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punkshort · 1 month ago

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Don't Give Up On Me

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader (materialists)

Summary: Should you give up on the man you love when he disappoints you, or do you give him another chance?

Warnings: language, tons of angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, hurt/comfort, making men beg and cry

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

A/N: sorry if this is premature. I can't help it. If we got his name wrong I'll just go back and fix it later okay byeeee

Tears that have been burning the backs of your eyes for the last two hours finally threaten to spill down your cheeks now that you're in the privacy of his town car.

Harry sits next to you, still talking on his phone like he has been all night while his driver takes you back to his penthouse. It's nestled in the heart of the city with a breathtaking view, but it's the very last place you want to be right now because you know what you'll have to do once you get there.

You're going to end things, once and for all.

It's been on your mind for a while, but you always talk yourself out of it. You make excuses for him, cover for him, and lie to him when you say it doesn't matter, but it does. It really fucking does.

You know he's a busy man. You've always known this. But foolishly, some part of you believed he would change. That after countless fights, he would eventually understand what's important to you, and it wasn't his money or his things — it was him.

All you ever want is for him to just be there when it counts, and he almost always lets you down. But tonight? Tonight was special. He knew it, too. You told him for weeks how excited you were to receive this award for all the hard work at your firm.

When it came time to accept it and give your speech in front of three hundred people, you excitedly climbed to the stage to take your prize. Your eyes swept around the room, searching for the only person you wanted to see, and your heart sunk when you realized he had stepped out of the room to take a work call.

Again.

It was in that moment you decided you wouldn't put up with it again.

The car stops in the usual spot outside his building. The driver opens your door and you slip out with a tight smile. Harry's right behind you, wrapping up his call, but you ignore him. You charge into the lobby and stab at the call button for the elevator. If he notices your anger, he doesn't let on. He laughs to whoever is on the other end while you adjust the strap of your dress with a huff.

Once the elevator arrives, he finally hangs up. You step inside and he presses in the code for the penthouse on the keypad, then the car smoothly lifts. You stare at the screen above the door while Harry scrolls on his phone, still completely unaware when he asks, "What's your boss's name again?"

You clench your jaw and fight back tears before you answer him. He grunts.

"Thought so. Went to Yale with him. Never liked the guy."

Your award feels so much heavier in your hand now. Like it's trying to pull you back down to the lobby and stop you from doing what you need to do. But you adjust it and lift your chin a little higher — you need to do this.

The doors slide open to Harry's massive, extravagant living room. You step out and walk right past it all — past the ornate kitchen, the priceless art, the expensive marble — through the long, perfectly decorated hallway to his bedroom.

You go right to the closet and grab an empty gym bag, tossing your award inside. You hear him somewhere in the room removing his watch, cufflinks and ring while you stuff your bag with whatever clothes you can think of. It's only when you exit the closet and storm into the bathroom that he notices something is wrong.

"What are you doing?"

You sniffle and sweep your toiletries off the counter, tossing them directly into your bag.

"I'm leaving."

Your voice is a little shaky but it sounds better than you expect. He watches you from the doorway as you move erratically around the room collecting your belongings.

"Wh— why?" he finally asks. You're grabbing your things from the shower when you hear it. He sounds sad, and maybe if it were any other day, you would have felt bad. But that day? That day, it just pisses you off.

You whirl back around and drop your bag on the floor to pin him with a glare. He's in the doorway still wearing the clothes from tonight: pressed black pants and a crisp white shirt, although now the collar is undone and his tie is abandoned somewhere in his bedroom.

"Why?" you repeat. Your tone is so icy, you hardly recognize it. "You — weren't — fucking — there!"

On the last word, you step forward and shove him. He stumbles backwards a bit, but only from shock.

"Baby—"

You shake your head and lean down grab your bag.

"Don't," is all you say when you brush past him. You throw the bag on your bed, half the contents spilling out, but you don't care. You're shaking like a leaf when you round the bed to your side and begin to grab your things from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry," he says softly from the other side of the room. You ignore him and keep working. "It was important. I told you—"

"And this was important to me!"

You snap your head up to yell at him with tears streaming down your face. His expression falls and he reaches out, but you take a step back.

"You're right. I'm — I'm sorry. I'll do better, I prom—"

"No! I'm done! I'm tired of having the same fights with you. I was so fucking stupid to think you'd ever choose me over... over all this."

You gesture broadly around his room but you mean his penthouse in general. He gets it. It's not the first time you've fought over this.

He watches you quietly while you continue to pack with shaky hands. When you're nearly done, he speaks again.

"I do want you," he says, "more than all this. I just — I want to make sure we're comfortable. I want to make sure we have enough so you never have to work again—"

"But I like working! I love what I do! I've never wanted to quit, I've never wanted anything from you... not your money or your cars or your clothes. I just..."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I only ever wanted you," you mumble.

You bury your face in your hands as he crosses the room. You feel him standing in front of you and you know deep down, you're done for.

But still, you try.

"You have me," he says. His hands gently slide up and down your arms, but you keep your face hidden in your palms. "It won't always be like this. It's the busy season, that's all. It's... it's temporary. And then we can do whatever you want. We can go to Paris or Italy or Bora Bora... anywhere. It's up to you."

He takes another step closer and carefully plants a kiss to the top of your head. And you fucking let him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he breathes. Your hands drop to your sides. "I should've been there, you're absolutely right. I'll never do something like that again, you have my word."

You sigh and finally tip your chin up to look him in the eye. It's kind of not fair how handsome he is on top of everything else: a thick head of wavy dark hair, gorgeous brown eyes, a greying beard he's self-conscious about but you find absolutely endearing. If there was one man on the planet who had it all, it's Harry Castillo.

He gives you a small smile and pinches your chin between his fingers when he sees your resolve crumbling.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks.

You take a deep breath and try to scrape together what dignity you have left.

"No," you reply. His smile falters but otherwise he doesn't move. You take a step back but it's not far enough.

"I told you. I'm done."

Right when you go to turn and pick up your bag, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Please," he begs, gazing up at you from the floor. Your eyes widen with shock at this man who is quite literally worth billions falling to his knees, pleading with you to stay. "Don't go. I'll do anything. Please, I-I can't — I won't be —"

"Harry—"

"Please," he says again, urgently. You see his throat bob and his eyes fill with tears. "I'll do whatever you want. I-I just— I don't think I can do this—"

He swallows and presses his face against your stomach. His eyes slide closed and he breathes in deep while you're still struggling to catch up.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, but this time, his hands tighten around your waist. His jaw falls open and he mouths at your middle while a tear sneaks down his cheek.

It shouldn't affect you. You should push him away, take your bag, and go. Instead, you find yourself leaning forward into his hold.

"Harry..."

Your voice holds no conviction. His hands begin to move. They slide down your legs and push up the hem of your dress. He leaves feverish open mouthed kisses across your clothed stomach and over your hips. Your eyes fall shut and you gasp when his palms slide up your bare legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress until his fingers grab hold of your ass and he gives you a rough squeeze.

"Please," he's murmuring, over and over. Your jaw is slack and you give in. You just fucking give in when he pulls down on your panties until they drop to the floor. With shaky legs, you step out of them and crack open an eye when he tosses the lace over his shoulder.

You're weak. You know that. But you really thought this time was the last straw. Instead, he somehow has you underneath him once again. Your dress is in a sad little pile on the floor, along with his pants. His tongue is dancing hungrily with yours as you push his shirt over his shoulders.

You know you should have stood your ground, but you also know he's hurt. He's so broken and you want to fix him. You want to be the one who shows him what it's like — what it could be like. You want to prove that love can heal old wounds and can be beautiful, if you let it.

He groans when he first enters you. It's low and deep and it makes you gasp. His teeth graze your jaw and he whispers everything you want to hear: that he loves you, that he would do anything for you, that he's sorry. You let those words fill you up and mend the wounds he caused, just like all the other times before.

"Never again, okay?"

You nod and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. You say his name with a breathy moan and his hips flex faster, deeper.

"I can be good for you. I— I — fuck—"

He pushes your knees to your chest and you cry out. The angle is so much more intense. It has you clawing at the sheets and mumbling unintelligible curses under your breath as he splits you open, reminding you just how good it can be.

"I won't hurt you ever again," he babbles. Your chest aches. Your eyes water. He keeps fucking you so deep that it has you making noises you never heard yourself make before.

"I don't think — don't think I can d-do this without — you," he groans into your neck. Your nails scrape down his back. You throw your head backwards into the sheets and let him do what he does best: make you feel good and forget all the pain.

His mouth finds your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You moan and his tongue slips inside, licking past your teeth. He's so close. Your bodies practically melt together as one with each steady rock of his hips.

"Feels good, right?" he groans into your mouth. You nod and gasp when the muscles in your stomach begin to pull.

"Yes," you whine, all earlier anger forgotten.

"Yeah, I know," he coos. His hips snap faster, cock plunging deeper until the room is filled with your helpless moans and the sounds of your soaked pussy gushing all around him. He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when you clench tightly around his thick cock.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks. You whimper, cheeks blazing hot and body slick with sweat. He chuckles breathlessly and continues to drive himself into you, over and over. "Yeah, c'mon, it's alright. I wanna feel it — I need to feel it. C'mon, baby, just—"

Before he can finish his sentence, your muscles spasm and you scream out his name. A litany of curses falls from your lips as you pulse around his painfully hard length. He grinds his teeth and keeps fucking you through it until your body goes limp and you melt into the silk sheets.

His arms circle around you and he really begins to fuck you — hard. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt until his cock swells and he comes inside you with a loud, strangled groan.

He collapses on top of you in relief. He occasionally jolts forward, giving you more of his release with each weak roll of his hips until he's spent. His head falls to your chest and he closes his eyes to catch his breath. Your fingers come up to gently rake through his hair and you lay just like that, silent and panting for air while his cock softens inside of you.

"I mean it," he rasps. You peel your eyes open and stare at the ceiling. He presses a soft kiss in the spot between your breasts when he says, "I'll be better. I won't fuck up again. Please, just — just don't give up on me."

Your arms coil around his neck and you hold him close as tears fill your eyes, now for an entirely different reason. You know he's been hurt before. Know what he went through and how badly she broke his heart.

But to his credit, he didn't give up. He kept searching for love, despite it all.

Nobody's perfect. You're far from it. But you know Harry has a good heart. He just needs a little extra care to heal it.

"Okay," you whisper.

You feel his grateful, hot tears pool silently against your chest and you hold him a little tighter.

Everyone makes mistakes, you think. Even the ones who love you the most.

It'll take time. It might hurt. But you'll keep trying. Because what happened wasn't his fault, and you both deserve to have a happy ending.

Some people just have to work a little harder for it.

#materialists #materialists fanfic #materialists fanfiction #Harry Castillo #Harry Castillo x reader #Harry Castillo x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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021894s · 8 months ago

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THE GIRL FROM THE BAR ⭑ lhs

SYNOPSIS: After a tough workday, you visit a quiet bar to unwind, but are harassed by a persistent stranger. The charming bartender, Heeseung, steps in, defending you, sparking an unexpected conversation. As you connect, you feels your stress melt away, drawn to Heeseung's kindness and charm, setting the stage for a blossoming romance.

GENRE: romance, mutual pining

PAIRING: bartender!heeseung x f!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving)

wc: 6.5k

It's an unusually quiet Wednesday night when you push open the door of the dimly lit bar. The cool air inside is a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the summer evening. You make your way to the bar and take a seat, the events of your rough day still weighing heavily on your mind.

As you settle onto the stool, a man approaches, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, beautiful," he says, leaning in closer than you'd like.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for this. "Not happening," you reply, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone.

But he doesn't. "C'mon, don't be like that," he persists, his persistence grating on your nerves.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension. "Pretty sure no means no."

You look up to see a man standing behind the bar, his gaze fixed firmly on the man bothering you. The guy scoffs, looking the man up and down. "Oh, and what are you, her boyfriend?"

His expression remains calm, but there's a steely edge to his voice. "No, but I don't need to be to know how to respect women."

The man's bravado falters, and he mutters under his breath, "Whatever, you weren't that hot anyway," before slinking away.

He turns his attention to you, his features softening into a concerned expression. "Sorry about that. We get the average asshole in here every night."

You're momentarily stunned by his beauty, the way his dark hair frames his face, and the warmth in his eyes, his lean build that wasn’t remarkably bulky, but just enough to make your mind race at the thought of being wrapped in those arms. It takes you a second to find your voice. "N-no, it's okay. Thank you for that."

Heeseung smiles, a genuine and reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

You manage a small smile in return, feeling the tension of your day begin to melt away. "A gin and tonic, please."

"Coming right up," he says, his hands moving deftly to prepare your drink. You watch him, fascinated by the ease with which he works, the smoothness of his movements.

When he places the drink in front of you, you take a grateful sip, savoring the way the cool liquid seems to calm your frayed nerves. Heeseung leans against the counter, his gaze steady on you. "Bad day?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "You could say that. Work was a nightmare. Everything that could go wrong did."

He nods sympathetically. "I know how that feels. Sometimes it seems like the universe just has it out for you."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. "You? I can't imagine someone like you having a bad day."

He chuckles, a low, comforting sound. "Looks can be deceiving. I'm Heeseung, by the way."

"Y/N," you say, offering a small smile in return. "So, what brought you to bartending? Surely someone like you has other options."

He shrugs, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "I needed a job, and I like talking to people. Plus, it's a good way to pay the bills while I figure out what I really want to do."

You take another sip of your drink, feeling the alcohol begin to take the edge off your day. "And what do you really want to do?"

Heeseung's expression turns thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure yet. Something creative, maybe. Music or art. I just know I don't want to be stuck in a nine-to-five grind forever."

You nod in understanding, your eyes sparkling with interest. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, doing what I have to do to get by. It's nice to meet someone who dreams big."

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to take a step back and figure out what makes you happy," Heeseung says, his gaze intent on yours. "Life's too short to be miserable all the time. And you seem like someone who deserves to be happy."

You feel a warmth spread through you, not just from the drink but from the unexpected connection you feel with this charming stranger. You continue talking, sharing stories and laughter, and as the evening wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your day lifting with each passing moment.

Heeseung leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You know, I don't usually see someone as intriguing as you walk through that door. It's a nice change of pace."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can't help but smile. "Well, I'm glad I came in then”.

By the time you finish your drink, you realize you haven't felt this relaxed in a long time. "Thank you, Heeseung," you say sincerely. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "Anytime, Y/N. Sometimes all it takes is a good conversation and a little company to turn things around."

You stand up, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn't had before. "I'll definitely be back."

"I'll be here," he says, his eyes lingering on yours. "Looking forward to it."

As you walk out of the bar, your spirits lifted and your mind clearer than it had been in a long time, you can't help but think about when you'll see Heeseung again.

Over the following weeks, you find yourself returning to the bar with increasing anticipation. Each visit seems to bring you closer to Heeseung, and your interactions grow more flirtatious and comfortable.

Heeseung greets you with a wide grin. “Look who decided to make my night again.”

“Couldn’t stay away,” you reply, sliding onto the stool. “I’ll have a gin and tonic , please.”

As he mixes your drink, he leans in a little closer than before. “You know, you’re quickly becoming my favorite customer.”

“Am I now?” you tease, meeting his gaze. “Does that come with any perks?”

“Maybe,” he says with a wink. “Depends on how many more times you show up.”

Conversation always came naturally in the time you found yourself spending with Heeseung. You’d find out something new about each other every time, like how he actually lived right above the bar. Perks of being close with the owner. It didn’t surprise you, his charms and genuinely good heart making it easy for anyone to love him.

You hadn't realized how much you’d come to rely on your nightly visits to the bar until your job started to get more demanding. The project you’d been assigned had become increasingly complex, with tight deadlines and a seemingly endless series of business trips. Each day seemed to blur into the next, and your usual escape—those comforting evenings at the bar—became a rare luxury.

One particular week, a major client needed hand-holding through a difficult negotiation, which meant back-to-back meetings and a whirlwind trip to a different city. You barely had time to catch your breath, let alone think about your next visit to the bar. The days were long, filled with endless calls and emails, and the nights were spent in sterile hotel rooms, far from the familiar warmth of Heeseung's presence.

As the days turned into a week, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret each evening. You missed the easy conversation with Heeseung, the way his smile seemed to make your worries melt away, and the genuine connection that had formed between you. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he missed you even half as much as you missed him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you wrapped up the business trip and headed back home. Exhausted but relieved, you decided to head straight to the bar, your need for familiarity and comfort driving you forward.

As you walked in, the bar was just as you remembered it, but something felt different. The usual hum of conversation and clinking glasses seemed more subdued. You made your way to your usual seat, and there he was—Heeseung, looking up from the bar with a mix of surprise and relief in his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice warm and welcoming. "Long time no see. I was starting to think ran off with a secret boyfriend "

You smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "oh yeah, couldn’t wait any longer we just had to elope." you joke back “don’t worry though you can still be my lover”

He laughs, the bright smile you missed bringing a smile of your own to your lips. "tempting. you think he’d be ok with that?"

You take a deep breath, his flirty response catching you off guard despite knowing it was coming. "what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” you flash him a smile, “seriously tho, It's been... a lot. Business trips, endless meetings, demanding clients. I’ve barely had a moment to myself."

Heeseung leans on the counter, his eyes soft with sympathy. "Sounds like you could use a drink and some serious relaxation."

"You have no idea," you reply with a tired smile. "I'll have my usual, please."

As he mixes your drink, you let out a long sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax. When he sets the drink in front of you, he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stays close, his presence comforting.

"So, tell me more," he says, his tone gentle. "What’s been keeping you so busy?"

You take a sip of your drink, savoring the familiar taste. "Where do I even start? This project I’m on has been a nightmare. We had to fly out to meet with a client who needed constant reassurance. The whole team is exhausted, and I’ve been living out of a suitcase for the past week."

Heeseung listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "That sounds rough. I’m sorry you’ve had such a tough time."

"Thanks," you say, appreciating his sympathy. "I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed... you."

Heeseung’s smile is soft and genuine. "I’ve missed you too, Y/N. The place hasn’t been the same without you."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m back now. And I plan to make up for all the missed nights."

Heeseung grins. "I’ll hold you to that. You know, I was worried about you. It's not like you to disappear without a word."

"I’m sorry," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "I should have let you know what was going on."

Heeseung shakes his head. "No need to apologize. Just glad to have you back."

As the evening wears on, you finish your drink, feeling the comforting buzz of alcohol mixed with the profound exhaustion from your grueling week. Heeseung has gotten busier, a rush of customers filling the bar and demanding his attention. He glances at you frequently, concern flickering in his eyes whenever he catches sight of you.

You try to keep your eyes open, but the combination of exhaustion and the alcohol makes it increasingly difficult. You rest your head on your hand, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

From your spot at the bar, you watch Heeseung expertly handle the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Every so often, he throws a reassuring smile in your direction, but the bustle of the bar pulls him away each time he tries to come over to you.

Finally, the exhaustion becomes too much. Your head droops, and you find yourself struggling to stay awake. Just as your eyes begin to close, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder.

"Y/N," Heeseung's voice breaks through the fog of sleep. "You okay?"

You blink a few times, trying to focus on his concerned face. "Yeah, just... tired."

Heeseung's brow furrows as he takes in your weary state. "Why don’t you come upstairs and rest? You’re not driving home like this."

You hesitate, shaking your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been up longer before. I don’t want to intrude.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, his concern evident. “You’re not intruding, Y/N. I insist. You need rest, and I have a spare room. Please.”

"Come on," he says softly, guiding you to the door at the back of the bar and up the narrow staircase to his apartment.

Once inside, he leads you to the spare bedroom and helps you sit on the edge of the bed. "Stay here. I'll get you some water and something for the morning."

You nod, too tired to do much more than mumble a thank you. Heeseung disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of water, a couple of pills, and one of his soft t-shirts.

"Here," he says, handing you the shirt. "You’ll be more comfortable in this."

You change into the t-shirt, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. Heeseung returns with the water and pills, sitting beside you on the bed.

"Take these," he says gently, holding out the glass and pills. "They’ll help with the hangover."

You do as he instructs, feeling a bit more coherent now. "Thanks, Heeseung. For everything."

Heeseung smiles, his eyes soft with concern and something else you can’t quite identify. "Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m here for you."

You look around the room, taking in the minimalistic decor, the photos of Heeseung with his best friend Sunghoon, and pictures of his family. The personal touches make you feel closer to him, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

"You really have a nice place," you say softly, feeling a bit more grounded.

Heeseung chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thanks. I’m glad you think so."

As you settle into the bed, Heeseung stands, looking down at you with a mix of concern and affection. "Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You nod, already feeling the pull of sleep. "Goodnight, Heeseung."

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replies, his voice gentle as he turns off the light and quietly leaves the room.

In the darkness, you let out a deep breath, the events of the past week finally catching up to you. But despite the exhaustion, a sense of peace settles over you. Knowing Heeseung is just a room away, that he cares for you enough to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, fills you with a warmth you hadn’t realized you were missing.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the connection you’ve found with Heeseung. And maybe, just maybe, there’s something more than friendship growing between you.

The next morning, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your head surprisingly clear thanks to the water and pills Heeseung gave you last night. You stretch, feeling the comfort of his t-shirt against your skin, and remember where you are. The events of the previous evening come back in a rush, and you’re filled with a sense of gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

You decide to freshen up, so you get out of bed and make your way to the restroom. Just as you reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and you find yourself face-to-face with Heeseung, freshly showered, with only a white towel hanging low on his hips. His hair is damp, drops of water still clinging to his skin, and his well-defined torso is on full display.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re too stunned to speak, and Heeseung seems equally taken aback. His eyes widen slightly as he registers your presence, and then a slow, teasing smile spreads across his face.

"Good morning," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual. "Sleep well?"

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the sudden heat rushing to your cheeks. "Y-yes, thank you. I was just... heading to the restroom."

He steps aside, still smiling. "It's all yours."

You nod, squeezing past him, trying not to brush against him too much. Once inside the restroom, you close the door and take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. After a moment, you gather yourself and freshen up quickly.

When you step out of the restroom, Heeseung is in the kitchen, now dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair still slightly damp but styled. He’s making coffee, and the rich aroma fills the apartment.

"Feeling better?" he asks, glancing up at you with a warm smile.

You nod, walking over to join him. "Much better, thanks to you."

Heeseung pours you a cup of coffee and hands it to you. "Good. I’m glad. I didn’t want you to go through today feeling like a wreck."

You take the coffee, savoring the warmth. "You’re really kind, Heeseung. I don’t know how to thank you."

Heeseung leans against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I could help. You work so hard; you deserve to take care of yourself, too."

His words touch you deeply, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering awkwardness of the morning. "Well, you’ve definitely made a fan out of me. I don’t know what I would have done without you last night."

Heeseung chuckles. "I think you would have managed, but I’m glad I was here. Besides, I like having you around."

You both fall into an easy silence, sipping your coffee. The atmosphere is comfortable, and you feel a sense of closeness that goes beyond the usual bar conversations. It's as if the bond between you has deepened overnight.

"So," Heeseung says after a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you have any plans for today, or are you just going to recover from the week?"

You laugh softly, feeling the tension of the past days finally lifting. "I think I’ll take it easy. Maybe catch up on some sleep, watch a movie, and just relax."

Heeseung nods approvingly. "Sounds like a good plan. If you need anything, feel free to hang out here as long as you like. Mi casa es su casa."

"Thank you," you reply, genuinely touched. "I might take you up on that."

Heeseung’s smile widens. "I hope you do."

As you both finish your coffee, the morning sun streaming in through the windows, you realize that this simple act of kindness has brought you and Heeseung even closer. The easy conversation, the shared laughter, and the mutual respect all make you feel incredibly lucky to have found someone like him. Friend or someone thing more.

Heeseung’s expression brightens, and he leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about we make today fun? I know you said you wanted to relax, but maybe we can do something together. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy—just something to take your mind off work.”

You feel a flutter of excitement at his suggestion. “That sounds great. What do you have in mind?”

Heeseung grins. “Well, there’s a little café down the street that makes the best pastries. We could start there and then see where the day takes us.”

You can’t help but smile back, the prospect of spending more time with Heeseung lifting your spirits. “I’d love that.”

As you get ready to head out, you glance around his apartment once more, the personal touches making you feel even closer to him. The photos, the simple decor, everything speaks of the man you’ve come to care about.

Heeseung grabs his keys and turns to you, his smile warm and inviting. “Ready?”

You nod, feeling a sense of anticipation. “Ready.”

The café Heeseung mentioned turns out to be a charming little spot with a cozy atmosphere and an enticing display of pastries. As you walk in, the smell of freshly baked goods and brewing coffee envelops you, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

Heeseung leads you to a table by the window, and you both take a seat. He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “What do you want to try first?”

You glance at the display, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the delicious options. “Everything looks so good. Maybe we should get a few different things and share?”

Heeseung nods enthusiastically. “Good idea. I’ll get us a selection. Be right back.”

As he heads to the counter, you watch him interact with the barista, his easy charm and warmth evident in every gesture. You can’t help but feel a surge of affection for him, grateful for his presence in your life.

Heeseung returns with a tray full of assorted pastries and two steaming cups of coffee. “Hope you’re hungry,” he says, setting the tray down with a grin.

You laugh softly. “I am. This all looks amazing.”

You both dig in, sharing bites and commenting on the flavors. The conversation flows naturally, the ease between you growing with each passing moment. It feels like the perfect way to unwind after the stress of your job, and you find yourself relaxing more and more.

After you’ve sampled nearly everything on the tray, Heeseung leans back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “That was a good call. I’m stuffed.”

You nod in agreement, feeling content. “Me too. Thanks for bringing me here. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. “I’m glad. You deserve to have a break and enjoy yourself.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. “Thank you, Heeseung. For everything.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m always here for you.”

As you both finish your coffee, the café begins to fill up with the lunchtime crowd. Heeseung glances around, then back at you with a playful glint in his eye. “How about we take a walk? There’s a park nearby that’s really nice.”

You smile, feeling excited at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

You leave the café and head to the park, the sun shining brightly and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. As you walk along the winding paths, Heeseung keeps the conversation light and playful, making you laugh with his witty remarks and stories.

At one point, you come across a small pond with a few benches nearby. Heeseung leads you to one of the benches, and you both sit down, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

He turns to you, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed spending this time with you, Y/N. It’s nice to see you relax and have fun.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Heeseung. You make everything better.”

Heeseung’s eyes hold yours, a hint of something deeper flickering in their depths. “I’m glad to hear that. You mean a lot to me, Y/N.”

Your breath catches at the intensity of his gaze, and you feel a rush of emotion. “You mean a lot to me too, Heeseung.”

For a moment, the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared feelings and unspoken words. The connection between you feels stronger than ever, and you realize that what you have with Heeseung is something truly special.

Heeseung breaks the silence first, his voice soft. “I’m really glad you came into the bar that night. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

You nod, your heart full. “Me too. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

The following week, after a particularly easygoing day at work, you decide to stop by the bar for your regular visit. The familiar sight of the dimly lit interior and the hum of conversations usually bring you comfort, but tonight, something feels off.

As you walk in, your eyes immediately land on Heeseung behind the bar. Relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. Standing in front of him is a blonde girl, effortlessly beautiful, with a radiant smile. She's leaning over the counter, clearly flirting with him.

You freeze for a moment, feeling a pang of something sharp and unwelcome in your chest. Jealousy. It's a bitter taste, one you’re not used to, but there it is, gnawing at you as you watch them. The blonde girl is everything you feel you’re not—gorgeous, confident, and completely at ease.

Heeseung laughs at something she says, and it’s a sound you’ve come to cherish. But hearing it now, directed at someone else, it feels like a punch to the gut. You glance down at your work attire, feeling frumpy and out of place compared to her chic outfit.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and walk towards the bar, determined to act like everything is normal. As you approach, Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, his smile falters. He quickly recovers, but you can see the flicker of surprise and perhaps guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N!" Heeseung greets you with his usual warmth, but you can’t help but notice the way the blonde girl glances at you, her expression curious but dismissive.

"Hi, Heeseung," you reply, forcing a smile. You sit down a few seats away from the blonde, not wanting to intrude but unable to completely leave.

Heeseung shifts his attention to you, his gaze lingering as if trying to gauge your mood. "The usual?" he asks, already reaching for a glass.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel.

The blonde girl pouts a little, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "I was just telling Heeseung about this new club that opened downtown," she says, trying to pull his focus back to her. "Maybe he could come check it out with me sometime."

You feel your heart sink further at her words, but you try to keep your face neutral. Heeseung, however, surprises you. He doesn’t immediately respond to her invitation. Instead, he finishes making your drink and slides it over to you, his hand brushing yours ever so slightly.

"Here you go, Y/N," he says, his voice soft. Then he turns to the blonde girl, his smile polite but distant. "I'll think about it, but I’m pretty busy these days."

The blonde girl looks disappointed but doesn’t push further. She lingers for a few more minutes, trying to engage him in conversation, but Heeseung’s attention keeps drifting back to you. Eventually, she gets the hint and leaves, though not without casting you one last curious glance.

As soon as she’s gone, Heeseung leans across the bar, closer to you. "You okay?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.

You take a sip of your drink, the familiar taste grounding you a little. "Yeah, just a long day," you reply, managing a small smile.

Heeseung studies you for a moment, then nods. "Well, I’m here if you need to talk," he says, his voice gentle.

You nod, feeling a bit better knowing he cares. The jealousy still lingers, but seeing the way he prioritizes you over her, even subtly, helps ease some of the sting. For now, that's enough.

Over the next few minutes, the bar starts to fill up, and Heeseung gets busier, but he still finds moments to check on you, giving you reassuring smiles or quick touches on your hand whenever he passes by. It helps, but the image of the blonde girl still lingers in your mind, gnawing at your insecurities.

You watch Heeseung work, marveling at his ease and grace. He moves behind the bar with practiced efficiency, chatting with customers, mixing drinks, and flashing that charming smile. It’s clear why people are drawn to him.

“Another drink?” Heeseung asks, stopping in front of you.

“Sure,” you reply, handing him your empty glass.

As he makes your drink, you can’t help but blurt out, “She seemed nice.”

Heeseung glances at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Who? Amelia?”

“Yeah, her,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual.

“She’s a regular. Comes in every now and then,” he explains, sliding your drink over. “But I wouldn’t read too much into it. She flirts with everyone.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” he confirms, his smirk widening. “It’s just her way.”

You nod, feeling slightly better but still uneasy. “Well, she’s really pretty.”

Heeseung leans closer, lowering his voice. “So are you, Y/N.”

You blink, caught off guard by his comment. “I—what?”

“I mean it,” he says, his eyes sincere. “You’re pretty, and you’re interesting. I enjoy our conversations a lot more than random flirtations.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away, flustered. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly.

Just then, a group of rowdy customers enters the bar, and Heeseung has to attend to them. You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. It feels good to hear that from him, to know he sees you differently.

As the evening progresses, the crowd in the bar begins to thin out. Heeseung wipes down the counter, glancing at you with a playful smile. He sets down his cloth and approaches you, the energy between you two crackling with unspoken words.

“You know, Y/N,” he says, leaning closer, “I’m due for a break. Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all,” you reply, your heart racing with anticipation.

Heeseung slips around the bar and takes a seat next to you. He stretches his legs out and leans back, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him while working. His scent infiltrates your nostrils. The cologne he was wearing wasn’t remarkably strong, but it mixed with the scent of fresh laundry and a little sweat. You thought the combination worked quite well. “So, how’s your night going so far?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“It’s better now that you’re here,” you say, your voice soft and genuine.

Heeseung laughs, a sound that sends warmth through you. “Glad to hear it,” he says. “It’s nice to get a break and actually talk to you without having to rush around.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, feeling a growing confidence. “It’s good to have some uninterrupted time with you.”

Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admits. “It’s like the highlight of my Fridays.”

You smile, feeling a thrill at his words. “Really? I didn’t know I had such an effect on you.”

“You have no idea,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “I find myself thinking about you more than I probably should.”

You laugh softly, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

Heeseung shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. “You know, Y/N,” he says, his voice husky, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your breath catching.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You feel a little disappointed at his question. You’re not quite sure what you expected but if your were being honest, you were hoping he’d finally ask you out. Moving past the disappointment, you feel a sudden surge of boldness, you lean in slightly, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before a slow, delighted smile spreads across his face. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something deeper.

“It is,” you confirm, holding his gaze.

The playful banter between you intensifies, and Heeseung inches closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “you sure you can handle me baby?” he says softly, his breath mingling with yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to disappear. Heeseung’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can feel the magnetic pull between you. He inches closer, his breath mingling with yours, and you realize that this moment could change everything.

“Wanna find out?” you ask, your heart soaring with anticipation.

Heeseung takes hold of your hand, leading you through a door at the back of the bar, up a narrow staircase that creaks under your feet. The air grows warmer, and the intimacy of the space makes your pulse race.

Heeseung unlocks the door and pushes it open, revealing a cozy, modest apartment. The soft glow of a lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the simple, comfortable furnishings. It feels like a sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world fades away.

Heeseung turns to you, his expression serious but tender. “I want you to feel comfortable here,” he says. “If at any point you want to stop, just let me know.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “I trust you, Heeseung,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He smiles, a mixture of relief and desire in his eyes. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms.

The embrace is electric, and you feel the tension between you dissolve as you melt into each other. Heeseung’s lips find yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate, a promise of everything you’ve both been yearning for.

He leads you further into the apartment, his hands never leaving yours. The world outside fades away as you step into the intimacy of his space, every touch and whisper drawing you closer together.

Heeseung guides you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. The feel of his body against yours is intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his hands exploring your back, your sides, your face.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Heeseung murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

“I know the feeling,” you reply, your fingers threading through his hair.

You leaned in and kissed him again. The kiss becoming hungrier, the both of you unfraid to show how needy you were for each other.

You could feel his growing length pressing against your clothed core, the both of you letting out a small moan when you ground your hips against him.

He reached down and pulled up your skirt, slipping his fingers inside your panties and finding you wet and ready for him “shit baby you’re so wet”. You gasped as he stroked your clit, his long, slender fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to get you squirming on top of him.

“shit, seung feels so good” his fingers slide down your folds, prodding at your whole. Without warning he slips one in, that singular finger reaching places you haven’t with your own. “You’re all I’ve wanted since I met you”, Heeseung tells you, his words making you clench around him , “m-me too”. He quickens his movements inserting a second, and then a third, the coil in your lower belly snapping at his “seung im cumming” you hardly manage to get out.

“let go for me baby, show me how good I make you feel” without another word, you’re coming undone.

Desperate for more, you reach to unbutton his pants pulling out his hard dick. It was long and thick. You didnt deem it possible for a penis to be considered pretty, but that’s the only word you could think of at the sight in from of you. You couldn't wait to feel him

“like what you see?” he asks. confidence in his voice, it was a stark contrast from how gentle he was towards you on your frequent visits to the bar. It made him all the more desireable. “mhm more than like”

You wrapped your lips around his mushroom tip and sucked him deep into your mouth. His length being enveloped bya warmth that had his eyes rolling to the back do his head. “shit baby”.

You clench around nothing, the newfound nickname one you never watched to stop hearing.

He groaned and grabbed your head, running his fingers through your hair, gripping it. You could feel him getting closer to cumming, but You didn't want him to just yet. You pull away and His eyes shoot open, looking at you with confusion “are you okay?” you smirk at him, climbing up from your spot and straddling his lap “mhm i’m more than okay”. You guided his dick to your entrance, teasing the tip on your slick. You slowly sank onto his cock, a low groan escaping his throat at the newfound feeling of your tight, wet heat.

“hee” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulder at the feel of him stretching you so deliciously. “I got you pretty, s-shit you feel so good around me” He smashes his lips against yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss.

He pulls out slowly, whining at the loss, only to let out a loud moan as he slid back in, inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. He repeated the action several more times until you grew frustrated with the pace. “Hee, please go harder”. At your plea, he snaps his hips forward, faster and harder, making you cry out in pure pleasure.

He grabbed your hips and thrust up into you, harder and faster, “y/n… come on baby cum for me”. You could feel yerself getting closer to cumming. You leaned back and ground your hips against him, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“hee i’m so close”. He reached up and squeezed your tits, pinching your nipples “so close, I can feel it”. You moaned, your pussy clenching around his dick. Felling you come undone around his cock, he couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed your hips and pulled you down, cumming deep inside you. “f-fuck baby. so good”.

You pull yourself off his lap, collapsing next to him onto the couch, He joins you not a minute later, pulling you to him, your heard laying on his chest, hearing the quickened beats of his heart begin to settle down back into their normal rhythm. You lay there, panting and sweaty, for a few moments.

"I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you” He confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at his honest revelation. “yeah well, at least i’m not the only one”, you tell him, a smile spreading across your face, as you look up at him.

He grinned down at you leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. "so…" he started as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing… but I also don’t want it to be casual”.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment you heard his confession. You’d fallen for him the moment you met, and the time you spent together did nothing to but increase those feelings. “well it’s a good thing I feel the same way then”, You smile, your big brown eyes bright, filled with promise as you kissed him again. The promise that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

Note

hii can you plsss do college fling!joshua too (with smut if you like!) thank you <3

warnings: smut, dorm-kitchen counter sex, clit stimulation, penetrative sex, dirty talk, teasing.

college fling!joshua’s definitely not the type to be found at some wild frat party, shirt half-buttoned, shouting about shots. he’s more… chill. like, you can see him with a small group of people, maybe talking about some obscure trivia fact or just hanging back with his guitar, strumming casually. and you notice him in those quiet corners, head down, minding his business, but when people need help, he’s there, no hesitation. just this soft smile, eyes that look like they’ve got their own glow. no front, no ego.

it’s karaoke night when you really notice him, though. one of those lowkey, “organized by the student council” kinda nights, where everyone’s already a little awkward, shifting in their seats, waiting for someone to break the ice. and there’s joshua, sitting off to the side, fingers tapping lightly against his leg to the beat of some old song. you’re not even surprised when the karaoke machine starts acting up, some tech issue, because of course, it would. you glance over at joshua, who's already looking around for someone to fix the damn thing. you try messing with the settings on the machine yourself, but the screen flashes error messages, and honestly, you just wanna punch the damn thing. you groan under your breath, “seriously? i’m not dealing with this shit right now.”

“need a hand?” joshua’s voice pulls you out of your frustration, and you turn to see him standing there, that soft smile of his doing most of the talking. like he’s amused at your mini-meltdown but too nice to say it.

“yeah, this thing’s giving me hell.” you lean back, giving up for a second, hands raised like you’re surrendering to the machine. “you know anything about fixing this?”

“nah, but i can try,” he says, stepping in a little closer. and you can smell him—fresh, like he doesn’t even have to try. just naturally… clean, if that’s a thing. his fingers brush the buttons, the machine beeping a little, but still refusing to cooperate. he chuckles under his breath. “guess it’s not in the mood.”

you smirk, feeling the tension ease a little with him around. “yeah, technology’s a bitch sometimes.”

“always.” he laughs, this soft, almost shy sound, but then his gaze lands on the guitar sitting by the stage. “y’know… if this thing’s not working, we could just do it old-school.”

you raise a brow, curious. “old-school? like… live music?”

he nods, picking up the guitar like it’s second nature to him. “yeah, i mean… it’s karaoke night, right? we’ll make our own music.” there’s something about the way he says it, all easy and laid-back, that makes you wanna go along with it. he’s not pushy, but you feel pulled in by his vibe. the room’s already a bit more relaxed, people chatting amongst themselves, so you shrug and sit back on one of the chairs in front of the stage. “alright, hit me with your best shot.”

he laughs, adjusting the guitar strap, and then strums a few chords, testing the waters. it’s a familiar tune, something simple and nostalgic, and he hums along softly, almost like he’s figuring out the right words to sing. and when he finally starts, his voice is buttery smooth, like it was made to just slip into your ears and settle in. it’s not showy, not overly polished, just nice. like something you didn’t know you needed until you heard it. you can’t help but watch him, a little too closely maybe, as his fingers move over the strings, his body swaying a little with the rhythm. his eyes flick up to yours, and for a split second, it’s like the room disappears. there’s just you and him, and this stupid little connection through music. cheesy as hell just like the barbie's movie says, but it’s there.

“you wanna sing along?” he asks, like he’s already expecting you to say no, but he’s hopeful anyway.

you bite your lip, half-laughing. “if i do, i’ll ruin the vibe.”

he tilts his head, amused. “nah, you won’t. c’mon, what’s your go-to song?”

you hesitate, feeling a little exposed, but then screw it. if joshua can stand up there and casually play a whole damn song in front of people, you can at least join him. you mutter the name of some old song, and before you know it, he’s playing the first chords. you start singing, a little unsure at first, but his guitar backs you up, makes you feel more confident.

and it’s weird, ‘cause it’s so not what you expected to be doing tonight—singing a duet with joshua hong of all people. but here you are, the two of you vibing, making the room your own little bubble for a while.

after a while, you stop caring if anyone else is even paying attention. it’s just fun, and you’re actually enjoying yourself, which… yeah, is rare for these kinds of school-organized things.

“see? not so bad, right?” he says, a little breathless, guitar still in his hands.

“yeah, i guess that wasn’t too bad,” you admit, feeling your face heat up a little.

and just like that, you’re kinda hooked. you don’t even know why, but there’s something about how easy it is with him. he’s not forcing anything, just letting shit happen, and it’s fun. more fun than you’ve had in a while, honestly. “thanks for, uh… saving karaoke night,” you say, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

he shrugs, smile never leaving his face. “anytime. but, um… maybe next time, we won’t need the machine at all.”

and there it is again, that little spark of something—like he’s leaving the door open for whatever comes next. not pushing, not expecting. just waiting to see if you’re gonna step through.

you smile back at him, feeling your heart beat just a little faster. “yeah… maybe.”

college fling!joshua that would approach you with his shy ass in the hallway like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. ‘cause he wasn’t the type to just walk up to someone and invite them over. you weren’t expecting it either. but there he was, scratching the back of his neck, trying to play it casual like it didn’t take him a full two minutes to get the words out.

“uh… i’m having a few friends over on friday. you know, snacks, music, nothing crazy. you should come.”

you remember his smile, that little tilt of his lips that had your stomach flipping like you’d already said yes before your brain could process. and obviously, you agreed.

so friday night rolls around, and you’re standing in front of his dorm in this fresh little dress you threw on last minute. not like you’re trying to impress him or anything, but you catch the way his eyes drop the second you step in. joshua’s trying to keep it together, but you can feel his gaze like a burn, lingering on your legs before he quickly looks away. there’s this subtle hitch in his breath when he greets you, and his cheeks turn a little pink, but he pulls himself back into being the polite, nice guy he is.

his dorm’s small but neat, smelling like fresh laundry and some subtle citrus scent from the diffusers he’s got stashed in the corners. there’s a few of his friends scattered around, all of them chill, chatting over music that’s playing just loud enough to vibe to. joshua’s close-knit group, not the party type, exactly what you expected. he’s quick to make sure you’ve got everything—“you want a drink? water? soda?”—and then asks if you need a blanket when he notices your legs.

“you good? it’s a bit chilly, i can grab something if you want.”

you almost laugh at how hard he’s trying to be respectful, like the thought of your legs exposed is messing with him more than he’s willing to admit. but you shake your head, leaning back on the couch with your drink and teasing him a little. “i’m fine, joshua. don’t worry.”

he gives you this awkward smile like he’s low-key relieved, but you see him still trying to fight his instincts to look.

after a couple of hours, his friends head out, leaving the place a little messy—empty cups and snack wrappers scattered on the table. you’re quick to start picking things up, despite joshua’s protests.

“seriously, you don’t have to clean up. i got it.”

but you insist, throwing away trash and stacking cups, and before you know it, it’s just the two of you alone in his small dorm. the quiet settles in, just the low hum of music in the background, and you notice how much more intense it feels without anyone else around. joshua’s hovering by the window, glancing out towards the campus, and then he shuts it without saying anything, locking the latch with this quiet click.

“just in case,” he mutters to himself, not looking at you.

you’re leaning against the counter now, arms crossed, watching him. there’s something in the way he’s moving slower. like he’s waiting for you to make the next move. but you don’t, ‘cause part of you wants to see where he’ll take it.

joshua turns, finally meeting your eyes again, and it’s different this time. there’s no one else here, no distractions, and he’s got that nervous energy radiating off him. “thanks for, uh, staying to help,” he says, his voice softer now, stepping a little closer.

“no problem.” you smile, and it’s so obvious what’s happening, but neither of you is calling it out.

he’s standing in front of you now, closer than he was before, eyes flicking between yours and then down to your lips. it’s subtle, but you catch it, and it’s like that’s all the signal you needed. your heart’s racing, but you stay calm, lifting your chin just slightly as if daring him to do something.

and he does.

slowly, almost like he’s scared to break the moment, joshua reaches out, one hand finding your waist, his fingers hesitant at first. then he pulls you in, just enough that there’s barely any space left between your bodies. you feel the warmth of him, and when he leans down, his breath ghosts over your lips.

you can tell he’s thinking about it—overthinking, probably—because he pauses, eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. but you don’t. instead, you close the gap, brushing your lips against his. he lets out this shaky breath, and suddenly his hands are on you, one cupping your face, the other steadying your waist. he deepens the kiss, slow but knowing, like he’s taking pleasure in every second. his lips are warm, soft, but there’s this need in the way he moves.

your hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. he responds by pressing you back against the counter, not forceful, but enough that you can feel the solidness of his body, everything intensifying.

“is this… okay?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and breathless, and you swear the way he asks, so fucking polite in the middle of a heated kiss, makes you want to open your legs for him even more.

“yeah, joshua,” you whisper back, pulling him in tighter.

his lips are still on yours, but there’s nothing sweet about the way he’s kissing you anymore. “turn around.” your breath catches because the tone’s different. he’s not asking now, he’s telling, and the sudden deep voice is doing things to you. so you turn around, heart racing, hands bracing yourself against the counter. you feel his body press up behind yours, and his hand, slides down your waist, squeezing, as he grinds into you. it’s slow, teasing, and already you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

“fuck, joshua…” the words come out in a breathy gasp, ‘cause honestly? you didn’t expect this from him—not the shy guy who asked you to his dorm like it was some casual hangout.

“sorry,” he breathes out, lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. “can’t… fuck, i can’t help it.”

you let out a shaky breath, trying to stay steady, but he’s not giving you the chance. his other hand comes up, gently pushing your back down until you’re bent over the small counter, ass pressed right up against him. you’re not even sure how it escalated this quickly, but fuck, you’re not complaining.

then you feel him, fingers brushing against the hem of your dress, pulling it up to expose more skin, and his hand lands firmly on your ass. not too hard, just enough to make you gasp, your body arching a little further into him. “you okay?” his voice comes out breathy, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s fighting to hold back. and before you can even respond, he’s slipping a hand between your legs, fingers ghosting over your clothed heat, and you swear you hear him let out this needy ass moan, “fuck, you’re already so wet.”

you nod, holding back a whimper, pushing back into him for more. but he doesn’t rush it. his fingers slip under the fabric, pressing right where you need him, just enough to make you moan, and he chuckles—this soft, wicked sound that makes your skin burn.

“such a good girl for me, hm?” he mutters, his breath hot against your ear now as his fingers start rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit. he’s not just pressing down; he’s moving in these subtle little zig-zags, shaking his fingers side to side, making your legs shake from how fast they are. it’s like he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to get you off, without giving you too much too soon.

you whimper, your back arching even more as his other hand slides up your back, then gently wraps around your throat. and it’s not hard, not really, but just the feel of his fingers there makes your mind go blank, and you moan, “joshua, please.”

“please, what?” he whispers against your ear, and his voice is so soft, so sweet, but his fingers on your clit are ruthless, moving faster now, leaving you sensitive enough so you can feel every inch of him after. “you gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.”

you let out a desperate moan, pushing back against him, “i need you to fuck me, joshua.”

you can feel him tense up behind you, and he curses under his breath, hands moving quickly now, yanking your panties down. his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back as he fumbles with his belt, and you’re so on edge. the second you hear the metal clink of his belt hitting the floor, you’re already bracing yourself, because you can feel it—the way he’s lined up behind you, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing you, driving you insane.

he pushes in slow at first, but you can feel how fucking hard he is, stretching you open inch by inch, and it’s so much, so thick that you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. and joshua’s not saying anything, but his breathing’s ragged, and he lets out this low, drawn-out moan, like he’s trying to hold it in but can’t help himself.

“f-fuck,” he groans, his hips pushing in deeper until he’s fully inside you. he pauses there for a second, like he’s savoring the way you feel wrapped around him, and you hear this desperate little “ahh!” leave his lips, his head falling forward onto your shoulder.

and you? you’re clenching around him, your body so fucking desperate for more. you try to move, but his grip tightens on your hips, holding you still. “no— fuck, no” he mutters. “lemme just… ngh.. fuck, you feel so good.”

then he starts moving, almost like he’s teasing you, his hips rolling into you in these deep, measured thrusts. but it’s not enough—you need more, and you try to push back against him, but he’s got you locked in place, his hand still around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure that has you gasping.

“joshua, please, more. i n-eed more!” you beg, words sounding more like a whimper.

his grip on your throat tightens just a little, his fingers flexing as he starts thrusting harder, rougher, his cock slamming into you with this wet, filthy sound that has you both moaning. his hips snap into yours, relentless now, and he’s fucking you like he wants to be engraved on your mind.the polite, careful joshua you thought you knew is missing, replaced by someone who’s desperate to ruin you.

he leans forward, his lips right against your ear as he groans, “you like this, huh? you like how i fuck you? hm? can you feel how your pussy 's swallowing my cock?”

and you can’t even speak at this point, just a mess of moans and gasps, your hands gripping the counter so hard that your knuckles hurt. all you can do is nod, your body trembling with every hard thrust, your clit throbbing as his hips grind into you.

then his hand leaves your throat and slides down between your legs again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing those same zigzagging from earlier, but this time faster. your legs nearly buckle, a scream leaving your throat and you're sure he's going to have a problem with his dorm neighbours later, and he’s moaning in your ear now, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking tight, i’m not gonna last long.”

you’re shaking, so fucking close, and you can feel him getting sloppier, his thrusts losing rhythm. his fingers press harder against your clit, now moving in these frantic little circles that make your body explode with pleasure.

“cum for me,” he groans, his voice all breathy and wrecked. “c’mon, baby, i wanna feel you cum around my cock. wet me all over, come on…”

your orgasm hits you before you can even take another breath, your whole body contorting as you cry out, legs tremulous beneath you. you clench around him so tight, and joshua lets out this filthy moan—“oh fuck”—his hips slamming into you one last time before he’s spilling inside you, groaning loud as he rides out his orgasm.

he’s the first to move, pulling out slowly, nearly timidly, and you hear him mutter something under his breath—probably apologizing, because of course he is. you push yourself up from the counter, your legs still shaking, and turn to face him. his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, and there’s this sheepish, almost embarrassed look on his face, like he can’t believe what just happened.

he smiles, a little shy but still clearly proud of himself. and then, just like that, he’s back to being the joshua you know—sweet, considerate, polite—offering you a towel and asking if you’re thirsty again, like he didn’t just fuck you into oblivion against the counter.

943 notes · View notes

snowball-doie · 3 months ago

Text

| pairing: johnny x manager!fem!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. rough sex. hate? sex. quickie. bathroom sex. unprotected sex. breeding kink. praise kink (bro's obsessed/down bad).

| wc: 2.8k

| aurora's note: this is originally written as johnny x manager!oc, so it's mildly plus size coded and includes background about johnny and reader being married and having a kid together already. enjoy <3

Being as busy as you were handling a million other issues backstage, you didn’t realize that Johnny was trying to get your attention for an entire song until a staff member finally interrupted what you were doing to tell you that something was wrong with Johnny. When you stopped to look at the stage, you saw Johnny standing there. During the middle of a song, he was just standing there, staring at you, waiting for your attention so that he could finally point at his mic and mouth frustratedly: “It’s not working!” Immediately, you groaned. How was it that you had a million staff members standing around doing nothing and not a single one of them thought to actually do something to solve the problem? Did you really have to do everything yourself? It seemed that you did indeed have to do it because you were the one who told the techs that something was wrong with his microphone and that it needed to be fixed— All the while, Johnny was still on stage, protesting the whole thing during his parts of the song by refusing to even lip sync or put full effort into the choreography.

By the time the song was over, they had a new battery pack and microphone ready for Johnny to switch out during the ment next up on the cue sheet. So you gestured for Johnny to come over. When Johnny ran off stage, he immediately tossed his mic to the side angrily and snatched the new one from you without a word. You stared at him as the sound team closed in to check Johnny's in-ears as well to make sure that everything was working fine again. Johnny huffed and brushed them off so that he could check it himself. You sighed and shook your head at him. You understood that he was frustrated, but he was taking it out on the wrong people, and he was putting himself and everyone else in a sour mood unnecessarily. Then just as he was about to run off without a word, you caught his hand and pulled him back a few steps.

“Hey, look at me.”

Johnny reluctantly spun around while rolling his eyes.

“Smile a bit. Have fun. Don’t get upset again.” You kissed him quickly and smacked his ass— Which he usually would have giggled in response to, instead he continued to pout before escaping your hold and running off. “What’s got his panties in a twist?” you muttered to yourself.

Granted, once he was back on stage, Johnny was smiling and being his usual self that he presented in front of fans. Why he had to take his anger out on you was a mystery. You figured that he let it go or at least felt mildly better, however, because he was acting completely normal again and wasn’t continuously glancing off stage again for help which no one but you was eager to supply. Maybe he just needed a breather. The boys seemed to cheer him up, and interacting with the fans seemed to put a bright smile on his face… Surely he wasn’t mad anymore.

When the concert ended, the boys ran off stage to immediately hand over their equipment and get their water bottles which they all chugged for dear life. Except Johnny. Mr. Pouty angrily threw his mic and in-ear into his labeled basket without any care of if it would break; and in the process of throwing his public tantrum, he shocked literally everyone with his out of character behavior, prompting all of backstage to fall eerily silent and still. Johnny ignored them as he stormed off. Of course your first and only reaction was to follow him— Not as his worried wife but as his pissed off manager who was seeking an explanation about how a fucking mic could possibly do all that to him on the first night of their tour when they were supposed to be happy and just roll with any of the issues that would accidentally occur— That always happened during the first shows! Always! Johnny knew better than anyone that the first show was a trial run, so things were bound to go wrong…

Johnny suddenly diverted into a bathroom in the hallway, and before you knew what was going on, your wrists were being held in his tight grip as he pulled you in with him. You stumbled in, giving him time to lock the door.

“What’s your prob—”

The thought of scolding him was washed away within an instant when he cupped his hands over your ass and squeezed roughly so that you were pulled flush against his chest before he pushed both of you to the wall where he immediately began kissing you roughly.

“J—”

“Stop talking.”

Despite being caught completely off guard by Johnny, you did as you were told, instead of talking you used your energy to kiss him back in the hopes that he was just trying to ground himself with something real— with you. But the longer you kissed, the more aggressive Johnny got. You realized quickly that if you continued that it would go further until neither of you could stop, and you just couldn’t do that with everyone walking on eggshells around him and waiting for you to cool him down. If someone noticed you were gone for so long… If someone heard you… You just couldn’t risk it.

“Joh—”

“What did I say, hmmm?” With a rough grasp on your hips, Johnny spun you around and moved you over a few steps so that you were bent over the sink. “Why do you have to be so fucking pretty all the time? It’s a distraction… But you wouldn’t know that with how you get distracted during our performances. Do you realize how long I was trying to get your attention after my mic stopped working?”

“I had other things to do—”

“What part of ‘stop talking’ do you not get?”

You watched Johnny through the mirror as he focused on checking you out from head to toe with his lip bottom trapped between his teeth. He still looked angry. Honestly, you'd never seen him mad on stage, but what was even stranger was how mad he was with you. Johnny was kind and quiet and understanding. He hardly ever raised his voice, and he always stopped himself from going too far when he got upset. Now, though, it was like everything boiled over until he couldn’t control himself anymore, so his only salvation was bending you over the sink and pulling your cargo pants and underwear down in unison. You grabbed the cold counter top to hold yourself steady.

“Someone could catch us,” you warned warily, worried that he would scold you again for talking.

Johnny grabbed your ass to spread you open before groaning at the sight. “I don’t care.”

“But—”

“It’s not a crime to fuck my wife.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Tell that to the techs who couldn’t do their jobs earlier.”

“That’s not their fault.”

“Someone has to take the blame,” he told you sincerely, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror, not a hint of humor or kindness in those dark eyes of his. “Who’s it gonna be?”

You stared at him and exhaled. “It’s my fault for not making sure the techs checked the mic after your outfit change.”

Was it actually your fault? No. But if there was anyone you wished Johnny would be so angry with that he couldn’t see straight, you wanted it to be you because you knew that you could handle him. Who knew what he would do if let loose on the poor crew who made one silly mistake that ruined the whole show for Johnny? In his state, Johnny probably would’ve chewed into everyone there, regardless of their job title, so you instead offered yourself up, which seemed to do the trick because Johnny immediately took that answer and ran with it. With your pants barely pushed down around your thighs and no wiggle room between the sink and Johnny's body pressed up behind you, you had no choice but to stand still as Johnny began to undo his pants with one hand while the other remained glued to your hip. Without so much as a courteous warning, Johnny took you by surprise— Literally. One second you were bracing against the sink for what was to come, the next Johnny had his tip kissing your entrance, and then he was in all at once. You barely stood a chance. You tried to stay quiet by biting your lip and inevitably slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but it was too late. The shock of having Johnny fuck you so brutally and so suddenly was too much for you to handle. Surely if the boys were eavesdropping outside in the hopes of hearing you two argue, they were immediately scarred forever knowing that Johnny was railing their Noona in the bathroom… If crew members were walking by, they were likely running to gossip about the moans echoing from the bathroom… There was nothing you could do about it, not while your brain felt numb to everything but the fact that Johnny was deep inside of you, and he was being relentless.

“So fucking perfect,” he grunted quietly. “Look at you…” He reached around to grab your face and force you to look up into the mirror to watch your disheveled self bouncing into the sink every time Johnny thrusted forward. “What do I do with you? I just can’t help myself, baby, it’s getting dangerous… All I can think about is you— Even when I’m on stage, I think about you, you, you. It’s unprofessional.”

He hit a sensitive spot that made you moan his name.

“And that face… You always look so pretty when you go dumb on my cock.”

Sure, Johnny was the type to talk dirty in bed, but never like that with you. Back when you first started dating, you used to think about all the women he had been with before you and what they had gotten up to, and if Johnny missed any of it. Over the years, though, when Johnny never showed any changes in your sexual life, like wanting to be degrading, you figured that you assumed wrong about him. Yet there he was, bending you over the sink, holding you steady, and telling you dirty things that made you wet and your legs shake.

“I think I have an idea of what to do with you,” he said between deep thrusts. Leaning in close, his breath was hot on your ear as he whispered sensually, “I’m gonna fill you up…” The two of you moaned together at the thought. “You keep talking about wanting a girl who looks like you, right? We can do that. I can do that… Give you the little girl you want so badly… Maybe then you’ll be at home again like you were when you were pregnant with our son, so I won’t have to be distracted by you all the time.”

“Bold of you t— Fuck— B-bold of you to assume… you wouldn’t still… think— Shit— about me when I’m like that…”

Johnny chuckled. “True.” He brushed your hair off your shoulders so that he could have access to your neck where he started leaving visible hickies.

You reached back to slide one of your hands through his long hair before tugging on the strands to urge him to moan again.

“Gonna cum in you, darling,” he muttered desperately.

Those rough thrusts of his didn’t waver, even when you grunted about him going too fast or too hard. The sound of skin slapping together and moans echoing through the bathroom were enough to convince you that there was no way everyone in the building didn’t know about what you were doing in there. For whatever reason, though, you stopped caring. Maybe it was because the thought of you and Johnny having another kid made your brain melt… All of those comments you made about wanting a baby girl were just jokes to poke fun at how your son looked so like Johnny and not you, but to Johnny it wasn’t just a joke, and you should have known better after the fourth time you brought it up and Johnny kept saying, “One day.” You thought he was kidding too! But no, there he was, a man on a mission, driving into you like there was no tomorrow, like you were the last two people left on Earth.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck—” Johnny leaned back just enough for him to be able to look down at the obscene image of his cock disappearing into you over and over again as his nails left imprints in the fat on your hips. “So fucking pretty.” He slid his hands down to drag his nails up, leaving a trail of red marks in their wake along your plush thighs. “All mine, too.” He threw his head back and let out a moan as he very suddenly started cumming inside of you, also without any warning, just like everything else that night.

You stood with your weight being held up by his hands and your supportive grip on the sink, but your legs shook too hard to keep entirely still while you felt the warmth of his cum seep into your core. You could’ve sworn you heard him mumble something along the lines of, “Good girl,” but your head was spinning too fast to make sense of it. So just as quickly as Johnny had been in you, he slid out with a lewd sound caused by your wetness and his cum, then he pulled up his pants. With shaky hands, you pulled your pants up too. Neither of you said anything as Johnny pushed his hair back out of his face with a heavy, relieved sigh, like he couldn’t remember why he was mad in the first place now that he had gotten off inside of his wife who was left with a dry mouth and a body that was vibrating uncontrollably. You tried to calm yourself down the only way you knew how: You squatted down and bowed your head so that you could focus on catching your breath. Johnny gasped and reached out to grab you, but you had yourself still supported by holding onto the sink, so he backed off slightly but remained close in case you needed his help.

“I’m sorry, baby— I got ahead of myself, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you croaked, “John…”

“Yeah?” he replied worriedly.

“We’ve been together for nearly five years… You need to fuck me like that more often.”

For a moment, he didn’t do a thing, but then he started laughing loudly while leaning over to brace his hands on his knees. You stayed where you were on the ground. He nodded, still laughing. “Okay, baby, I can do that.” When he got his laugh out of the way, Johnny held his hands out to help you off the ground and up to your feet slowly so that you could carefully regain your bearings. “You okay?”

You nodded.

“Promise?”

“It’s not sexy if you keep asking.”

Johnny chuckled lightly before kissing your forehead. “By the way, I know it wasn’t your fault that my mic got fucked up. Stupid cord came loose, it’s no one’s fault.”

You looked up at him with a smile before kissing him with a peck at first until he used his height to tower over you and kiss you passionately while he inhaled for air and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair. When someone knocked on the bathroom door all of a sudden, you both pulled away and took a large step in opposite directions of each other as if you had actually been caught with your pants down.

“Are you two done?” Yuta asked from the other side of the door.

You sighed quietly. Yeah, everyone definitely knew about you two.

“Yeah,” you replied, giving up on the idea of pretending you weren’t in there or that you hadn’t just fucked. “Coming.”

Johnny chortled.

Your attention snapped to your husband, and before you could pull paper towels out of the dispenser and throw them at him, Johnny made a run for it out of the bathroom with his tail tucked between his legs.

taglist: @theycallmesya , @tiredlittlevirgo , @henderysposts , @trash-number-one , @mystverse

@aeriwave , @vrak-co , @chibilino , @luvhaeni , @leekslou

@ah-2212 , @junrenjun , @ant-onie , @sunshinesmuse , @userntfnd

@jibunie , @markyoursupplier127 , @linlinaert , @agust-june , @slayhaechan

@cherryynoir ,

#op #fanfic #johnny #johnny suh smut #johnny suh #johnny suh fanfic #johnny smut #johnny fanfic #nct #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut

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gottencents · 3 months ago

Text

Can’t Wait - Yu Jimin

pairing. idol!karina x chaebol!reader

synopsis. a chaebol daughter, Y/N, unexpectedly finds herself drawn into a whirlwind connection with Karina, a top idol who’s never felt anything close to love—until now.

“No.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her cold gaze fixed on her phone screen as she read the group chat.

Manon: Guys, aespa concert for my birthday. You’re all coming. No excuses.

Yves: Finally! I’ve been dying to see them live 😭

Manon: I got VIP tickets. We’ll be right next to the stage 😌

Yves: Omg, front-row seats? Count me in!

Manon: Y/N? 👀

Y/N: Absolutely not.

Her fingers hovered over her phone as the typing bubble from Manon popped up. Y/N already knew what was coming—a relentless string of messages filled with emojis, persuasive tactics, and an unhealthy amount of guilt-tripping.

Manon: Come on, it’s my birthday! You can’t say no to me on my birthday. 🥺

Manon: Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do. ��

Manon: Live a little, Y/N.

Yves: She has a point… It’s for Manon. Just this once?

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back on her couch. Of course, they’d gang up on her like this. She didn’t even dislike aespa—it was just that being dragged into the K-pop frenzy wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But Manon wasn’t going to let it go.

Her phone buzzed again.

Manon: Y/N, I already got you a ticket. You’re coming whether you like it or not. 😘

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh. “Typical Manon.” There was no escaping her once she set her mind on something.

The venue was packed, buzzing with energy as fans filled every corner, lightsticks waving in unison. The air felt electric, anticipation hanging thick in the atmosphere.

Y/N glanced down at her outfit and frowned. She tugged at the edge of her jacket—an exact replica of Karina’s “Supernova” MV outfit, complete with the silver detailing and edgy vibe.

“I still can’t believe you made me wear this,” Y/N muttered, shooting a glare at Manon, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Relax,” Manon said, tossing an arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “We look amazing. Plus, it’s part of the experience. Trust me, we’ll get noticed for sure.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Yves, standing next to them, laughed. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit. It’s not every day you get to be front row at an aespa concert.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the stage lit up with vivid colors. The members of aespa appeared, their energy filling the venue instantly. Y/N couldn’t deny how impressive they were live—Karina especially, who seemed to command the stage effortlessly.

As the show went on, Y/N found herself momentarily forgetting her discomfort. The music was good, the performances captivating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Until it happened.

“Let’s play a little game,” Karina’s voice echoed through the arena, a playful smile on her face. “We’re going to play I Spy with the crowd!”

Y/N froze.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, her eyes widening as the camera began panning across the audience.

“Look for something silver,” Karina said. “Hmm… Oh!”

The giant screen above the stage zoomed in on Y/N.

“Oh my God,” Manon whispered excitedly, shaking Y/N’s arm. “She’s looking right at you!”

Y/N’s heart stopped as Karina’s eyes locked onto hers.

“Is that…?” Karina’s voice faltered for a split second before she smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I like your outfit. It’s… stunning.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it wasn’t until Karina’s next words—accidentally whispered into the mic—that chaos truly erupted.

“Absolutely stunning.”

The crowd exploded. Fans screamed, lightsticks waving furiously, while the other members of aespa glanced at Karina, some laughing, others wide-eyed with surprise.

Y/N blinked, heat rushing to her face. “What just happened?”

“She called you stunning,” Yves said, barely containing her laughter. “In front of thousands of people. And everyone heard it.”

“It’s fan service,” Y/N said quickly, brushing it off as her heart thumped in her chest. “That’s all it is.”

“Uh-huh,” Manon smirked. “Sure. Fan service.”

The screen lingered on Y/N a second too long, catching Karina’s lingering gaze before it finally cut away.

Y/N exhaled, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares from the people around her. “I am never listening to you again, Manon.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Manon said with a wink. “Trust me.”

But Y/N had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger mess.

The concert had ended hours ago, but the chaos that followed Karina’s little slip-up was far from over. Y/N sat on the couch in her penthouse, phone in hand, scrolling through a never-ending stream of notifications. Her name was all over Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok—clips of Karina calling her stunning had already gone viral.

“Y/N L/N spotted at aespa’s concert!”

“Karina’s reaction is priceless. She’s totally starstruck.”

“Did Karina just call Y/N stunning in front of thousands? Gay panic much?”

Y/N sighed, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to go.”

The door to her penthouse burst open, and Manon strolled in, holding two iced lattes and a mischievous grin. “Good morning, viral sensation!”

Y/N glared at her. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You never do.” Manon plopped down beside her and handed her a drink. “But I thought you might need caffeine after last night’s… performance.”

“It wasn’t a performance,” Y/N shot back, taking the latte. “It was a disaster.”

Manon chuckled. “Disaster? Please. You’re trending. Everyone’s obsessed with you—and Karina, apparently.” She pulled out her phone and started reading tweets. ”‘Karina’s reaction to Y/N is giving soulmate energy.’ Oh, this one’s good: ‘Karina called Y/N stunning? I ship it.’ There are already fan edits of you two.”

Y/N groaned. “It’s fan service, Manon. That’s what idols do. They say things like that to go viral. She probably didn’t even mean it.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But let me remind you—she wasn’t supposed to have her mic on when she said it.”

Y/N froze for a second. That part she hadn’t really thought about. Karina’s reaction hadn’t felt… rehearsed. It had felt almost genuine, like the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not getting involved in this idol drama. I have my own life, and it doesn’t include being the center of some K-pop shipping war.”

Manon shrugged. “Fair enough. But good luck ignoring it. You know how relentless fans can be.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she knew Manon was right. No matter how much she tried to brush it off, the internet wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

Karina sat in the practice room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with a blank expression. She’d watched the clip a dozen times by now—her voice whispering stunning into the mic, Y/N’s surprised expression on the big screen, and the crowd’s reaction.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“An idiot for what?” Winter asked, walking into the room with a curious look. “What happened?”

Karina peeked at her from between her fingers. “Did you see the clip from the concert?”

Winter smirked. “Oh, you mean the part where you called Y/N L/N stunning in front of thousands of fans and the whole internet? Yeah, I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

Karina groaned louder, dropping her head onto her knees. “It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. My mic was supposed to be off!”

“Mm-hmm,” Winter teased, plopping down beside her. “Sure, it just slipped out. I’ve never seen you that starstruck in my life. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

Karina shot her a glare. “I wasn’t starstruck. I was… surprised.”

“Surprised by her beauty?” Winter said with a mischievous grin. “It’s okay, Karina. We all know Y/N is gorgeous. Even I’d call her stunning.”

Karina leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it. This is a problem. She’s a chaebol, Winter. She’s not just some random celebrity we can casually talk to. She’s way out of our league, and now people think I’m obsessed with her.”

Winter chuckled. “Out of your league? Please. You’re—Karina of aespa. If anything, she’s probably out there wondering how to get your attention.”

Karina opened her mouth to argue, but a thought stopped her. What if Y/N was thinking about her? No, that was ridiculous.

“I just have to lay low until it blows over,” Karina muttered. “The fans will find something new to obsess over soon.”

“Good luck with that,” Winter said, scrolling through her phone. “The fans aren’t letting this go anytime soon. Look, someone already made a fan page for you two—‘Karina x Y/N.’ They’re calling you the perfect power couple.”

Karina snatched the phone and stared at the page. It was filled with pictures, clips from the concert, and countless comments speculating about their relationship. Her face flushed. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, and get this,” Winter continued. “Someone claims they saw Y/N liking one of the edits on TikTok.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Winter shrugged. “Could be fake, but wouldn’t it be funny if it wasn’t?”

Karina leaned back again, suddenly feeling ten times more anxious. If Y/N had actually seen one of the edits… did that mean she was paying attention?

Y/N sat at her desk, her laptop open, pretending to focus on work while her thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She hated to admit it, but Manon’s words were stuck in her head. What if it wasn’t fan service? What if Karina actually meant it?

Her phone buzzed with a notification. Another message from Manon.

Manon: Did you see Karina’s Weverse post? 👀

Y/N frowned and clicked on the link.

It was a simple post—just a picture of the crowd at the concert with the caption:

“Last night was unforgettable. Thank you, MYs. 💖”

But what caught Y/N’s attention was the timing. It had been posted just a few minutes after the concert ended, and the comments were filled with fans speculating about her.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart beating faster than it should have. “Unforgettable,” she repeated softly.

She shook her head, shutting her laptop. “Nope. Not getting sucked into this.”

But deep down, she knew it was already too late.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to another flood of notifications. Apparently, her accidental rise to internet fame was nowhere near dying down. If anything, it was picking up speed.

Her phone buzzed again—a message from Yves.

Yves: Girl, you’re basically the main character on K-pop Twitter right now.

Yves: I’m serious. Look at this.

Y/N clicked the link Yves had sent, and a video edit loaded on her screen. It was one of those overly dramatic TikTok fan edits. Slow-motion clips of her on the big screen at the concert were mixed with Karina’s stunned expression, paired with emotional music. The caption read: “Karina x Y/N – meant to be?”

The next clip played Karina’s whisper: “Stunning,” followed by a close-up of her face as she tried to recover from the slip.

Y/N blinked. “Oh my God.” She turned the phone off and tossed it onto the couch. “This is getting out of hand.”

Her phone lit up again—this time, it was Manon calling. Y/N sighed and answered. “What now?”

“You’re welcome,” Manon said in a sing-song voice.

“For what?” Y/N asked, already regretting picking up.

“For making you the hottest topic on the internet. This is a PR dream, babe. You’re unstoppable right now.”

“I don’t want to be the hottest topic on the internet,” Y/N shot back. “I want this to blow over so I can go back to my life without people thinking I’m secretly dating an idol.”

Manon chuckled. “Who said anything about secret dating? But hey, if Karina happens to slide into your DMs, you’d better not leave her on read.”

“Manon,” Y/N warned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Manon said seriously. “You know how K-pop idols can be super private. If she’s curious about you, she might reach out through a back channel. It happens all the time in this industry.”

Y/N paused, unsure how to respond. The idea of Karina actually reaching out seemed absurd… but not entirely impossible.

“Relax,” Manon said, breaking the silence. “Just enjoy the attention while it lasts. You’re already on top of the world, Y/N. Own it.”

Y/N hung up, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Karina sat cross-legged on the floor of the practice room, scrolling through her phone with a mixture of dread and curiosity. The internet had exploded overnight, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking the reactions.

The fan edits. The ship name. The endless comments about her “gay panic” moment.

Winter leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve been on your phone for two hours. Let me guess… Y/N?”

Karina didn’t bother denying it. “It’s out of control. They’re acting like we’re soulmates or something.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “And how do you feel about that?”

Karina hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen. How did she feel about it? She barely knew Y/N, but something about her had thrown her completely off balance.

“I don’t know,” Karina admitted quietly. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s… confusing.”

Winter smirked. “Sounds like you have a crush.”

Karina shot her a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Winter said, sitting down next to her. “Look, you’re one of the most focused, controlled people I know. You never react like that. But the second you saw her, you froze. It’s not just some random thing. Trust me.”

Karina leaned back, lost in thought. Was Winter right? Had she really developed a crush on Y/N from one brief interaction?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from her manager.

Manager: We need to talk about the Y/N situation. Call me.

Karina sighed. “Great. This is just what I needed.”

“Looks like it’s time to decide how you want to handle this,” Winter said with a grin. “You gonna ignore it, or are you gonna make a move?”

Karina bit her lip, the wheels in her mind turning. For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the right move was.

Y/N was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on a report, when a notification popped up on her phone. She ignored it at first, but something about it caught her eye.

It was a follow request on Instagram. From katarinabluu.

Her breath caught in her throat. “No way.”

Y/N stared at the request, her mind racing. What does this mean? Is this some kind of mistake? Or is she really trying to reach out?

Her finger hovered over the Accept button.

“Manon’s gonna lose her mind,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

And just like that, with one tap of her finger, everything changed.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at her phone. Karina’s follow request sat there, mocking her with its simplicity. After a few deep breaths, she hit Accept—half out of curiosity and half out of a strange desire to know what would happen next.

Not even a minute passed before her phone buzzed again.

katarinabluu: Hey.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She reread the message twice, wondering if it was a prank or if she was hallucinating. Was Karina really messaging her?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She started typing, erased it, and tried again. Finally, she settled on something casual.

Y/N: Hey. Didn’t expect to hear from you.

The three little dots indicating Karina was typing popped up almost immediately.

Katarina: Yeah, sorry if this is weird. I just… wanted to check in. After last night, things got a little crazy, huh?

Y/N: You could say that. My notifications are still blowing up.

Katarina: Same. I thought it’d die down by now, but… guess not.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself. “Of course not,” she muttered.

Y/N: You kinda caused the chaos, you know. Calling me ‘stunning’ with your mic on? Bold move.

Karina read the message and winced, though she couldn’t help but smile at Y/N’s teasing tone.

Katarina: Totally unintentional, I swear. My mic wasn’t supposed to be on.

Y/N: Uh-huh. Sure.

Katarina: I’m serious! But… I mean, it’s not like I was lying.

Y/N froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to race again. Did Karina just… admit that?

Y/N: …So you meant it?

There was a pause. The dots appeared and disappeared several times before Karina finally responded.

Katarina: Yeah. You were stunning. Still are.

Y/N stared at the message, her face heating up. She was used to compliments—she’d been in the public eye long enough to brush them off—but something about Karina’s words felt different. They felt real.

Before she could overthink it, another message popped up.

Katarina: Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but… would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just to talk. Away from all the cameras and chaos.

Y/N’s heart skipped again. Coffee? With Karina? It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, but it was… intriguing.

Y/N: You’re serious?

Katarina: 100%. No fan service, no cameras. Just us.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Okay. Coffee sounds good.

Katarina: Great. I’ll message you the details. Looking forward to it. :)

As soon as the conversation ended, Y/N leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.

“What did I just agree to?” she whispered.

Her phone buzzed again—this time from Manon.

Manon: Did Karina just follow you? And DM you? Are you KIDDING ME?!

Y/N sighed, already bracing herself for the interrogation that was about to come.

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting her outfit for the third time. She wasn’t usually one to stress over casual meetings, but this felt different. She kept telling herself it was just coffee, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just coffee.

Her phone buzzed.

Katarina: I’m here. Outside the café. No rush.

Y/N grabbed her bag and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

The café was small and tucked away in a quiet neighborhood—intimate and unassuming. When Y/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked onto Karina, who was sitting at a corner table, wearing a simple black hoodie and a baseball cap.

For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe.

Karina looked up and smiled, standing to greet her. “Hey. You made it.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Nice disguise.”

Karina chuckled, adjusting her cap. “Had to be careful. Didn’t want to attract too much attention.”

“So… what’s this about?” Y/N asked, leaning forward slightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not every day that a K-pop idol asks me out for coffee.”

Karina smiled, a little shyly this time. “Honestly? I just… wanted to get to know you. Without all the noise. Last night was kind of a wake-up call for me.”

“A wake-up call?”

“Yeah,” Karina admitted. “I’ve been in the industry so long that I kind of forgot what it’s like to be genuinely curious about someone. And after seeing you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that level of honesty.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Y/N said softly. “But I guess I’ve been thinking about you too.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background.

“Then maybe,” Karina said, her voice steady but her eyes hopeful, “this doesn’t have to be just coffee.”

Y/N took a sip of her iced latte, trying to mask her nervousness. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy—it was surprisingly light—but the unspoken words between them made her heart race.

“So,” Y/N began, placing her cup down. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?” Karina tilted her head, a playful smile on her lips.

“Track down random chaebol daughters and ask them out for coffee.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Karina laughed, her shoulders relaxing a little. “You caught me. I’m secretly building a collection of chaebol friends.”

Y/N smirked. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Not great,” Karina admitted, leaning in slightly. “Turns out, most of them don’t agree to coffee. But you did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the slight blush that crept up her neck. “I’m sure you could’ve had your pick of anyone, but you chose me.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I told you, Y/N. You stood out. And… I don’t want this to sound weird, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Y/N looked down at her drink, swirling the ice around with her straw. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that—Karina was unexpectedly sincere, which threw her off completely.

“You’re really bad at fan service, you know,” Y/N said, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re supposed to make it sound fake.”

“I’m not interested in fan service with you,” Karina said without missing a beat. “I’m just… interested in you.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch. For a moment, the world around her seemed to pause.

“That’s… bold,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been bold since last night,” Karina replied with a slight shrug. “Might as well keep it going.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Fair enough. So what now, Ms. K-pop Idol?”

Karina leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table. “Now? We finish our coffee. Then maybe we go for a walk… or talk about something other than the industry or what’s trending on social media.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Karina said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous game.”

“I like dangerous.”

Y/N took a moment to think before leaning forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay… but only if you go first.”

Karina nodded. “Deal.” She paused, thinking for a second. “I hate roller coasters.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s it? That’s your deep secret?”

“Hey, it’s a serious phobia,” Karina defended herself, holding up her hands. “I went on one when I was a kid, and I cried for an hour afterward. Haven’t gone on one since.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. No roller coasters for you.”

“Your turn,” Karina said, leaning in with anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, then finally said, “I once skipped a huge charity event and hid out at a theme park all night. No one ever found out.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “Wait… seriously? The media didn’t catch that?”

“Nope.” Y/N grinned. “I’m better at sneaking around than you’d think.”

“Impressive,” Karina said, her admiration clear. “We’re both full of surprises, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Y/N agreed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper confessions. Hours passed without either of them noticing, the initial awkwardness long forgotten.

Eventually, Karina glanced at her phone and sighed. “I hate to say it, but I have to go soon. Schedule stuff.”

“Back to the idol life,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Karina stood, adjusting her hoodie. “But… this was nice. Really nice.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, standing as well.

They lingered for a moment at the door, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

“So,” Karina said, her voice soft. “Can I see you again?”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Karina said, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N replied.

With that, Karina gave a small wave and disappeared down the street. Y/N watched her go, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

As Y/N walked home, her phone buzzed with a new message.

katarinabluu: I already miss you. Just saying.

Y/N grinned, typing back.

Y/N: Same :)

Little did she know, this was just the beginning of something neither of them had expected.

The days following their coffee date passed in a whirlwind, but Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Karina. Her presence lingered in every quiet moment—a message here, a picture there, and more than a few late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.

She wasn’t sure how they’d slipped into this routine, but it felt effortless. Natural.

It had been a week since their first meeting when Y/N found herself scrolling through her phone late at night, staring at Karina’s latest message.

katarinabluu: Are you awake?

Y/N: Yeah. Can’t sleep. You?

Katarina: Same. Want to go for a drive?

Y/N hesitated for a split second before typing back.

Y/N: Pick me up in 20.

Karina’s black SUV idled quietly outside Y/N’s building. Y/N slid into the passenger seat, her pulse quickening at the sight of Karina in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair tucked beneath a cap.

“Midnight drive, huh?” Y/N said, buckling her seatbelt. “Sounds suspiciously like something out of a K-drama.”

“Maybe,” Karina replied with a grin, pulling away from the curb. “But I promise there won’t be any dramatic rain scenes or tragic confessions.”

“Good,” Y/N teased. “I left my umbrella at home.”

The streets of Seoul were quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted under the glow of streetlights. The radio played softly in the background, filling the silence with a calming melody.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, watching the city blur past.

“Nowhere specific,” Karina said. “Just wanted to escape for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said softly. “I could use a little escape too.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine almost lulling Y/N into a sense of peace. It wasn’t until they reached a quiet overlook on the edge of the city that Karina finally stopped the car.

“Wow,” Y/N said as she stepped out, taking in the stunning view of Seoul’s skyline. “This is beautiful.”

“One of my favorite spots,” Karina admitted, leaning against the hood of the car. “No one ever bothers me here.”

Y/N joined her, their shoulders brushing as they stood side by side. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Karina said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “When things get overwhelming.”

“I get that,” Y/N said quietly. “The whole world watching your every move… it’s a lot.”

Karina glanced at her, her eyes soft. “Yeah. But being here with you… it feels different. Easier.”

Y/N turned to meet her gaze, their faces closer than she’d realized. “It does,” she agreed. “Like we’re not those people for a little while.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing in the quiet night.

“Y/N,” Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you… afraid of this?” Karina gestured between them. “Of what’s happening here?”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough to stop.”

Karina smiled—a small, genuine smile that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. “Good. Me too.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Look at us. Two scared idiots trying to figure this out.”

“At least we’re figuring it out together,” Karina said, nudging her gently.

Y/N nudged her back. “Yeah. Together.”

They stood there for a while longer, the city lights twinkling below them like stars. For the first time in a long time, everything felt… right.

Y/N woke up to her phone buzzing relentlessly. Groggily, she reached for it, blinking at the notifications flooding her screen.

Trending on Twitter: #KarinaAndY/N

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” she muttered, sitting up in bed.

Manon’s name lit up her phone, followed by several frantic texts.

Manon: You’re trending. AGAIN. What did you do this time?!

Manon: Wait. Were you with Karina last night?

Manon: CALL ME.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This can’t be good.”

Her phone buzzed again—this time, it was Karina.

Katarina: Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Too late. I’m already panicking.

Katarina: I’ll call you in 5. Just breathe.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

#cents works #aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina #karina x reader #aespa karina #aespa karina x reader #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw #kpop gg

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moongreenlight · 2 years ago

Text

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #141 headcanons #headcanon #drabble

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voidsuites · 19 days ago

Text

can you play ken?

IT’S an act of sorts— a performance, if you will— being a notable figure. plaster on a smile in front of the camera, dress to the nines whenever you go out in public, and always thank the fans for getting you to where you are. none of this is new to art at this point in his career, but it’s never been so apparent and in his face until now.

it shouldn’t be. it’s just a few test covers for the next vogue issue— he’s done plenty of magazine photo shoots this far into his career— but it’s never been both him and you modeling together. it’s brand-new territory.

your smile, all pearly and sweet, plastered on your lips from the moment the first shutter was removed. your hand perched atop your favorite spot on his body as of late, lithe fingers curled around his shoulder in a way that feels more staged than affectionate. he’s smizing, his expression cool while his hand curves around your hip. if he squints hard enough, art can tell just how firmly his fingers are digging into the fabric of your outfit. he’s stiff, rigid— just like the ken doll that lily tucked into his suitcase because it “looked like daddy.”

and he does look like art in the photos, down to the cropped haircut, fixed posture, and subtle upturn of his lips. huh. does he look this plastic in real life?

… he can’t ever relax, can he? this kind of thing was always your element— the front-facing side of your shared fame— since he was more than content to stick to the sidelines. smile for the camera. sell the story. prove to the world that your knee blowing out in college isn’t a sore spot between you two— that it should be art prepping for a promising run at the u.s. open and not you.

but besides his fingers digging into your hip like you’re going to slip out of his grasp in the preferred option, the covers are good… really good. it’s the perfect way to generate buzz as you two head into the open, with art taking point and you right behind him leading his coaching team.

“they came out good,” you say from behind him, fresh from the shower if the lingering scent of your body wash gives anything away. your hand drops to that same spot on his shoulder like clockwork, and art’s minuscule flinch doesn’t go unnoticed. “… what’s wrong?”

nothing, he wants to say, nothing, don’t worry about it. however, it’s futile to even try and get away with a lie that even he’s not confident in telling.

“do you ever feel like all of this is just… fake?” art asks, ignoring the way his stomach turns when he looks up at you. just like he expected your eyes are narrowed, your brow raised slightly like you’re waiting for him to continue. so he does.

“the photo shoots, the commercials, the brand deals… it all just feels fake,” he sighs, and art turns back to the spread of potential covers laid out on the coffee table. “i-it’s all staged, and why is anyone supposed to care that i’m trying to win the open again when the article’s focused on what cologne i wear—”

“it’s a personality piece,” you supply easily, running the towel in your hands over your hair to dry off while your robe hangs loose around your frame. “letting the people in on who you are, who we are. that we’re not just out-of-touch celebrities who haven’t been human since 2006.”

he scoffs. “it’s ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you shake your head before stepping towards the hotel suite’s closet to find pajamas to change into. “i don’t know why you’re so upset about this.”

art stands from the desk, following you towards the closet while his stomach continues to ache. “because i shouldn’t have to prove that i’m a real person to the world by telling them my cheat meal between dieting and training— i’m a real person because i fucking exist.”

(it’s a happy meal: cheeseburger. fries. substitute apple slices for extra fries. extra-small coke if he’s feeling especially risky, milk if not. no toy unless it’s something lily would like. but that’s besides the point.)

“you can’t tell me that you like this,” he sighs, clearly exasperated as you drop the robe and move to pull one one of his shirts. if his eyes flit elsewhere instead of the bare stretch of your back, he doesn’t say. “it just feels like we’re pretending to be people we’re not, all for the sake of money. attention. bullshit.”

you fix his shirt over your shoulders while you spare him a glance. “it’s a part of the job, art.”

shaking his head, art moves around the edge of the california king and goes to unbuckle his watch from his wrist. “yeah— well i didn’t sign up for this.”

“art.”

“i’m going to bed,” he replies, somewhat thankful that he’d showered and changed earlier when you both got back to the room. it’d be more awkward for him to be all pissy like this, then have to walk past you to go into the en-suite.

“art.” the mattress sinks behind him, and this time he doesn’t flinch when your hand falls on his shoulder.

and this time, he doesn’t snap as he turns around to face you. “what?”

your lips purse when his eyes meet yours, and the pit in his stomach is back. “… we need to let them know what cover we want them to use.” a pause. “did you have a preference?”

his pinched expression mirrors yours. art knows you don’t really mean it— the magazine execs really did a response sooner rather than later— but the synergy’s off and he’s just ready to leave today in the past. no more pretending.

“… i don’t care,” he sighs, hand meeting your thigh as his fingers dig slightly into your skin, “just pick your favorite, babe.”

he doesn’t let you respond as his lips meet yours, but the kiss is more fleeting than they normally are. less hungry, less needy… less art. and even though he’s reluctant to let go of you and turn onto his side, he does.

he wish he didn’t. mottled blue eyes meet the ultramarine, painted-on irises of ken on his nightstand and his stomach starts to ache again.

“goodnight.”

silence. then the mattress shift again as you go to look over the tests covers. art wonders if you recognize just how plastic he looks in the photos (and whether or not you still see it as his eyes shut).

“… goodnight, art.”

#voidsuites writes ࿔*:･ﾟ #art donaldson #dilf art donaldson #dilf art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers fics #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers 2024 #based off “ken” demo by billie eilish #also based off that one fucking edit i always reblog LMAO #let this man be a hermit (and have a cheeseburger)#he’s just like me fr (a homebody)#they tried to put me on the cover of vogue… but my LEGS were TOO LONG…#if this is please throw tomatoes at me apologies in advance

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avis-writeshq · 1 year ago

Note

hellooo <3

can i request a lil something for hotch about that one trend on tiktok “calling my bf my husband to see his reaction” thxx!

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader genre: fluff, established relationship warnings: talks about marriage + commitment a/n: thank you for requesting lovely <3 wc: 650

Aaron’s confusion is palpable when he watches you prop your phone up by the corner of the car so that the front camera faces the both of you. He’s well aware of how you make videos of yourself to post on the internet – it’s actually how Penelope set the two of you up – but he’s never really been in any of the videos you’ve posted. The two of you are just going on a fast food trip and as soon as you step into the car, he finds himself incredibly underdressed. Granted, you always look lovely, but you still look far too overdressed to go to a drive-through.

“Are we going somewhere after this?” He asks slowly, his eyes raking over your figure and the way you fix up your hair.

“No, honey, I just wanted to dress up.” You smile at him, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek.

He frowns, a stark contrast to the brilliant blush on his cheeks and the redness of his ears. “This seems like a plot.”

“No plot,” you laugh again and turn to your camera. “Guys, my husband thinks that I’m plotting something. Can you believe that?”

Aaron’s brain short circuits as soon as the words register. His fingers go lax on the steering wheel and his jaw unhinges. He’s staring at you like you’ve got three heads and his blush travels all the way down his chest. He likes the sound of that. An entire lifetime with you flashes before his eyes and all of a sudden there’s a ridiculously wide smile on his face and his eyes are crinkled at the corners.

“You’re beautiful.”

You’re giggling. A hand over your mouth and your eyes have lit up with mirth. He spares a glance at the camera and he manages a small groan, covering his face with one hand in an effort to shield his reputation. You’re still laughing quietly, although your own cheeks are hot from his breathless compliments.

“Was this all just for a video?” Aaron asks, moving his free hand to your knee and squeezing. “Sweetheart, that’s cruel.”

“No, it isn’t! It’s just a silly video, Aaron, it’s not cruel,” You say through a smile, and you stop recording and pocket the phone. “You reacted really nicely though, I’m sure the video will do well.”

“Do other people not react well?” He asks, concerned. He doesn’t really want to think about how other boyfriends react to their significant other calling them ‘husband’, especially when he can’t imagine ever having a life without you in it.

You shrug as you respond, “one guy didn’t let his girlfriend finish her sentence before he was yelling that he ‘isn’t her husband’. Which is true, but he responded really quickly and really seriously that it didn’t seem like a joke. I don’t know how they are in real life though, so it could have been staged.”

His concern turns into one of mortification, mainly for the couple. “I don’t understand how someone could get into a relationship and have no end in mind.”

That alone is enough to have you swooning, and he leans over to kiss your forehead. You’re beaming at him, almost slyly, and he brushes your hair out of your face.

“We should go somewhere nice,” He decides, sitting back in his seat. He puts the car into drive. “You’re too pretty to go to a drive-through.”

You’re laughing again as he starts driving in the direction of your favourite Italian place, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. You don’t know about the velvet ring box hidden underneath the drivers’ seat.

Two weeks later, the video you recorded garnishes a whopping 23.6 million views, pinned beside another with a ring as the thumbnail. That video has a terrifying 43.9 million views, and Aaron is not spared any teasing.

reblogs are always appreciated !

events page

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #golden : a milestone event #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson x reader fluff #thomas gibson #thomas gibson fluff

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darnell-la · 6 months ago

Note

What about Wade and Logan watching Vanessa and Reader pole dancing together and the boys getting all hot and bothered by watching?

note: overload — that’s all you guys need to know.

———

“Aren’t you excited!? Your long-time, short-time crush is going to dance in front of us tonight with my long-time and short-term fiancé,”

As soon as the two entered the bar, Wade couldn’t stop teasing Logan about the fact that this young lady he’s been crushing on for a while, will be dancing tonight.

“She just started yesterday, why would she already be on stage?” Logan sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe because she’s the hottest worker, right after my fiancé!?”

Logan glared at Wade, making him put his hands up in a surrendering passion.

“Look, don’t be grumpy all night. I wanna enjoy my butter pecan up there, alright? Good boy,” Wade patted Logan’s head before shouting out Vanessa's name to support her before she came up.

“That’s my girly pop!” Wade yelled out, making Vanessa chuckle as she danced on stage with y/n. Their session was almost done, and Logan felt drained. Watching y/n like this was going to be unforgettable tonight.

At first, he hated the idea of y/n being like this in front of so many men. That’s the reason why he came last second. Now he’s wishing he never did, with how hard and leaky he was from watching.

He couldn’t possibly go up to y/n without her knowing. She’d see the patch instantly. He cursed himself for being a perv.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Logan got up and quickly walked away before Wade could speak or anyone could see him cover himself up.

“Logan!? Wade sent me back here to come and get you! He said you’ve been all here for almost an hour,” y/n said as she made her way down the small hallway to the bathrooms.

After the show, it got dead, since people were only there to see the strippers of the night.

“Logan?” Y/n asked again, but he still didn’t hear her. He was too busy trying to focus on his release. “Logan, are you even here?” Y/n opened the men’s bathroom slowly, not really caring if she saw anyone else. She wanted to make sure Logan was alright if he was still here.

“Goddamnit,” y/n heard Logan grunt. She wanted to turn back around and leave, thinking he was having trouble using the bathroom until she saw one hand over the bathroom stall.

She squinted her eyes to take a better look, seeing how tight he was gripping the metal. The stall was bending in from how hard he gripped down.

“F-Fuck, just- Fuck, c’mon,” Logan groaned in annoyance, angry that he’s been going at this for what felt like days. He’s a mutant, so he should be able to last however long he pleased, but he wanted to release now. He’s never been this hard in his life.

“Logan?” Y/n said low, but surprisingly, he heard her this time. “Fuck-“ the man cut himself off and stopped instantly. “Y/n!?” The man panicked as he fixed himself up, but that was going to be hard.

He’s been leaking for who knows how long, and everything had made its way all over his hand. When he went to wipe his hand in his jeans, all it did was make him look worse.

“Yeah, I was just- I was just checking on. Wade told me to,” y/n said as she rubbed her fingers together, a bit embarrassed that she probably witnessed Logan, and an older adult jerking off in a bar bathroom.

“That motherfucker,” Logan mumbled as he began to buckle his pants. “I can, uh, leave if you’d like. I’m technically doing something illegal anyways,” y/n spoke about her being in the men’s bathroom. “No, no!- Just wait a second,”

Y/n stayed silent as she heard Logan groan in frustration and probably break a few things in the stall before he finally came out.

“Hey, Bub, uh, wassup?” Logan asked as he quickly walked over to the sink, not trying to make anything seem too obvious. “Just checking’ on ya,” y/n smiled as she scanned the man.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Logan?” Y/n felt the need to walk over to Logan, but slowly. “Yeah, Bub, just needed to take a leak, that’s all,” Logan lied as he turned around after drying his hands.

“Are you sure? You’re breathing a bit heavy, and-“ Y/n went on until she looked down at his lower body, seeing what his jeans looked like. They were basically drenched in one particular area.

Logan took a deep breath with his eyes closed, knowing he was caught and couldn’t lie his way out. He prayed she’d think he was just some man who needed to rub one out, but she kept asking him the right questions.

“First time watching the new modern women strip?” Y/n chuckled shyly as if wondering if this was even a joking situation. “You’re a funny one,” Logan chuckled as he fixed his shirt he noticed was sitting wrong.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed. Most men don’t know how to act when they see a pair of tits,” y/n joked, but that slightly bruised Logan’s ego.

“Seen enough tits in my life, Bub,” Logan said, right before he took a look down at her chest. “Oh, you have? Seems like a fun life,” y/n got a bit defensive at his response. She couldn’t believe it at first, but her response was out of jealousy.

“Ain’t too bad — As long as they come with a pretty face,” Logan said as he looked into her eyes with a head tilt. “Yeah,” was all y/n could say as she broke eye contact.

“You know you’re pretty, right?” Logan asked as he moved towards y/n, softly letting his hand rest on her waist. “Really?” Y/n asked, confidence suddenly being thrown out of the window.

“Oh, yeah — So damn pretty,” Logan placed his free hand on her cheek, slightly rubbing it as her eyes widened. “T-Thank you,” y/n stuttered, and all Logan could do was chuckle at how she got around him.

“Got me all worked up out there, hun. Didn’t know you could move like that,” Logan admitted. “That’s why they had me dance on my first day,” Y/n said, reminding Logan about that. “That doesn’t sit right with me, Bub. Don’t want you back here workin’ for a creep,”

“But Vanessa? She works here,” y/n said, but he some care. “That ain’t my girl, so what she does, doesn’t concern me,” Logan said, not wanting to sound rude, but he truly did not care about anyone else, but y/n.

“You, though? You’re my girl, and you didn’t tell me about this job — Wade had to,” Logan said as the hand on her waist tightened. “And, that doesn’t sit right with me,”

Y/n felt the need to apologize, thinking she did something terribly wrong, even though she didn’t. Only in Logan’s eyes, she did do something that would need some consequences.

“Gonna say anything before I do what I’ve been needing for the past two hours?” Y/n wanted to speak, but she couldn’t. She was curious about how far Logan would take this.

“C’mere,” Logan said as he pulled y/n into a bigger bathroom stall than the one he was in. Once he locked the door, he pushed y/n to her knees, making sure to keep eye contact with her soft eyes.

“Gonna need you to look at me just like that until I’m done, okay? Been stuck for the past hour with this shit,” Logan said as he reached into his jeans to pull himself out. He didn’t think about it, but y/n sure did once she saw his length.

He was long, harder than she’d ever seen anyone before, thick, veiny, and leaking more than an average human should be.

“Open up, Bub,” was all Logan said as he pushed at her lips with his tip. Y/n hesitated but soon opened up and took him in. She had stopped after a few inches, but he continued thrusting his hips until she was in as much as he thought she could take.

“Fuck, baby — This is exactly what I needed,” Logan rolled his eyes as he felt instant release. He knew he was close, but he wanted to last. “Stop gaggin, baby — Wanna last a bit longer,” Logan told y/n, but she couldn’t. He was too huge.

“Bub, I said- Oh my god,” Logan grew angry, but soon whined as her throat collapsed around his shaft. “Fuck, I can’t hold it, Bub. So damn wet and warm- Fuck,” was all Logan said before his cock twitched.

Y/n couldn't help but look up at Logan to watch him lose himself in her mouth. The main she let out as he spilled into her mouth, made him groan louder, and tighten his grip on her hair.

“Goddamnit, I’m gonna cum again-“ Logan struggled to say as his legs shook, and a second orgasm ripped from him. Y/n’s eyes widen as more cum filled her mouth, so much that his seed leaked out of her mouth. There was too much to take.

“Nah uh, swollen it all, or I make you walk out with it on your face,”

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majestyeverlasting · 2 months ago

Text

𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

summary joel comes to pick you up from work, and after soaking up the night's energy for a short while, you finally let him take you home [fluff, kissing, 1.1k]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．

There’s something different about the way he walks into a room these days. A gentleness as his eyes comb through the space to familiarize himself, not size up those in it. Tonight, Maverick’s buzzes with people desperate to forget the work week that now lies behind them. They laugh and drink and embrace the live music as it flows from the stage to wash their worries away.

Joel expertly navigates through the crowd with a gruff string of excuse me’s and thank you’s. He'll never know whether they make way because of his manners or the broadness of his frame. From behind the bar, you watch him cross through a frenetic sea of patrons that part with every few steps he takes. The surrendered look on his face suggests that if he were twenty years younger, he’d allot time to work the room instead of having a one-track mind with a pin set on you.

It’s not lost on him that your smile grows wider as he sits on the barstool before you. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s a slight sound you have to strain to hear. He’s more interested in how the overhead lights bathe your skin in their warm glow.

There’s a quiet knowing between you, a familiarity that doesn’t need words to prove itself true. The moment he places his interlocked hands on the counter in front of himself, you brush your fingers over his knuckles before turning away. Upon your return, you place a bottle of Lone Star in front of him, condensation rolling down the sides. You twist the cap off for him.

Joel nods curtly. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” There’s a sparkle in your eyes.

Joel raises the beer to his lips to quell his smile. You admire how his large hand nearly consumes the bottle. How Adam’s apple bobs with each steady sip. When he sets it back down, you tilt your head in a way that makes his smile bloom anyway. He gives up on trying to hide it, and you’re glad it’s a short-lived fight. The lines on his face become more pronounced, but he looks years younger.

You cross your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel commits the lilt of your voice to memory like he has countless times since meeting you a couple months ago. Each time, the note is different. A little kinder, a little fonder.

“Should be criminal hiding a smile like that.”

“Thought you said you got off at six,” he changes the subject. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” you say.

Joel tracks you as you saunter from behind the bar to join him on the opposite side.

“Figured if I lingered, it’d coax you out the parking lot.” You fix a rouge strand of his silver-streaked hair as an excuse to trace the shell of his ear and make him shiver.

“This seat taken?” You climb onto the stool beside him before he can answer.

“Was sitting out there wasting my gas ‘cause of you.” He’s willing to waste way more than that.

“My sincerest apologies.” You give his thigh an affectionate squeeze.

A month ago, Joel would’ve graciously pushed your hand away because of the thought of too many eyes. Too many trains of thought that could derail full steam ahead in the wrong direction. He learned from his father to keep his cards close to his chest—good hand or bad. In the end, all that mattered was how he deciphered their potential and chose to play them. But letting the world in was inevitable, and inevitability wasn’t always so bad.

Joel takes another sip of his beer, this time to distract from the absentminded way you run your hand along his thigh, back and forth over his denim jeans. He wishes your touch was against his skin. You’ve always been so gentle that he’s begun to consider the possibility he could break after all.

You briefly perk up in interest when the band starts playing a new song.

“We gonna sit here all night, or can I go ahead and take you home?”

“What’s the rush?”

“There ain’t one.” Life and patience are one and the same. “It’s just loud. A lot going on.” The type of scene that fueled him once upon a time.

“We seem to be hearing each other just fine,” you say lightly. “One more song, okay?”

Joel hums low in agreement.

Thankfully, you hold fast to your promise. As the closing chord hums throughout the room, you stand and lead Joel out of the bar with one of his large hands at the small of your back. A few other patrons file out alongside you while others file in.

Outside, as the Maverick’s sign glows bright, fluorescent red, the warm air is a welcome surprise. It’d been cooler the last few nights, and now there’s no need to hug your arms and walk swifter. Even though there are plenty of open spaces, you spot his charcoal f-150 parked further away than most cars.

“How’d you know I needed to get more steps in?” You playfully peek back at him as he walks a few paces behind.

When you’re seconds away from opening the passenger door, Joel rests a steady hand on your hip and uses it as leverage to turn you around. No sooner does his large frame crowd into your space until your back meets the metal of his truck. Every move is careful and intentional. Not a single second passes where he isn’t gauging your reaction. Ready to course correct on a dime.

When a surprised smile curls at your lips, he dips his head down to kiss it away with a tenderness that aches. Joel’s moustache is a welcomed brush against your skin. A pleasant weight settles low in your gut like a small stone finding its home at the bottom of a riverbed.

He cups your cheek with a calloused palm as his lips move against yours. He takes his time. Let’s himself enjoy the softness of your lips, the privilege of your proximity. It’s the most spontaneous he’s been in a while, but the moment washes over him so seamlessly he can pretend he’s this brave every night. Pretend that his inhibitions don’t take the reigns more often than not.

When he pulls away, his breaths fan over your lips as he looks down at you. There’s a palpable fondness in his gaze that makes you wish you could get lost in his dark eyes forever. He’s the constant you’ve been needing as life attempts to pull you every which way. Wise, strong, dependable.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs gruffly, thumbing gently along your lower lip.

The distant sound of rowdy laughter tethers you back to earth.

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOEL MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

#older joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #older joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal

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almostempty · 2 months ago

Text

because of you (dave york x f!reader)

wc: 7k | other fics | rating: 18+ dddne | read on ao3 |

summary: You reveal at a party that you've never cried during sex, but Dave is going to fix that for you.

note: as per usual i took a prompt that could’ve been simple.. ‘never have i ever cried during sex’ x dave york .. and i thought.. how can i make him worse? so…here’s some dark!dave and no worries if any of the tags are a nope, i’ll be back with more threesomes soon

tags/warnings: explicit, dead dove do not eat, non con, unreliable narrator, delusional dave, infidelity, just a little bit of knife play 🔪 (no blood), pussy slap(s), face slap(s), a few uses of whore and slut, raw non-con piv and creampie (duh), bi reader has a wife!, crying during sex, little bit of ass play (whoa, who did that), obsessive behavior/ruminating, no york kids, no y/n, able bodied afab reader, ooc dave but also he’s a loving husband okay

thanks to: @auteurdelabre @gothcsz @syd-djarin @slimybeth69 @hoelaris @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @yxtkiwiyxt (…i think the gang’s all here lmao <3) it takes a village and thanks to y’all for support at different stages of this idea and over the darkest days of the year. i think this is the first thing i’ve been able to finish since December, so like we’re so back! (i hope) And to kiwi <3 i was so flattered you would trust me with a prompt for your man and, uh, i hope you would again after this lmao!

"Oh! Marina, do you still have that game?"

Heads swivel, all focus shifting to you–bouncing on the balls of your feet and sporting a sheepish grin as you realize you’ve interrupted your party host. Your neighbor is unfazed and parts easily from the other neighbors she was entertaining, finding the game for you as the party-goers voices resume buzzing.

The light in your eyes brightens, your whole face awash with excitement. Dave watches as you find a seat for yourself, cross-legged on the floor in front of your spouse, reaching for the box the hostess grabs from the shelf.

“I loved playing this in college!” You look like a kid on Christmas as you open up the box.

Autumn, your wife, shakes her head as she laughs. “You just loved using this game to make your move in college.”

Dave exhales a quiet chuckle, though something darker hums beneath it. He turns his wedding band between his fingers, but his eyes haven’t left you.

“Yeah, well it worked on you,” you jest over your shoulder as she passes your wine glass to you, in sync.

You’re too expressive—your reactions are instant, unguarded. Loud laughter, teasing quips, a warmth that feels too good to be real. He’s spent most of the night cataloging them, the faces you make, the sound of your voice, and the curve of your lips.

He wonders what your eyes would do if he wrapped his hand around your throat. Would they sparkle with the same joy? Would you be willing and eager for him?

That thought slithers in and settles in the front of his mind.

He can’t make out what it is about you that draws him in. But he keeps watching. Waiting.

And now, in a room full of people, you have his rapt attention. He’s glued to everything you do.

“What was your move?” Carol asks before Dave can.

Autumn starts to tell the story for you. In college, you were always that person who stayed up the latest. The one that was still in the kitchen at three in the morning, having a heart-to-heart with a friend or a stranger. How you’d convince anyone to watch the sunrise with you.

And that you had this habit of asking everyone their middle name before you’d finish your second drink.

You nod along as she describes the college version of you. Dave can picture it all clearly. He thinks you’d still stay up to watch the sunrise if anyone else at this party was willing. There’s something different about you–an energy that the rest of the run of the mill neighbors have had beaten out of them with HOA meetings and shitty bosses.

“But her real trick,” Autumn continues warmly, with just a hint of teasing, “she’d lure you in with her magnetic personality—”

“Is that what you’re calling my tits now?” The two of you laugh, ignorant to some of the uncomfortable husbands and wives shifting their weight as their eyes dart away from your chest.

“No. They know what I mean!” Autumn addresses the room again, “She’d take you by the hand and pull you somewhere secluded…”

“Not, like, immediately! I like to actually play the game too,” you edit before taking a sip from your glass, mesmerizing Dave with a behavior as simple as swallowing.

“I think you just liked trying to set up your friends before you’d run off with whoever you’d picked to get lucky.”

“I’m good at matchmaking.” You shrug.

“Is that what you wanna call it?” your wife teases.

“Mmm, what about..” you roll your head around like it’s heavy, “I’m good at reading when two people wanna fuck. And giving them a little push.” You squish two invisible people together between your hands with a satisfied grin, and when your eyes flick to match Dave’s he feels the world start to narrow.

“Right.” Autumn agrees, reluctantly. “So picture this,” she goes on addressing the whole party. “It’s late, you’ve been drinking, and now she’s got you with this look that says, ‘I wanna know everything about you.’”

“I do like getting to know people,” you mouth quietly, aware you’ve been interrupting. Your eyes are still on Dave and he lets the meaning of your attention sink in.

Until Autumn squeezes your shoulder, a silent I know, and you tip your head against her hand affectionately as she continues.

“But the thing is, you see, she’s still got your full name in here,” she taps your temple gently. “She’d play everyone right into her hand with ‘Never have I ever’ rounds that would make you blush.”

“So, now she’s got you all starry-eyed, right? All worked up and flirty, spilling your secrets... And that’s when she pulls out her move—” She cuts herself off with a smirk, looking across the room. “Dave, what’s Carol’s middle name?”

“Marie.”

“Show her,” Autumn murmurs in your ear. With a wave of your hand Dave shifts on the sofa, so you can squeeze in next to his wife. He lets you in, but stays unnecessarily snug.

Pressing your knee into Carol’s, you give her your undivided attention, gleaming eyes locked on hers.

“Never have I ever…” you tap your lip in thought, a hint of a smirk curling, “kissed a woman named Carol Marie.”

Neither of you move.

Dave’s skin heats up watching you hit on his wife—even if it’s just a demonstration—the chemistry is palpable. You hold his wife’s gaze for a long pause, letting the charge fill the whole room.

“You think you could help me change that?” you ask, putting on an innocent voice, and tucking Carol’s hair behind her ear like a hallmark romance movie.

For a second, Dave swears you start to lean in, but his wife breaks the spell.

“Well, I can see how you’d seal a deal with that move.” Carol laughs, a little breathy, shaking you off. You skip back across the room like you just won something, or stole it.

“All in good faith,” you claim with a wink, and everything comes into focus for Dave. You wanted him to watch, to get the front row seat. To feel the warmth of your body next to his. You were planting a seed, making a show of toying with Carol.

You’re good. He smirks to himself, before sliding back to his wife, a possessive hand resting on her thigh. “Thought you were going to whisk this one away from me for a second there,” he says, eyes locked on you.

“It’s powerful, right?” Autumn shares with pride, clasping her hands on your shoulders as you lean back against her knees.

“I did alright with it,” you add on. “College boys were almost too easy, though. Some strong eye contact and they’d fold without even getting into the game!” Your quip lightens the room, the charge between you and Carol fading away. But Dave knows it was a coded message. He’ll play your game.

Your story inspired some other college tales from the other neighbors. Marina’s husband brings out some more snacks and the conversations carry easily as the night wears on.

The room is softly lit and the drinks flow. Eventually couples file out and soon the party has dwindled just to you and your wife, the hosts, and Carol and Dave.

You convince the remaining couples to play the game for real, rifling through the cards and frowning at a few of the pre-written statements before shuffling them up. “After dark my ass,” you chide reading the marketing claim on the box. “Some of these are more like icebreakers for a corporate team building event but I saw some good ones in here too.”

There’s some kind of point keeping system written in the box that you immediately decide to ignore in favor of just ‘getting to know each other’s secrets’.

And, you’re right, of course. Some of the cards are more tame like, ‘never have I ever been in a hot tub’ or, ‘never have I ever shoplifted,’ though, you do end up revealing your sticky fingers as a youth to the room.

You laugh it off, claiming you were just a dumb kid that should’ve been caught. But Dave sees beneath it. You’re a thrill chaser. Too smart to get caught, even as a teen. Or maybe if you were caught, you’d talk your way right out of it.

Some of the cards are a little racier, revealing some intimate details Dave didn’t expect to learn about his neighbors, along with some “scandalous” stories he finds boring. Strip club stories, faking orgasms, a story about role playing in the bedroom that had Marina’s husband shrinking in his seat before she cut herself off.

Your answers are consistently on the adventurous side, he doesn’t see any shame in your face. Even when you surprise your wife with some answers.

Dave knows you watch him, he can feel you studying his reactions and keeping track of every answer. He feels you when he’s not looking, feels the connection between you tugging at him.

You hide it well, such a smart girl. Nobody besides him would be able to decode your silent communications. It makes the entire game more interesting to Dave.

You find yourselves locking eyes again as your lips meet your glass. The gleam in your eyes shoots straight down to the base of his spine, but he keeps cool. The game keeps unfolding as you take turns drawing cards and swapping stories.

Dave doesn’t volunteer any stories, more content with listening. He doesn’t balk when Carol shares anything, if anything it only adds to the buzz already present in his veins from the liquor, and strokes his ego. He decides your wife seems open, not embarrassed by much.

Marina giggles again. Dave clenches his jaw. If this game got really dark, she’d be the first to pass out. He bets she’d faint before he even reached for his drink.

‘Never have I ever stabbed someone and watched the light fade from their eyes,’ he swirls his tumbler imagining the thud of Marina hitting the floor. She’d definitely pass out if he drank to that. But, you? You wouldn’t. He can tell.

Turns out none of the cards have any prompts about murder or espionage. Just more first date types of questions or kinky ideas for housewives.

But, there is one. One unassuming card that does something sinister to Dave. It sinks sharp little claws into Dave’s mind and latches on tight.

It’s not the most sexually depraved card. It doesn’t uncover some shocking truth about you. It’s not something he would’ve thought twice about before tonight.

But then, you read it out loud. In your too sultry voice for present company.

“Never have I ever…cried during sex.”

Your brow furrows in thought. Everyone, including Marina’s husband, takes a sip of their drink admitting they’ve shed coital tears.

But you’re still. Head tilted, staring into space like you’re trying to run calculations.

“This is what stumps you?” your wife jokes as you continue sorting through memories. “You saying I’ve never fucked you to tears?”

That gets a smile out of you. “No, things definitely get wet. Maybe some tears, but not, like–really crying? I don’t think so.”

“Not even messy makeup sex? After a fight?”

You shake your head. Marina frowns.

“Makes it more intense,” Carol floats. “Physically…emotionally.”

Dave glances at his wife with a smirk. He can feel the weight of everyone’s attention shifting between him and his wife. Whatever they’re picturing probably isn’t far from the truth.

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with something before you nod your head. You draw a card for your wife to read, clearly hoping to move on. But you don’t.

“Never have I ever…had sex in a car.” Autumn reads out. The whole room drinks to that one, and you raise your glass, jokingly toasting the room for the shared debauchery. But Dave sees the curiosity still brewing inside of you. He sees it the rest of the night. Between rounds and as conversations fizzle.

You never move on from the thought of really crying during sex. Breaking down, sobbing, wailing. The emotional release.

He knows you’re still thinking of it.

He’s still thinking of it. What you’d sound like. The way your entire body would jerk beneath him with every sob.

It’s late and Dave can tell Carol’s nearly ready to call it a night. She gives him a nod and they’re up and saying their goodnights. You and Autumn take the cue to leave as well, gathering your things and heading for the door at the same time.

You head out into the clear night, walking together for a block before waving Dave and Carol off and turning into the cul-de-sac. Dave can still hear your warm voice in the air as he opens the front door for his wife.

It echoes in his head the rest of the night.

He can still hear it when he wakes up.

When he closes his eyes he sees yours glinting back at him. Your smile and the long line of your neck when you toss your head back with laughter.

He can still smell the perfume you wore. The one that wrapped around his mind and lodged itself in his memory bank.

He can still feel the warmth of your body from when you sat next to him to put your move to work on his wife.

But, above all else one moment rings loudly–so salient he can touch it and taste it. It’s the wrinkle between your worried brows. The faraway look he aches to correct. The dreamlike yearning behind your eyes for a fantasy yet to be fulfilled. A fantasy he will fulfill. An idea.

An idea he cannot stop picturing. …a plan.

It haunts his waking consciousness and fills his dreams at night. Visions of you with tears streaming from your eyes, lips parted with his name rolling off your tongue. Between gasps you’re pleading, choking his name out between sobs, eyes wide, begging for mercy. It stirs something he can’t ignore, and it burns like embers, day and night.

At first, Dave indulges.

When he wakes with a throbbing erection and the ghost, the dream version of you against heating his skin, it’s simple. He transfers his passion to his wife, finding some relief as he spills hot and desperate inside of her.

If they don’t have time in the morning, he makes time in the shower, tugging earnestly at his cock until it pulses in his fist as your name haunts his mouth. He goes on like this for days, waiting for the intensity to pass. To ease.

But over time, Dave becomes irritated.

He can’t get you out of his fucking head. At work, at home, in bed, in the middle of the night, before he wakes up. Unprompted, unprovoked. You’re in his skin, in his blood, in his subconscious.

Your roots grow deeper. No matter how he twists it, the same image plays on repeat. Over and over. You, fixed in his mind.

Dave decides to start getting up even earlier. He goes for long runs in the morning, trying to reprogram his own body. Soldiering through this affliction. The exertion should be enough of a distraction, some other kind of physical outlet has to help. But as well intended as it is, the plan backfires horrendously.

Because of you.

You’re also an early morning person. Of course.

Dave passes you on the sidewalk, on the walking trail, in another neighborhood entirely. No matter which direction he starts in, he can’t escape your path. And worst of all you’re just as chipper before the sun is up as you are after it sets.

You wave and say good morning or hello or maybe you’re calling him an asshole he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t stop. He can’t.

Dave only nods, muttering a good morning as he passes you. His feet pound against the sidewalk as loud as his heart pounds in his ears.

He can’t stop. He won’t stop.

When he stops you’re thrilled, a wide grin spreads on your face as you confess you’ve been hoping to catch him on a cool down. That you’ve been delighted to see another person taking advantage of the calm before the world wakes up. You chat away softly as his mind races and he responds with appropriately timed grunts and nods.

Sweat cools on his back and his shirt sticks to his skin between his shoulder blades, a discomfort that pales in comparison to the twisted scream in his gut before it all goes quiet. Calm.

Dave walks back through the neighborhood with you mirroring the same glowing smile you wear.

He can allow this. Walking together. It's a coincidence really, it wasn’t something he planned.

And it’s easy.

Because of you.

You’re talkative and reliable. In the same place at the same time. Full of stories and jokes, and with an exceptional memory for details—at least for anything he shares about himself.

You don’t have the same strength as him—not cardio wise—but to resist. To abstain from the pull that connects you. The fated path that draws you together like gravity.

You brace a hand on his bicep when you laugh, you hold his gaze longer than necessary when you share something personal, and you only cement yourself deeper into his soul day by day. His walls stay up, he’ll hold the boundaries for you both.

He won’t break them. He can’t.

Danger is unpredictable and lurks in the most insidious places. A neighborhood barbecue. The draw between you is overpowering and with every glass of wine, you’re closer to asking a question he won’t be able to resist.

The night pulls in closer, wrapping around just the two of you. You want this. He can see it. Feel it in the way your body leans toward his and the whispers in your smile. When you sit next to him on Marina’s back porch he can taste the trouble rolling off of your tongue.

You ask for his middle name with what he swears is a wink, and you lean against him shoulder to shoulder, sighing so deeply he feels it in his bones. Like you were meant to hold each other up, to ease the weight of the universe.

Before you say anything else, Autumn saunters through the yard. She takes your hand and walks you home and Dave finds his own wife and does the same. Leading Carol just past the entryway of their home before he’s tearing off her clothes and sinking his cock deep inside her. It dulls the ache, but doesn’t fully soothe the pain. Nothing will.

Because of you.

You’re a splitting headache demanding his attention, pulsing beneath his skull and racing down his spine. Relentless and insatiable.

After that night, he notices you change tactics. You feed him little crumbs in every conversation. Leads you know he’ll follow. Hints about the weak spots in your relationship, your unlived dreams, your pent up desires.

He knows what you’re asking for. He reads exactly what you’re saying between the lines. His walls are crumbling and it gets harder and harder to be the one solely responsible for keeping the boundaries between you.

He compartmentalizes. Conceding. You can have his dreams, his showers, his mornings. Take them. Keep them.

But it’s never enough.

It grows stronger.

To obsession.

Inky and dark it slips through his morality calling to the part he keeps locked up. The part that lets him take a life and twelve hours later be a husband. The part that lets him distort casualties to unfortunate consequences of the work. The part that perverts complexities into black and white decisions.

Simplified.

Dave blinks again.

When he opens his eyes he stares at his dark ceiling listening to the sound of Carol’s breathing. And when he closes his eyes he sees you. He hears you begging for him. He can taste the salt on your skin and feel your nails digging into his shoulders. And it’s clear.

Because of you.

Clarity is a drug. You aren’t a distraction—you’re his path. This is what he was made for. Missions, execution. Giving you what you’ve been asking for? Child’s play.

He already has most of the information he needs. It’s a game of waiting and watching.

Learning.

It doesn’t take long to figure out the details. The challenge is that you and Autumn are rarely apart. You both work from home, leaving such small windows of time where you’re reliably separate. It’s not hard to get the intel he needs, he has all the connections he needs to find out about the companies you work for.

He knows every meeting on your schedule. Every professional development conference on Autumn’s company calendar.

From here, it’s effortless.

Dave walks up your steps, checking Autumn’s schedule once more on his phone before slipping it into his pocket and knocking on the door. You answer with surprise before inviting him in, apologizing that your wife is on a work call upstairs. He assures you it’s fine, he just wanted to give something to you.

Cookies.

Dave brings cookies that Carol made. A neighborly gesture. No ulterior motive. Aside from taking the opportunity to snoop around the house, scoping out everything he needs to know while you’re none the wiser and your wife never even sees him.

You’re gracious, of course, offering coffee or something stronger. And then your voice lowers and you’re closer without even moving your feet.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

It’s in your eyes again, that look he knows how to fix. “Thank you,” you speak deliberately, slowly. “Thank you for being more than a neighbor. For being…a friend.”

But you don’t mean friend. Not the way you tilt your head and the dopey smile you flash. No, he knows exactly what you mean. You don’t have to say it out loud.

He smirks to himself, satisfied not just with the intel he collected, but with how smitten you are with him in your kitchen. How bad you must need him—he can practically smell it on you. His fingers twitch, idly at his side.

He knows exactly how many minutes are left before Autumn’s meeting ends. The daylight and open windows don’t deter him. He could have you wrecked and put back together, presentably, in the minutes he has to work with. But he’s greedy. When he gets you to himself he’s not going to stop until presentable is no longer an option.

Days pass, routine and bland. He doesn’t see you for a few days. Then you’re back to your morning run. But it doesn’t matter. He’s consumed by the details of the next step. He channels everything into it. He’s been given purpose.

And when it’s finally here, the night he intends to execute his plan, he’s calm. His heart beats slowly, rhythmically, and he moves with steady, premeditated motions.

Carol is out of town, that was easy to arrange. Autumn is out of town. That required some coordination, pulling strings and cashing in on a favor. He organized an invite to an elite seminar in another state, confirming her arrival and attendance earlier this evening.

Everything is aligned as he designed it to be. He almost wishes his team was here, just because they work so seamlessly together and he gets off on the rush—but you’re going to be his and his alone tonight.

He slinks inside, avoiding the front door camera, disabling the alarm. Straight to your bedroom. As planned. You’re sleeping soundly for him.

You’re perfect.

The strap of your thin top is askew over your shoulder, the rest of you hidden beneath your covers. He could watch you longer, but that would be a disservice to you. You’ve been waiting so long.

You need this. You need him.

He pulls the cover off of you, pausing for the briefest moment to take in the smooth skin of your thighs, the dips and curves of your entire body, the serenity in your resting form.

He crawls over you slowly, his weight sinking into the mattress and pinning you down. He soaks in your sleep-warmed body beneath him, your scent coiling around his spine and your deep breaths. Your chest expands as your lungs fill with air, but it’s his blood that is oxygenated by your body.

The reality creeps into Dave’s mind. Here he is with you completely unconscious on your back underneath him. It’s a miracle you’ve both waited so long—or maybe it’s been purgatory.

Either way, you’re no longer a vision. You’re flesh and blood and he’s desperate to fulfill your fantasy. To make your dream and his a tangible experience.

He covers your mouth with one hand–you’re alone, but you still have neighbors, and he worries you might be disoriented at first.

Thankfully, Dave waited long enough that his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the bedroom, because he’d never have forgiven himself if he’d missed the expressions that flash across your face as you wake up.

Holding a finger to his lips, he conveys his request for quiet. With only the moonlight pouring into the room your eyes shine as they widen. Dave is struck by your beauty and the overwhelming closeness.

Your voice is muffled under his palm, but he can’t let you talk yet. The heat between your bodies keeps building and he lowers more of his weight against you. It’s intoxicating, just the shape of your body against his.

“It’s okay,” he coos, “I’m here now.”

You push and shove at his chest, then claw at his arms, it only makes him chuckle dismissively. You ease up eventually, just waiting beneath him for what happens next. Good.

The blanket shifts. It’s almost gentle—like a slow Sunday morning—until he adjusts. And then Dave grinds against you, expression darkening and a smile splitting across his face when you squirm and whine. “So sensitive, I know. Must be just aching already.”

You fight him again—hands pressing, nails biting into his arms, little jerks of your body beneath him. But Dave just watches. He lets you get it out of your system. And then, just as he knew you would, you go still. A little more acceptance settling in this time.

You still flinch and arch as he keeps one hand on your mouth, straddles your waist, and cups the swell of your breasts with his free hand.

Tears start to well and one rolls down the side of your face. Dave leans down and presses a kiss to the wet corner of your eye.

“Crying for me?” His voice is thick, drenched in lust and awe. “So pretty like that.” He pulls out a knife and you go rigid beneath him, head straining uselessly under his large hand.

The sound of metal sliding free makes your breath stutter. Then cold and sharp against your chest. You freeze. Heart hammering, every muscle tense.

"Oh, you like this?" he murmurs, almost amused.

He presses the flat of the blade against your sternum, dragging it up—just enough for you to feel it, for panic to crawl up your throat. Then he shifts it lower, skimming between your ribs, unhurried.

Teasing.

"Bet you’d let me cut these off," he muses, toying with the thin straps of your top. He could just rip them. But he wants to draw it out.

You don’t move. Can’t. Your breath is short, chest rising in shallow gasps beneath the steel.

You suck in a breath, but he’s already tilting your chin up, smirking down at you. "Smart girl," he purrs, tracing the blade’s blunt edge down your stomach, inch by inch.

Fear locks up your joints. He mutters to himself about how you’re better than he imagined. Going to be so perfect for him. Not good—because you’re not a good girl—but perfect. For Dave.

Tears roll freely now, your body trembling beneath him, making Dave groan. He kisses your cheek, savoring the way you shake for him. You’re wired tight and he’s flooded with everything he wants to do with you all at once. Your chest racks with sobs, pulling him to the present. The sounds are muffled beneath his hand, but Dave hears the way your breath hitches—you’re so tense. You need a release. Of course you do, that’s why he’s here. Ready to be what you need. And incredibly turned on.

Because of you.

“Fuck–” he hisses, grinding you deeper into the mattress with his pelvis pinned to yours.

You squirm, hips bucking, but it only makes his cock pulse with heat.

“You feel that?” His voice is dripping with pride.

Your eyes are squeezed shut and your crying gets wilder. Louder. “The more you sob, the harder it makes me.”

He doesn’t need to hear you to know. Your muscles respond to his lewd statement, quivering for him.

Impatient.

The corner of his mouth quirks. A subdued portrayal of his excitement. He drinks in the moment, the heat blazing between you and the glow of your dewy skin.

Your muted voice is amplified by the stillness of the night. The calm cover of dark. Dave was built to be nocturnal–like a wild cat, and he’s patient. Precise with his prey.

But that’s not what you are to him. You’re an equal. A creature of the night, just the same.

So as bad as he wants it and as vulnerable as you are right now–he waits. Swallowing down groans as a fierce need courses through his veins. His weight holds you in place, but he still feels all of the tension rolling within you.

He knows you can’t ask for this, that he has to give it to you. But, fuck, when you resist it makes him want you even more. Has him practically buzzing. Using the last of his patience.

Until you’re ready.

Surrender sinks in, deep, softening your limbs as you melt. He can feel the swell of emotions crescendo and dissipate as you transform with grace, becoming pliable and moldable.

And when you open your eyes, he knows. You’re offering yourself wordlessly, to him. Now.

He drags the back of his knife down your chest languidly, before dropping the tease and slicing your top and panties with finesse. You protest into his palm but he doesn’t stop exploring, he’s sure you have other sleep clothes or he’ll replace these.

He traces your body with the weapon, mapping different paths he’d like to trace with his lips instead. Dream versions of you feel like an insult, he confesses in murmurs–nearly imperceptible.

Your heart beats loudly for him, increasing as he toys with pressure and misdirection. He touches you everywhere except for where you expect. A mastermind. You don’t know when he’s going to touch you.

Time is an exquisite luxury tonight and he meditates with a clear mind as he breathes with you. Dave could stay like this for hours. But you start to twitch and flinch and toss your head. He laughs, amused with your show of discomfort.

He’s in control. Like you wanted. The longer the tension builds, the more your tears flow, wet, warm, and constant.

He drops his hand from your mouth, knowing you won’t scream now.

“Please,” you whisper into the dark. “Dave, please.” He’s darkly devoted to you, obsessed with how your body tells him everything. Your chest heaves, nipples strained and taut without being touched. Just at the prospect of it. And then there’s your glistening pussy, crying so pretty for him, just like you. He’s so entranced he almost doesn’t hear you.

“Please,” your voice cracks as another violent sob steals your breath.

“I know,” he purrs above you. “I’m here.”

Your words slur into garbled wails as he leans in close, pressing kisses to your wet temple, down your jaw and neck. He can taste the salt on your skin and it’s immediately addictive, but he stays focused.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice dips, velvety and gentle. The blade in his hand tells a different story, teasing a direct path down your stomach.

"She’s so swollen, poor thing,” he murmurs, tapping the flat of the knife against your cunt, making you jerk. "You need this. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

His fingers replace the cold metal, stroking you, rubbing over your clit—slow at first, then cruel, faster and faster. You twist, struggling to get away, but it only makes him laugh under his breath.

“Relax.” He dips two fingers inside you, curling them and teasing.

“That’s good,” his breath is hot against your ear and he works quickly to free his drooling cock and guide it up and down your wet lips. You jolt, bumping against him at the raw heat and the pressure.

“She’s meant for this,” he murmurs drunkenly, “made for me.”

“Dave,” you cry weakly. He grins, pleased that you’re already so wrecked you can barely speak up.

"Say it louder."

You shake your head, biting your lip. Refusing.

He hums, low and disapproving. His cock slides against you, teasing—pressing, not quite giving in. Until he realizes you’re serious about arguing. Then, he pulls back and with a quiet, steady voice tries again.

"Say my name."

When you don’t, his palm comes down against your clit—sharp, shocking, and disorienting. You gasp, writhing, but he only looks pleased.

"Oh, she liked that," he purrs, doing it again. Another slap. A roll of his thumb, a wicked, relentless rhythm that makes your body push against him, reaching for more. He watches the pain and pleasure on your face meld.

"Say. My. Name."

You choke on it, barely more than a whisper—“Dave.”

“Mmm. Again.”

You hesitate. Another slap. Harder.

“Louder.”

You sob his name.

“Good.”

He knew he’d win, but he decides you deserve a reward for that. He doubles down, using his hands and keen observations to work you closer and closer, catching every tremble of your muscles and tensing of your hips until he feels your cunt clenching pathetically around his fingers.

“There you go.”

You gawk openly as he coats his cock with the arousal shining on his fingers, before he’s sliding it along your seam once more. Then, he starts to sink inside of you, forcing himself to take it slow. Savoring the tight stretch, the resistance, when you yelp— “Wait!”

"No," he growls, pressing your hips down. “No more waiting.” Then he buries himself inside you with one hard stroke. "Oh, fuck—"

It’s slow at first. He saws into you with long, drawn out strokes. Unhurried and mesmerized by the tight grip of your cunt and your hands. You dig your nails into his shoulders like his dreams predicted, but he never could’ve imagined how soft and wet you’d be for him.

He thrusts in deeper and deeper as you clench firmly around him. “You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, losing himself to the perfect fit of your bodies. He rocks into you, steadily building up speed, and his groans cut off his words.

He fucks you like you’re the love of his life. Giving you all of this part of him. Determined to prove that he’s been listening this whole time.

The way you sob—it’s different than he imagined. More raw. But the way you arch under him? That’s real. That’s instinct. You don’t even realize the way you’re sucking him in.

"Yeah,” he groans. “So fucking pretty when you cry for me."

His lips brush softly over your temple, so gentle it feels mocking. Then, in the same breath—

"My perfect little whore. Look at you—a mess. So needy.”

He pounds into you, hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

“Listen,” he orders and you stifle your gasps and pleas. The only sounds are the slick, slapping noises where you’re joined and the grunts he tries to muffle when he meets the end of you.

“Taking it so well, just like that. So good for me.”

You wince when he praises you. He notices. He laughs.

"Oh, but good girls don’t drip all over my cock like this, do they?"

You don’t say anything. Letting your head loll as he keeps up the same pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages. Praising you for existing. The moment stretches and shrinks from forever to fleeting.

His words dissolve into grunts. He folds your knee to your chest, fucking you harder—brutal now.

Quiet whimpers escape your lips as your body bounces from the force of him. The sweet sound incites a primal fire inside of Dave, drawing all of his focus.

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

Your answer is just a choked, broken sound. It’s not enough.

“Say it.”

You slam your eyes shut, refusing. He’s not playing this game again. The slap is instant. A sharp crack across your cheek that stuns you.

“Say. It.”

Your voice shakes. “I like it rough.”

“My filthy fucking slut,” he groans, fucking you deeper. Your hips shift, proving his point.

“Of course my perfect girl likes it rough. Wants it harder too.”

His voice drops lower, rougher. “Now say thank you.”

You whimper, shaking your head. The slap is instant. Sharp. Blistering.

“Say it.”

“Thank you.” You spit the words out quickly.

“Mmm, that’s better. So polite.”

He manhandles you onto your stomach, pinning you ass up. His weight crushes you into the mattress—and then he slams back inside, deep.

The angle knocks the air right out of your lungs, choking gasping breaths fill the room and he curses behind you.

“Look at you. Clenching down on me like you don’t want me to leave.”

He watches as he sinks inside you again and again, and you cry louder, unable to quiet yourself. Not when he’s giving you what you’ve been begging for all this time.

Your whines are stuttered by his hips snapping into you and muffled by the mattress you’re pressed into. If you had anything to say he wouldn’t be able to listen now. But it doesn’t matter anyway.

You rock against him, not coordinated in your timing, but more urgent, primal. The tight, wet squeeze of your cunt pulling him deeper is close to divinity—debaucherous maybe, but still heavenly. Engulfed by your warmth, deep as he can reach, your muscles contract pulsing around him dangerously. But he catches on.

“Trying to milk my cock, already?” He huffs the question, memorizing the way you mewl with disappointment as he slows down.

“No. You’re not done yet.”

You sway, relying on him for support. He steadies you easily with a firm hold, fingers digging into your waist, gliding his other hand up your spine. It’s a soothing touch, just resting along the curve of your ass, until he starts to knead and spread your cheeks wider for a better view.

He grins as you twitch under his gaze, before he spits on your other hole. He groans, a deep rumbling sound that comes from his chest as he spreads his saliva with his thumb.

As if compelled by a voice from within, Dave resumes his pace. He fucks you hard and fast now, watching your plush flesh ripple as you bounce against him. He keeps hitting it just right, adding pressure at the perfect angle to make you cry out his name.

He knows you’re getting close, the tension in your core pulls tighter even despite your exhaustion. You almost let go before he makes it a guarantee, working his thumb into your ass until he hears it. The moment you stop thinking. You’re too fucking full to think, to speak, to feel any shame.

“Come for me.”

Honest, ragged sounds pour out of you.

“Of course, my needy whore isn’t happy with only one hole filled.”

Everything is unfiltered as your muscles contract and you writhe against him. The strength builds from somewhere deep, beyond your control. Your body all but gives out, jerking faintly as you take everything he gives you.

The sounds you make go straight to Dave’s head. You’ve gone dumb for him, empty-headed, out of tears. The satisfaction gives him a heady rush, and he surges into you with renewed vigor. His grunts and curses punctuate the obscene sounds coming from between your bodies as everything starts to blur.

In one swift show of strength, he lifts your upper body, holding you against his chest. He kisses your cheek, wet and sticky from your tears—then he’s gasping, low and raspy as he fucks his come into you as deep as he can manage.

“Fuck.”

Your intermingled breathing is louder than any other sounds you’ve made tonight.

“Easy,” he husks, “let me stay.”

He lowers you with care, ultimately pinning you under his weight. His cock is still buried inside you, thick and leaking, making sure every drop stays where he put it.

“Stay just like this. I want you to feel me dripping out of you all night.” You’re still collapsed in a heap when he gets up, and still stuck to the sheets when he returns. You barely stir when he sets a glass of water on your nightstand, or when he peels the torn scraps of fabrics you’d worn earlier from beneath you and drapes the covers back over your body.

But, when he leans toward your face you flinch away, turning your head. He doesn’t like that.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. His thumb strokes over your bruised cheek, mocking softness.

Then, a kiss—pressed against your damp temple. His breath lingers, warm. You shudder.

Overwhelmed.

He sees the fatigue clouding your eyes and his pride swells knowing you’re as sated as he is.

“Because of you,” he whispers.

He doesn’t wait for you to reply, leaving as quietly as he entered.

A few months later it’s game night at Marina’s again. The Never have I ever box is open on the table.

The prompts spark laughter and more stories of mildly adventurous escapades and college memories.

They’re a few rounds into the game when Dave pulls another card. He stops himself from rolling his eyes at the prompt. It reads like an idea pitched by a 21 year old corporate intern. Instead, he pretends to read from the card using his own idea.

“Never have I ever…cried during sex.” A crooked smile spreads on Dave’s face. You sip your drink this time, holding eye contact without blinking.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

general tags <3

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@indiegirlunited

@syd-djarin

@harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

#nhie2025 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #dark!dave york #pedro pascal character fanfic

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bbokicidal · 9 months ago

Text

Lollapalooza '24 'Lix Edition ;]

Warnings : Suggestive content (MDNI, 18+)

"What was that?"

Felix slides the cream colored vest down his shoulders and lets it drop to the couch decorating the small dressing room backstage. He'd allowed himself to be a bit more -- out there, one might say -- exposing his entire front to the city of Chicago and millions online for the second half of their performance. "What was what?"

Your finger directs to the vest splayed on the couch cushions, looking far less threatening now that it was off of his body. "You wore just that on stage for the second set. Are you crazy?"

"Maybe," He's quick to retort, giggling as a smile blooms over stretched lips. "But STAY seemed to like it." His tongue pokes between his teeth as he watches you stand from your seat, coming to him to plant a kiss on his lips. It's quick and light, soft as can be while your hands slip up your boyfriend's bare sides.

Felix is more than happy to return the kiss when it's received, but he's a bit caught off guard when your tongue slips between his lips to tangle with his own. As his eyes slip shut and his hands find way to your arms, a moan escapes from his throat - muffled by the way your mouth molds against his. The way your tongue slides over his own, lathes against his and fights to caress every inch of his mouth is something he'll never get tired of - but he is on a schedule.

"Baby," He hums, spit slick against his lips as he mumbles into the kiss, "I have to go out and say goodbye to the crowd, still."

But as he takes a step back in attempt to break the kiss, you follow him forward and reach a hand past to lay it upon the door. It thumps shut and latches the moment his back presses to the heavy weight of it, securing your privacy for a moment more.

"They can wait."

"Not wearing the vest anymore?" Changbin chuckles at the end of his question, barely getting the final word out before he's cackling to himself in amusement. Seeing people's reactions to their sweet baby Aussie nearly shirtless on stage made Bin laugh harder than it should.

Felix looks up as he fixes the microphone hooked around his ear, blinking in light confusion before looking back down at the tank top he'd worn earlier - now once again adorning his body. "Ah," He chuckles, smile gracing his lips. "Y/N got a bit jealous earlier, said only she could see me like that.~"

Changbin's eyes roll, once again in amusement, as he steps away and towards the stage to bid their crowd a farewell.

Jeongin, who'd been lingering behind and still fiddling with his headset, turned one-eighty to see you loitering in the dressing room doorway. You exchange smiles with the maknae before giving him a wave, to which he nods and turns back around to follow the others.

And after seeing the way you looked at him expectantly, he decided he would keep it to himself that he'd witnessed Felix exit the dressing room moments before - tugging his tank top down to cover his torso now littered with bruises and bite marks from what could only be your pretty mouth.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagine #felix x reader #lee felix imagine #lee felix x reader #lee felix smut #skz smut #skz fic

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slashisms · 9 months ago

Text

𝓦𝓘𝓝𝓝𝓔𝓡 𝓣𝓐𝓚𝓔𝓢 𝓐𝓛𝓛;

ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧＳ: Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

ＲＡＴＩＮＧ: E

ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ: MINORS DNI, all characters are 18+. dub-con, but not really, spanking, name-calling, overstimulation, (un)protected sex, anal, etc.

ＷＯＲＤＣＯＵＮＴ: 6k

ＳＵＭＭＡＲＹ: Billy and Stu have a disagreement regarding your sex life.

Ａ/Ｎ: special thanks to @blackterrae who sent me a lovely ask that pretty much motivated this fic.

Your relationship with Tatum and Sidney was cordial, for all its ambiguity. You challenge anyone to think of a fitting adjective for the person who unknowingly stole your boyfriend, but saved your life in the process because said boyfriend was planning to kill you gruesomely. None of the questions raised by Billy and Stu’s seemingly random decision to dump both their girlfriends one day mattered once the bodies started dropping.

You were supposed to be their first victim, a red herring before Casey Becker’s murder, but after a failed attempt neither of them will cop to– they decided to pursue you instead. The timeline had been notably suspicious and eventually led to your discovery of their ‘extracurricular’ activity.

With the amount of convincing it took to get them to direct their murderous intentions towards Billy’s adulterous father and stage the whole thing as a murder-suicide with Neil Prescott as the culprit, you figure that sort of makes up for your part in the breakup. When Sidney and Tatum got together some time later, you were hoping for an opportunity to move past any lingering awkwardness.

Mentioning it to Billy and Stu was probably a mistake. They could care less about maintaining boundaries with an ex and considering how Stu’s last relationship ended, they probably thought they were doing the girls a favor by giving them a chance to befriend you. It would move them to the bottom of Billy and Stu’s list of potential victims, at least for a while.

A few weeks after you bring it up, they suggest you go to Sidney’s place to hang out. Perhaps you had been a little naive in thinking the two of them would agree to spend time with their exes’ new girlfriend without any hidden motives. Taking one girl’s boyfriend is bad, but taking two is downright sleazy. You should have been more wary of payback, especially since they knew exactly what pushed your boyfriends’ buttons.

Honestly, it would have been less exhausting if they hazed you to hash things out.

It starts after the end of the gore fest Billy forced everyone to watch. You’re too wrapped up in their flirting to notice the way Sidney and Tatum glance at you before sharing a long look. Tatum yawns dramatically, reaching for the remote to pause the credits with a bored expression. “I think that’s enough sex and stabbing,” she says, rising from the couch and wandering to the kitchen. “Let’s do something fun!”

Sidney rolls her eyes as you try to get Billy and Stu to take their hands off of you long enough to pay attention to the blonde. The two finally settle down when you pinch them in the side, fixing them with a look that has them heeling like two trained dogs. She’s reluctantly impressed by your handling and becoming more convinced that you’ll be fine after they’re done stirring the pot. Tatum returns with a bottle of liquor, swinging it triumphantly as Sidney shakes her head in feigned disapproval. “It’s not a party without vodka!”

Before you can ask her what she means, the doorbell rings. Sidney gets up to answer it while Tatum silences your protests, tugging you out of Billy and Stu’s arms as voices begin echoing from the entrance way. Stu laughs and Billy smirks at the look of betrayal you give them as she pulls you towards the stairs. Your eyes widen at the crowd of people suddenly swarming the front door, catching a glimpse of Sidney speaking with a nervous looking Randy before handing him a twenty dollar bill.

The next thirty minutes is spent fending off Tatum’s attempts to ply you with vodka and put you in increasingly revealing outfits as she applies mascara and lip-gloss to you while lamenting not having any foundation in your shade.

You compromise on two shots and a tastefully revealing pleated skirt and crop top before she leaves you to arrange your hair to your liking. Billy and Stu are standing outside like two pathetic puppies when she opens the door and Tatum rolls her eyes. You were wasted on these idiots, she thinks before seeking out her girlfriend.

Stu wraps his arms around your waist while Billy approaches you, tilting your chin as you pout up at him. “Way to give me a heads up,” you gripe.

Billy tuts softly, moving your head back and forth as he peers at you. “And give you a chance to run? No way,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your glossy lips.

“Don’t worry, babe, we won’t leave your side,” Stu promises

Unbeknownst to you, Tatum and Sidney were counting on it.

They hover by your side like two gargoyles for the duration of the party, guarding your drink as you become progressively tipsier. By your third (and last) drink, you’re ripe for the picking when someone exclaims, “Let’s play truth of dare!”

You tug your reluctant boyfriends along, sitting on the couch with one of them on either side of you. The game is fairly innocuous for the first round, prepubescent memories or equally embarrassing dares before it delves into raunchier topics. Billy and Stu quickly become bored of torturing their classmates, a direct contrast to the lovey dovey way they treat you that Randy points out with accusatory gagging motions.

“I’ve got a truth for you Randy,” Billy says, a smug grin on his face. “Are you a nerd because you’re a virgin or a virgin because you’re a nerd?”

Stu snickers into your neck, kissing your skin in a pointedly mocking manner as you fight down the blush rushing to your face. Randy would usually slink away from this confrontation with his tail between his legs or backtrack with his belly up, but he stands his ground with an uncharacteristic confidence. “I’ve got one too, not for you kind sir, but for our Juliet here,” he says, setting you on edge. “Is there a ranking system to your Romeos or are you left twice as disappointed?”

When you consider Randy’s part in provoking Billy later, you really think he should have asked for more than twenty dollars to take the beating the two of them dole out. You try to stop him when he rises from the couch, but he shakes you off easily as Stu’s playful grin falls and he follows suit, stalking towards Randy. You sigh when Billy grips Randy’s collar and delivers two blows to his face with the back of his hand without a word, pushing him into Stu’s waiting arms. The party goes wild as the two heft him over their shoulders, tossing him into a rowdy crowd surf that ends with him crashing onto the coffee table.

Yet as the two slink back to your side, the seed has already been planted. You’re guiltily holding back laughter while they size the other up, oblivious to the signals that you should address the issue and drunk enough to believe that kicking Randy’s ass has resolved everything. You miss the silent communication that seals your fate: an annoyed quirk of Billy’s brow, an obnoxious grin from Stu and a glance at you and the exit. “C’mon, let’s ditch this snooze fest,” Stu insists, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Your protests are quelled by the look Billy gives you, though it doesn’t take long for you to realize something’s up as they silently escort you back to the car. Billy gets in the back with you, barely closing the door before he’s pushing you back onto the leather seat. Stu starts the car while Billy climbs on top of you, hands roaming over your body to grope at your curves. His voice is deceptively calm when he speaks. “Hey, babe,” he says, pressing a biting kiss to your neck. “What did you think about that loser’s question?”

You blink, brain crashing to a halt as Billy makes room for himself between your thighs. The two were definitely different, but they were plenty skilled at satisfying you that it never occurred to you to compare the two. From the way Billy stares at you, brown eyes glinting dangerously, he’s expecting an answer. “Uh, I think he was pretty stupid to ask something like that without wearing a cup,” you reply, trying to diffuse the thick tension in the air.

He smirks, tilting his head to the side as his hand moves to the edge of your skirt, slipping under it as he hums softly. “Well it’s started a debate that only you can solve,” he says. “Stuart here thinks he screws you better than I do.”

Your breath catches as he pinches the lace band of your panties, snapping it against your skin. His words ignite a fire in your gut kindled by the thumb he’s swiping back and forth over your pulsing core. He presses a kiss to your mouth before biting meanly on your earlobe. “He thinks he fucks this pussy better than I do,” he whispers in your ear, using two fingers to caress your slippery vulva.

You let out a weak cry when he parts your lips, rubbing tiny circles over your clit as he sucks a bruise into your neck. “I don’t think words are gonna get through to that type of delusion,” he says, ignoring Stu’s scoff. “So we’re gonna settle this tonight.”

You have a moment to cope with the dread his words dredge up, the idea of being chewed up like a toy to settle a score makes you wish Randy never opened his big mouth. Billy’s fingertip grazing your entrance distracts you from your thoughts as trails his lips over your chest. “Make sure to keep track, princess,” he orders. “I’ll be taking your first.”

Your hands grip at the seat as he continues kissing his way down your body before lifting your skirt. He pushes your knees apart, tugging off your panties and tossing them up in Stu’s direction. Billy rolls his eyes when he sees him bring the moist fabric to his face and inhale with a throaty groan. You feel the shift of tires on gravel under your head as the car swerves and Billy curses, striking the blond on the back of the head.

Despite his warning to pay attention, Billy cups both of your tits roughly in his palms and tugs on your top and bra to create an enticing image that threatens to divert Stu’s gaze from the road all over again. The drive to his place feels like it takes forever as Stu has to listen to Billy eat you out. He can picture the way the other is trailing kisses up your thighs—and bites, judging by your yelp, before lapping at your opening, swiping his tongue over your twitching hole.

He spits on your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a messy slurping sound and licking at you with exaggerated noises. Stu grips the steering wheel until his knuckles ache at your whiny moans and Billy’s encouragement, his cock painfully tight in his jeans as it throbs against his zipper. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he hears Billy murmur after dragging his tongue over your slit for the nth time, groaning at your taste. “Just relax and cum for me.”

Stu’s doing twenty-five over the speed limit and he’s ran the three last red lights, but it’s worth it when he finally pulls into his stupidly long driveway. Once the car’s in park, he whips his head around to see Billy’s hand moving under your skirt as he sinks his middle and pointer finger inside you to the knuckle. His fingers press into your quivering walls as he mouths lazily at your clit, scissoring you open.

You back arches, overwhelmed by the constant stimulation to your sensitive bundle as his ruthless fingers dig into your body. You thrash weakly underneath Billy as he brings you to orgasm with just his tongue and two fingers, trembling thighs wrapped around his head. Stu grinds his teeth when Billy pulls back, smirking at him triumphantly as he removes his fingers from your body and sucks them into his mouth. “That’s one for me,” he jeers.

“Fuck off,” Stu says, climbing over the seat and launching himself at him.

You’re too busy catching your breath to care about the ensuing scuffle, rolling over as they begin trading blows. They don’t pull any punches either, going at it like wild dogs. In the enclosed space, Stu has the advantage and he catches Billy off guard with a hand in his jeans and a biting kiss. He groans as Stu grips his erection, roughly thumbing the head as he pins him to the car door.

The brunet can only watch as Stu fumbles for the handle, nuzzling Billy’s chin with his own and grinning at the mix of fury and arousal in his brown eyes. “My turn,” he whispers, opening the door and shoving him out before locking the car.

“Uh, was that such a good idea?” You ask, glancing at Billy, who’s banging on the window and cursing profusely.

Stu turns to you, grin stretching across his face. “Focus on me, babe,” he orders. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, that shit looked weak.”

Before you can raise any concerns, Stu’s tongue is in your mouth, filling it with the coppery taste of blood. He grips both of your knees and pulls them apart, gazing down at you like he couldn’t care less that you were ruining his seats. One of his hands reaches out to glide through the mess on your thighs, coating his fingers before pushing two inside you. “As if he’s better at making you cum,” he grumbles, hooking his fingers and scraping them along your walls. “Look at how your pussy is sucking me in, she clearly likes me best.”

You shudder, annoyed at how he manages to make his petulant whining sexy and Stu leans forward, smashing his lips to yours. “I’m gonna show you and him,” he growls. “Who owns this fucking pussy.”

You gasp into his mouth as he fucks his fingers deeper into your body, smirking when you tighten around him. He leers at your bouncing chest, biting harshly at your nipple and sucking it into his mouth. You dimly hear the sound of the car unlocking as he moves on to the other nipple, but Stu just snickers.

Luckily, Billy seems to have cooled off by the time he climbs in the front seat, opting to observe the way you fall apart under Stu. The man in question turns to him, pushing a third finger past your entrance with a satisfied grunt. He pounds into you with relentless force, licking his lips as he taunts, “I don’t even need to touch her clit to get her like this.”

Stu uses his other hand to pin your flailing body down, smirking at the sob you let out when he does graze your clit. “Watch closely and take notes,” he says, the words nearly drowned out by your moans.

If you didn’t look so debauched, there would definitely be another fight breaking out, but Billy just rolls his eyes, taking in your blissed out expression with an obsessive gleam in his eye. The spirit of competition was at its peak and you were in for a long night.

Convincing them not to completely wreck Stu’s car takes long enough that you’re able to regain some semblance of control. Not enough to stop Stu from tossing you over his shoulder and carrying you inside, but at least he takes you to his bedroom instead of the nearest flat surface in his house. There’s a temporary truce as your boyfriends strip away every article of clothing, leaving you and them bare.

Before they can start arguing about who’s next, you insist they cooperate before you dry up at their incessant bickering so they stick to alternating. Billy hovers over you, thick cock bobbing between his legs as the flushed tip leaks precum while Stu hovers in the back, stroking himself to relieve his tension. “He thinks he’s doing you a favor by ignoring your sweet spot, baby girl,” Billy sighs, giving you an apologetic kiss on your forehead. “Let me show him what that cute little clit’s for.”

Billy slides down your body, grabbing your ankles and placing them on his shoulders as he moves forward. His hands cup your thighs and your cunt throbs under his stare, legs quaking when his thumbs spread your folds, revealing your glistening bud. His tongue darts out, flicking over it with pointed swipes as you bite your lip to suppress a wanton moan.

It doesn’t take long for him to work you to your peak, the simmering fire in your gut from your two orgasms easily paving the way to a third as he slurps at your clit before nudging at your opening. You let out a moan when he pushes past your entrance, groaning at the way you tighten around his tongue. His fingers come to play sloppily with your clit, the sound echoing in the room as he scoops you open. He hums in approval when you scream his name, pinching your clit between his fingers to make you scream louder.

Billy grinds against the edge of the bed as he gulps down your slick, sealing his lips over your cunt as he inches his tongue deeper. Stu curses as you toss your head back, eyes rolling back to your skull as Billy stops pinching your clit to strike it with a loud ‘smack!’ You whine as he pulls his hand back, landing a wet slap directly to the over sensitive bud. He pulls you further into his face and buries his nose in your mound, watching your tits bounce as you rut your hips against him.

He loves watching you chase your pleasure, forgetting to be self-conscious about how you look the closer you get. Your orgasm catches you off guard, the coil in your gut snapping after Billy delivers three stinging swats to your pussy, heat bursting between your legs as you weep. “Fuck!” You shout, convulsing as you gush into Billy’s mouth.

Billy moans, slurping your cum into his mouth with his tongue as the rest drips down his face and onto the sheets. He reluctantly pulls away after a few more kisses to your throbbing clit and Stu approaches, staring down at your twitching body with a possessive gaze. Your heart pounds when they switch places, Stu prowling over you as his eyes dart over your face, breasts, and cunt. His fingers swipe over your puffy labia, hooking one inside to feel your walls ripple with the aftershocks.

Normally they would have been fucking you silly at this point, but Stu is determined to eat you out better than Billy, ignoring the painfully hard erection jutting against his belly. Though he can’t resist grabbing your ankles and pushing them towards your ears, lining his body up with yours to nudge his cock against your clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he sighs, tongue lolling out. “I’m gonna fucking destroy this pussy.”

You groan at his words, staring at him with bleary eyes as he pulls back, sliding his hands down to cup the meat of your thighs. He holds you in place as he bends down to press his lips to your vulva, kissing it the same way he does your mouth, forcefully and with too much tongue. It feels like you’re being roasted alive as your ankles tremble by your face, your nerves overloaded as he pays almost punishing attention to your clit.

After your third orgasm, the stimulation is almost too much. “Please, no more,” you plead. “Just fuck me already.”

Billy curses behind you, the sound of you begging for their cocks has always been a weakness of theirs. Stu clicks his tongue, squeezing your thighs until you whimper softly. “Just be quiet and cum,” he orders, nibbling at the engorged bud.

You have no choice but to obey, Stu’s iron grip on your thighs preventing you from moving an inch as he makes out with your clit, curling his lips around it and sucking as his thick tongue swats back and forth, making you squeal. One of your thighs falls onto his shoulder as he slides a hand to your entrance, poking and prodding before pushing three fingers in at once, smirking at the undignified howl you let out as he forces your body open.

He spreads his fingers, moaning at the feeling of your body giving way to his hand. You take in a shuddering breath as another orgasm builds, your clit pulsing against his tongue as he forces it out of you. Maybe that’s why it feels different and your brow furrows as you struggle to gather your wits to warn Stu. “W-wait, it-it feels like—”

You gasp as a hand covers your mouth, gaze flickering to where Billy is hovering over you, preventing any further arguments. You’re less than an active participant at the moment, they just want you to lay there and let them make you feel good. Your eyes squeeze shut as your climax crashes into you like an electric shock, leaving you jerking and squirming in Stu’s grip.

“Oh fuck, dude, she just squirted,” Stu says with a shit-eating grin, pulling away with your cum dripping down his chin. “Shouldn’t that count for two?”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, you scared you can’t make her do it?”

You’re. Fucked.

Stu cackles, swiping his tongue over the remnants of your cum on his face as Billy pushes him out of the way. “You’re gonna have to replace this shitty mattress,” he threatens as they swap spots.

Billy cups your cheek, glaring down at you like it's your fault they’ve reduced you to an overstimulated wreck. His other hand jerks himself off slowly, eyes moving from your face to your trembling body. “Look at you, cumming so easily after begging to stop,” he sneers. “I’m gonna pound this desperate little cunt until you’re begging for my cock.”

Despite his vicious words, he kisses you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth until you taste yourself. He kisses down your neck and both of you groan when he braces his arms on either side of you, sliding his cock through your folds with slow rocking motions. “Motherfucker thinks I can’t make this pussy squirt,” he hisses, gripping his cock and pushing the bulbous tip inside you. “Just wait, you’re gonna be gushing around my cock.”

You’re speared open as Billy sheathes himself inside of you in a single motion, pushing past any resistance with a groan. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your walls clinging to every ridge and vein of his cock, slipping in easily after Stu’s fucked you open. His fists grip the sheets as he pulls out, slamming back in with a grunt.

His pace is savage as his hips slap against yours, carving a space in your body as he kisses you to smother your screams. Your back arches and your hands slap at his chest, scratching your nails down his skin when he grinds against that spongy knot of your cervix. Billy’s hand comes up to your nape and tilts your head, tapping your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his piercing gaze. “Look. Look at this greedy fucking cunt,” he orders, until you’re both staring at where his cock is disappearing inside you. “She’s gripping me so fucking hard, this tight little pussy doesn’t want to let me go.”

His hips never falter as he pummels into your body, his thrusts rocking the mattress until it’s creaking obnoxiously in concord with the ‘shlickshlickshlick’ of his cock thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. It’s impossible to gather a coherent thought as you watch and listen to the symphony of your bodies, but you vaguely hear yourself telling him you love it, begging him to go harder, deeper, to cum inside you so you can feel it.

You’ll say anything as long as he keeps delivering blazing jolts of ecstasy to your cunt, rendering any chance you’ve got at higher order thinking futile. Billy laughs at the glassy, dazed expression on your face as you fall apart underneath him. “Fucking cock drunk already, huh?” He laughs. “I’ll give you every goddamn inch since you want it so bad.”

He nuzzles closer to you to stare into your eyes, pulling your legs around his waist and bringing you in to meet his hips. You shake your head when he brings his thumb to your swollen clit, moaning at the way you milk his cock when he applies the slightest pressure. He squeezes your lips into a pout, shaking you like a rag doll when your eyes start to shut. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you fucking slut,” he hisses. “You’re gonna remember who’s making you cum like this.”

You can’t even remember your own name, mouth dropping open in a silent gasp as drool slides down your chin and tears pool in your eyes. They spill over onto your cheeks, dark tracks of mascara falling onto the sheets as Billy pinches and strokes your clit. “Aw, you’re such a crybaby,” he teases. “Beg me and I’ll stop.”

“Please, please, please stop,” you comply immediately. “I can’t–can’t take anymore, it hurts.”

“Good girl, you’re so pretty when you beg,” Billy coos with feigned sympathy before drawing in and out of you until it feels like you, or the bed frame. is going to break. You gasp, staring at him with wide eyes when he pulls out to the tip, tapping it against your clit before angling his cock back at your entrance. “Billy, you promised!” You whimper, glaring at him with tear stained lashes.

“I lied,” he says before slamming back in, listening to you cry out.

He fucks you hard and fast, ignoring your hiccuping pleas as his fingertips glide over your clit mercilessly. Billy grunts with every roll of his hips, covering your mouth as he plants his feet in the mattress and jackhammers against your g-spot, sparks shooting up your spine until your pussy undulates deliciously against every curve of his cock.

Billy curses when your teeth sink into his palm as you finally cum, eyes rolling back into your skull. His hips keep moving even as you clench around him, jaw aching as he fucks you through your orgasm. “C’mon, give it to me,” he growls, brutalizing your walls. “Soak my fucking cock, nasty girl.”

Your fifth orgasm is an out of body experience, your throat scraped raw as you yell against his palm, lower body exploding in a rush of slickness. “That’s it, baby,” he moans, balls tightening as he ruts his cock into your cervix before spilling inside you.

You shudder at the warmth of his cum, moaning into the kiss he gives you as you come down. Billy slips out of you, reluctantly allowing an impatient Stu to take your place. You blink at the sensation of his shadow falling over you, vision blurry with tears as you look up at his dark expression. “Shit, babe,” he breathes softly, pupils blown as he caresses your overwrought form. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

You would laugh at the idea of being sexy while laying there like a wet noodle if you could manage to gather any air in your lungs. Stu leans forward, nuzzling your chest before swiping his tongue over your nipple. He grabs your trembling thighs and pulls your limp body into his lap, tongue moving over your chest and collarbone, groaning at the taste of your sweat. He cups your face with both of his hands, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he grinds against your pussy.

Stu shivers at the feeling of cum dripping onto his cock, the wet glide of your bodies finally providing some relief to the ache in his balls. Watching Billy fucking you without joining in was torture and his patience is wearing thin. He gives you a moment to catch your breath then slides his hands down to your thighs, lifting you slightly in the air before dropping you straight onto his cock.

He laughs at the squeal you let out as your head knocks against his shoulder and your body curls into his chest, practically strangling his cock. He grips the globes of your ass, yanking you off and slamming you back down. Stu fucks into you like a rabid animal, teeth pulled back into a snarl as he bites and sucks at your neck.

He grins as you sob into his shoulder, impaling you on his cock with a loud squelching noise before jerking your hips up and down to meet his, shivering at the sensation of thrusting into your cum-filled hole. “Yeah, it’s good, huh?” He taunts. “Then take it, take it–take it all, you fucking bitch.”

He bounces you in his lap like a flesh-light, grinning at Billy as he spreads your cheeks wide enough to reveal your puckered asshole. The brunette’s gaze is drawn to the winking flesh as Stu inches one of his slender fingers towards it, pulling a nervous whine from you. “We should fuck you here too,” he purrs. “A whore like you isn’t satisfied until all your holes are filled.”

You moan softly and Stu smirks, smacking your ass and watching the flesh jiggle reverently. You let out an anguished cry of pleasure when he swipes his hands through the mess of cum dripping from your cunt to slick up a finger and slips it past the tight ring of muscle, curving his finger into your ass. You nearly bite down on your tongue when he sinks in a second finger, scissoring them using Billy’s cum as lube.

Stu groans as your entire body locks up, squeezing around him in a vice-like grip as you’re pushed to the edge from being penetrated at the same time. He hitches your hips into his, grinding deep into your gummy g-spot. You’d never thought you’d despair at the thought of your clit being touched but when he lets go of your hip to paw at the nub furiously, you think you start crying again.

“Billy was right. You are a crybaby,” Stu coos, swiping his tongue over your salty tears. “Too bad it only makes me wanna see you cry harder.”

You have to hold onto his shoulders or risk toppling over as he pounds into you, his thighs quaking as he propels his hips into yours. Your entire body is starting to feel like an exposed nerve, overloaded with a depth of sensory information that you can only process by crying out lewdly and drooling onto Stu’s skin.

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” Stu hisses, informing you of your orgasm before you even realize it’s approaching. “Such a selfish pussy, cumming all by yourself. I guess we’ll see if you break the record tonight.”

You claw at his shoulders, back bowed and cunt pulsing around his cock as you quiver in his lap, drenching his waist as stars erupt behind your eyelids. You barely register the sound of Stu and Billy’s voices, an imploring murmur from Stu and a warning hiss from Billy is your only warning before you feel Billy’s length poking at your asshole.

You let out a weak protest that Stu hushes. “Billy wants to feel how tight you are, sweetheart, just let him put the tip in,” he croons softly, slipping his fingers out so Billy can slide the mushroom head of his cock into your body.

“Fuck,” Billy sighs, tossing his head back at the heat enveloping him. “I love this slutty body, it’s still so tight even when we fuck you stupid.”

He pauses, a bruising grip on your hip and jaw clenched as Stu rocks your body back onto his. He gasps as you slowly sink onto him, moaning with every jerk of Stu’s length against the thin barrier of flesh separating them in your body. He swears, brows furrowing as you choke back a pitiful wail when another orgasm follows immediately, torn out of you almost involuntarily from their ruthless treatment. “Shit, she’s coming again,” Stu chuckles, pinching your clit as you whine. “I guess we’ll share credit for this one, but I’m still in the lead.”

Billy kisses his teeth, pushing you further down as his breath catches at the friction of their cocks fucking in and out of you. He kisses your nape before biting at your shoulder. “How many times is that, princess?” He questions, gripping your chin and turning your face towards him.

They both moan at the spaced out expression you’re wearing and Billy shakes your head to get your attention, waiting for your teary eyes to slide over to his face. “How many times did this filthy pussy cum, huh?” He repeats. “I told you to keep track, didn’t I, princess?”

You shake your head, burying your face in Billy’s palm, mumbling, “Don’t know, can’t remember, please, I can’t take anymore.”

Billy slaps your ass until his palm stings, cursing when you seize around him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing,” he snaps, relishing in your pained mewl. “Dumb whore can’t even count when we’re fucking her.”

Oh no. You’re starting to feel like a minor villain about to be conquered through the power of friendship, the preclude to your defeat stemming from the epiphany of two rivals that cooperation will yield better results.

Torturing others was a pastime that brought Stu and Billy together and you were no exception. If your tongue wasn’t heavy as lead in your mouth, you’d try to say something to dissuade them from doing so at any cost, but you can only hold pathetically onto Stu and hope for the best.

“The fuck does a virgin like Randy know?” Billy growls, gripping your waist and lifting you off of their cocks before slamming you back down. “You love fucking both of us, don’t you? You cum harder when we paint your insides together.”

Okay, maybe this was an opportunity for a quick resolution. You nod emphatically, eeking out breathless ‘uh huh’s and ‘mhmm’s that seem to satisfy Billy. You can only hope they’ll forget the competition and fuck you to completion together because you couldn’t take much more.

Stu’s breath trembles and his thighs tense as he covers Billy’s hands on your hips and shoves his cock into the hilt, sliding the hand on your clit to your stomach. “Fuck, you feel that, baby?” He moans. “I’m gonna cum here, right in this thirsty womb.”

You take a moment to be grateful for birth control as Stu buries himself in your cunt, pulsing one last time before shooting inside, moaning as Billy’s cock grinds into his from behind. You’re almost convinced that you succeeded in distracting them when they both slip out of you with a groan and Stu maneuvers you gently into Billy’s chest before getting off of the mattress.

Billy shifts your bodies off the undeniably soaked sheets to a dry spot and tangles your legs together. Stu grabs a water bottle from his mini fridge and your eyes open when you hear the twist of the cap. He holds the bottle to your lips until you gulp down half of it before setting it on the nightstand.

Your eyes widen as he pulls out a condom, glancing at Billy who takes it from him with a Cheshire grin. You watch as he tears the packet open with his teeth before sliding the condom over his throbbing cock, gripping it at the base. “We still have to settle this fair and square,” he says at your doe eyed gaze, lining himself up with your swollen pussy. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t lend each other a hand. Every magician needs an assistant, right babe?”

Okay, so you’ve been sufficiently fucked over by two scheming lesbians, but it’s nothing less than what you deserve.

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #slasher x reader #reader insert #black!reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #mine.txt #i need someone to give me a detailed review of my smut like i have no idea if it’s good or not LMAO #ty to everyone who voted and especially those who voted for stu bc i love matthew lillard so much #i rewatched the movie for this billy n stu beat each others ass on a daily basis ik this believe me

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