking me in so greedily when I just started to fuck you. Dirty girl." He rasped, his lips curled up into a grin and his gaze laserfocused on how your pussy was connected to him. It was taking everything in him not to cum right away, let alone cum inside you — but the sensations of your walls clamping tightly around his shaft was making it difficult to think straight.

He kept up with the relentless pace, relishing in the sweet sounds your wet pussy was making while he fucked you as well as your moans.

He could feel you tightening around even more around him, as if your pussy was trying to milk him dry. The pace of his thrusts began to stagger, and he could feel himself getting closer to his release, however, rather than keeping up with his pace, he slowed down. You snapped your gaze to the Satoru, confused.

"Don't worry princess, I just want to try something new right now."

Just as you were about to question him on what exactly he was planning to do, you gasped in surprise when he lifted you up from the table with ease; your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders as he aligned your pussy with his cock, and steadily, he dropped you down on his length. You both moaned in tandem at the sensation. He watched your face intently, how it scrunched together in immense pleasure, your mouth slightly agape as your lips spilled out a myriad of moans while he lifted you and dropped you on his cock at a steady rhythm.

"Ohfuckohfuck--'Toru, you're so deep." You whimpered, stuffing your head into the crook of his shoulders while he continued to plunge into you. His grip on your ass tightened as he began to pick up the pace, and your moans were continuously broken down each time he thrusted his cock into you. He was relentless, and he was already obsessed with how you clamped down so tightly around him. He could honestly never get enough of it -- of you. And, how he loved watching you getting dumb over his cock, hearing you jumble nonsense all while telling him how badly you needed his cock had definitely done a number on him.

The tightening coil sensation that reverberated in the depths of your stomach returned once more the longer the man had pleasured you and you dug your nails deeper into the man's shoulders. "I'm gonna cum, fuck Satoru, I'm so close...!"

"Fucking cum on my cock," Gojo ordered you, his voice was almost pleading, and he kept up the pace, squeezing his eyes tightly and groaning at how tight your walls were squeezing him. You let out a cry, arching your back and curling your toes, as you came around his cock; your juices creaming around his shaft. He gently brought you back down to the floor, but held the small of your back immediately when he noticed that you were about to lose your balance.

Cumming inside you could wait for another day, he thought to himself as he desperately rubbed his hand on his cock, his lips immediately diving into yours for a passionate kiss. Soft groans left his rose-tinted lips as he melded his mouth with yours. He could feel his abdomen growing tighter, his legs getting weaker, and his mind getting blank. With a deep, strained moan slipping past the man's throat, he painted your thighs white with his seed.

Heavy breaths filled the room, and then came the soft chuckles.

“I’d like to say we’re really compatible,” said Gojo, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before languidly pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers; cleaning the mess he had made on your skin. “Don’t you agree, Y/N?”

You were far too dazed to comprehend most of the words that spilled from Gojo’s mouth, so you chose to nod your head in response to the man’s question. Gojo was quite the gentleman, upon realizing that your legs still felt weak and wobbled, he immediately took action — helping you slide your skirt back on while stuffing your drenched panties in his trousers (to which you gave him a light smack on the shoulder, but he didn’t mind honestly), buttoned your shirt back up, and helped put your blazer back on; he did all that while muttering sweet praises in your ear, almost tickling the skin. Your hair was still a mess, though, and your lips still appeared to be swollen. Gojo ran his fingers through your locks, making a pathetic attempt at fixing your hair. At least he tried, though. He shortly fixed his appearance after; all he did was clasp his belt back on, fix his attire, and ruffle his ivory locks — all within a minute.

“We still have fourty-five minutes left to spare.” Satoru said, staring at his phone screen before he shoved it back inside his pocket (not where your panties are, though). “We should head out now before someone tries to get in.”

“You’re a liar,” you said weakly, your voice almost breathless, “there’s no way that this is your first.”

Satoru chuckled, “Again, I’m honoured, but you’re my first.”

He grabbed the tiny remote and pressed the button, thus unlocking the double-doors. You didn’t really feel the need to ask him why he seemed so familiar with the conference room as you were heavily fixated on his face; his cerulean eyes gazing into yours, a bright smile painted on his pale visage.

“Let me take you out sometime,” Gojo blurted out. “You’re totally my type, and I want us to get to know each other better.”

“And how do I know that you don’t say that to other women using that app?”

“You were the first and only one I texted on the app,” Gojo replied, “and we are alike in so many aspects — especially our compatibility in sex.“

You rolled your eyes jokingly, before smiling at the male. “Okay then, I accept your offer. You know, you’re also my type.”

“And,” Gojo added, “we both get turned on by each other’s voices.”

“Let’s go,” you shrugged off the chuckling male, opening the double-door. Fortunately enough, there was no one present in the halls and there was still plenty of time before the meeting took place.

“Mr. Gojo,” you spoke to him formally, however there was a tint of teasing in your voice as his name spilled out of your lips like honey. “Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“You. Me. My place, or yours.”

“You— I’m talking about if there’s anything else you’re not familiar with in the building.” You whispered harshly. “And, watch your volume!”

It had been a week since your last tryst with the Gojo Satoru, and needless to say, talking to him was a breath of fresh air. HeartChat switched over to SMS and there came the video calls. Even as promised, he brought you out to his favourite restaurants and cafés. Over the course of those past few days, you learned many things about the handsome man (aka god’s favourite), and he learned many things about you. For starters:

He was the chief executive officer of GOJO Tech, he was once the heir, but it wasn’t too long before his father decided to give him the role at the age of 24 (he’s now 28), and since then, business had been booming for the Gojo clan.

His relationship with the Gojo clan wasn’t the best — despite him being the new head of the clan and CEO, some members were constantly preying on his demise. He didn’t really care, though.

He hated the taste of alcohol — he absolutely despised it. He drank it once during a party and immediately “chased” it with a mouthful of strawberry cake. You later questioned him if he really knew what a chaser was.

His first time having phone sex was with you, he tried acting confident since it also was your first.

He was basically good at everything he did—everything that would normally be strenuous or difficult would always appear to be easy on him.

Nevertheless, there were some things that remained unchanged, and that was the phone sex that you both subconsciously agreed to do nightly, as if it was some sort of promise.

You weren’t going to lie, but you nearly forgot about the drinking party with your colleagues — once you remembered, you immediately invited Gojo to accompany you (it was also at that moment where you remembered that he didn’t drink alcohol). Surprisingly, he agreed to come along, and even offered to give you a ride there.

So there you were in the restaurant, seated near the end of the table with Gojo beside you while the rest of your colleagues chattered loudly, it was awfully obvious that there had been alcohol in their system. You had already downed a glass of beer, and you could feel your stomach and cheeks steadily growing warmer. You turned over to Gojo, who busied himself in devouring all the food, even ordering for several new plates whilst your colleagues cheered on for him in a drunken haste. You had almost forgotten point number 6 — Not only was Gojo Satoru a dessert fanatic, he was also a huge foodie.

Emi made her way towards the end of table, where you and Gojo were seated; bottle of beer and sake in her hands. There was absolutely no denying how attractive she was, her eyes appeared innocent yet they relayed something far more different.

“I’m surprised that Mr. Gojo came along,” Emi began, smiling softly as gave the man beside you a playful stare; swiftly ignoring your presence. “I’ve heard that you’ve been incredibly busy these days. So, I’m glad. Do you mind if I pour you a drink?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I don’t drink those kind of stuff.” Gojo waved her off, sparing her a quick and friendly smile.

“Oh! By the way, did you and Y/N arrive together? I never expected you two to be so close, especially at work, considering how you just arrived here less than a week ago.” questioned Emi, tilting her head to one side while staring at him, feigning innocence. This irked you a little, as you could never tell what she was thinking behind those shy and innocent eyes of hers.

“I wonder how that could be,” she trailed off even further, her voice was loud enough so that a couple of colleagues could hear — loud enough for Zen’in Naoya to hear.

Flower of the office, my ass.

You could even feel your ex glaring daggers at both your directions. You took a large gulp out of your glass of beer while Gojo laughed loudly.

“My, you’re a curious one alright.” He said in between chuckles. “We simply crossed—”

“Satoru and I are currently seeing each other,” you cut him off, pointing your nearly empty glass towards Emi’s direction; your cheeks warm from the alcohol streaming in your veins. “Is that enough to make you, you know, mind your business?”

Haruto, Himari, and Ren, who all sat across from you, collectively choked on their drinks, staring at you in utter shock. They all gave you a look that basically screamed, ‘You bitch, at least catch us up!’

“O-Oh,” Emi said, her voice getting quieter while she still feigned a smile, “I’m happy for you both, then. You two make a cute pair.”

“I know we do,” Gojo said, pulling your shoulder closer to his while laughing. His eyes later snapped over to Naoya, who he could tell was trying his hardest to hide his disdain; his eyes were narrowed and his jaw tensed. Not before long, he stood up from his spot and briefly excused himself — reasoning was that he needed some fresh air. Shortly after, Emi followed his trail, and the party resumed like normal.

It was a silent gesture, but you gently squeezed his hands underneath the table as you stared into his eyes; his face still flushed from the earlier commotion — you had been reckless, once again. To your surprise, he squeezed your hand back immediately, only bringing both your hands onto the table, now visible for everyone to see. He gave you a reassuring smile before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. The heat on your face only intensified at his display of affection, your cheeks turning scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered softly, “I did something really reckless, and I didn’t ask you if you were alright with having our relationship out in the open like that.”

“Y/N,” Satoru said, his voice quiet and gentle, “I didn’t ask you out just so I could keep you as a secret. I’ll show you off as much as I want, show everyone that you’re my woman.”

“I swear, Satoru, it’s always you and your words.” You mumbled, covering your flushed face with the palms of your hands.

“You mean voice,” he teased.

“… Shut up.”

Not long after that, perhaps thirty minutes, you bid your goodbyes to your colleagues, leaving the restaurant side by side with Gojo — making a beeline towards the car. Once you both entered, you let all your desires run loose; your lips locked against his, teeth clashing against one another, and heavy breaths filled the tight vicinity. The air quickly grew hot, and the kisses further intensified with fervour.

“W-Wait, Satoru,” you mumbled his name in his lips, your grip on his black dress shirt tightening.

He pulled away, and god, did he look ethereal underneath the moonlight; his white strands shone like silver, his eyes only glowed brighter in the darkness. “What is it, sweets?”

“Let’s not do it here,” you said softly, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “Let’s do it at my place.”

Gojo Satoru never turned his engine on so quickly until now, driving his lamborghini like he was a man on a mission.

The air grew warm the very moment you both stepped into your apartment, lips locked onto each other and arms wrapped around one another. Soft moans left your lips as you could feel the man’s pent up desire grinding against your hips, rubbing deliciously against your clothed heat.

“Your bed,” there was a certain urgency in his voice as he rasped against your lips, and grabbing his large hands, you both rushed to the bedroom. Your back met with the soft plush of the mattress, further sinking in as Satoru also applied his weight, his lips getting a taste of yours for the nth time. His hands instantly pushing up your shirt, his hands traveling up to your your breasts; his fingers sliding underneath the pads of your bra to tweak your little buds. You stifled a soft whimper, your fingers locked in his ivory locks.

Eventually he slid your shirt up, and you helped make go by things faster by unclasping your bra. He took in the moment to appreciate the sight of your nude breasts, a hitched breath leaving his throat while he stared. Eventually, he dove in and showed love to both your mounds; coating your nipples with his saliva as he licked and sucked, leaving a small trail of hickies along your soft skin.

"Satoru," you said his name in a soft murmur, your cheeks warm and scarlet. He hummed in response whilst he continued to play with your tits, his large hands squeezing the soft mounds. In a treacherous pace, he slowly trailed his kisses down your breasts to your lower abdomen. “You’re so cute,” he said in a teasing tone, “you’re already so sensitive to my touch, and I haven’t even started with you.”

He swiftly pulled your skirt down, immediately chuckling at the damped mess you hid in between your legs.

"You're so wet," he mumbled quietly as his arousal immediately went straight towards his dick. He drew a finger across your folds, which were only covered by the thin dampened fabric. With nimble hands, he slid off the fabric off effortlessly, and without wasting time, he inserted two fingers inside -- groaning at how easily he slid in.

He started out the pace with a punishing speed, your toes immediately curling at the sensation as you squealed in unadulterated pleasure. You rolled your eyes back as you drowned in the delightful sensations, arching your back whilst rolling your hips to meet his fingers. It wasn’t until he began to curl his fingers that the volume of your moans began to increase. He pushed your legs farther apart, digging his fingers deeper; eliciting more whimpers and wanton moans that slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

“You close?” He teased you, and you nodded your head frantically in response. He could very well tell how close you were to your orgasm, judging by the way your walls fluttered around his fingers.

“Cum for me then,” he said, and that was all it took for you to succumb to your release, your pussy juices perfectly coating his two fingers. "Good girl," he gave you his praise, his voice deep and heavy.

His fingers parted away from your skin, briefly, before he began to slowly unbutton his midnight dress shirt, revealing his toned muscles and abdomen-- all while staring down at you with a carnal daze. "Like what you see?"

You stared up to meet his eyes, flustered. "Of course, why would I not? You look so... hot. If the word hot and sexy was a person, I feel like it'd be you."

"Is this your way of flirting, cutie?" Gojo said in a teasing tone, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while he unclasped his belt and unzipped his trousers, revealing his boxers and the awfully huge tent that hid beneath the fabric. God, he is so sexy.

"... I'm taking it back now." You said quietly in a stubborn tone.

"You won't," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "your mouth is literally drooling for me, and even more so when..."

He dragged his words out while he slowly slipped his boxers off, revealing the angry red tip leaking with his pre-cum. Of course he ended up being right, seeing how you stared at his cock with hearts in your eyes.

"Okay cutie! Get on your knees and ass up."

Gojo loved how easily you complied to his commands -- one second you'd show him a little bit of sass and the next second you were begging for his dick. He grinned at the sight of your ass and back arched, your slick juices dripping off your pussy -- this was all for him, just for him. A loud smack resonated in the room when he slapped your ass and played with it, absolutely loving how it jiggled with every movement his hand made with it.

However, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you, he wanted you — so, so badly. Rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, he relished in the sight of your body writhing beneath his grasp; being all desperate and needy for his cock.

It wasn't long before the loud sounds of his cock fucking into your pussy filled the bedroom, your loud moans muffled by the pillows you stuffed your head into. All that you could feel at that moment was pure, unadulterated pleasure; he was hitting all the right spots and his moans were music to your ears.

"Fuck, I've always thought about how I'd fuck you like this." Gojo moaned. "You're gripping onto me so fuckin' tight I might just cum."

A loud cry left your lips when Gojo decided to wrap his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his; his chest pressed firmly against your back as he continued to fuck into you whilst his hand traveled down to your center, lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

"O-Oh—fuck—'Toru —Ahn!" You would moan his name loudly while your body shook under his manipulation.

"Y/N," Gojo said your name breathlessly, all the whilst fucking you dumb on your bed, "be my girlfriend— I want you to be all mine."

"Y-Yes, yes, yes —'Toru," you said in between gasps and moans, "I wanna be all yours. O-Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum — I'm gonna cum--!"

Gojo mumbled a bunch of praises towards you as you rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and sinking as you attempted to control your heavy breaths while he gently rubbed your hips with his thumb. "You're such a good girl," he leaned over to press a soft kiss over the back of your head.

"You still have some energy, right?" He questioned you, and you now found yourself laying underneath the male; your legs both hoisted up on his shoulders. You nodded your head, staring at Gojo with a heavy-lidded gaze, and his eyes were blown with lust and desire. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle before staring back down at you with a teasing smile.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near done."

(You definitely made sure to keep a mental note to thank Ren for getting you into the app)

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

It was a day after your your risqué rendezvous with Gojo Satoru, who you later came to realize was the stranger you engaged sexual activities with over the phone, on HeartChat — the app that no one other than your childhood friend and coworker, Ren, had downloaded on your phone.

“So,” Ren began, wiggling her eyebrows as she pointed at the phone you were holding in your hand. “How was it? It’s fun isn’t it?”

You and Ren were seated on the bench, eating lunch outside during your break. Normally you’d stay indoors, but the following information you were going to share to her were meant for her ears only — since she was the one who recommended this app, after all. Needless to say, Ren was more than thrilled for you to spill the details.

“You never told me that the app was meant for different purposes,” you said, raising a small brow towards your friend.

“I mean, I only use the app to troll around with other men. Nothing too serious, you know?” Ren said before her face quickly dropped. “Unless…? What exactly did you do, Y/N?”

“I…” you began, but you paused. “You better not tell this to another soul, I swear.”

“Riko?”

“Obviously we’ll catch Riko up from this after her honeymoon, but no one else! Promise?”

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N.”

“I had phone sex,” you admitted. Ren’s face immediately turned scarlet, looking at you — shocked. “No way,” she mumbled before she bursted out laughing. “No fucking way. Those type of things only happen in those spicy novels.”

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened next.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t react loudly, okay?”

“I promise.”

“I had sex with him the next day.”

A choked out "What?!" escaped your friend's lips.

If Ren wasn’t red enough just moments before, then she definitely was now.

“So… are you going to tell me who it is or…?”

“Nah, it’s a secret.”

“... Babe, what other secret could possibly be more shocking than what you just told me?”

So, colour Ren surprised once she added two and two together when you had confessed that you and The Gojo Satoru were seeing each other a week later.

#★ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru smut #gojo satoru x you

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flowersforbucky · 9 months ago

Text

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #my writing #flowersforbucky

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lucidfairies · 2 months ago

Text

take a hit [e.w]

pairing: inexperienced!reader x dealer!ellie

synopsis: for the first time, you're interested in sharing a joint with Ellie, and she doesn't let the moment get passed up

warnings: intox, cnc, weed/smoking, head [r!receiving], fingering [r!receiving], strap [r!receiving], pet names (mama, baby, good girl, slut, pretty), unrealistic squirting, ellie uses reader to get off, lots of use of the word force and lots of ellie's thoughts that include force

wc: 2.5k

a/n: short n sweet! long time no see 💘 (ps this is kind of shitty until the last thousand words where it actually gets good lmao 😭)

“ellie?” you yelled from the bedroom, plopping down on the bed with a huff. she entered the room, leaning against the door frame and smiling. “do you have any weed on you? I think I might want to try some.” ellie was taken aback by the question. you were never one for smoking or drinking, let alone somewhere outside of a party environment, or for leisure.

you guys had been together for a while, but smoking together was something that ellie never thought she’d see. you made it very clear from the beginning that you would not be partaking in ellie’s ‘business’, as you called it. she hardly considered it that; ten or so customers did not make a business, just a side hustle.

“yeah I have weed baby,” you watched as she walked over towards the closet and pulled out a shoe box, cleanly organized with wrap paper, weed, grinders, and other things that you didn’t know or couldn’t name. she sat down across from you on the bed, pulling out her supplies and setting it up. “do you want me to roll it or do you know how?” she asked, but the paper was already in her hands.

“you do it,” you changed positions so that you were straddling the bed, shirt falling between your legs to cover your underwear. she was looking.

“I’m gonna put in a little more than I normally do to make it feel good, okay mama?” you nodded eagerly, her plan unbeknownst to you. she made it seem like that; like she just did it to make you feel good, but in reality, she overfilled it so that halfway through the joint you wouldn’t be able to see straight.

she got up, turning the bedroom lights down low to create a pretty ambiance. you slipped the joint between your lips, waiting for her to come over and light it for you, which she did. she had you sit in her lap, pulling the joint from between your lips between every hit, just so that you would know you were a princess.

after a few hits, the room was already beginning to spin. “els why aren’t you hitting it?” you asked, pouting as you tried to push her hand towards her face with little luck. she took a short hit to make you happy and keep you relaxed before forcing it between your lips again. she made you hit it over and over again until you were sure you were in outer space.

that’s when her plan unfolded. suddenly, her hands were running up the sides of your thighs and her hot mouth found your neck. you whined lazily, her touch feeling so much better than it usually did. “ellie what are you doing?” you slurred, not coherent enough to fight back as she grabbed your hips and forced you down onto her lap. an immediate gush of wetness filled your panties when your clit brushed over her bulge. “ellie,” you slurred again, whining into her neck as your hips rolled down again.

“shhh, it’s okay baby. you wanna be a good girl and hit this again for me?” she held the joint up to your lips once again, and like the good girl you were, you took it between your lips and sucked. “that’s it, that’s my good princess, isn’t it?” she cooed. she took the joint from you and sat it in the ashtray, flipping you so that you were under her. “god, you’re just so pretty, aren’t you? can’t keep my hands off you. you did this to yourself, baby, such a slut without pants on, huh?” you whimpered as her hand came up under your shirt and harshly pulled your nipple.

something about this felt wrong, but it also felt so right. you loved the way she took over and decided what was going to happen, you loved the way your body felt and reacted to her in your cloudy headspace.

you whined as her fingers ran gently over your cunt through your shorts. you were so wet and your clit was pumping so hard, you had to have her in you. Your hips jolted and ground down on her thigh and fingers, making her chuckle. “now we want it, don’t we? that’s all it took, baby, you just needed a few hits to let me take control.” you nodded your head frantically as she pulled your shirt over your head.

her mouth danced down your neck with sweet bites until she made her way to your tits. she took one in her mouth and the other in her hand, hitting just the spot to make you writh under her. she gave both just the attention they needed, leaving marks along the way, before continuing down your stomach, stopping at your pubic bone.

“before I fuck you, you’re gonna take another hit of the joint. how’s that sound, pretty?” the joint was still burning a little, almost out, but it was enough to take a hit, a long hit, because ellie held it to your lips and kept it there until she saw fit. once she decided you were ready, she tossed it back in the ashtray and immediately attached her lips to your clit.

you were so spacey and sleepy but it felt so good. nothing like what you were used to. every perfect flick of her tongue was like touching heaven. she rotated between flicking her tongue up and down, side to side, going in circles, and sucking, and she practically had you coming in seconds.

she didn’t care that you lousily came once within the first minute, she continued and traced your entrance with the tip of her finger, sending electric shocks through your system. the pads of her fingers were rough from her guitar, and you could feel the callouses as she teased you.

finally, she pushed her first finger in, wasting no time in crooking it up to the perfect spot. when she had you stretched out enough, she added another, and even another. the weed was relaxing you so much that you hadn’t even noticed the slight burn from the third finger, because you had never taken it before now.

“oh ellie,” you moaned, hands gripping the sheets as your head spun. “ellie I’m gonna cum.” you slurred as the pressure in your pelvis grew and bolts of pleasure started shooting throughout your body. her free hand moved from your hip to your tit, pinching your nipple once again.

you came for the second time, back arching and desperate for her to never stop.

“ellie I’m tired,” you pouted as she came up from between your legs and kissed you. you tasted yourself from her lips as her tongue grazed yours, she sucked gently and you moaned.

she pulled away, cooing at you. "if only we were done," she said as she stood to walk away, venturing into the closet to get, what she called, her 'strap box'. she thought it was funny to call it that.

she clipped her harness onto her hips and attached her favorite strap; it was forest green in color, nearing eight inches in length. she knew you couldn't always take it all, that's what made it fun for her. especially having you this way, where your head was in the clouds and your body was much more lenient to the things she wanted to do to it.

"flip over, ass up," ellie said, and you complied as she climbed onto the bed behind you. she pressed down on your lower back, deepening your arch. it was slightly uncomfortable, but the way she was looking at your pussy like a hungry dog made you forget the uncomfortability.

ellie never cared much for cleaning you up in between rounds, so when she ran the tip of her strap through your folds and down to your clit, your cum smeared all over your pussy. she almost came in her boxers at the sight of it.

rather roughly, ellie jerked her hips forward, pushing the first three inches in you. it didn't hurt like you anticipated, your body and mind were too lax for anything to hurt much. "today," ellie groaned softly as you took another couple inches. "you're going to take the whole thing. how's that sound?"

you didn't get a chance to answer before she was forcing another inch in you, only one to go before her hips pressed against your ass. your hands gripped the sheets, pressure gathering from the length in your abdomen.

ellie knew it would hurt if she put the last inch in, but she craved it. she couldn't resist the idea of you stretched out wide for her thick, cum soaked strap. she needed it.

she reached over you, wrapping her slender fingers over your mouth and pulling you up as she forced the last inch in you. you whined in pain, protests coming from your covered mouth, but she was too lost to listen. your head rested on her shoulder now, and she used this to reach around and trace your clit while she fucked into you.

she was going fast, slamming her hips into you as hard as she could. the harder the slam, the better it felt against her clit. since you had came twice already, she was focused on herself; meaning that she went as hard and as fast as she needed to to get herself off.

with a final harsh jerk, she coated her boxers and soaked through the inside of the harness. she released your mouth and clit and roughly pushed you forward, unrelenting as you neared your third orgasm of the night.

she grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled it with every thrust, and just like that, the pressure from your stomach and bladder were releasing, and you were coming and squirting all over her.

she pulled out and flipped you onto your back, harshly slapping your clit. "such a fucking mess," she said slowly, with a slap between every word. tears streaked your cheeks from her brutal overstimulation and pain, and ellie lived for her. she wondered how many more times she could slap your sensitive spot between your legs before you begged her to stop, but she figured she would save that for next time.

once you were cleaned up and cared for, she left to acquire more weed. there was no way in hell she wasn't doing this with you again.

tags: @bvnfetti @kl1q @kaykeryyy @katemartinis @r3wbeef

#tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie willams x reader #tlou1 #tlou part 2

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.

Holy Shit.

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.

“You aren’t serious.”

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”

“You’re rich, too, Sam.”

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.

You knew better though.

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.

It was worrisome.

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture.

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.

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

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong.

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.

“Good morning, Sharon.”

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

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yan-lorkai · 4 months ago

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Kicks the door open I have come! to request a Self-aware AU with the Twst bois. When they and the Darling/MC/Player/S/O switch bodies. However, the Darling isn't inside the game. So it's like the Darling waking up in the boys' bodies inside the game, and the boys waking up in the Darling's body in the real world. Thankyou very much 🙏👍🫂✨

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: self-aware au, my beloved. It was so fun to write this and I wrote a lot too 🥺💓. It took me a while to finish, so I hope you like it, darling!

Azul could always feel your presence through the puppet you control. He felt calm when you looked at him. He felt delighted at every laugh you laughed, and he wanted nothing more than to be beside you. The real you. He wished really hard for it to be possible someday, not knowing that this was exactly what was going to happen. Although his request was successful, there was just one error in the equation: he was in your body, your holy, beautiful body. Which means... You were in his horrible body.

While others would feel happy (and he really is happy to an extent), Azul feels a sense of trepidation knowing that you were awaking in his body and there was no way for him to check on you. Or could he? He tried calling his own phone but it wasn't possible. Resigned, he then took to explore your room and home and if you have any roommates / lived with your parents, Azul would try get along with them and collect information on you. While this isn't the ideal, Azul still has to think ten times ahead so when he take you to Twisted Wonderland (not a matter of if but more of when), he could make you sign a deal.

By the way, he definitely try to unlock your phone. And since he is in your body, Azul may try to unlock your phone with your fingerprint or your face if your phone has that function. If he is successful Azul will read your messages as if it were a magazine, he would see what type of songs you listen and videos you like to watch, what's in your history. Basically he is your fbi agent seeing everything on your phone, there's not a thing he'll not see. Good luck for you, reader. That's why I always I always delete my history lol.

Meanwhile you. You wake up on Azul Ashengrotto's body, the octavinelle dorm leader. Geez, are you dreaming? But everything is so real and feels so real. Jade and Floyd seems so real. And their voices, mocking and teasing, almost condescending as you tried your best to act like Azul. They seemed to know that something was wrong but neither choose to ask, brushing off as you being busy with a new scam plan. You were overjoyed but also anxious, without knowing what to do. Could you even return to your body at all? Only time will tell.

⠀⠀

Jade always knew that something was strange with this world, it was almost too... Surreal? He can't quite put into words the things he feel but everything was so much clearer whenever he could feel your presence when he was studying or riding his broom. He could feel your presence when he was cooking, when he was talking about this terrariums, when he was beating people who broke their part of the deal. You seemed to favor him, to love him. He could feel your affection seeping through your cellphone. And he wished to see you, to know you as intimately as you knew him.

And that wish became real. One day he woke up in a different bedroom, in a different body, then, while he is a little surprised, Jade just brush this off as something you did. Perhaps you wanted to show him your world? You wanted to show him your life? Or were you trying to show him something else? Either way, Jade is having the time of his life in your body. Though, as if he was mesmerized by it, he caught himself looking himself at the mirror to see your face staring right back at him. He looks like an excited kid making silly faces in front of the mirror. Honestly he is so unserious. Making faces and silly dances, and laughing because of it.

⠀

Floyd is instantly thrilled, if somewhat bewildered. At first, he messes around with everything he can find, marveling at your surroundings and taking a deep dive into your belongings — he finds it all so fascinating. He’s absolutely entertained by exploring your room, your things, and all the little details that give him insight into your life. But once the novelty wears off, his mischievous nature kicks in. He wants to know everything about you — what you like, your habits, your friends — and he’s not afraid to dig deep. Floyd starts exploring your social media, searching for anything that brings him closer to you and your world. If he finds anyone he thinks might be close to you, he’s ready to make them uncomfortable with cryptic messages or odd behavior, wanting to make it clear that no one knows you better than him.

Meanwhile, you, trapped in Floyd’s body, have to navigate his spontaneous, unpredictable moods and intense physicality — whether in class, on the basketball court, or during his shenanigans. He's having the time of his life while you are fighting for yours, even more when Azul send you to squeeze some people. Like??? How are you supposed to do this????

⠀

Silver always dreamt of you. He knew you, the feeling of your love and affection, the tone of your voice, even if when he woke up he forget everything. A blurry line separating you two. For a while, he thought that you were some higher being that he created on his mind, a simple part of his imagination. That is until this magicless student come around and your presence was all over them, controlling them, talking through them. He wanted to get closer, he wished he could talk to you, to bask on your presence. But he couldn't. He couldn't break his code. Not yet.

But when he slept that night something was different. He couldn't jump into another dream, his voice was different, his height was different, then when he inched closer to the mirror, he saw. A different face. And he knew instantly that it was your face. It was a very beautiful face, exactly how he had imagined. Though it was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to you, to tell what he felt whenever your gaze was upon him. He didn't want to be you. Or for you to be him.

⠀

Riddle wakes up in your body, feeling completely disoriented and frustrated with the lack of control he has over the new, unfamiliar world around him. But soon, the shock turns into curiosity and then into obsession as he realizes he now has full access to everything about you, your routines, belongings, even your weaknesses, and insecurities.

Riddle’s meticulous nature drives him to organize your life, make everything as “perfect” as he can, so when you’re back, it’ll be clear that he knows what’s best for you. He spends hours exploring your things, setting up strict plans, and making lists, even going so far as to cut out people he feels are a bad influence. All of this, in his mind, is for your “own good.”

In Twisted Wonderland, you’re now bound to the rules of Heartslabyul, balancing Riddle’s strict schedule, navigating his many routines, and dealing with his high standards as you struggle to maintain his reputation without causing a commotion.

⠀

Jamil is quick to adjust, immediately masking his initial confusion in favor of stealthily gathering information about your world. He keeps a low profile, but behind that calm facade, he’s strategically piecing together every part of your life, figuring out who’s important to you and how he can stay in your life even if he returns to his world. Jamil moves through your world with subtlety, observing your friends and family with a quiet intensity, noting who to trust — and who to remove from your life. He’s ready to make subtle changes to your social circle or behavior, aligning your life with what he thinks is “best.”

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re handling Jamil’s carefully hidden responsibilities, feeling the pressure of his dual life between serving Kalim and managing his own ambitions, all while trying not to slip up and reveal your true identity. It's difficult.

⠀

Kalim wakes up in your body with sheer joy and fascination, his excitement overriding any initial confusion. He’s absolutely delighted to be in your world, taking in every little detail with childlike wonder. Kalim sees this as an opportunity to become even closer to you, and he goes about learning everything there is to know about your life, friends, and family, brimming with excitement to be part of it all. He’s incredibly affectionate with anyone he meets, happy to share his thoughts, and may unintentionally end up sharing details about “you” that leave people puzzled. He can’t resist splurging a bit on your behalf, thinking he’s treating you.

As for you, adapting to Kalim’s responsibilities in Twisted Wonderland is overwhelming, as you’re thrown into his high-energy life and surrounded by his devoted friends and followers. His cheerful, social world is a whirlwind of activity and expectation, especially with Jamil by your side, assessing every move you make with a scrutinizing eye.

⠀

When Ruggie wakes up in your body, he’s initially thrown off but quickly realizes the opportunity in front of him. Instead of panicking, he takes a strategic approach, savoring every moment as he explores your life and digs into your personal world. His tendencies kick in subtly but intensely; he’s not one for grand, showy gestures, but every action is deliberate, aimed at securing his presence in your life as deeply as possible, as he changes your wallpaper for fanart of him and enters the game to level up all his cards for you.

He begins by poking through your belongings, finding small things that give him insight into your personality, routines, and friends. Ruggie is careful to go unnoticed, learning as much as he can about your relationships and keeping mental notes about anyone he thinks poses a “threat” to his place in your life. He’s not above making subtle changes, distancing you from people he dislikes and reshaping your social circle to align with his preferences, but he does so with skillful subtlety — most people won’t even realize he’s manipulating things from behind the scenes.

If you have a job, he’ll blend right in, charming your colleagues and subtly gaining their favor, leaving an impression that makes it hard for anyone to forget you. He’s naturally resourceful, too, so he takes a look at your finances, maybe even setting aside a bit of extra money “for emergencies” (which, of course, he intends to use for things he thinks you’ll need down the line).

Meanwhile, back in Twisted Wonderland, you’re adjusting to the gritty pace of Ruggie’s life in Savanaclaw. His resourcefulness is evident in every little aspect of his world — from balancing odd jobs to navigating the intense social structure under Leona’s rule. You feel the constant need to stay alert, manage his reputation, and keep up with his never-ending hustle. It’s a life of quick thinking, constant negotiation, and clever shortcuts that keep you on your toes, giving you a firsthand taste of Ruggie’s way of surviving in a world that doesn’t make things easy. You made a note to dote on him when you get back to your body, he deserves.

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totalswag · 2 months ago

Note

since it’s award season!!! can i request singer!reader winning a grammy and ofc she takes drew as her plus one. and the internet goes wild!!! watching them interact with eachother :))

grammy award winner ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note you must’ve read my mind cause when i got immediate inspo for singer!reader at the grammys. i love writing singer!reader.

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

masterlist

summary attending the grammys with four nominations, performing, and bringing your handsome, supportive boyfriend along with you.

warning(s) cursing and bunch of cuteness

The Grammy's. The day you've been waiting for since you were a little girl sitting on the couch with your family watching some of your favorite artists perform. Now, you're blessed to say you're attending the Grammys with four nominations.

You're allowed to bring a plus one. Drew, your boyfriend, will be coming along with you. You wanted to repay him for bringing you to his events and bring him to the Grammy's. Plus, he's been talking about it non stop.

"Okay, plan is to have you walk out on the carpet first, take a few pictures, then have Drew come out" Your manager, Alysa, explains before signaling you to walk out.

You nod in agreement, gently squeezing Drew's hand, looking up at him⎯he's already looking at you with so much love and devotion. "I'm so proud of you baby, you got this, take a few deep breaths" he reassures you.

"Thank you baby, I really needed that" you smile.

You start by briefly taking photos on the carpet. You gesture Drew over for a few photos as you turn around. He stands tall and to your right. His left arm is fastened around your waist, and his thumb is gently rubbing circles to keep you calm.

You two stole everyone's hearts with your complementary outfits—elegance and love manifested. Every time you two attend an occasion, your wardrobe always complements or matches that of the other person.

You let out a giggle and moved in his direction, clasping hands, before he twirled you around in a playful manner. The genuine joy and pure devotion that radiated between you two was captured by the incessantly clicking cameras. He kissed you quickly on the temple as you sat back next to him.

He whispered, "I love you," in a voice reserved for you.

Your eyes gleamed as you gazed up at him. "You have my ultimate love."

The paparazzi were getting loads of video and camera footage of your little interaction.

By the time you arrived at the arena, you were taken backstage to prepare to play two of your most popular songs from your latest album. You've been working with your dance team on geography and making sure everything is flawless. There's an outfit change that alters the whole vibe.

Drew and your manager were in your changing room before the show, seated in the front of the stage. He wished you luck before Drew and Alysa took to the floor where everyone else was.

Chase, his co star on Outer Banks, is here attending with his girlfriend, Kelsey. Drew mentioned prior to leaving the dressing room they were gonna catch up.

"Good luck out there, you're gonna kill it out there, I love you baby," he says, embracing you with a gentle yet loving hug that makes you feel protected.

"I love you handsome."

Once it came time to performing, you stood on top of the stairs when the lights were placed on you. The first few chords sounded out, and the audience burst into cheers. So many things running through your mind on stage⎯you got this.

As your final song ended, the audience erupted in applause, giving you a standing ovation. You turned to face Drew, and there he was—on his feet, applauding swiftly whistling with his fingers, pride on his face.

For the viewers at home watching got to whiteness Drew's reaction after the performance. The way he looked at you was filled with so much emotion, love, and excitement. They were going crazy on social media.

Then came the awards. Your category was up, and the excitement was evident. Drew's fingers intertwined with yours under the table, causing your heart to race.

Best Pop Vocal Album Category.

“And the Grammy goes to…" The entire arena was on their toes as the card was being open.

"Y/N Y/L/N!”

Gasps and shouts erupted around you, but your thoughts went blank for a second, incredulity sweeping over you before Drew gently pulled you up. "It's you, baby. "Go get your Grammy."

Your jaw fell, free hand on your chest, searching your surrounds, unable to think or feel what was going on. You've won your first Grammy.

He walked you up to the stage, his support unwavering. He brings himselve back the table⎯giving you your moment to shine on stage. This moment is about you.

Taking a shaky breath, you accepted the award, emotions thick in your throat. Finally glancing up from staring at the award in your hand, "This… This is unbelievable," you began, peering out into the crowd. "I've dreamt of this moment my whole life, and I wouldn't be here without my incredible team, my fans, and the people who've supported me through everything."

Drew's eyes caught your attention amid the crowd, filled with unshed tears and pride. "And to my partner in crime, Drew, thank you for always believing in me and being my rock. "This is ours."

Drew placed his hand over his heart and nodded, sending a silent 'I'm very proud of you' your way.

After giving thanks to winning your award, you were guided back stage that trailed towards the front of the stage where the tables were. Drew's eye's were already on you when he could see you in his eye of vision.

He gets out of his chair, adjusts his tie, walks towards you, "my girl won her award tonight," and wraps his arms around you.

Trying to hold back your tears, you acknowledge in a hushed tone, "I fucking love you so much, and I love having you by my side throughout this entire process."

"And I love you more than you know; I'll be here every step of the way," he says, gently swinging your bodies side to side. The height gap between you two is rather noticeable.

As the show continued, there were more performances that were unbelievably beautiful no one could take their eyes off the stage. More awards were given out from different categories. You ended up winning two more awards from Album of the Year and Best Pop Solo Performance.

There are no words to describe how honored you feel after tonight. Everyone has been discussing the idea of an after-party following the Grammy Awards. After that, you can celebrate and spend time with Drew.

Fans couldn’t get over the interview of you backstage after the show with Drew by your side. He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time as he smiled. You would put your right hand on his chest whenever you spoke about him.

fan33: can we please talk about the tears forming in drews eyes when y/n stood on stage?!? #boyfriendoftheyear

fan2: they fit each other so well I LOVE IT

fan7: this is what love looks like if y'all were wondering

fan22: alexa play that should be me 😔

fan10: DREW GET ON THAT KNEE NOW 🫵

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toxicanonymity · 9 months ago

Text

EVERY INCH 4

SERIES MASTERLIST | SLASHERS MASTERLIST PAIRINGS: ghostface x f!reader; dark javi x f!reader LENGTH: ~6.6k words. The next one will be shorter.

SUMMARY: after what you did on the metro, you're ashamed and paranoid. javi crosses a line. ghostface does something he's never done before. so do you.

WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon, piv and various acts, references to noncon, somno, drugs, degradation, dirty talk, angst/shame, yearning, breeding & "daddy" kinks, descriptions of (not actual) pregnancy. Restraints, blindfold. And idk, it gets weird. Anonymous ghostface. We enjoy surprises in this series, soo WRITER CHOOSES NOT TO WARN IN FULL. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

A/N: Thank you for your patience and enthusiasm and omg all the love on the fics 🖤. Thank you negraarmadura (@theblackarmor) for your valuable input and inspiration. Also, @lunitawrites can shoulder some blame for the excessive breeding kink. Ty @saradika for the dividers.

🚨 FIC ART: banger collage by @aurorawritestoescape and action packed movie trailer by @carminepoison

Overnight, your fury and humiliation fades into gloom and confusion. Ghostface. You wake up itchy and dehydrated.

You never imagined things would go this far. You should kill him, right? Ghostface? Don’t you have to? Think about what he did to you. What he made you do. You should kill him, but you don't have the energy. And you're too angry at yourself to have much ire for anyone else.

Ghostface, a notoriously brutal killer, called you a serial rapist, and he wasn’t even really lying. How much of the metro disaster was planned? Did Ghostface orchestrate it, or did he simply seize the opportunity to watch, fascinated by your blind lust and rage?

You didn't want to know. As long as you weren't certain, you still had that little sliver hope that you didn't rape a stranger at gunpoint all on your own. But either way, you did hold the gun. Either way, you took the man’s dick out and degraded him as you forced yourself on him in the middle of a public train. Lost in the moment. Feeling like it was just you and him, Ghostface. Until it wasn’t.

The day after the metro, it feels like everybody knows what you did. Every time you close your eyes, images of crowds on train platforms blur through your mind. An infinite audience to your terrible crime.

You stay in bed, frozen, not wanting to face reality. Telling yourself it’s a dream. Sleeping off and on. Batting away uncomfortable thoughts–like when will you see Ghostface again? Is he going to call you? What will you do? You can’t get him off your mind.

Two mornings after the metro, you drag yourself out of bed, then out into the world. At the grocery store, you bump into your older pothead neighbor, and he asks if you're okay. Your heart races, thinking he must know. It takes you a moment to remember why he’s asking – your friend Marla was stabbed to death just days ago, and she wasn't the first.

In the checkout line, you space out until a man’s voice jars you from your trance. You apologize and put your items on the conveyor belt. When you’re just about to pay, you receive a text message from an unknown number, a fact which on its own makes your tummy tingle. When you read the text, your whole body turns hot:

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine.

The words land straight between your legs. As the grocer hands you your bags, he asks if you’re okay. You shake yourself out of it and nod. The grocer wishes you good luck. At least, that’s what you think he says. Good luck not getting caught? Good luck not getting killed? Good luck with what? You decide you must have imagined it.

In the parking lot, before heading home, you sit in your car for a few minutes, spaced out, wondering if you'll ever be able to go out in public again without feeling like this. Like everyone knows something awful about you.

On the way home, you can't get your phone to charge. You’re fiddling with the cord when blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, making your stomach drop. The lights turn off only after you're parked on the grass shoulder of the two lane road.

Every second feels like a minute until a tall, blonde cop in aviators gets out of his car, stretches, and strides over like he has all the time in the world. You roll down the window. He plants two huge hands on the top of your car and ducks down to look at you. For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything, just leisurely chews his gum.

Then, he shifts his stance and asks, “How ya doin’, ma’am?” Deep voice, smooth as butter.

Out of nowhere, you feel on the verge of tears. Avoiding your reflection in his shades, you swallow the knot in your throat and answer, “fine.”

He stops chewing and asks,“Yeah? You sure?”

You suck your lips together and nod.

He looks from you to the groceries in your front seat and the mess of junk in the back, then asks, “Where ya headed?”

“Home.”

He bobs his head in understanding and glances down the road, chewing his gum again.

Your heart continues to race as you watch his face for a long moment of silence. Finally, he speaks. “Well, put your fuckin’ phone down for me.” He raises his eyebrows and tips his shades forward, forcing his sky blue eyes on you. “‘k, darlin’?”

Your lips part, and you forget to blink until he winks at you and flashes a smile. Then you nod and mumble, “Uh. Yeah, sorry.”

He fixes his aviators back. “Careful out there, ‘k?” After a nod and a casual tap on your roof, he walks off. You watch him in the rear view mirror.

Are his legs that long, or is it the monochrome outfit? He adjusts his belt before getting in his car. Your chest bubbles with interest, attraction, and you curse yourself under your breath.

At home, you try to distract yourself by watching a show, but it’s just not possible. After what he did—what you did–on the train, you’re terrified to know what’s next. What you might do next in this absurd state you find yourself in where he consumes your every thought. And it hits you, the sickest part of all—why you attacked who you thought was Ghostface. Not because Ghostface attacked you, not because he tried to kill you, but because he left you after getting you worked up. Ghostface walked away from you. He left you alone and alive in that alley, and it upset you.

You find yourself at the bizarre revelation that you and Ghostface are the only people in your world that feel real right now. You’re inextricably linked. He’s the only one who really knows you. He knows your darkness.

Are you the only one who really knows him, too?

Your phone dings with a text. It’s a political campaign, but you take the opportunity to re-read:

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine.

It gives you butterflies. It sounds like him. It has to be him. That’s the only thing that helps you relax.

(Some hours and a nap later. . .)

"What would you do if you had Ghostface cornered," Javi asks, sitting back and manspreading next to you on your sofa. He's nursing a Mike's Hard Lemonade from a case he brought and crammed into your fridge, pushing aside expired condiments and old takeout containers.

You should never have let Officer Javi in when he knocked on your door. “Heard ya had a rough day,” he had remarked. “Pulled over?” he raised his eyebrows. There was something about him that made you uneasy, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice, so you opened the door.

It was impossible to miss the way he sniffed the air after crossing the threshold. You imagined he was smelling the cum of Ghostface and amateur Ghostface, even two days and several showers later.

Pulling yourself back into the moment at hand – Javi’s question isn’t easy – what would you do if you had Ghostface cornered? What would a normal person do?

You ask, "if I had him cornered?"

"What, you wouldn't do anything?" Javi challenges you.

"I wouldn't get within ten feet of him," you claim.

Javi chuckles skeptically. "You wouldn't kill him?"

“No. . . .should I?”

"I think you have it in you,” Javi replies, then drops his voice. “Or you want it in you."

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t let it go. You challenge him, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to be a victim. You're determined not to be."

In a gesture that could pass for reassurance, Javi’s cold, broad hand rests just above your bare knee for a moment. Then he trails his fingers up your thigh, all the way to the hem of your shorts, close to where you’re now tingling.

His voice goes down in pitch and volume. "It's an attractive quality. . . Your lust for control." His face is dark with lust.

You take his hand off your thigh and place it on his own leg.

“See? ” he asks with a condescending twitch of his mustache in the corner of your eye.

"Pervert," you mutter.

"You wouldn't shoot Ghostface with my gun?" Javi glances down at himself. Eyes following his gaze, you do a double take at the shape in his tight pants.

Shame prickles your face, and you swallow as you admit, "Your gun was stolen."

"I know," Javi nods with just the hint of a smile. "It was turned in."

With an air of nonchalance, he takes the gun out of the back of his pants. He subtly rubs the side of the barrel against his hard cock as he pretends to inspect the firearm before setting it on the coffee table. "Now you can shoot him.”

He watches you look at the gun on your coffee table. The one that was buried in your cunt less than 48 hours ago. Javi continues, “But you won't shoot him, will you?"

"No," you agree.

"Don't want him to leave you alone."

"No," you argue, mouth getting dry. “That’s ridiculous.”

"Oh,” Javi seems to be acting. “Too scared to shoot a gun? We'll practice."

“No,” you shake your head, then ask, "How do I know he's the right one? The one who’s cornered?"

"Ah," A smile creeps across his face. "The real Ghostface, and not just some guy in a Stab costume? " He raises an eyebrow.

Over the next few seconds, your face goes ice cold.

"Shhh. It's okay,” Javi rests a hand on your back, then rubs it slowly. “I know, sweetheart.”

He knows what? Is he involved in this somehow? Your question spills out before you can stop it. “What are you getting at? What did you do?”

The large palm on your back slows to a halt between your shoulder blades. Javi pouts in contemplation, looking at the ceiling like he's racking his brain. Another twitch of his mustache. Before meeting your eyes again, he subtly shakes his head, "Nothing," then bends forward, picks up your drink, and hands it to you. He puts his hand on your back again, lazily caressing it with his knuckles this time.

Trying to calm yourself down, you take a sip. He nods encouragingly.

You ask, "Are you even a cop?"

"Yeah, I’m a cop," he laughs.

“Okay, pig. Who’s your supervisor?”

Javi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ouch! ”

Another sip of your drink.

“Good girl,” he whispers as he watches you swallow. His eyes are right on your throat. The tingle simmers between your legs. Javi’s hand slides up your back to slowly rub the nape of your neck with his thumb and fingers while his hungry eyes scan you head to toe. How hard is he right now? You don’t allow yourself the glance.

“Listen sweetheart,” his tone shifts, “I can’t make this any easier on you.” His thumb gently glides over the peach fuzz on your neck.

“Make what easier?”

Javi’s only acknowledgement of your question is to breathe out a small laugh, then continue, “But I can make it harder.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s in your best interest if I keep you company tonight.”

With Javi’s crotch tugging at your peripheral vision, a mild arousal stirs in your gut, but you muster a look of disgust. “Or what?”

“Let’s not find out, ” he threatens.

You scowl and take another sip, catching a flash of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He continues to caress the back of your neck, then says, “Unless you want to find out.”

His thumb freezes right in the dip at the base of your skull. “Maybe I read you wrong. Maybe you do want to be a victim.” He taps his thumb twice and takes his hand away. His dark eyes scan your face as he reaches for the remote control.

Are you paranoid, or does he know something? You no longer trust yourself to see things as they are. You pray he’s just a creep, taking advantage of his assignment to protect you. If he were a worse looking creep, you might be more concerned.

Two hard lemonades later, you’re lying on your side on the couch, watching Rosemary’s Baby with Javi spooning you and lightly caressing your lower abdomen, right at the top of your shorts.

“Are you on birth control? ” he asks, which catches you off guard and makes your face and insides tingle.

“Yeah, gonna put that in your report?” you answer.

“Mm,” he sighs. “Bet you take it real well, too.”

A pool is forming in your panties.

“Same time every day? ” He doesn't wait for an answer before adding, “Even with all this going on? ”

No response from you.

With the softest flick of his thumb, he unbuttons your shorts.

“You really think i’m going to fuck you, don’t you?” you ask as his hand plunges into your panties. At least those are fresh. Or they were.

When Javi’s fingers reach your wetness, he groans softly. “I told you, sweetheart. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Rubbing circles over your most sensitive place, he lightly grinds his hardening dick against your backside. The warm pressure of his arousal makes you throb.

This goes on for a minute, then he cruelly slides his hand out of your shorts. He smells his fingers. The crudeness makes you twitch and seethe. A moment later, he’s urgently tugging down your shorts. His forearm vein bulges as he wedges his hand between your legs again. Your knees open for him, you can’t help it. His cock is pressing so hard against your ass, throbbing for you. He’s rubbing you at a steady, desirous rhythm, and your body is helping your mind forget everything.

Need is rushing through your blood. The only thing you can see is a climax in sight. Your insides swell and throb for him. You think about his cock, you want his cock, but no, you’re not going to give a pig that honor. This will have to do.

He breathes heavier, and so do you. Your hips move with his rhythm. Every once in a while, his middle finger goes down and teases your hole as he gathers more slick to bring upward. Then one time, his finger stays at your entrance. He wriggles the tip of his middle digit into you, then plunges it in with a grunt, as far as he can get.

He pumps his finger and grinds his palm against your clit. Your hips begin to rock into his hand. He mutters, “mierda” (shit), to himself as he slides his ring finger in. His thick digits stay buried inside. His cock twitches, and he calms himself, slowing down. A moan slips out of your mouth when you’re on the edge, desperate for release.

“You want this, don’t you? ” he sides an arm under your neck and across your breasts to pull you tight against him. The swell of his cock sends a wave of pleasure upward, through your chest.

“No,” you choke out, but your hips roll into his hand.

“If you want to cum, all you have to do is ask.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between heavy breaths. You’re almost there. Then, you grab his hand and hold it still against your cunt as you send yourself over the edge, grinding against his palm, gasping vocally, spasming against his hand, pathetically trying to hold back your moans.

As it fades, you want more. Of course you want more. But you won’t give him the satisfaction.

You wriggle out of his embrace to sit up and kick your shorts off your ankles.

“I’m going to wash the cop off me,” you mutter in self-disgust.

Javi is bemused. “He doesn’t make you ask, huh? ”

Heat rises to your face. You stand up and don’t even look at him. “Fuck you, Javi,” you mutter.

“Does he even make you cum? ”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you lie.

Javi stands up, braces his thumbs on his lower back, and pushes his hips forward in a stretch. A spot of precum on his pants draws your eye as he steps forward, his engorged dick straining to get out.

After his stretch, he steps forward. His jaw clenches and his eyes are cold. He takes your jaw in his hand and looks from your lips to your eyes and back. “Everyone’s going to know who I’m talking about if you’re not careful.”

Your stomach drops, but you manage not to show it, you think. “Be gone when I’m out of the shower,” you warn as if you could do anything about it.

“Suit yourself,” he smiles slightly. “This time.” He adjusts himself with his dry hand.

You give him one last glare. Then, your eyes fall to his hand, where he’s inspecting his two wet fingers, glimmering in the low light of the movie credits. His mustache twitches, and he walks in the opposite direction of your front door. You don’t bother redirecting him. You’re just glad he’s leaving when he exits out the back.

In the shower, you start to feel woozy. Did you drink more than you realized, or did Javi slip you something? It could have been either. You end the shower sooner than you otherwise might, wrap yourself in a robe and lay on your bed. Aching to be filled, you think about retrieving a toy from your nightstand, but your sudden fatigue wins over. Not getting off to the thought of Ghostface is a victory, even if it’s on a technicality. Instead, you fall asleep, thinking about the only man you’ve thought about for weeks.

Your dreams are wild.

Ghostface is working at a grocery store, with his mask on. He has a black button down shirt under a long black apron with a name tag that says Daddy. He’s rolling up his sleeves as he walks toward customer service. It feels like he runs the place. He stops in his tracks when he sees you. You stand frozen as he approaches swiftly. He grabs you roughly by the elbow and marches you toward the produce section as if you shouldn’t even be there at the store.

He bends you over a crate of citrus fruit, and a fake thunderstorm booms from a nearby produce cooler as the vegetables get misted.

Standing behind you, holding you down on the fruit with one hand, he kicks your ankles to spread your feet open, exposing your cunt to the cool air. “You couldn't wait, could you?” He asks, hiking up your dress. You aren't wearing anything under it. “Couldn’t wait for Daddy to get home...”

There's a surge of need at the crux of your thighs, and you eagerly await his cock. Instead, what you feel is the cool, taut skin of a lime gliding against your dripping pussy.

He slides the fruit up and down your dripping seam and pauses to grind it against your clit. The man knows what he’s doing. You throb and twitch and sigh as the smooth skin of the lime warms up.

“That’s right, princess.” He wedges your legs further apart, so far apart the stretch burns. Then he resumes his work with the fruit.

One end of the lime teases your entrance, then he pushes it into you. Your body sucks it up with ease and spasms around it.

“Good girl.” His hand remains between your legs, hooking under your body to reach your clit. You whine as he rubs your sweet spot. The lime seems to thrust inside you with each rub of his hand against your front. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

He makes you cum on the lime, and with each of your spasms, your body sucks the fruit further into your channel.

As your orgasm fades, Ghostface zip ties your hands over your head, fixing them to the sale sign in the middle of the produce crate. He leaves you with your dress still pulled up, ass and cunt exposed, twitching with aftershocks.

“Please, wait,” You beg him to come back.

Another worker notices you and fails to hide his erection. The man’s face is pink and spellbound. He stands there and rubs himself through his pants. He looks around furtively as he does it, watching you. And you’re a vision — pathetically bent over the fruit, spread wide open, moaning and whining for your man to come back and fuck you raw.

A new sensation eclipses your awareness of the small audience. It begins to feel like the lime is growing in your womb, spreading your insides apart. You're increasingly aroused, feeling less and less control over your body as it swells with desire. You find yourself wishing for anyone to shove himself inside you—staff or customer. If only anyone with a cock would stop and use you. Please, you think to yourself. “Please,” you whimper out loud. You’re desperate to cum again, desperate to relieve all this pressure building in your belly.

An older man approaches, undoing his belt, and he looks you over as he runs his hand over the outline of his erection, deciding what to do with you. He gets close enough to spread your cheeks and examine your cunt. Your hole tremors at his touch, and you whimper. You can feel from the air that you are spread wide open. It feels like you’re going to split at the seam. After examining your parts, the man mutters, “oh,” before deciding against it and walking away.

Your whole torso feels like it could burst with the amount of tension swelling inside you. Your nipples are tight and sensitive, and you feel one of them bare against an orange under your chest. You look down to see your breasts, noticeably swollen, falling out of your dress.

The fruit beneath you begins to dig into your tummy and it hurts. It's too much, paired with the aching need between your legs. You cry out, and the other worker pages the general manager, Ghostface, over the intercom.

When Ghostface returns, he snips your zip ties then roughly flips you over so you're face-up on a big pile of fruit. He ties your hands over your head again, this time using a plastic produce bag.

“Well, look at my pumpkin,” he admires your body as he removes his gloves. Until you see the way his mask seems to stare at your middle, you don’t realize your midriff is exposed. Your dress has ridden up over your belly, which is rounder than before. It feels tight and distended, and you just feel so full. He places both hands on your belly, feeling your shape. When you look down, you hardly recognize yourself. Your nipples are leaking. The one still in your top is creating a wet spot. Your other breast has broken containment completely.

“What did you do to me,” you demand, with Ghostface massaging your belly tenderly.

He groans and reaches up with one hand. Suddenly he clamps his hand over your eyes. The next thing you feel is a mouth sucking at your exposed tit. It feels amazing, all the tension rushing out of your breast, along with the stimulation of his tongue. He breaks away with a moan.

“I knew you'd be delicious.”

So much pressure is built up inside you, you're dying to cum. He holds you by both your sides. You’re painfully spread open, inner thigh muscles aching. He puts himself between your legs. He grinds himself against you, and it makes your walls clench and convulse almost instantly with a groan that echoes.

He pulls his hips back and watches between your legs as you surrender to another orgasm. “Look at you, drizzled all over the fruit,” he marvels as he watches your fluttering hole. With each wave, you feel your belly and breasts swell a little more until you feel and look like you're in your third trimester.

“Please make it stop,” you beg. It feels so good, but you don’t want your body like this.

He rubs at your dripping cunt, his flattened fingers gliding soothingly between your puffy folds. Soon, you're grinding against his hand.

“Please,” you beg. “Take it out, take the lime out.”

“Might be too late, angel.”

“Please try.”

He relents and wedges three fingers together. The fingertips tease your dilated hole, then his three thick digits slide right in, the ease of it making him groan. The obscene squelching practically echoes as he fucks you with three fingers, and soon he adds a fourth. Your body accepts him, and welcomes the addition of his thumb. Soon his hand is reaching deep inside you, fist and forearm flexing as he searches for the lime.

“Daddy’s trying, baby.”

Your body hugs his hand. “Please,” you cry, tears running down your face, from pleasure and pressure more than pain.

“Let me see,” he muses to himself as he withdraws his hand and moves a finger down to your asshole. He teases the rim of it and you feel it open up for him like the rest of your body. Then he slides two dripping fingers in. With his fingers buried in your ass, you feel some relief. You breathe with the rhythm of his fingers, but when you see your belly heaving with each breath, you remember. “Please, please put me back to normal.”

Ghostface sighs. “Are you sure, princess?” His fingers slide out of your asshole.

“Yes,” you insist.

He crouches down, puts your legs over his shoulders, and positions himself with his mask right at your cunt. He rests his dry hand on your belly, and his wet hand grips his mask at the edges.

Just as he goes to take the mask off, the whole scene melts into a moving mosaic of fleeting thoughts.

Everything but the pleasure fades away.

Everything but the pleasure. . . and the feeling of being spread wide open. . . and your legs over someone’s strong shoulders. . .

Yes, there’s a head between your thighs, two strong hands holding you open, and a hungry mouth feasting on you with abandon. He’s grunting into your cunt with his tongue intruding into your deepest places, making your insides hum with need.

Did Javi never leave? It doesn’t exactly sound like Javi. Javi is far too measured to be so—ohh, God, that feels good. It feels so good, you barely notice that you’re blindfolded. Or that your wrists are tied above your head, securing you to the bed frame.

He licks up your cunt to suck at your clit, and he does it well. Fuck. A moan slips out, muffled by something damp and lacy. Your mouth is sore and gagged. Your heart races as he sucks, and your sensitive nub swells with pressure.

You’re still waking up, and your traitorous hips are grinding into his face. You’re close. His hands are on your thighs. You’re on the edge of climax, trying not to make any sound or sudden movements.

When his tongue slips down to your asshole, you flinch. You squirm, but the hands hold you still. His thumbs spread your cheeks, and he licks a wide circle around the rim, getting closer and closer until his tongue is teasing your hole.

Your nose twitches. You sniff the air, and breathe a shameful sigh of relief. It’s not Javi. It’s him. Thank God, it’s him. And it smells like he smoked in your room.

Ghostface pauses to mutter, “Good girl,” and the voice comes from between your legs, and from your right, as though he’s separated from the voice changer.

And separated from his mask. Wow. You never thought he’d— his warm mouth returns to your ass, and he thrusts his tongue into you. A pit in your gut deepens with each thrust of his tongue. Your eyelashes flutter against the folded bandana that covers your eyes.

You grunt and whine into the gag, then he begins to rub your clit while his tongue is buried in your ass. Before long, the tension snaps, and your vision goes from black to white. A muffled moan marks the start of your peak. His tongue slides out, and your body jerks with each spasm.

“Attagirl,” you hear from both directions.

As you finish coming, he lays a cheek on one thigh and a hand on the other, stroking your skin with his thumb.

“You were on a silver platter, princess. I had to take a bite.” Your nipples harden—you’re naked and your sweat is cooling. “You know how it is.” You don’t try to respond. “Had a feeling you wouldn’t mind,” he taunts. “And ohhh, Pumpkin. We’ve been having *fun*.”

Can’t exactly ask what he’s been up to with a mouth full of your own panties. But you wriggle and groan in disapproval. His face lifts off your thigh, and his hands are quick to hold you down and keep you still.

“Yeah, yeah,” he acknowledges your halfhearted effort, and you stop resisting. The fact that you both see through this charade puts you more at ease somehow.

When you feel his breath on your hip, it’s clear he’s not done, and you’re not mad about it. You’re in a daze—Ghostface is in your room, unmasked. Between your legs.

His teeth press into your skin, then his lips. He sucks hard, then harder, and the bruising suction makes you throb. You grunt into the panty gag. He releases your skin, then drags his lips to your mound.

He licks up your mound and presses wet, hungry, open-mouth kisses along your exposed torso, licking upward between each kiss, all the way to your breast where he pauses to suck and moan into it. You whine into the gag as your nipple hardens in his mouth and you gush and throb.

He drags his tongue up your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The closer his head gets to yours, the more clearly you can smell him - his unique blend of pheromones, his sweat, the way it mixes with the weed.

And then it slaps against you. His cock. Smooth, and warm, and hard against your hip, and your chest swarms with butterflies. You moan softly. His face is in the crook of your neck. He latches on for a suck and the dull pain makes your hips lift, seeking more of his cock. You feel an emptiness, a longing to be filled.

His bare face nuzzles at your jaw. He drags his lips up your chin, to your cheek, to your ear.

“Shhh,” he whispers, despite your silence.

His lips slowly drag toward your mouth, dragging along the gag. With his mouth on your cheek, your lips tingle with an urge. And then he gets there. His mouth lingers, open against yours, his breath, hot and humid, enveloping your lips. His teeth scrape the corner of your mouth. He bites down on the gag while one hand fiddles behind you to untie it. His cock, now on your mound, swells harder against you and Good God, you need him bad.

With a backward nod, he tugs at the panty gag, then lets it fall away with a vocal exhale, thrusting his stiff manhood against you. The loss of his lips on your face resembles heartache.

Barely above a whisper, you ask, “what are you doing?” and brace to hear his real voice.

Instead, his hand seizes your jaw, forcing your mouth wider open. And then he spits in your mouth. You taste it as it slides down your tongue, down your throat, and desire stirs in your gut.

He releases your jaw. “Daddy needs to hear ya, princess.” He mutters breathily, and it echoes from your right, “Daddy needs to hear you, princess.”

You pull your knees up. He braces a hand behind you against the wall and grinds his stiff manhood against your slick mound. “Fuck,” he whispers, with no digital echo. Then, in both voices, “You want this. . . Don’t you, pumpkin?” He grinds against you, harder. “You want Daddy’s big cock,” he confirms, and you can imagine him nodding.

“Yeah,” you admit in a whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies. The slow, throbbing grind of his warm cock is devastating so close to where you need it.

“Please,” you ask.

“Please what?” he replies.

“Please,” your chest tingles, “Please, Daddy.”

“Uh-huh,” he thrusts against you nice and slow. So stiff and warm.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead.

He pulls his hips back, letting his cock slide and drop to where his tip notches at your entrance. “Who’s gonna fuck you?”

“You are, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl.” His tip pushes into your yearning cunt.

“Please, Daddy.”

“That’s right,” his tone sharpens as he abruptly shoves his length into you, pushing your slick walls apart. He shudders as he bottoms out. There’s a tingling burn in the stretch, but it quickly fades as your body gives way to the intrusion. And then, the overwhelming feeling is fullness and need for friction.

His hips pull back, and your legs wrap around him, begging him all the way back inside. He slams into you, and you grunt with the impact as his flesh fills yours again. “Good girl,” he praises. His cock — How did you ever mistake another man for him? He slams in again, making you whole.

As he fucks you, your thighs tremble, and you whimper, “Daddy,” drawing a groan from him.

He rails in, and slides almost all the way out. Each time, your cunt is pulling at him, begging him back in.

“Whose little slut are you? ” He asks, his thrusts becoming sharper.

“Yours, Daddy.”

A bead of sweat hits your sternum, then your forehead.

“That's my girl,” you hear in surround sound.

A salty drop falls into your mouth.

“Daddy’s little slut,” he breathes, “can really take a cock,” and the voice changer catches the last half.

He hovers his body lower, closer to yours. A thick steam condenses between you as he pounds you unforgivingly, even from the closer angle. Your chest, your whole torso, you’re all dewy with heat. And his skin, it’s so close, you want to feel it. You neeeed to feel it.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

Yearning to put your hand on his chest, you try to wriggle out of the rope and your wrists begin to burn. Your breasts jiggle and jut into the air with the effort. His chest grazes your tits, and you gasp with the pleasure that seizes your tummy.

You take a deep breath through your nose, drowning yourself in his masculine scent and the weed that hangs in the air.

He thrusts sharply and stays all the way in, grinding against you. His chest grazes yours again as he brings his mouth to your ear, and feeling his breath makes you weak. “Cum for Daddy,” he whispers, and his lips graze your temple with another thrust. He raises his volume, catching the modulator. “Cum on this cock, princess.”

“Mmm,” You bite your lip and whimper.

“One more for Daddy.” His thick, hard manhood drags heavily through your tight, wet channel, then he grinds again after bottoming out. His pubic bone is nudging your front just right.

“Mmgh,” you whimper, “Daddy,” and the pressure bursts. You whine, overtaken by your rhythmic release, hips lifting into him. His heavy breaths seem to echo to the beat of your climax.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, fucking you through it. “Ohhh,” he thrusts sharply and shudders as he begins to pulse. Your spasming cunt milks his cock. Your heels dig into his back.

He shoots a thick, hot rope deep into your cunt, and with a slow thrust, another one. Then his cock cruelly slides out. Your heart falls, and your legs reflexively tighten around him. You whine, “no,” with your desperate cunt grabbing at nothing.

But it's only a split second before his dripping wet cock shoves into your ass. It’s just in time to pulse again as his girth spreads you open and he claims another hole. “Yeah,” He bottoms out and your whole body heats up. In surround sound, you hear, “Hell yeah.”

He groans as he pulses, and over a few more beats and moans, the rest of his hot seed floods your guts. Each twitch of his shaft makes you shudder. You let yourself get lost in the warmth.

He breathes vocally as he finishes. Then his nose grazes yours ever so briefly, and you bite your lip. As he slides out of your ass, his breath is humid on your cheek and the corner of your mouth. When his face pulls away, your face feels cold.

He reaches toward the corner of your bed. Then you hear him rustling around as he puts his mask back on.

“Untie me,” you beg. He gets off the bed. More rustling. When he comes back, you feel his pj pants graze your bare skin and you’re offended.

He lightly braces a hand on your shoulder as he gets closer to where your hands are tied. The cool metal of his blade hits your palm and gives you a chill. The flat of the knife presses into your skin as he slices part of the rope and it loosens. You free your hands and bring them in front of you to caress the burn marks from your attempts to free yourself. He gets off your bed again.

“You had company tonight,” he remarks.

“Uninvited,” you clarify.

“Ohhhh. *Uninvited*,” he taunts with skepticism. The location of his voice has changed—he’s pacing.

“Jealous?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Want him to bleed out anyway? ”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“He’s not a good guy,” you offer.

“Oh, princess. If he was a good guy, you wouldn’t let him in your pants. . .Wouldn't give it up that easy.”

“I didn’t–what–If you were here, why didn't you do anything?”

“Oh, I did a lot. Just not to him.”

“How long have you been here?”

He ignores the question. “Tell me, princess. Why would Prince Charming knock you out, and then just. . . leave?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “But I'm glad he left.”

“Cause he got what he wanted,” Ghostface answers his own question.

“He didn't even cum”

“Oh, that's not it, princess.”

“How would you know?”

“Think, Pumpkin.”

You’ve got nothing.

“There’s gotta be one brain cell left.” He sits down on the bed to put on his shoes.

“You're not gonna tell me?”

He stands up. You hear the woosh of his robe as he puts it on and walks away.

“Wait,” you protest. But he doesn't say a word. His footsteps recede, and you tug the blindfold down to see his robe trailing behind him toward the back door.

“Asshole,” you mutter to yourself.

When you go to the bathroom, cum is leaking out of both holes, which shouldn’t surprise you. After cleaning up, you get back in bed and keep the blindfold with you. It’s faded green, stiff with sweat. You sniff it. His sweat. Your chest feels light with forbidden affection.

Then you’re back to thinking about the question he left you with.

What did Javi want? You push through the shame and replay it all in your head. And then, you see the way he held his wet fingers so carefully as he left, not letting them get contaminated. And it makes your stomach drop. He might be trying to do his job, after all. It unsettles you and keeps you up.

You curl up under the covers, hugging a pillow. The bandana is wrapped around your hand, pressed against your nose and lips. The scent is comforting. You dart your tongue out for a taste, and find even more comfort in the salty tang. Then ,you take a wrinkled corner of it between your teeth. Your lips wrap around the cloth, and your body finally relaxes fully. You drift off suckling at his sweat.

Thank you for reading! PLEASE READ THIS NOTE

Thank you for being here and sticking with me. I value each one of you. I can't overstate how much your comments and reblogs really help and motivate me. Your asks, too. I love knowing what you enjoyed most.

As for what's next - no promises, no time estimates.

When people simply demand the next one (ignoring my comments about this at the end of the fic, on the fic masterlist, and in my pinned post) without saying anything about the one they just read, it does NOT make me write any faster or prioritize this story. It's actually pretty demoralizing. I work hard on these and if the only thing Im gonna hear after the next one is NEXT/MORE, what kind of incentive is that for me to do the next one? I'm glad you're excited but acknowledging what you just read is a more beneficial way of expressing it, from the writer's perspective. Please ❤️

#ghostface x reader #javier pena x reader #dark!javier peña #ghostface #ghostface ☠️#every inch ☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher fanfiction #slasher smut #ghost face #scream fanfic #dubcon cw #danny johnson x reader #ghostface fic #ghostface smut #mickey altieri smut #billy loomis smut #ethan landry smut #stu macher smut

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shortnspidey · 6 months ago

Text

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

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"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

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