#i can barely breath without my chest hurting like what the fuck is wrong with me

[beloveds-embrace]

(poly 141 x reader with non-sexual dom john price bc i am a whore for him)

You’re not reckless; you are calculated.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you rush the objective, half expecting to get clipped, half hoping it might happen just hard enough to matter. A sharp enough consequence to justify the chaos rattling in your chest. A hit that would, for once, hurt more physically than mentally.

But it never happens, because you get out.

Again.

And when you stagger into the safehouse, vest half-shredded, blood caking your neck and a quiet look in your eyes that screams what the fuck is wrong with you, it’s not Gaz or Soap who calls you on it. It’s not even your Lieutenant.

It’s the Captain.

Price doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands near the back wall, arms crossed, eyes cold and unreadable under the brim of his cap. Everyone else talks; Ghost grunts, Soap slaps your back, and Gaz offers water.

Price watches.

Watches you. Watches how you brush them off. How your hand trembles when you take the water bottle. How you don’t really hear anything they’re saying.

And when you try to pass him without a word- head down, body bowed, heart dragging low in your chest- that’s when it happens.

And hand shoots out, and thick fingers wrap around the scruff of your collar, yanking you back with practiced ease. You stumble, off-balance, but he barely lets you flinch before he drags you down into the seat between his knees. Scruffed, like a misbehaving mutt.

It’s not gentle. It’s not rough, either. It’s deliberate. Like everything else John Price does.

“Try that again,” he murmurs low against your ear, “and I’ll make sure you don’t so much as breathe without checking in first.”

His hands settle heavy across your shoulders, just there. Like an anchor. Like a silent demand: Stay. Sit. Don’t move. You’re not going anywhere. Like he thinks if he lets go, you might unravel into the smoke of his cigars and drift out the window.

You stare forward, muscles coiled, but not fighting it because even if you wanted to, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

The rest of the room doesn’t react. Gaz’s back is to you, unbothered, watching Soap root through the medkit. Ghost flicks his eyes your way once, gives a small nod to Price, then moves on.

This is normal. Not just that, but also routine.

You are under Price’s hand now, and they all know better than to interfere when he’s decided someone is his problem to handle.

They’ve seen this before.

They’ve been there, in their own ways.

“You think you’re clever,” he says quietly, voice low enough only for you, “Rushing in like that. Like your body’s expendable. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

You say nothing.

“I told you,” he continues, the growl of his voice like a match striking dry wood. “I see you pulling this shit again, I make damn sure you won’t so much as take a piss without me signing off.”

He tightens his grip just enough to remind you: talk.

You want to tell him to fuck off. To let you go. To stop seeing through you like glass held up to sunlight, but you aren’t stupid enough to do that.

“I’m fine.” You mutter.

“Bullshit,” he replies instantly, and you can feel his glare. “You’re bleeding, you’re shaking, and you’ve looked like a ghost since the last op.”

You try to shrug him off, instead, and it is a big mistake.

The arm around you locks, and suddenly your back is pressed tight to his chair. His breath is hot by your ear, the scent of blood and gunpowder and cigars curling around you.

“You wanna play this game?” he snaps. “Where you pretend not to care what happens to you? Fine. But you’ll do it sitting right the fuck here until I’m satisfied you won’t drop dead the moment I blink. You run, and I’ll find you. You disappear, and I’ll tear up every goddamn city from here to the Urals until I get my hands on you again. You hear me?”

You clench your jaw. Try to keep it together. The ache behind your eyes threatens to spill over.

“I don’t need to,” he murmurs back. “I just need to keep you breathing.”

There’s silence for a while, after that. Your mouth feels stitched shut, and you feel no particular rush to tear it open and let your words spill out. Eventually, your shoulders drop. Your head tilts, ever so slightly, against his knee. The tension bleeds out of you slow, like sap from a broken tree.

Price doesn’t move, and doesn’t say anything more. He simply keeps you there, solid against him, and the others still don’t say anything.

they’re used to how he gets when someone forgets their worth.

[wonsiwon]

the breaking point | p.js

genre— angst (not really) hurt/comfort, slice of life, domestic

pairing— reader × jay (husband!jay)

synopsis— after the worst day in a long time, you get in jay’s car without a word. you don’t mean to be mean, but when he asks what’s wrong, everything you’ve buried comes crashing out.

warnings— mentions of stress, crying, emotional shutdown, implied burnout, slight argument, comfort-heavy ending

you didn’t even want to call him.

you stood outside the building, hands freezing, breath visible in the air even though it wasn’t that cold. your phone screen showed his name on the lock screen, calling you because you were late. because you said you’d be out by six, and it was already pushing seven.

it was supposed to be an easy day. a few reports, a presentation, some annoying emails. you’ve handled worse. but today, nothing worked. the printer jammed, your coworker dumped their part of the work on you last minute, your boss nitpicked everything you did like it was personal, and someone even made a comment about how tired you looked in the elevator. you forgot your lunch on the kitchen counter this morning. you spilled coffee on your shirt before noon. and then had to stay late to redo something that wasn’t even your mistake.

so, yeah. you were already over it before you even stepped into jay’s car.

you pull the door shut without saying anything. just drop your bag at your feet and lean your head back against the seat, eyes closed.

jay turns his head, smile ready but it falters the second he sees your face.

you don’t look at him. don’t say hi. don’t even breathe in his direction. your jaw’s tight, arms crossed, eyes fixed out the window like the sky pissed you off too.

jay watches you for a second, hand still resting on the steering wheel. “hey, baby..” he says softly, “you okay?”

you exhale, sharp and tired. “just drive, jay.”

his brows pull together. “okay…” he puts the car in drive, silence wrapping around both of you. but he keeps glancing over, concern growing. “work was that bad, huh?”

you don’t respond. you’re chewing your bottom lip raw, picking at your nails like if you stay quiet long enough, you’ll disappear into the leather seat.

jay tries again, gentle. “wanna talk about it?”

“no.”

“you sure? maybe i can help—”

“i said no, jay.” it came out harsher than you intended, turning to him.

jay blinked, pulling the car up to a red light. “alright. but you don’t have to snap at me, baby.”

“jesus.” you mutter under your breath, head falling back against the seat, again. “i’m not snapping, you just don’t listen.”

his hand grips the wheel a little tighter, but his voice stays calm. “don’t do that. i’m trying here.”

you shake your head. “i don’t need you to try. i just need peace. five fucking minutes without someone asking me to explain myself.”

that does it.

he pulls the car over to the side of the road and puts it in park. turns to face you fully.

“baby, what’s wrong with you tonight?” his voice is low now. not angry, hurt. “you’ve been all snappy since you got in the car.

you open your mouth, to yell, to bite back, to say something that’ll push him further away, but instead it crumbles.

your lip wobbles. breath catches. and then it hits you all at once.

the tears you’ve been holding back since noon break loose. they burst out of your eyes like a dam finally gave in. you turn your face to your hands, sobbing so hard like you’ve been holding it in for weeks.

jay’s already unbuckling. leaning over to wrap his arms around you. “oh, sweetheart—” he whispers, wrapping you in his arms before you can even think.

“i’m so tired..” you cry into his chest. “everything’s falling apart. they dumped everything on me again, and i messed up and my boss was on my ass and i didn’t even get to eat and—fuck, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

“hey, it’s okay. don’t apologize.” he murmurs, brushing your hair back. “my poor girl. why didn’t you say something sooner?”

you can barely talk through the sobs, but it spills out in pieces. how everything just felt too much and you didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“you should’ve called me..” he says gently, brushing your hair back. “i would’ve brought you lunch. you’re my wife. if something it’s happening, you have to tell me.”

he pulls back just enough to cup your face, thumbing away your tears. your shoulders shake again and he kisses your forehead.

“you’re so strong, baby. i’m proud of you, especially on the worst days.”

“i was mean to you..” you whisper.

“you were overwhelmed.” he corrects gently. “you don’t have to be perfect with me. i know who you are, and i love you. all of you. even the tired, pissed off version.”

you let out a broken laugh, still teary.

he tucks your hair behind your ear. “we’re gonna go home. i’m gonna run you a bath, order your favourite food and rub your back until you fall asleep. okay?”

you nod slowly, clinging to him.

“okay..” you whisper. “thank you.”

“always, baby.” he says, kissing your temple again. “you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

need a boyfie jay like dis ˙◠˙

[formulaonecrumbs]

Would you consider ‘little blood hurt nobody’ but with lando instead ? 🩷

don’t be sorry🩸

Lando Norris x reader

summary: reader unexpectedly gets her period during sex with lando. he helps her clean up and comforts her with warmth and softness.

warnings: BLOOD period talk, unexpected bleeding, gentle aftercare, soft smut (barely), fluff

A/N: don’t need to even consider baby, u ask and u shall receive. but thank u anon for the request!!!! low-key i forgot to add the cockwarming, IM SO SORRY especially if that’s what u wanted out of it. i hope u can enjoy soft gentle lando anyways. lovezzz uzzz ❤️

p.s. sorry for the no mood-board. i wasn’t quite sure what pics i would use + plus i got lazy :p

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it’s slow. it always is with him.

his hands are warm and steady, fingertips dragging down your sides as if he’s still learning the shape of you. like he’s trying to memorize it again tonight, just in case something changes. you love how he touches you—curious and reverent, like you’re something delicate and holy.

you’re already half-undressed when he settles between your thighs, kisses lazy and unhurried. the hotel room is dim, lit only by the bedside lamp and the soft glow from the city outside the window. his shirt’s already tossed on the floor, and his skin is warm when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

you’d been aching for him all day. something about the way he looked at you during breakfast, or the way his hand brushed against yours when he passed you a water bottle at the track. and now that he’s here—bare skin against yours, mouth at your neck, hands cradling your waist—it’s like your whole body sighs in relief.

you don’t even realize anything’s wrong until he’s almost all the way in.

you flinch.

just barely.

his head snaps up. “did i hurt you?”

“no,” you whisper quickly. “just—felt weird for a sec.”

his brows knit together. he pulls back slightly, still inside you but not moving, watching your face closely. “are you okay?”

you nod, even though something feels… off. your stomach’s been cramping a little today, but you thought it was just from walking around too much, the heat maybe. but now there’s a dull ache settling in your lower back, and something heavy in your gut that wasn’t there before.

you shift a little. that’s when you feel it.

shit.

you go still.

“wait—” you breathe, hands flat on his chest now, panicked.

lando freezes instantly. “what is it?”

you shake your head. “i—i think… fuck, i think i just got my period.”

he blinks. “now?”

“yeah,” you whisper, voice suddenly shaking. “just now.”

you try to sit up, heart already racing. “i didn’t know, i didn’t feel anything earlier, i’m sorry—”

he cups your face. “hey. stop. why are you apologizing?”

“because i just—ruined the whole mood, and the sheets, and—”

he’s already pulling out gently, helping you sit up properly without a word. when you glance down, there’s a little blood. not a lot. just enough to make your stomach twist with embarrassment.

but lando doesn’t even flinch. he grabs the edge of the comforter, tugging it aside, and then turns to you like it’s nothing.

“okay,” he says. “we’ll get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“lando—”

“baby.” he leans forward, presses a kiss to your temple. “it’s fine. i swear. just sit here a second.”

you’re quiet while he disappears into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and one of his shirts from your suitcase. he’s humming something under his breath when he comes back—so casual, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

he helps you clean up, his touch careful and gentle. when you try to apologize again, he just gives you this look. soft, steady.

“you think this changes anything?” he asks. “you think a little blood makes me want you less?”

your eyes sting a little.

“it’s not that,” you say softly. “it’s just… i was really looking forward to it. and now i feel gross.”

he frowns. “you’re not gross.”

you shrug helplessly, curling up on your side. “i just wanted to make you feel good.”

lando climbs in beside you, pulling you into his chest. “you do,” he says into your hair. “you always do. even when we’re not doing anything.”

you bury your face in his shoulder. “still feel kinda dumb.”

he kisses your forehead. “well, you’re not. and now you’re stuck with me cuddling you all night.”

you huff a laugh. “oh no, how will i survive.”

he pulls the blanket up around you both, fingers tracing soft circles into your back. “you okay now?”

“yeah,” you say quietly. “hurts a little. but i’m okay.”

he shifts slightly, tugs your leg over his hip, one of his arms slipping under your head like a pillow. “if you want to just stay like this,” he says, voice low, “you can. i’ve got you.”

you nod, eyes already heavy.

you fall asleep like that—warm, safe, and wrapped up in his arms, the weight of embarrassment gone.

THE END :>

[slightly-knot-insane]

Under Your Cold Fingertips

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: bodyguard x protégée, fluff and smut, forbidden romance content: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving), p in v, pulling out

"I must rest here a moment, mistress."

The hollow sound of his voice under the helmet is very quiet. He's been walking next to your horse for a while, limping, but insisting he is fine. The snow gathered on his armor and his gray horns were decorated with little crystals.

"Of course!" You hastily unmount, sensing he is unwell.

His armor loudly clanks as he almost falls on the steps beneath the abandoned gate. You hear him breathe heavily and hot. As you look back the way you came, you see droplets of blood branding his every footstep.

"You are badly hurt!" you shout. "You fool, why didn't you tell me?"

He remains silent, his hot breath creating a fog around his head. Maybe you're imagining, but he looks like he's... shaking? Gods...

"Quickly, let's undress you," you order him and kneel in front of him.

"M-mistress..." his metal gauntlets clink as he jerks his arms upwards in shock. "What are you doing? You'll get dirty."

"Shut up," you retort. "I can wash my clothes and shoes. But I can't revive my most loyal bodyguard, can I?"

He doesn't say anything and let's you untie his boots. Meanwhile, he carefully releases buckles below his chin. He removes his helmet slowly but the metal still scrapes against his horns. He is a bit pale and has dark rings surround his eyes. If his sclera wasn't black, you're sure you would see how very bloodshot they are.

You suck air between your teeth. "Your bandages are soaked!" Trying not to harm him further, you carefully start unwrapping the bloodied material.

"Mistress, please! This is highly inappropriate."

You just shoot him a furious glance to shut him up. You barely know anything about wounds or treating them, but the gash is long and bleeding heavily. "This looks bad...", you utter.

"It's fine, I heal fast—" Without waiting him to finish, you quickly get all the necessary things and with his help clean his wound. He hisses as the disinfectant slides down his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper while dabbing around his wound. "You don't deserve this."

A large calloused palm covers your fingers. He is surprisingly gentle. He... never touched you like this before. "Mistress, your hands are cold." Wrapped by his clawed fingers, he brings your hands closer to his mouth and blows onto them. Warm air as white as fog twirls around your heads.

"I—" You wanted to say something, something funny or friendly probably, maybe even witty, but your mind went blank. Or rather, every sensible thought got pushed back by that one idea.

You push yourself between his legs and kiss him. Too shocked to react, he keeps his mouth open like a fish until he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. "What are you doing? You can't... We..." He trails off looking at your lips. "We can't..."

"You're bleeding for me and I can't even kiss you?", you ask in an almost growling tone.

Still slightly shocked, he opens his mouth to speak, reconsiders and kisses you instead, tightly embracing you against his chest. And his hard and cold armor but you don't care. All you want are his warm lips and his tongue to shove itself down your throat. But not only that...

You slide down between his legs again, happy that doesn't have heavy plates on his lower body (even though that proved a wrong choice this morning). You quickly loosen his pants and push your hand inside. "This is wrong," he mutters over and over but does nothing to stop you taking his heavy and strange cock into your hands. You always wondered how it looks like. And tastes like.

You take it into your mouth, followed by his low and breathy fuck, and you hum around it as you use your tongue to explore every part of it. Listening to your guardian's moans makes you wet and your cunt clenches around nothing every time he jerks his hips up and thrusts into your mouth. You lick his phallus all over, sucking his tip and tracing his veins until he grabs your wrists and pulls you on him.

You stand above him, many layers of your dress stopping you to make the next step. You lift your skirts and chemise around your waist. "Forgive me," he says before he rips your undergarments and reaches your pussy. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your folds, his nose digging into your bush and soft tissue. He is growling like a hungry animal, devouring your nectar and you tremble above him, panting and gasping as his tongue finds all your secrets.

He pulls you down, onto his lap and you drop all your skirts onto you two. They hide everything that happens between you two and keep you warm at the same time.

There is a strange expression on his face. "Mistress..."

You kiss him before he says something stupid, and guide his cock inside you. Slight pang of pain causes you discomfort, but you can't help but roll your hips looking for pleasure. His arms are under your chemise and his claws dig into your hips. You moan into each others mouths, your breaths and bodies pushing the cold away. You ride his cock and with his help you feel the pulses of your peak building up.

"I'm close", you sob into his neck and he grabs your ass so that he could lift you and fuck you from below. You breath hitches from the force of his dick digging into your cunt and you quickly come undone. He kisses you, savoring your delight, and slides into your pussy slowly but deliberately, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. He then pulls you onto his chest and positions himself so that he can push his whole cock into you easily. In and out, in and out, faster and faster.

Some outsider wouldn't see a thing happening hidden under those long and dirty skirts. But you could feel the tension of his muscles and his cock swelling inside you. He suddenly pulls out by lifting you like a child's toy and, with a long groan, he cums all over your thighs.

"I wish I saw your cock twitching and spilling," you say while you lay against his breastplate.

Still breathless, he chuckles, but also groans in discomfort. You finally remember. "Your leg!" You jump off his lap and see his leg bleeding again. "You fool! Why did you put me on your lap."

Completely ignoring your scolding, he pulls you down again and you sit like before, your naked cunt against his groin. "Because I don't care about that pain. I dreamed about this for a long time."

"You dreamed about fucking me outside in the cold?", you jab.

He chuckles. "Not exactly in the cold." He kisses your neck and jaw. "But outside, and inside, and in your bed, and in my bed, and against a wall, and on the table, and on the floor, and against a tree..."

As he names all the places he imagined, your pussy throbs against his muscles. "All that sounds lovely. But let's get your leg fixed first before you bleed to death."

He places his forehead against yours. "At least I would bleed for the most amazing woman in the world."

You hit him in the chest, blush overtaking your cheeks. "Shut up, you... fool."

[wendichester]

I would like to request a story/one-shot of Dean. Please, my idea is to have the reader come back from trying to have a normal life after 2 years but being saved by Dean from the reader's abusive ex-boyfriend, who was possessed by a demon. The reader calls him from a motel after being attacked and almost killed. The reader would be the same age as Dean. I love angst, fluff, smut, action. I can't wait to read it.

ִֶָ་༘࿐ back to you,

summary. you left hunting behind for a normal life, but normal almost killed you. and when you call dean for help, he comes without hesitation.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 739

warnings. abuse, violence, blood, angsty and slightly smutty ; mdni!

notes. hope i managed to do your idea justice! thank you for the request hun 🩷

You don’t know why you dial his number.

Maybe it’s instinct—something buried deep, something you thought you let go of years ago.

Or maybe it’s because you know, without a doubt, that if you call, he’ll come.

The motel room is dimly lit, the air thick with copper and fear. Your hands shake as you press the ice pack to your ribs, wincing at the deep bruising beneath your shirt. The bedspread is stained with your blood—your ex’s blood, too, but it’s black, inky, curling in places it shouldn’t.

You knew something was wrong when he changed. When the apologies stopped coming, when the anger started twisting into something unnatural, something cruel. But you kept telling yourself this was what you wanted—a normal life. Stability. Something different than hunting.

Now, you’re paying the price.

The phone rings once. Twice.

Then—"Y/N?"

You almost sob at the sound of his voice. "Dean."

His tone sharpens immediately. "Where are you?"

You swallow hard. "Pinewood Motel, off Highway 6. Room 14."

"Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," you whisper, voice shaking. "I—he—" Your throat closes, bile rising at the memory of hands wrapped around your neck, snarled threats spilling from a mouth that wasn’t his.

Dean doesn’t need you to say it. "Stay put. I’m coming."

Then the line goes dead.

You barely register the roar of the Impala pulling in. By the time the knock comes—loud, insistent—you’re already up, crossing the room.

When you open the door, Dean is standing there, eyes wild, breath heavy like he broke every speed limit to get to you. He takes one look at you—swollen lip, bruised cheek, the dark stains on your shirt—and his jaw clenches, something lethal flashing in his eyes.

"Son of a bitch," he breathes, stepping inside.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until he reaches for you, fingers brushing over your arms, your shoulders, his touch careful, reverent. "Did he—?"

"He’s dead," you say quietly. "It wasn’t just him, Dean. He was possessed."

Dean’s grip tightens. His eyes flicker over you again, checking, cataloging. "You sure it’s over?"

You nod, but your voice wavers. "I think so."

Dean exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before pulling you into his chest. It’s automatic—the way you fit against him, the way his arms wrap around you like he can hold you together.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he mutters. "What the hell were you thinking?"

You let out a choked laugh. "That I could have a normal life."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, fingers tilting your chin up. "And how’d that work out?"

"Really fucking bad."

His lips press together, something softer, sadder settling in his gaze. "You should’ve never left."

The weight of those words settle deep in your chest, guilt threading through your ribs. "I thought I wanted to."

Dean’s thumb brushes over your cheek, barely ghosting over the bruise there. His voice lowers, rough, but there’s something unbearably tender beneath it. "And now?"

You look up at him, at the concern carved into his face, the way his hands still tremble slightly where they hold you.

"I don’t want normal," you whisper. "I want you."

Something breaks in him at that. He breathes out your name like a prayer before his mouth crashes into yours.

It’s desperate, consuming. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand slipping under your shirt, tracing over bruises like he can erase them. Your hands pull at his jacket, needing him closer, needing him to ground you.

When he backs you against the bed, you go easily, gasping as he lowers you down. His lips never leave yours, not as his hands work your clothes off, not as he presses kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, mapping every place that hurts with his mouth.

"Mine," he murmurs against your skin, voice hoarse, possessive. "No one gets to touch you like this. No one but me."

And you don’t want anyone else.

The night is slow, filled with whispered apologies, soft moans, the warmth of him sinking deep into your bones. He doesn’t let go of you—not once. Even after, when the adrenaline fades and exhaustion crashes over you, he holds you tight, fingers laced with yours, his lips pressed to your temple.

"You’re coming back with me," he murmurs. "Not gonna let you go again. Nothing bad's ever gonna happen to you again."

You sigh, sinking into him, into home.

"Not going anywhere."

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098

[mayanneaa]

gossip girl - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you train jj to be a proper gossiper.

WARNING(S) : established relationship!! slight swearing but it's pure fluff!, not proofread

A/N : xoxo. my tummy hurts so fucking bad. also this one's ending might be a little shitty forgive me pls (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1k

masterlist.

“JJ!” You exclaim, skipping through the Chateau, looking for your boyfriend. The air is sticky, filled with the smell of wood, salt, and beer.

You make your way through the living room and spot your boyfriend in the back, lying on one of the hammocks.

He covers his face with his arm, slowly swinging.

“Jay, you have to hear this!”

JJ sits up the second he hears your voice, his eyes almost shut. “Hi, baby.”

He extends his arms, and you quickly hug him, leaving a peck on his lips.

“Okay, so you better hold on to this hammock, because—”

“Woah, woah. Wait,” he says, rubbing his eyes and moving in the hammock, trying to give you some space. “What’s going on?”

You grit your teeth while sitting on the edge of the worn-out material, not being able to keep this to yourself any longer. “Ugh, remember when I told you my mom asked me to go help the Jones? They just moved back here but without Ben.”

JJ furrows his brows, “Ben? The father…?”

You nod, “Yes! Well, their daughter is our age, and, by the way, she’s super sweet! Maybe I should invite her over here—”

“You’re drifting off the topic, baby.” JJ reminds you, now fully awake and interested in your story.

“Yeah, right. When I got there, she seemed kinda sad and annoyed, so as the good person that I am, I asked her what was wrong, and she spilled the whole tea! Everything!” You ramble, animating with your arms, and JJ watches your every move with a slight smile, clearly amused.

“She said her father cheated on Ms. Jones with a girl who’s barely 20! Do you understand that?!”

JJ giggles under his breath, lying back down. “Yeah. That’s so fucking messed up…”

“Right?” you say before you take a deep breath, “She mentioned that that side chick used to live here and that we might know her, but i have no idea who could that be.”

“Damn, you gossip like an old lady.” Your boyfriend says, pulling you to his chest. You gasp, dramatically placing your hand on your heart.

“I will find out. I mean, who cheats on such a beautiful woman like Ms. Jones? Especially this… this Ben? He looks like he sneaked onto the Earth—”

“Woah, woah, chill!”

You sit on the couch in your living room, sipping the juice from the recipe you just tried out and trying to get through a book when you get a notification.

With a sigh, you reach for your phone to read the message you got from JJ. He’s supposed to pick up his hoodie, which he left there last week.

A few minutes later the comfortable silence gets broken with the loud ring of the bell.

JJ doesn’t even hesitate, he just comes in without a second thought. You take a look at his face and can immediately tell he’s not in the best mood. He immediately comes up to you.

“Hi,” you say as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. “What’s up?”

He grunts, “I had to go and fix the AC at the Jones house. They were talking so fucking loud my head feels like exploding—”

You let out a gasp, and your eyes glisten. “At the Jones? What were they talking about?”

JJ squints his eyes, “Uhh I don’t know? I stopped paying attention after some man joined in.”

You look at him, disappointment mixed with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, they were arguing so I just did my thing and left.”

You groan. “You are kidding me. JJ, you could’ve heard something about the drama!”

He widens his eyes, a sheepish smile crawling onto his lips. “Ohhh, right… I’m sorry, baby.”

Your lips form into a pout, and JJ raises his eyebrows. “Nuh-uh, don’t pout at me for this. I’m not a gossiper, you know that.”

“Well, I know, I know…”

“But I promise I’ll tell you anything I hear.”

You sigh and hug him, breathing in his scent. “You better.”

You don’t even know when did you drift off to sleep, sitting on the back porch at the Chateau. The soft breeze and whistles of wind put you to sleep like a lullaby.

The front doors close with a loud crack, announcing that JJ has returned from the shop. You and the Pogues were supposed to have dinner tonight, and your boyfriend had to go and buy all the missing ingredients.

“Baby, you won’t believe it!”

You slowly open your eyes, eyelids fluttering from the orange sunset sky. You hum, and JJ runs outside, the grocery bag still in his hand.

“Did you get everything?” You ask, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah, I think so, anyway…” He speaks so fast you have to gain your consciousness quickly in order to understand what he’s saying. “Guess who I met at the store!”

You squint, trying to come up with a name in your mind, still fogged up with sleep. “Rafe?”

JJ shakes his head and you click your tongue.

“Topper?”

“No!” he gets a bit frustrated, a sight that makes you laugh. “What was a thing you were super invested in?”

Your eyes widen. “The Jones?”

JJ’s grin grows even wider. “Yes! Oh my God, would you believe that the man I saw is actually Ms. Jones’ new boyfriend? And that’s not the best part. He’s Ben’s cousin who’s much more successful too! This man owns four different restaurants and has three houses in Asia, Europe, and South America. He’s crazy rich!”

You gasp. “Wow. You really clocked all of this, didn’t you?”

He looks at you, a proud look on his face. “Duh. It was so much fun!”

JJ starts to tell you the story about how he had to follow them in different isles to hear everything and in the meantime, you check the grocery bag.

“…Then they moved to the dairy fridges, so naturally I went after them and—”

“JJ.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot half of the products...”

[scoupsakakitty]

Unexpected, but Ours | idol!Wooyoung x Reader | angst, fluff

TW: discussions of abortion

Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub, her fingers trembling as she clutched the small plastic stick in her hands. Two bold lines stared back at her, unwavering, undeniable. Her breath hitched, a wave of nausea rising in her throat—not from the pregnancy, but from the overwhelming storm of emotions crashing through her.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in her mind, heavy and suffocating. Her chest tightened as she blinked rapidly, her vision blurring. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not now, not like this. She and Wooyoung had been together for almost two years, still young, still figuring things out. And he…

Wooyoung was just at the beginning of his career, constantly moving, always striving for the next step. How was she supposed to tell him? How were they supposed to handle this?

The front door clicked open, followed by the familiar sound of Wooyoung’s voice calling out. "Babe? I’m home!"

Y/N quickly shoved the test into the drawer, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to stand. She needed to tell him—there was no other way.

She found him in the living room, his face lighting up when he saw her. "Hey, beautiful." He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Missed you."

She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Wooyoung, I… I need to tell you something."

His brows furrowed immediately. "What’s wrong? Did something happen?"

Her fingers clenched the fabric of her hoodie. "I’m… I’m pregnant."

Silence.

Wooyoung stared at her, his face frozen in an unreadable expression. Seconds felt like hours as he processed her words. And then—

"What?" His voice cracked slightly, his hands dropping to his sides. "You’re… pregnant?"

Y/N nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands running through his hair. "How? I mean—I know how, but—fuck, Y/N." He took a step back, his head shaking. "This… this wasn’t supposed to happen. We’re not ready for this. I’m barely ever here, my schedule is insane, and you… You’d have to do so much alone."

Tears welled in her eyes, her own fears amplified by his reaction. "I know," she whispered. "I know it’s not ideal. I don’t know what to do either."

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, pacing the room. "Shit. Shit. What are we gonna do? I can’t—" He stopped, his hands gripping his head. "This is huge, Y/N. It’s not just about us anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard before whispering, "I don’t even know if I want to keep it."

Wooyoung’s entire body went still. His head snapped toward her, his eyes wide with shock. "What?"

She bit her lip, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know if we should have this baby, Wooyoung. We’re so young. You’re never here. I don’t know if I can do this alone."

His expression twisted, hurt flashing across his face. "You’re thinking about not keeping it?" His voice was barely controlled, his emotions a whirlwind of disbelief and panic. "Y/N, this is our baby. How can you even consider—"

"Because I’m scared!" she suddenly burst out, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "I’m terrified, Wooyoung! This isn’t just some minor decision—we are talking about bringing a whole life into this world! A life that will depend on me when you’re gone for weeks, months! How am I supposed to do this without you?"

Wooyoung clenched his jaw, his hands shaking as he raked them through his hair again. "I wouldn’t leave you alone. I’d find a way—"

"How?" Her voice was filled with raw desperation. "How, Wooyoung? You love what you do. You’ve worked so hard for this career, and I won’t be the reason you throw it all away."

"And what about you?" he shot back, his voice thick with emotion. "Do you really think getting rid of it will make things easier? That it won’t haunt you?" His voice cracked at the last word, his eyes shining. "I know this is terrifying, Y/N. But this is us. We made this. And I can’t just—" He exhaled shakily. "I can’t just let it go."

Y/N felt fresh tears spill down her cheeks, her entire body trembling. "I don’t want to be alone in this. I don’t want to bring a baby into this world and have them feel like an inconvenience."

Wooyoung’s heart clenched at her words. He reached out, gripping her hands tightly. "That will never happen. Our baby will never feel like an inconvenience. And you will never be alone, I swear it."

She shook her head. "You don’t know that."

"Then let me prove it to you." His voice was raw, desperate. "I’ll take a hiatus. A whole year. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll be there every single day. And when I go back on tour, you’re coming with me. No matter where I go, you and our baby will be right there. And if I have to be away for a little while, my mom will be here for you. She’ll love and support you just like she’s always done."

Y/N stared at him, searching for any sign of uncertainty in his words—but there was none. Only unwavering devotion.

"I need you to trust me, baby," he whispered. "I know I messed up at first, but I promise you, we can do this. You don’t have to be afraid anymore."

A sob broke past her lips, and Wooyoung immediately pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, her tears soaking his shirt, and for the first time in hours, she allowed herself to believe in his words.

"Okay," she whispered shakily. "Okay."

Wooyoung pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "We’re in this together. No matter what."

[palmersluvr]

dead of night

SUMMARY: your boyfriend is possessive, so you roofie him in order to go out clubbing. when he wakes up he tracks you down, picks you up and teaches you a lesson in the backseat

WARNINGS: lu is possessive and lowkey mean in this, someone vomits, female masturbation, head (m!receiving) fingering (f!receiving) car sex, semi public sex, choking, hair pulling, breeding ofc

NOTES: obviously we know lu wouldn’t be this mean irl but yeahhh enjoy!!!

WORD COUNT: 12.2k (oops?)

“why the fuck not?!” you ask, holding the blue dress up against your body, irritation flaring as luigi’s expression hardens.

he doesn’t even try to hide his disapproval. “what the fuck did i just say? you know you can’t wear clothing like that, and you’re not going out tonight. you’re staying here.”

you blink, taken aback. “are you serious right now?”

he nods, jaw tight. “dead serious. that dress barely covers anything, what the fuck makes you think i’m just gonna sit at home while you walk into a nightclub looking like that?”

“it’s just a dress,” you say, your tone sharp. “i like how i look in it.”

he scoffs. “yeah, so will every other guy in that place. you didn’t even mention you were going out until now, and now you’re showing me that? ain’t no way baby.”

“it’s a night out with my friends,” you argue. “it’s not like i’m doing anything wrong.”

“are you kidding me? look at you! you wanna go out dressed like a prostitute, without me, to a place full of drunk assholes who won’t give a shit that you already have a boyfriend.” luigi snaps. “i won’t put up with it. you’re staying home tonight.”

you freeze for a second.

he’s never called you that before. never even hinted at something that harsh. and it stings, burns low in your chest like something sour, but the anger rising in you is louder, stronger, sharper. you don’t have time to be hurt when you’re this furious.

“wow.” you say, voice trembling with rage. “prostitute, huh? that’s what you see when you look at me?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair, breathing hard.

you shake your head, that blue dress suddenly feeling heavier in your hands. “you don’t trust me. you just want to control me. and now you’re calling me names because i won’t play along? you can’t tell me what i can and can’t do!”

“i’m not telling you. i’m saying it.” he bites back. “you’re not leaving this house tonight. not in that dress. not to that fucking club. end of discussion.”

“you don’t trust me, is that it?” you say quietly.

he looks at you, unflinching. “i don’t trust the situation. i’m not gonna let it happen. we clear?”

you swallow hard, forcing your expression to stay calm. “yeah,” you say quietly. “we’re clear.”

but you know what? you don’t mean a single word. fuck him. you’re still going out tonight, you’ve already made up your mind. you’re just saying what he wants to hear, letting him think he’s won, because arguing with him right now is pointless. you’ll handle it your own way.

luigi studies your face for a moment, like he’s trying to make sure you’re being honest. then he nods, jaw still tight. “good,” he mutters. “i don’t wanna fight with you. i just need to know you get where i’m coming from.”

you nod, keeping your voice steady. “yeah i know.”

he reaches out and brushes your arm, his touch gentler now. “i just don’t wanna lose you over something stupid.”

you offer a small smile, fake but convincing. “you won’t.”

luigi closes the distance between you, his body pressing tightly against yours, the heat of him overwhelming. his eyes bore into yours, fierce and possessive, before he leans in, claiming your lips with a rough, hungry kiss, his tongue dominating the space between you.

his hands roam down your body, deliberate and firm, until they reach your ass. he grabs you hard, fingers digging deep into your flesh through your clothes, squeezing with a force that pulls a sharp gasp from your lips. his grip tightens, kneading you as he presses your hips against his.

he pulls back just enough to moan against your mouth, breath hot and heavy. “i don’t want you wearing shit like this when I’m not there.” his hands squeeze your ass again, harder, possessive. “this is mine,” he says, voice low and territorial, “i don’t want other guys putting their filthy hands on what belongs to me.”

two hours later, you’re still sitting on the edge of the bed, phone buzzing with texts from your friends, plans being finalized, outfits picked, everyone asking when you’re showing up.

you haven’t even touched your makeup bag yet. but you’re going. that hasn’t changed.

luigi’s been quiet ever since the argument. he’s out in the living room like it’s all settled, like you backed down and the night’s over before it even started.

you love him to pieces. he’s sweet, he’s loyal, and most of the time he treats you like gold. but he has his moments, possessive, jealous, trying to call the shots like you’re supposed to just sit there and nod along.

but tonight? he can go to hell.

you’re still gonna get up, throw on your dress, do your hair and makeup, and enjoy your damn night. you’re not doing anything wrong. you deserve to have fun and he doesn’t get to decide otherwise.

you glance over at the nightstand, where a small baggie rests behind the lamp.

crushed sleeping pills inside, fine and pale, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for them.

you’d thought about this earlier, not out of spite, but practicality. you knew how tonight would go the moment he said no. knew he wouldn’t let it go, wouldn’t back down. you could argue until you were blue in the face, and it still wouldn’t change anything. he’d just sit out there all night, watching you, waiting to stop you the second you tried to leave.

so you came up with a different plan.

nothing harmful, just enough to make sure he’s out cold before you walk out the door. he’ll fall asleep thinking the fight’s over, thinking you listened. and when he wakes up? you’ll be back, safe and sound, like nothing ever happened.

your phone lights up with another message.

you glance back at the baggie.

you’re still going out. no matter what.

you pick up your phone, fingers flying over the screen as you open the group chat.

you: just give me an hour and a half, have to sort out luigi

it doesn’t take long for you to get a response.

rachel: ooo 👀

you smirk a little, shaking your head.

you: it’s alright, i’ll explain later, text u girls when i’m ready <3

you slip your phone off and carefully tuck the small baggie into the pocket of your sweatpants, making sure it’s hidden and secure. the weight of it is comforting, your secret weapon for the night.

quietly, you slip out of the bedroom and head down the hall to the kitchen. opening the fridge, you grab two cans of lime flavoured la croix. you wrinkle your nose in disgust. who the fuck likes lime la croix? seriously, luigi must be a psycho for choosing that flavor, but you know he swears by it.

glancing quickly over your shoulder to make sure he’s not coming, you pop the tab on one can, the familiar hiss breaking the silence. you sprinkle a small, precise pinch of the crushed pills into the open can, just enough to knock him out without causing any harm.

leaving the tab popped and the can open, you grab the other unopened can and head back toward the living room, holding both like you’re just bringing drinks for the two of you. luigi’s sitting on the couch, looking up as you approach, calm but watchful. you force yourself to stay steady, masking everything behind a casual smile as you settle in beside him.

without missing a beat, you walk over and hand him the opened can, the laced one, making sure your fingers brush his when you pass it to him. “here,” you say with a faint smile. “figured you’d want something cold.”

he takes it with a small nod, cracking a tired smile. “thanks baby,” he says, raising it slightly before taking a sip. “you always know what i like.”

you sit down next to him, holding your own unopened can, but you don’t open it. not yet. you take a slow breath and lean back, acting casual, like this was always the plan. “you know what?” you say, keeping your voice light, almost thoughtful. “i changed my mind. i don’t wanna go out anyway.”

luigi turns his head toward you, just enough to look at you more directly. “yeah?” he asks, a hint of surprise in his tone. “you for real?”

you nod, brushing a hand through your hair like it’s no big deal. “yeah. i was thinking about it, and honestly, i’m tired. the whole idea of dressing up, getting shoved around in a crowded club, overpaying for drinks just to stand around yelling over the music… kinda lost its appeal.”

he nudges your leg with his, eyes flicking over you with something between amusement and approval. “good. i don’t want you out there prancing around town dressed like some slut.”

his tone is light, like it’s a joke, but you know he means every word.

he takes another sip from the la croix, the faint sound of the carbonation hissing as the can tips back. you watch him closely, eyes fixed on the way his throat moves as he swallows. every detail matters now, the timing, the dose, how quickly it kicks in. you keep your face calm, pleasant, like everything’s fine.

you pop the tab on your own can, letting it hiss open in your hand. you bring it to your lips, tilt it just slightly and pretend to take a sip. you don’t drink a drop.

no way in fuck are you taking an actual sip. you hate that shit. but more importantly, this moment’s not about relaxing. it’s about playing your part, letting him think you’re settling in for the night, too. keeping him at ease.

you lower the can again casually, glancing sideways at him. he’s already sinking deeper into the cushions, the drink still in his hand. you offer a small smile, legs curled up beneath you, and wait.

thirty minutes pass.

the tv flickers quietly in the background, casting soft light over the room. luigi hasn’t moved much, he’s slouched low on the couch now, his body heavy and warm, eyes half lidded and blinking slow.

he shifts a little, murmuring, “baby… i’m tired…”

you glance over at him, and the corners of your mouth lift just slightly. good, you think. it’s working.

“i know, baby,” you say gently, reaching over to smooth your fingers through his hair. “you had a long day.”

he exhales slowly, head tilting toward you like he’s about to say something else, but the words never come. his mouth parts slightly, breath evening out as his body goes still.

out cold. just like you planned.

well that was quick.

you stand there for a moment, watching him sink deeper into sleep. his breathing is slow and steady, his body heavy, completely still under the dim glow of the tv. the can is slipping from his fingers, forgotten.

you quietly grab the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and pull it over him, tucking it gently around his shoulders. he doesn’t stir.

leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, careful and silent, then straighten up and head down the hallway.

once in the bedroom, you close the door behind you with a soft click and let out a slow breath. now it’s time.

you’ll change, do your makeup, slip out the door without a sound. and by the time he wakes up, you’ll already be back, hair tossed into a bun, comfy clothes on, like you never stepped foot outside. he won’t suspect a thing. to him, it’ll just feel like he fell asleep a little early.

you cross the room, grip the hem of your sleep shirt, and pull it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your sweatpants follow, hitting the floor in a soft heap at your feet. you step out of them, left in nothing but the quiet buzz of adrenaline.

at the dresser, you open the top drawer and spot the purple lingerie instantly, the lacy bra and matching panties luigi got you for valentine’s day. you remember how bashful he was handing over the little gift bag, and how smug he looked when he saw you in it later that night. it’s beautiful, sheer lilac lace, delicate floral stitching, and soft satin straps that feel expensive just to touch.

you slip into the set carefully, adjusting the fit with practiced ease. it’s hugs your body in all the right ways, the kind of pretty that makes you stand taller without even thinking about it.

then you reach into your closet and pull out the blue dress, the one that sparked everything tonight. you step into it, drag the smooth fabric up your legs, and slide the straps over your shoulders. it clings just enough, catches the light perfectly.

you study yourself in the mirror for a moment, hands smoothing over the fabric of the blue dress. it’s bold. it’s unapologetic. and it’s exactly what tonight calls for.

now comes the rest.

you move to your vanity and tie your hair up loosely to keep it out of the way, then pull open the small drawer filled with your skincare essentials. you know the routine by heart, cleanser, toner, a bit of serum to wake your skin up, and moisturizer to lock it all in. you don’t rush it.

there’s something grounding about the process, something steady. it gives your hands something to do while your mind stays focused.

once your skin is prepped, you move to your makeup. you swipe on a light base, just enough to even things out, then build from there, brows, a touch of blush, highlighter on your cheekbones, winged liner sharp enough to cut, and a coat of mascara that pulls your whole look together. for your lips, something nude with a slight sheen. effortless, but put together. clean. controlled.

finally, you let your hair down and grab your curling iron. you section it off and start wrapping the pieces one by one, watching as soft curls fall into place around your shoulders. the heat brings out the shine, gives it volume, shape, movement.

when you finish, you run your fingers through the curls to loosen them a little, give it that undone look. you stare at your reflection once more.

everything is set. hair curled. makeup flawless. skin glowing.

you don’t just look ready.

you are ready.

you pick up your phone from the vanity and open the group chat, fingers flying over the screen.

you: ready now lol

a few seconds later, rachel replies:

rachel: omg send a pic of your outfit babe

you smirk, turn toward the mirror, and snap a quick mirror selfie, curls perfect, makeup flawless, the blue dress hugging you in all the right places. you send it without hesitation.

gabby: OMG 😍 you look insane. like… actually unreal.

rachel: okay miss hot stuff??? how did you get luigi to let you go out looking like THAT

you glance at your reflection again, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

you: i’ll explain later 😭

a few moments pass before rachel replies again.

rachel: okay okay just picking up gabby now, be at urs in a bit 💕

you lock your phone, set it on the vanity and grab your purse, then reach for your favorite perfume, the one luigi always said drove him crazy. you give yourself two quick spritzes, wrist, neck, then toss the bottle into your purse and take one last look in the mirror.

perfect.

you move to the edge of the bed and pick up your heels, gripping them by the straps instead of slipping them on. no way you’re clicking across the floor and waking him up now.

you sit down on the edge of the bed and wait quietly, heart steady, listening to the faint sound of the tv in the other room. after a few minutes, your phone lights up with a buzz against the vanity, rachel’s message coming through on your lock screen.

rachel: we’re here now <3

you stand, purse slung over your shoulder and your heels in hand, and move to the bedroom door. you open it slowly, inch by inch, until it gives with the faintest creak. you slip into the hallway silently and glance toward the couch.

luigi’s still there, bundled under the throw blanket, completely knocked out. his chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm. not even a twitch.

you move past him carefully, step by step, until you reach the door. you ease it open, slip outside, and close it behind you just as quietly. you pull out your key and lock it with a soft click.

only then do you crouch down at the top of the steps and finally slide on your heels. straightening up, you scan the street until your eyes land on rachel’s car waiting at the curb, headlights low.

you walk toward it without looking back.

you make your way down the path, heels clicking softly, and spot rachel’s car waiting at the curb. the headlights are low, music playing quietly through the open windows. you approach the car and hop in the back seat.

“there she is,” rachel says with a smirk, glancing back from the driver’s seat. “took you long enough.”

gabby looks back at you from the front seat, her eyes running over your outfit. “okay, that dress looks even better on you in person!”

you slip into the seat, pulling the door closed behind you, trying not to smile too much. “thank you guys…”

“no, seriously,” rachel adds, turning the wheel as she pulls away from the curb. “you look great. that colour’s doing everything for you.”

gabby nods in agreement. “you nailed it. hair, makeup, the whole thing, it fucking WORKS!”

rachel eases the car onto the road, city lights blurring past the windows as the night settles in. soft music plays through the speakers, filling the space with a steady beat. you take the bottled smirnoff gabby handed you from the cup holder, the glass cool against your fingers. you take a slow sip, letting it calm your nerves.

“so,” gabby says, leaning in with that smug grin, like she already has dirt on you. “how’d you ditch luigi tonight? thought he’d have you chained to the couch or some shit.”

rachel smirks from the driver’s seat. “yeah, do tell.”

you grin, dropping your voice like you were spilling some dark secret. “let’s just say… i roofied his la croix.”

gabby and rachel go dead quiet, the car filled only with the screechy music. then, they both burst out laughing, gabby snorting so hard she nearly chokes.

“what?” gabby wheezes, wiping her eyes. “you roofied him?”

you slouch back in the seat, a sly grin spreading across your face like you’d just pulled off the ultimate prank. “relax, it wasn’t, like, a real bad roofie, i just crushed up some melatonin and tossed it in his booger drink and sent him straight to nap city. he’s probably snoring so loud the neighbours can fucking hear him.”

gabby loses it, and rachel lets out a loud, “hah!” and smacks the steering wheel, nearly swerving as she laughs.

“that’s smart!” rachel says, her voice dripping with amusement as she shoots you a look in the rearview mirror.

the city lights streak past, painting the windows with neon glows as the car hums along to a gritty pop punk track, all screechy guitars and angsty vibes. you twirl the cold, sweaty bottle in your hand, the fizz of your drink cutting through the buzz of the night.

gabby, still giggling, glances at you, her eyes sparkling with that troublemaker glint she always has. “okay, but hold up. if you’re at the point where you’re, like, drugging your boyfriend just to sneak out for a night of clubbing, maybe you should… i don’t know. reconsider your life choices?”

you roll your eyes, letting out a dramatic huff. “i know, i know, it sounds awful when you say it like that. but he’s not that bad, he’s really sweet in other ways… he just doesn’t like me wearing short clothes out in public and hates it when i go to bars without him… he doesn’t want other guys to even talk to me.”

rachel keeps her eyes on the road but glances over with a small shrug. “yeah, from what i’ve seen, he’s the sweetest to you. he’s super nice, he’s just really possessive and worries way too much.”

“exactly,” you say, your voice softer now. “i just wish he believed me when i tell him he doesn’t have to worry. i don’t want anyone else but him.”

gabby turns and looks at you, her brows raised. “wait, what happens if he wakes up and you’re still gone?”

you let out a quiet laugh, bringing the bottle back to your lips and taking another sip. the drink goes down smooth, cooling the back of your throat.

“relax,” you say with a smirk, leaning your head back against the seat. “he’ll be out like a light all night. trust me.”

the tv is still on, low but steady, playing some late night rerun with canned laughter echoing faintly through the apartment. the flickering light casts soft, uneven shadows across the room.

luigi shifts under the blanket, brow furrowed as he slowly blinks awake. his head feels heavy, his body sluggish. there’s a dull ache in his neck from the way he’s been lying.

he sits up slowly, rubbing at his face with both hands. the blanket slips off his chest as he reaches over to the coffee table and grabs his phone.

the screen lights up.

12:02 AM

he frowns, staring at the time for a few seconds. last thing he remembers, it was barely nine. he doesn’t even remember lying down, let alone falling asleep.

his eyes scan the room. the couch beside him is empty. the apartment is quiet except for the chatter coming from the tv.

and you’re nowhere to be seen.

he sits on the edge of the couch for a few seconds, rubbing a hand over his face as he tries to shake off the fog still clinging to his head. his eyes flick to the hallway. you’ve probably just gone to bed quietly, like you do sometimes when he crashes early. no big deal.

he stands, joints stiff, and stretches his arms overhead with a low sigh before making his way down the hall toward the bedroom.

the room is quiet. dark. still.

he flips the light on.

the bed is perfectly made. undisturbed. pillows lined up exactly how they were earlier. it doesn’t look like anyone’s touched it all night.

he stares for a second, a small crease forming between his brows.

maybe you’re in the bathroom.

he crosses the hallway and nudges the door open.

empty.

now he’s moving slower. checking each room with more focus. he steps into the kitchen, glances around. nothing. he opens the laundry door. checks the tiny storage nook. paces through the living room again, as if he missed something.

still no sign of you.

he even opens the sliding door to the balcony and steps outside, scanning the space quickly. no one.

back inside, the air feels heavier. the house is too quiet. he looks down at his phone again.

three hours gone. still no messages. no calls. no nothing.

he stands there for a moment, heart thudding a little faster now.

what the fuck?

luigi steps back into the bedroom, every movement heavy with unease. he flicks on the light, and his eyes immediately catch sight of the sleep shirt and sweatpants you’d been wearing earlier, lying crumpled on the floor near the dresser. the sight feels off, too careless, too sudden.

he moves closer, his gaze dropping to a small, clear baggie resting beside the clothes. inside, faint traces of white powder cling stubbornly to the plastic. his heart starts to beat faster as he carefully picks it up, turning it over in his hand, trying to steady himself.

then his eyes shift to the nightstand where your bottle of sleeping pills sits. the label is worn but familiar. he grabs it, shaking it gently, counting the pills inside. there are only three left. he clearly remembers seeing five just last night.

his mind races. she hasn’t taken any of these pills today. not one.

the pieces begin to fall into place with crushing clarity.

you drugged him.

a cold fire ignites inside him, a mix of shock, betrayal, and rage. how could you do this to him? how could you sneak something into his drink and rob him of control, of choice? the thought makes his hands tremble, fists clenching tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

with trembling hands, he fumbles for his phone on the counter, the screen lighting up as he unlocks it with a swipe. his fingers move on instinct, navigating to the “find my” app, his heart hammering as the map loads. he doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to see the proof of your betrayal spelled out in a glowing dot on a screen, but he has to know.

the app pings, and there it is, your location, a pulsing marker in the heart of the city. vibepulse nightclub. the name hit him like a slap, conjuring images of thumping bass, flashing lights, and bodies pressed too close in a haze of sweat and alcohol. you’re there. right now. while he’s here, reeling from the aftereffects of what you’ve slipped him.

you planned this, calculated it, knowing full well he told you no. no to the late nights, no to the short blue dress, no to the nightclub scene you craved despite his pleas for you to stay home, to stay safe, to stay with him.

the memory of your argument a few hours ago flashes in his mind. he thought they’d settled it, that you understood. but no. you’ve taken matters into your own hands, and now here he is, betrayed in the most insidious way.

his fingers tighten around the phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. he wants to call you, to demand answers, to let the full force of his rage pour out in words that would cut as deeply as your betrayal has. but he stops himself, forcing a slow, shuddering breath.

no. a call wouldn’t be enough. he needs to see you, to look into your eyes and make you understand the weight of what you’ve done. the rage was still there, simmering, but it’s sharpening into something colder, more focused… a determination to confront you, to reclaim the control you’ve stolen from him.

luigi sets the phone down, his jaw still locked, his fists still trembling. vibepulse nightclub. that’s where you are, and that’s where he’ll go. he doesn’t know what he’s gonna say when he sees you, doesn’t know if he’s gonna shout or seethe or simply stare at you in silence, letting the weight of his anger speak for itself.

but one thing is certain: he isn’t going to let this slide. you’ve crossed a line, and the cold fire in his chest isn’t going out until he’s faced you.

luigi’s rage burns cold and fierce in his chest. he snatches his wallet and keys, the metal digging into his palm. he storms out of the bedroom, boots thudding, and rips open the front door, the night air sharp against his face. slamming it shut, he charges down the driveway towards his car. he gets in, puts his keys in the ignition and it growls to life, tires shrieking as he speeds off, city lights blurring past.

you lurch out of the club, the neon glow and thumping bass still buzzing in your head, the world tilting under your feet. you’re wasted, legs like jelly, thoughts a blurry mess of lights and laughter, the vodka shots you slammed earlier burning through you. a sloppy grin sticks to your face as you grab gabby’s arm to keep from falling, the streetlights smearing into hazy streaks.

gabby’s just as gone, her hair a tangled wreck as she stumbles over her heels, laughing too loud. rachel, hooked onto gabby’s other arm, is a giggling disaster, mascara smudged from dancing or maybe crying to that last track. the three of you are a mess, arms knotted, staggering onto the sidewalk, voices slurring into a chaotic blur of half sentences and cackles.

“gabby,” you mutter, words tripping as you tug her sleeve, nearly tipping over. “your brother coming to get us or what?” a hiccup slips out, and you snort, picturing todd’s beat up van rolling up.

gabby sways, catching a streetlamp, her eyes glassy. “yeah, he’s on his way. him and his boyfriend.” she waves a hand, almost smacking rachel, who cracks up. “they’ll probably give us shit, but whatever.”

you nod, or try to, your head heavy and wobbling, a laugh bubbling up at the thought of todd and his boyfriend pulling up. the three of you cling to each other, barely upright, drunk on liquor and the fading rush of the night.

you teeter on the sidewalk, the world still a dizzy whirl from the vodka and the club’s pulsing lights. your grin feels glued on as you throw your arms around gabby and rachel, pulling them into a sloppy hug. “this was such a good night,” you slur, words spilling out. “i love you girls so much.”

gabby sways against you, her laugh thick with liquor. “love you too, babe.”

rachel, mascara streaked and giggling, squeezes your arm. “love you, you hot mess.”

before you can respond, gabby lurches forward, hand clapped to her mouth. she stumbles to the curb and hurls, the sound raw and wretched, cutting through the night. you grimace, your stomach twisting in sympathy.

rachel jumps into action, grabbing gabby’s messy hair and yanking it back. “aaand this is why i told you to slow down before!” she says, half laughing, half worried, holding gabby’s hair with one hand while patting her back with the other.

headlights flare as a beat up van screeches up. todd and his boyfriend, jay, leap out, both rocking fitted tees and jeans that scream effortless style. todd, tall with a sharp buzzcut, struts over, hands on hips. “sis, are you serious?” he snaps, dropping to one knee beside her.

jay, all lean limbs and tousled curls, sashays up, one eyebrow arched. “sweetie, did you chug the whole bar?” he purrs, eyeing you and rachel with a smirk. “and you two look like you’re one shot from a reality show meltdown.”

gabby retches again, groaning. “i’m fine, shut the fuck up…” she mumbles between heaves, clearly anything but.

todd rolls his eyes, rubbing her back with a dramatic sigh. “fine? girl, i’ve told you numerous times that you CANNOT handle your damn liquor!” he glances at jay, tossing him a playful glare. “told you we should’ve stayed in with a rosé and some bravo.”

jay pulls a water bottle from the van, tossing his curls with a grin. “babe, you’re buying me fancy dinner for this chaos,” he teases, handing the water to todd. “and i’m picking the place.“

todd steps over to gabby, who’s swaying slightly, still buzzing from the night’s chaos. “drink up, honey,” he says, pressing the bottle into her hands with a protective smirk, making sure she’s steady before turning away.

you, still drunk and wobbly, stumble forward, wrapping your arms around todd in a sloppy hug. “thank you both so much for coming to get us,” you slur, voice thick with gratitude. you let go, then lurch toward jay, throwing your arms around him too, nearly knocking him off balance. “seriously, you guys are the best,” you mumble, your words muffled against jay’s shoulder as he laughs and steadies you.

suddenly, luigi’s voice cuts through the night, sharp and furious, yelling at you. you jerk back from jay’s embrace, heart lurching as you spin toward the sound, the world tilting around you.

luigi sits in his car, parked across the street from vibepulse nightclub, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles ache. the cold fire in his chest burns hotter as he watches you, swaying on the sidewalk with gabby and rachel, your laughter carrying faintly over the thumping bass spilling from the club.

you’re wearing that blue dress, the one he told you not to wear, the one that hugs your curves so perfectly it makes his breath catch even now. you look stunning, the fabric catching the neon glow, accentuating every line of your body in a way that’s almost too much. he can’t lie to himself: you’re breathtaking, radiant in a way that twists his heart.

but that beauty stokes his rage too, because it’s not for him tonight. only he should see you like this, not the pulsing crowd of strangers inside vibepulse, not the world you chose over him.

his jaw clenches as he glares, the betrayal cutting deeper with every second. you roofied him, slipped something into his drink, left him passed out on the couch just so you could sneak out here, flaunting yourself in that dress, laughing with gabby and rachel like nothing’s wrong.

the memory of waking up disoriented, piecing together your deception, fuels the anger coiling in his gut. he trusted you, and you betrayed him for this, a night of reckless freedom, dancing in a place he begged you to avoid.

his eyes narrow as two guys approach you, both strutting with a confidence that sets his teeth on edge. one’s tall with a buzzcut, the other leaner with dark curls, and they’re moving in too close, their voices carrying a playful edge as they talk to you, gabby, and rachel. luigi’s pulse spikes, rage flaring white hot.

did you drug him to come out here and meet guys? the thought is a knife to his chest, twisting with every laugh you share with them, every glance you toss their way. his hands tremble, the steering wheel creaking under his grip as he imagines you planning this, slipping away to flirt and dance with strangers while he was helpless at home.

then he sees it, you stumble forward, wrapping your arms around the tall guy in a sloppy hug, your words slurred but warm. before luigi can process it, you lurch toward the curly haired guy, throwing your arms around him too, nearly knocking him over as you mumble something against his shoulder.

that’s it. the last fucking straw. the sight of you in that dress, clinging to other men, laughing like you didn’t shatter his trust, snaps something inside him. his vision blurs with fury, the cold fire in his chest exploding into an inferno. he doesn’t care who they are or what they’re saying, enough is enough.

he shoves the car door open, the hinges groaning as he leaps out and slams it shut with a force that echoes down the street.

his shoes hit the pavement as he charges across the road, dodging a honking car, his heart pounding in sync with the fire in his chest. his eyes lock on you, still tangled in the curly haired guy’s arms, and the betrayal cuts deeper with every step.

“is this what you’ve been fucking doing?!” he shouts, his voice raw, slicing through the night air as he closes the distance.

you spin toward him, heart lurching. his eyes burn with fury, fixed on you, and shock slams into you. he’s awake. he’s here. you thought the stuff you slipped in his drink would keep him out until dawn.

everyone around you goes quiet. gabby, still hunched from earlier vomiting but done now, straightens up, wiping her mouth as she stares. rachel, holding gabby’s hair moments ago, lets her hands drop, eyes wide. todd and jay, mid chat, freeze.

but you’re so drunk, the world a dizzy, glittering haze, that the panic fizzles fast. the vodka coursing through you smothers it, leaving only reckless glee. you meet luigi’s betrayed glare and burst into a sloppy laugh, clutching your side. “lu, chill!” you slur, flailing a hand at him. “it’s just a night out, god!” you giggle again, wobbling, the alcohol numbing you to the storm in his eyes.

luigi walks up to you, his face twisted with raw fury, and seizes your arm with a grip so tight it feels like it could bruise bone. the world lurches, the neon glow of the club blurring as his fingers clamp down, anchoring you to his rage. “you fucking roofied me!” he yells again, voice jagged with betrayal, close enough for you to smell the bitterness on his breath. “slipped shit in my drink so you could sneak out and prance around clubbing without my permission? look at you, you’re dressed like a fucking slut!”

his words are a vicious snarl, each one a blade meant to cut deep, his eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and venom as he towers over you.

todd steps in, his posture sharp, voice dripping with defiance. “woah, woah! honey you need to back up! he snaps, one hand slicing the air, his tone fierce and unapologetic. “you don’t get to treat her like that.”

luigi whips around, his face contorted, eyes flashing with menace. “you stay the fuck out of this.” he growls, voice low and dangerous, a warning that vibrates through the tense air. todd hesitates, his jaw tightening, but he steps back, exchanging a wary glance with jay.

you’re so drunk, the vodka numbing the sting of luigi’s grip, his cruel words barely piercing the foggy haze in your mind. the world feels like a dark, spinning carnival, and despite the intensity, you can’t help but laugh, a sloppy, reckless cackle that spills out as you sway in his hold. “babeeee, chill!!” you slur, giggling as you swat at his chest, your hand clumsy. “don’t be such a debbie downer!” your laughter rings out, jagged and carefree, blind to the storm of rage in his eyes, the alcohol drowning out the darkness closing in.

luigi’s face is a storm of rage, his eyes burning as he tightens his grip on your arm, the pressure bruising. “we’re going home,” he snaps, his voice low and final. he doesn’t wait for a response, yanking you toward the street, dragging you with a force that makes you stumble, your heels scraping the pavement. the world tilts, vodka still clouding your senses, but his iron hold keeps you moving.

you giggle, the sound sloppy and wild, your drunken haze making his anger feel distant, almost absurd. as he pulls you across the road, you twist your head back, catching sight of gabby, rachel, todd, and jay. you flash a lopsided grin and wave clumsily with your free hand, your voice slurring as you call out, “byeeee, love you guys!” your laughter bubbles up again, carefree and oblivious, even as luigi’s grip tightens, hauling you toward his car parked under the flickering streetlight.

you get to his car, which is parked under a flickering streetlight, his grip on your arm unrelenting, bruising. the world spins, a drunken kaleidoscope of neon and shadows, but his fury is a sharp anchor. he yanks open the passenger door, the metal creaking, and shoves you inside with a rough push, your body slumping into the seat. the door slams shut with a jarring bang that echoes in the night, making you flinch, though the vodka in your veins keeps you giggling.

luigi storms around to the driver’s side, wrenching the door open and sliding in with a scowl, his movements taut with rage. he turns to you, eyes blazing, and snaps, “put your fucking seatbelt on.”

you snort, the words striking you as absurdly funny in your drunken haze. “fucking bossy ass BITCH!!” you slur, a sloppy laugh spilling out as you fumble with the seatbelt, your fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. after a moment of struggling, you manage to click it into place, the sound loud in the tense silence of the car.

luigi doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he jams the key into the ignition. the engine roars to life, and he peels out onto the street, tires screeching, the city lights blurring past as you lean back, still giggling, oblivious to the storm brewing beside you.

the car speeds down the dark city streets, neon lights streaking past as luigi grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white, the cold fury in his chest burning hotter with every second. his jaw is locked, his eyes fixed on the road, but they flicker toward you, slouched in the passenger seat, still swaying slightly from the vodka. “who the fuck do you think you are?” he snaps, his voice sharp and venomous, cutting through the hum of the engine.

you blink at him, the words bouncing off your drunken haze, and a giggle slips out, high and sloppy. “what?” you slur, tilting your head, a confused grin spreading across your face as you giggle again, the seriousness of his tone not registering.

luigi’s hands tighten on the wheel, the leather creaking. “you think you can just roofie me, sneak out in that fucking outfit, and go cuddle up with random guys like it’s nothing?” he growls, his voice low and seething. “you lied to me, broke my trust, and now you’re laughing like it’s a fucking joke. you think you can play me like that?” his eyes dart to you, blazing with betrayal, the car swerving slightly as his anger spills over.

you slump in the passenger seat, the car’s motion making your head spin, and luigi’s words, sharp with betrayal, bounce around in your drunken fog. yet another giggle erupts from you, loud and uncontrolled, the absurdity of his anger somehow hilarious despite the tension.

“stop fucking laughing!” luigi snaps, his voice a harsh whip, eyes flashing as he glares at you, the streetlights casting sharp shadows across his face.

you hiccup, giggling again, and wave a clumsy hand. “baby,” you slur, words tumbling out, “those guys i was hugging? they’re gay. like, together gay. dating each other.” you lean back, grinning, as if that explains everything, your voice thick with vodka.

luigi’s hand slams down on the steering wheel, the sharp crack making you jump. “that doesn’t change a fucking thing!” he snarls, his voice low and furious. “you were probably still cozying up to other guys on the dance floor, weren’t you? flashing your tits at them no doubt, acting like you don’t have a fucking boyfriend!” his anger fills the car, heavy and suffocating, his jaw clenched so tight it sharpens his features.

you tilt your head, still drunk, the world a hazy blur, and his words don’t hit as hard as they should. instead, you focus on him, his dark eyes blazing, the tense line of his jaw, the way his hands grip the wheel like he’s holding himself back. jesus christ, he’s hot when he’s angry, all raw intensity and fire.

you giggle again, leaning toward him. “why would i do that when i have you?” you mumble, words slurring together. “i only want you, baby. nobody else.” your voice is earnest, sloppy with booze, but you mean it, even if it’s buried under the haze.

luigi goes silent, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes fixed on the road. the car hums, the city lights streaking past, and the weight of his silence fills the space between you. you sink back into the seat, still buzzing, staring at him, his anger making him look even more striking, though you’re too drunk to fully grasp the storm you’ve ignited.

you can’t stop staring at him as he drives, his silence thick and seething in the dim car. the streetlights carve sharp angles across his face, highlighting the clenched jaw, the blazing heat in his dark eyes, the way his knuckles strain white against the steering wheel. he’s so fucking hot when he’s angry, all raw intensity and coiled power, setting your skin on fire even through the drunken haze. the vodka surges through you, a reckless, molten wave that dulls his rage and ignites a throbbing need low in your belly.

your thoughts, foggy and disjointed, slip to those nights when luigi’s been this pissed, his hands rough, pinning your wrists to the bed, his hips slamming into you with brutal, relentless force, fucking you so hard the headboard rattled, his anger pouring into every deep, punishing thrust. the memory makes your core clench, a wet pulse of heat spreading through you.

you’re so drunk, the world a blurry swirl of neon and motion, that shame feels like a foreign concept. the alcohol makes everything urgent, your body moving faster than your sluggish brain can process. you fumble with your heels, kicking them off with a clumsy thud to the floor of the car. your hands move on instinct, driven by the haze and the electric pull of his presence.

locking eyes with him, his gaze still burning into the road, but you feel his awareness like a physical touch, you slide your fingers under the hem of your blue dress, hooking the edge of your purple lace thong, already soaked with sweat and slick arousal. you tug it down slowly, deliberately, the damp fabric dragging across your thighs, catching briefly at your knees before slipping to your ankles. holding his stare, your eyes glassy but defiant, you flick the thong into the backseat, where it lands in a crumpled, wet heap.

you spread your legs wider, the dress hiking up to bare the glistening folds of your pussy, slick and aching in the cool air. the alcohol makes every sensation sharper, your body thrumming with reckless need. your fingers find your dripping core, sliding through the wet heat to your swollen clit, and you moan softly, the sound lost in the engine’s hum. you start rubbing yourself, fingers moving in tight, desperate circles, then dipping lower to plunge inside, your cunt clenching around them as you pump slowly, then faster, slick sounds filling the car.

your breath comes in ragged gasps, thighs trembling as you spread yourself wider, touching yourself shamelessly, eyes locked on luigi. his jaw twitches, his grip on the wheel tightening, his anger a dark, magnetic force that only fuels the drunken, pulsing heat between your legs.

your free hand fumbles for the window button, the vodka making your movements sloppy but determined. you press it down, and the window slides open, a rush of cool night air blasting into the car. the wind whips your hair around your face, strands sticking to your sweaty skin, and the chill hardens your nipples, making them strain visibly against the tight dress, poking through the thin fabric like sharp points.

you’re still so drunk, the world a hazy, pulsing blur, every sensation heightened by the alcohol coursing through you. your other hand stays busy, fingers slick with your arousal as they work your throbbing pussy, circling your swollen clit before plunging deep inside, your cunt clenching tightly around them. you moan softly, the wet sounds of your fingers fucking yourself mixing with the hum of the engine, your thighs spread wide as you stare at luigi, his furious profile lit by passing streetlights. the sight of his clenched jaw, his burning eyes, only makes you wetter, your body thrumming with reckless need.

luigi’s glare snaps to you, sharp and livid, though his eyes stay mostly on the road. “stop that.” he growls, voice tight with anger, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

you giggle, a drunken, airy sound, tilting your head. “stop what?” you slur, your fingers never slowing, dipping deeper into your dripping heat, a fresh wave of slickness coating your hand as you rub your clit with your thumb.

“stop acting like a slut.” he snaps, his voice low and venomous.

you moan louder, the sound raw and needy, your fingers pumping faster, your pussy clenching as you imagine luigi losing control, ripping your dress off, tearing it to shreds, and fucking you right here in the car, his hands rough, his cock slamming into you with all that pent up rage. the thought makes your core pulse, your nipples aching as they press harder against the dress.

you giggle again, leaning back, your voice thick with booze. “what if i don’t want to?” you tease, your fingers circling your clit, slick and relentless.

“i mean it.” he says, his voice a dangerous rumble, his eyes flicking to you again, dark with warning.

“no.” you purr, defiant, still touching yourself, your fingers soaked as you spread your legs wider, the wind from the open window cooling the wet heat between your thighs. you’re too drunk to care, the alcohol making you bold, every touch sending sparks through your body.

luiigi’s jaw tightens, and without warning, he yanks the wheel, swerving the car down an empty side street, the tires screeching as the city lights fade behind you. the road is dark, lined with shadowed buildings, and you feel the shift in direction, your drunken haze sharpening just enough to notice.

“this isn’t the way back home,” you say, your voice slurring, a giggle bubbling up even as your fingers slow but don’t stop, still teasing your slick folds.

“well guess what? i don’t remember asking you!” he snaps, his voice cold and final, his eyes fixed on the road as he speeds down the deserted street.

the car eventually slows, pulling into the shadow of an abandoned church, its crumbling spire looming against the night sky. luigi parks behind it, the lot shrouded in darkness, the engine cutting off with a low rumble. you glance at him, your hand still between your thighs, and notice the unmistakable bulge in his pants, his erection straining against the fabric, betraying the desire beneath his rage. your lips curl, the sight sending another pulse of heat through you.

luigi shoves his door open and storms to your side, yanking the passenger door open with a creak. “get out.” he growls, grabbing your arm roughly and pulling you from the seat. you stumble out, your bare feet hitting the gravel, the purple lace thong left behind in the backseat, your dress still hiked up, your fingers glistening as you sway, the alcohol keeping you defiant, reckless, and aching for whatever comes next.

your head spins, the world tilting, your thoughts a blurry, pulsing chaos. you fumble to pull your dress down, the fabric sliding over your thighs to cover your slick, exposed pussy, a desperate grab at the last scraps of dignity.

he strides to the crumbling church wall, shadows looming behind him, and leans against it, his gaze dark and commanding. “knees.” he orders, voice low and sharp, slicing through your drunken fog.

you know what he wants, and it ignites a raw, desperate need in you. you want, no, need to suck his cock, the urge consuming you, fueled by the alcohol and his searing anger. your body moves before your mind catches up, and you drop to your knees on the rough gravel, the sting a distant hum. your shaky hands, eager despite the blur, undo his belt with a clink, tugging his trousers down just enough to bunch at his thighs. you reach into his boxers, pulling out his hard cock.

it’s huge, thick and heavy, veins throbbing under your fingers, the head glistening with precum. your friends always called you a soldier for taking him, laughing about his size, long, impossibly girthy, a challenge most couldn’t handle. your mouth waters, the alcohol heightening every sensation, urging you on.

you lean in, lips wrapping around the swollen tip, tasting the salty precum as you swirl your tongue, moaning low. you’re so drunk, your movements sloppy but fervent, head bobbing as you take him deeper, his cock stretching your mouth, filling it to the brim.

you suck hard, cheeks hollowing, spit dripping down your chin, pooling on the gravel as you work him, tongue tracing the thick vein along his shaft. your hands grip his thighs, nails biting into muscle for balance, the wet, slurping sounds loud in the silent lot. you look up at him, his face hard, unyielding, and his visible rage only drives you to suck harder, desperate to please, your body buzzing with reckless heat as you lose yourself in the act.

your head keeps bobs eagerly, spit slicking your chin, dripping onto the gravel as you take him deeper, your throat yielding to his size, the ache in your jaw a delicious burn. you love this, love the heavy feel of his cock on your tongue, the way it fills your mouth completely, the power it gives you even as he looms above, commanding and intense. sucking him feels like a ritual, a rebellion, everything you crave right now, your mind lost in the need to please him.

you ease back, lips sliding off with a wet pop, and tilt your head to lick up his length, your tongue dragging slowly along the throbbing vein, savoring every inch of his massive cock. you lock eyes with him, his dark gaze searing into you, and the heat of it sends a pulse straight to your core, your pussy clenching with need.

you tease the swollen tip with quick, kitten like licks, flicking over the sensitive head, lapping at the precum leaking out, relishing the salty taste. then you dive back in, wrapping your lips around just the tip, sucking hard, tongue swirling in tight, relentless circles, all while holding his stare, your eyes glassy but defiant, daring him to respond.

your free hand drifts down, cupping his balls, warm and heavy in your palm. you knead them gently, fingers rolling the soft skin, tugging just enough as you suck his tip, the combined touch making your arousal drip down your thighs, your dress still bunched from earlier. you love how his cock pulses in your mouth, how his balls tighten under your fingers, how every sound you pull from him feels like a triumph.

luigi moans, a low, ragged “fuck,” escaping as his head tips back against the church wall, his hips twitching, pushing his cock deeper for a split second. the sound drives you harder, lips tightening, tongue flicking faster, fingers squeezing his balls to make him shudder. you love this, love how his cock throbs against your tongue, how your mouth can unravel him, how the alcohol makes every wet, sloppy sound louder, every sensation sharper, as you suck, lick, and tease, consumed by the raw, messy thrill.

minutes slip by, the world a blurry whirl of shadows and heat as you kneel on the gravel, luigi’s cock slamming into the back of your throat. his hand grips your hair roughly, pushing your head down with each thrust, the tip of his massive dick hitting deep, making you gag softly, spit drooling down your chin.

the alcohol amplifies every sensation, the stretch of your throat, the burn of his grip, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the air. you love it, love the way his cock fills you, the way you can barely breathe around him, your pussy dripping as you suck harder, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing.

you look up, and he’s fucking beautiful, cheeks flushed a deep red, eyes rolling back, lips parted as he moans so loud it echoes off the church wall. his pleasure is raw, unrestrained, and it makes your core throb.

“doing so good,” he groans, voice thick and rough, “i’m gonna cum down your throat.” the words send a shiver through you, urging you on, your lips tightening as you bob faster, taking him deeper, gagging but not stopping, your fingers still kneading his balls.

with one final, moan, luigi’s hips buck, and he cums hard, hot ropes of thick, salty cum flooding your throat. it’s overwhelming, the taste bitter and musky, coating your tongue as it pulses out, filling your mouth with its warmth. you struggle to keep up, swallowing greedily, feeling it slide down, heavy and slick, as he keeps pushing into you, his grip in your hair unrelenting.

“yeah, take every drop, don’t waste it,” he growls, voice low and commanding. you nod slightly, still sucking, milking him until he’s spent. he pulls his cock out with a wet pop, and you stick out your tongue, showing him the glistening proof that you’ve swallowed every bit, the lingering taste of his cum sharp and potent in your mouth.

luigi tugs his boxers up, leaving his trousers low, and yanks you to your feet, his grip rough on your arm. you stumble, the alcohol making your legs wobbly, but you’re buzzing, the intensity heightened by the liquor in your veins. he drags you back to the car, flinging open the backseat door. “get in,” he orders, his voice a dangerous rumble.

you climb in, collapsing onto your back across the seat, your body humming with need. luigi follows, climbing on top of you, his weight pinning you down as he crashes his lips into yours, kissing you roughly, all teeth and hunger. you moan into his mouth, the sound muffled, kissing him back with equal desperation, your tongue tangling with his, tasting yourself and him, the alcohol making every touch feel like fire.

his hands shove your dress up, exposing your dripping pussy again, the cool air hitting your wet folds. without warning, he plunges two fingers deep inside you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp, your cunt clenching tight around him. his fingers are thick, relentless, pumping fast and hard, curling to hit that spot that makes your vision blur.

your slickness coats his hand, the wet squelch of his fingers fucking you loud in the cramped backseat, your thighs trembling as the alcohol intensifies every thrust, every rough drag against your sensitive walls, pushing you closer to the edge.

“fuck, lu, yes!” you cry, your voice raw, unhinged, as you claw at his back, your tits bouncing with each hard thrust. “so good, don’t stop!” your words spill out, desperate and loud, your body trembling as he fucks you deeper, the sensation of his cock hitting every sensitive spot driving you wild, the heightened intensity making every thrust feel like it’s unraveling you completely.

he keeps fingering you, relentless, his eyes dark and commanding. “would you let other guys do this to you?” he growls, his voice low, possessive.

you moan, head lolling back, the pleasure overwhelming. “no,” you whimper, your voice trembling as his fingers pump faster, stretching you, your juices dripping down his hand.

“of course not,” he snarls, leaning closer, his breath hot against your skin. “no one’s better than me.”

your body shakes, the intensity building, and you moan, desperate, “please fuck me, lu.” the words tumble out, raw and needy, your voice bold, unfiltered.

he smirks, dark and cruel. “so impatient, fucking whore,” he says, his hand yanking down the top of your dress, the fabric ripping slightly to reveal your purple lace bra, your tits spilling out, nipples hard. his hand cracks across your breasts, a sharp slap that stings deliciously, and you moan, loud and wanton, the pain blending with pleasure, making your pussy pulse.

luigi shifts, grabbing your legs and hoisting them onto his shoulders, your body folded beneath him. he pulls his cock out again, thick and throbbing, and slaps it against your slick folds, the wet smack of his head against your clit making you shudder. he teases you, dragging his cock through your dripping pussy, coating himself in your juices, each slap sending jolts through your core. you moan, hips twitching, desperate for more, your body buzzing with need.

finally, he lines himself up and thrusts in, hard, his cock splitting you open, stretching your tight cunt to its limit. “ohhhh yeah…” he groans, the sensation of your walls gripping him tight pulling the sound from his throat. you nearly scream, the feeling of being so full, so stretched, overwhelming, your pussy clenching around his massive length as he fills you completely. the intensity is amplified, every nerve alight, making you bolder, louder, your voice unchecked.

he sets a relentless pace immediately, fucking you rough in the backseat, your legs pinned on his shoulders, his hips slamming into you with brutal force. the car rocks with each thrust, his cock pounding into your dripping cunt, the wet, filthy sounds mixing with your moans.

“fuck, yes, yes!” you cry, your voice raw, unhinged, as you claw at his back, your tits bouncing with each hard thrust. “so good, don’t stop!” your words spill out, desperate and loud, your body trembling as he fucks you deeper, the sensation of his cock hitting every sensitive spot driving you wild, the heightened intensity making every thrust feel like it’s unraveling you completely.

with your legs still hoisted on luigi’s shoulders, his hand slides up, wrapping around your throat, fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. he loves choking you, always has, a regular ritual in bed, the way it makes your eyes flutter, your body surrender completely to him. and he loves how much you love it.

your eyes roll back, pleasure spiking as his grip tightens, the pressure blending with the relentless pounding of his cock, your cunt clenching around him. the heightened intensity makes every sensation sharper, bolder, your voice unfiltered, your moans spilling out without restraint.

“yeah, learned your lesson now?” he growls, his voice low and commanding, hips never slowing as he drives into you.

you moan, loud and wanton, your head swimming, the world a blur of heat and need. “no,” you gasp, the word defiant, your voice trembling with pleasure as he fucks you faster, his cock slamming deeper, hitting every sensitive spot.

“no?” he snaps, eyes flashing. “flip over.”

you giggle, very drunk, the sound high and reckless, your boldness surging. “no,” you tease, smirking, your body buzzing with fearless energy.

his hand leaves your throat, and he slaps your tits hard, the sting making them bounce under your bra, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through you. “flip over,” he growls, voice dark and insistent.

you moan, the pain mixing with desire, but you comply. he pulls out, his cock slick and throbbing, and you slide your legs off his shoulders, flipping over in the cramped backseat. face down, ass up, your dress still bunched, your pussy exposed and dripping. he doesn’t wait, plunging back in immediately, his cock splitting you open again, fucking you from behind with ferocious intensity. the new angle drives him deeper, his hips slamming against your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the car.

you whine loud, the sound raw and desperate, mixing with his own noises, a primal chorus filling the space. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, your voice bold and unrestrained, the heightened state making you louder, fearless, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. “harder!” you gasp, your cunt clenching around him as he hits that perfect spot, your body trembling.

luigi’s hand crashes down on your ass, the sharp smack echoing in the backseat, branding your skin with a fiery red mark that pulses with heat. the sting rips through you, blending with the relentless pounding of his cock deep in your drenched pussy, your body clenching him tight.

every sensation is magnified, his thrusts, the burn of his hand, the pleasure all blazing brighter, pushing you to moan louder, your voice raw and unrestrained, spilling out with wild abandon. “don’t ever roofie me again, got it?” he growls, his voice low and filthy, dripping with dominance as he slams into you, his fingers curling inside your soaked cunt alongside his cock, stretching you to the limit.

you moan, desperate and trembling, your body shaking, ass stinging, pussy throbbing as he drives deeper. the sound is fractured, your mind consumed by the overwhelming intensity, too lost to form words, the heat of his handprint fueling your craving.

his hand strikes your ass again, harder, the pain sharp and electric, the red mark darkening as he keeps fucking you, hips crashing against you, the wet slap of skin deafening in the car. “got. it.?” he demands, voice slicing through, his cock plunging so deep your vision blurs.

“i won’t!” you wail, the word ripped from you, quivering as pleasure and pain collide, your body rocking with his merciless rhythm, your tits bouncing, your pussy gushing around him.

“good,” he moans, low and guttural, his pleasure weaving with yours in the cramped space. his hand seizes your hair, yanking it back hard, forcing your head up as he fucks you even harder, if that’s even possible. his cock rams into you with brutal force, each thrust deeper, faster, splitting you open, your juices coating him, dripping down your thighs. your moans pour out, wild and unfiltered.

“yes, yes!” your voice bold, unrestrained, every thrust sending shockwaves through your core, his fingers still pumping inside you, his grip on your hair tight and possessive. the car trembles with the ferocity, your ass burning, your pussy pulsing, every sensation pushed to a fevered edge as he drives you both toward oblivion.

“fuck, your pussy grips me so good,” he groans, voice thick with hunger, hips slamming forward, filling you to the hilt.

you’re trembling, body shaking under him, the overwhelming sensation pushing you to the brink. a desperate moan spills from your lips. “i’m gonna cum!” you gasp, voice cracking as your aching cunt tightens around him, the pleasure so vivid it’s dizzying, amplified by the night’s fog that makes every pulse burn hotter.

luigi’s grip on your hair tightens, his other hand digging into your hip. “i’m gonna cum too,” he grits out, thrusts turning wild, fueled by the way you clench around him, pulling him deeper with every move. the way you’re so open, so raw from the night, makes it hit harder, makes him feel like he’s staking his claim all over again.

“please!” you whimper, voice raw and pleading, pushing back against him. “please, creampie me, fill me up, i need it!” your words are a frantic beg, your body craving it as much as your voice, every inch of you trembling with the need to feel him release inside you.

he smirks, dark and possessive, tugging your hair to arch your back further. “yeah? gonna fill you with all my cum,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding, the promise sending a jolt through you. his hand slides to your ass, delivering one last sharp smack that makes you gasp, the sting melting into the pleasure, shoving you right to the edge.

your both shatter together. your orgasm tears through you, body convulsing as you cum hard, your juices soaking his cock, pulsing around him in waves that leave you breathless. luigi groans, low and guttural, his thrusts stuttering as he unloads inside you.

his cum spills hot and thick, flooding your core, each pulse of his release painting your insides, claiming you in the most primal way. it’s messy, overwhelming, the warmth of it spreading through you as he holds you in place, still gripping your hair, making sure you feel every last drop. the intensity of it, heightened by the night’s haze, leaves you both panting, bodies locked together in the afterglow.

you ease up in the backseat, catching your breath, the warm, heavy sensation of luigi’s cum still inside you, a lingering reminder of the intensity you just shared. your body hums, senses sharper from the night, as you sit up, legs unsteady. luigi reaches for you, his touch soft now, guiding you onto his lap. his arms encircle you, warm and firm, pulling you close against his chest.

he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there, his breathing calming. “i’m sorry for yelling at you,” he murmurs, voice quiet and earnest, a shift from his earlier anger. “you know i love you, right?” his words carry a raw sincerity as he holds you tighter, lips brushing your skin again, anchoring you both in the quiet afterglow.

i haven’t proofread this but you know what? it ain��t that serious! hope you all like hehehe

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @honeyblossombaby @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @luigis-nostrils @hiscalliope @luiluvr @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @freeluigihesbae @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @mangionebabymama @multi-culti-girl @briarloves @luigis-stellina @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @mrs-cactus69 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi (comment if you would like to be added!)

masterlist | previous work

[zyart-jpg]

HERE, DAMN

A/N: I hope this finally gives you peace, Hyuk enjoyer in my asks. THIS WAS NOT MADE WITH LOVE >:( now leave me and my walls alone (jk, i made this with little love and a can of coffee after my work)

Pairings: Kwon Hyuk x Reader

Summary: Him and his love for bananas does not have a limit :)) So he fucks you with it.

Tags: SMUT, MDNI!!

He’s a dumbass.

“H-Hyuk—”

A fucking dumbass.

“...Does it hurt?”

You sucked in a breath, hips twitching when he angled the toy just right—wrong? Who the hell knows anymore.

Your leg jerked, instinct trying to close them, but he held you open with one arm hooked under your knees, the other fucking that ridiculous banana-shaped dildo into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s—ngh—it’s poking something,” you whined, voice catching, head lolling back against his shoulder. “Ugh, why the hell are you even—aahng—using that?”

He snorted behind you, breath hot against your neck. “Bought it on sale,” he said like that explained anything, pulling you tighter against his chest as the toy slipped deeper.

You squirmed in his grip, breath hitching when it hit just the right spot again.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

And then he had the nerve to laugh. A low, breathy chuckle that rumbled through your back. “You’re whining like it’s killing you,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. “But you’re dripping, baby.”

You shivered.

“Deep enough?” he added, voice rough with amusement, smug as hell.

God—he’s such a dumbass.

You barely managed a nod, words falling apart into breathless moans as he picked up the pace. 

That ridiculous toy shouldn't feel this good—but fuck, it did. Each thrust made your hips stutter, the coil in your gut winding tighter and tighter until your back arched and your mouth dropped open on a gasped whimper.

Hyuk couldn’t look away.

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching the obscene way you gripped around the curved plastic with every thrust, soaking it—taking it. His hand never faltered, pace steady, fucking it into you slow just to see how you reacted.

“Hyuk—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He heard it. Felt it. The way your body tensed and clenched, the way your nails dragged down his forearm like you were trying to ground yourself. Your breath hitched, hips squirming in his hold—and all he could do was stare.

His cock throbbed under his sweatpants, unbearably hard now, straining against the fabric as if it physically couldn’t take watching you fall apart from a toy that didn’t even vibrate. Just curved plastic. A stupid banana. And yet here you were, moaning for it, melting from it—right in his lap.

“Shit…” he muttered, jaw tight, resisting the insane urge to grind into you. You were so close. Right there.

And suddenly, he hated it.

So, without a word—he yanked the toy out of you.

Your orgasm choked mid-way into nothing

“What the fuck—” you started, breathless and dazed.

“I didn’t like that,” Hyuk muttered, voice low and clipped, jaw tight against your shoulder. His grip on your thigh tightened like he was anchoring himself.

You let out a broken cry at the sudden emptiness, blinking up at him in dazed disbelief.

“Seriously?” you panted, chest rising and falling.

Eyes darkening, “You were about to cum from that stupid thing?” he scoffed, voice low and sharp with something hot and territorial.

You blinked. “It was your idea—”

“Yeah, and now I fucking hate it,” he muttered, yanking his sweatpants down just enough to free himself, already hard and leaking. “You don’t get to fall apart on a goddamn plastic banana.”

You didn’t even get the chance to protest.

One second you were moaning from that damn toy, thighs trembling and breath caught in your throat—and the next, Hyuk had tossed it aside like it offended him personally.

You barely had time to whimper before he shifted beneath you, dragging you further into his lap. 

His sweatpants shoved just low enough, your legs hooked over his thighs as he held you open—his arms looping under your knees, locking you in place with your back flush to his chest.

“Hyuk—wait—”

But he wasn’t waiting.

He was thrusting, hard and deep from behind, his cock sliding in like he’d been waiting all damn night for an excuse. The stretch had you gasping, nails digging into his forearm again as he drove up into you from below.

“Not letting you cum on a fucking banana,” he muttered against your neck, each word punched out between ragged breaths and hungry thrusts. “You wanna fall apart, you do it on me.”

And you did—shaking, gasping, body wracked with a second orgasm that hit fast and hard, made worse by how tight his grip was, how deep he was hitting, how he groaned your name right against your ear like he couldn't take it either.

When he finally stilled, spilling into you with a harsh curse and a full-body shudder, all you could do was slump back against him—sweaty, ruined, and vaguely pissed.

Your brain was mush, body sticky and spent—and for a blissful moment, there was silence. Just his heartbeat, your breathing, and the faint sound of that damn toy hitting the floor with a pathetic little thud.

You could feel him, twitching inside. Could feel something warm filling you up until it dripped onto the sheets below.

Your eyes snapped open.

“S-Shit—Hyuk.”

Your voice was hoarse, wrecked, but steady enough to make him glance down at you. You turned your head slowly, blinking up at him like you were trying to process something unspeakable.

“Did you just… fuck me raw?”

He stilled behind you. You could feel the exact second his brain short-circuited.

“…Technically, yeah,” he said after a beat, like he was still letting his dick relax down there. “But to be fair, I didn’t plan to—the banana made me jealous.”

You sat up, sluggish and sore, swatting at his chest with the strength of a sleepy kitten. “You got jealous of a cheap novelty dildo, and thought the answer was to rawdog me?”

He caught your wrist mid-swat, brought it to his lips, and kissed the inside of it with the gentlest affection—like he hadn’t just completely wrecked you five minutes ago.

“It’s not just any dildo,” he mumbled, trying to look innocent. “It’s ergonomic.”

You stared at him.

Deadpan. Done.

“I’m literally sitting here. With your cum. Inside me. And you’re out here saying ergonomic, Hyuk.”

He grinned, so pleased with himself you almost hit him again. “Hey, I’m just saying—you came harder on me than you ever would’ve on Mr. Banana. Man’s got nothing on me.”

“Oh my god—”

You swung again. He ducked, barely, and flopped onto his back like a smug little shit, one arm slinging lazily across your waist as he pulled you with him.

“I’ll buy you emergency pills. And food. Balanced relationship, yeah?”

You groaned, collapsing next to him in defeat, muscles too boneless to argue properly. 

“I hate you.”

He nuzzled your temple with a little hum. “You moaned like you loved me.”

“…Fuck you.”

“Already did,” he replied without missing a beat, eyes half-lidded and proud in the dumbest way possible.

You grabbed the pillow and shoved your face into it.

Worst. Dumbass. Ever.

And somehow… annoyingly yours.

MASTERLIST

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Note: Angry typing all my emotions away cos of last game and a bonus part at the end because paige seems fine. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: A Thin Line Between Dreams and Nightmares

Your breath catches in your throat, and your chest tightens. The weight of her gaze presses down on you like a storm you can't escape. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of anger and pain, bore into yours as though she's searching for an answer—or perhaps confirmation of something terrible.

Your mind races. Did you wrong her? Did you hurt her in some way? The silence between you is deafening, an unspoken accusation hanging heavily in the air. You want to speak, to break the tension, but no words come. All you can do is stand there, frozen, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

What do you do? What can you do?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks, her voice laced with venom.

You stand there, just staring at her, unsure of what to say or do. The woman in front of you is a stranger.

"Oh, you're not talking again? You're making me look stupid, that's what you always do!" she spits at you, her words sharp as daggers.

"I—I'm sorry, I don't—" You start, but you’re cut off by the sudden ringing of your phone. You check it, and it's your dad calling.

"I'm sorry, but I have to take this call," you say quickly, turning away from her as you start to walk off, the anger in her eyes burning into your back. You make your way home, your dad's calls urgent in your mind, leaving the woman standing there, seething with rage.

At home, hours passed, but you barely noticed. Your movements had become mechanical, like you were a puppet on strings—each action automatic, without thought or feeling. Your mind, however, remained anything but still. It was consumed by her. The woman. The stranger. The one who had been haunting your thoughts since the moment your eyes met hers. Each time you tried to focus, her face would flash before your eyes, clouding everything else. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to understand her—why she seemed to know you, how she could have been a part of your past.

Yet, the more you thought about it, the more confused you became. Could she have been a friend once? Maybe. But everything felt like a fractured puzzle, and you were struggling to make sense of the pieces. All you knew was that deep down, you needed someone to talk to. Someone who might understand what you were going through. Someone who might hold the key to all your missing memories. But how could you even begin to open that door when her very presence felt like a threat? She could tear through your thoughts like a storm, leaving nothing but destruction in her wake.

Your thoughts circled in endless repetition, until everything felt numb. The passing hours became nothing more than a blur of exhaustion and silence, a hollow echo of the storm inside your head.

And then, somehow, it was night.

The world outside had grown quiet, and you had drifted off, too tired to resist. But when you awoke, the room was darker than it should have been, and you could feel the shift in the air—a strange heaviness pressing down on you.

Why was there a woman sitting at the edge of your bed? Her back was turned to you, her attention fixed on something in her hands—your paper planes. She was gently tossing them into the air, her fingers delicate and precise. The scene was almost surreal, as if your mind had conjured her from the depths of your dreams.

Your vision blurred, the edges of the world softening as sleep still clung to you. But there was no mistaking her—blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face that felt so familiar, yet so far away. You cleared your throat, unsure whether this was real or another twisted illusion, and she turned toward you.

It was her. The woman from earlier that day, the one you couldn’t forget. But this time, her expression was different—there was joy in her eyes, life in her smile, and for a moment, everything else faded away. You tried to sit up, eager to reach out to her, to hold on to whatever connection she might offer. But as you moved, your bed suddenly caved beneath you, and you felt yourself falling, spiraling into a darkness that had no end.

When you opened your eyes again, you were standing on the abandoned basketball court. The same girl was there, shooting free throws. The ball came flying toward you, and she smiled—a smile so full of passion and happiness, it made your heart ache. She walked toward you, but something was pulling you away. It felt as if invisible hands were dragging you back, away from her, and you watched helplessly as she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

It hurt. It hurt so much. You felt like your ribs were cracking, like your insides were being torn open, and someone was ripping your heart from your chest.

"Hey, hey, sweetie, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re just dreaming, you’re okay."

Dad?

It was all a dream?

You were crying in your sleep. You didn’t even realize how loud you were sobbing until your dad’s voice cut through the haze, waking you up.

"What is it, honey? You can tell me," your dad said, his voice filled with concern.

“It’s her, Dad. She’s haunting me…” You choked back a sob, the weight of it all almost too much to bear. You were so affected by her, and you didn’t even know her name.

"Who, honey? The one who plays basketball? Paige? You remember her?" Your dad's brow furrowed, a look of worry crossing his face. He didn’t seem to mind the slip of the name.

Paige.

The name hit you like a physical blow.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your chest tightened. Paige. The name felt like a shard of glass lodged deep in your heart. It was her—Paige. The girl from your past, the one you couldn’t forget, even if you tried. The one who, no matter how hard you fought to move on, still haunted you in ways you couldn't explain.

The tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Saying her name out loud made everything feel so much more real—the distance, the years, the loss.

Paige—how could you forget her?

You didn’t answer, though, because the thought of speaking her name again was too much. It felt like the air itself was pressing in on you, suffocating you. If you spoke it, you feared the memories would overwhelm you, dragging you back to a time when things were simpler, but so much more painful. The years of silence, of distance, of not knowing how she was...

“Maybe... maybe you won’t see her again,” you thought, trying to convince yourself. It had been so long since you left Minnesota. Your dad was right—she probably had the perfect life by now. The kind of life that didn’t involve someone like you. You had been given a second chance, a new life, and you had to make it right. You owed that to your mother.

“She’ll just learn to forget me,” you whispered to yourself, the thought searing through you like a brand. But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was a lie.

Paige's POV

I was on a break from school, so I went home to spend time with my brother, Drew. He's getting taller, probably from all the ice cream at the shop down the street from the old basketball court. I usually order from DoorDash now, but something about that place felt so… familiar.

I didn’t expect to notice anything odd, but the first time we passed the court, I saw her. A girl, sitting on the bench, just watching the empty court. I thought it was strange, but I didn't think much of it at first. Why would anyone just sit there? I wondered. Why not play?

The second time I saw her, I started to get concerned. Was she sad? I thought. Does she just come here and sit alone because no one will play with her?

I couldn’t explain it, but I couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something about her, something I couldn’t shake. And by the fourth time I passed by, I saw her clearly. She was sitting sideways, and I finally saw her face.

Five years since you left, and now you just casually pop up here?

It made no sense. It couldn’t be her. But deep down, I knew. I knew it was.

I had so many questions for her, but my pain got the best of me. It was strange, though—she didn’t back down from any confrontation before, but now, she just looked shaken, confused. And before I could say anything more, her phone rang, and she left me there with nothing but two empty "I’m sorry"s.

Back home, I couldn’t sit still. I replayed the moments over and over in my head. I wasn’t exactly affected by her sudden appearance, I just needed answers. I needed to understand everything she’d done to me—and then move on with my life. Things had changed. I wasn’t the same Paige anymore.

But then, why am I here? Why am I standing at this godforsaken basketball court again? And why isn’t she here?

Taglist: @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj @0phantom0 @glamourdaya

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.���

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

[fallenbratfiction]

death by uterus, saved by Sam ~ sam wilson x f!reader

This fic is part of the In sickness and in health series! Where a lot of different favorite characters take turns to take care of you. 🧻🌡️🩹

masterlist faq

A/N: got my period at uni today, had zero idea about it until I got home, so this is a treat for myself, self-care queen. I need Sam here with me rn

mentions: period!, reader has her period, blood stain, hurt/comfort, fluff, sam being such a sweet boyfriend to you. If I missed any mentions, let me know

minors dni. i am not responsible for what you choose to read.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

You’d felt off all day. Not just tired—wrong. Like your bones were too heavy, your skin too tight, your brain a foggy mush of forgotten tasks and missed emails. By the time you get home, it hits you like a truck.

Your whole body slumps against the door the second it clicks shut behind you. You make it to the couch like a zombie—barely. Your jacket half on, shoes still on, face pale like you’ve seen a ghost. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you try to unzip your bag and miss the handle completely.

That’s when the cramp hits. Low. Deep. Insulting. And then—the horror. A slow, sickening realization creeps in.

You stagger to the bathroom and unzip your jeans to find a dark patch that wasn't there this morning.

“Oh no. No no no no no—” You frowned at it and quickly took off your jeans and set them on the faucet, trying to remove it. "Shit! Fuck!"

You got your period. You didn’t track it. You leaked. You're unprepared. You freeze. Heart racing. Vision is already blurring—not from pain, but pure, exhausted embarrassment. You’ve been feeling off all day. Heavy. Wrong. And now here it is. The reason. A betrayal from your own body.

Tears spill before you can stop them. Hot and fast and humiliated. You slump onto the closed toilet lid, bury your face in your hands, and sob.

Not a cute cry.

An end-of-the-rope cry. The kind where you don’t know if you’re crying because it hurts or because you’re just so fucking tired.

You don’t remember texting Sam. You’re not even sure you did.

But thirty minutes later, there’s a knock at your door. A soft, familiar one.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re still in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, your face blotchy and your heart pounding in your ears.

The door opens anyway. He has a key. Of course he does.

“Hey…” That Sam Wilson™ voice. Warm. Deep. Grounding.

You hear the rustle of bags being set down, then footsteps, then—

He finds you.

His eyes sweep over you, instantly clocking the mess. The towel. The jeans. Your blotchy, devastated expression.

But he doesn’t ask.

He just drops to his knees in front of you, arms open, expression heartbreakingly gentle.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

You melt. Fall forward into his chest like gravity’s pulling you into him. He catches you without hesitation, pulling you into his lap, hands rubbing slow circles into your back as you sob all over again.

“I ruined my jeans,” you whisper eventually. “Like fully ruined. I didn’t even know it started. I’ve been walking around like this all day, and now I just—I feel disgusting.”

His hand cradles the back of your head. “You are not disgusting. You’re human. You’re in pain. And you’re allowed to fall apart sometimes. That’s what I’m here for.”

He gently wipes the corner of your eye with the sleeve of his hoodie—his hoodie, now oversized and swallowing you whole. Your voice is weak, muffled by the crook of his neck as you whisper.

“I ruined them.”

He kisses your temple again, arms tightening around your shoulders like he’s trying to wring the self-hate out of you.

“We’ll get new jeans, alright?”

You groan dramatically, head falling back against his chest.

“God, I can’t even bear the thought of having to buy jeans.”

He chuckles under his breath—just the softest huff—resting his chin on your hair.

“We don’t have to do it tomorrow. Or next week. But I will get you the same pair when you’re feeling better.” He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Might even get you two. One for bleeding to death. One for being hot.”

You snort. That gets a real laugh out of him.

You sniff, breathing in his scent—clean laundry and comfort food.

“You brought food?”

“Of course I did,” he says, lips brushing your temple. “I know the drill. Heating pad’s in the microwave. I even remembered the raspberry tea this time.”

You look at him then. Eyes still wet. Heart still raw. “How are you so good at this?”

He grins.

“Babe, if loving a woman on her period is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

Even through the pain.

And maybe the cramps are still terrible, and your jeans are a lost cause, and you feel like a soggy ghost—but you’re in his arms. And it’s warm here. Safe.

That makes it bearable.

By the time the heating pad’s made its third lap through the microwave, you’re settled on the couch with a blanket pulled up to your nose and Sam sitting behind you, propped against the cushions like a human furnace.

You curl into a fetal position across him, head in his lap, legs tucked up against your chest. His hand strokes your hair lazily, every now and then brushing the pad of his thumb along your cheek, checking the temperature. It’s all instinct at this point.

“You comfortable?” he murmurs, lowering the volume on the TV.

You hum in a noncommittal way. Your cramps are still hellish, your body still heavy—but god, it feels easier now.

He feeds you french fries without making you move. Brings the tea straw to your lips when your arm refuses to cooperate. At one point, you knock your forehead against his thigh and whisper:

“You should leave before this gets worse. I’m gonna start crying over 'Coco' or something"

Sam laughs low and fondly, tracing the shell of your ear with his finger.

“Baby, if you cry over ‘Coco’ I’ll cry with you.” He pauses. “But if you cry over 'Cars 2,’ we’re having a talk.”

You slap his leg. He catches your hand. Kisses your knuckles. And the rest of the day? You just exist like that.

Curled up in the safest place on Earth, eating junk food, drifting in and out of sleep during a movie marathon, neither of you really pay attention to.

“I like taking care of you,” he says quietly, like it slipped out. You bite your lip but don’t answer. Your hand finds his on your stomach and squeezes.

And for the first time in 24 hours, your body might still feel like hell—but your heart?

Your heart feels held.

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this. I really needed a piece like this and if you're in the same situation I hope this has helped! Feedback is always welcomed!

Shares, Reblogs, Likes & Comments help stories grow! Thankful for every single one of them. ✨🩷

[supercap2319]

Peter Parker sat on a rooftop overlooking the city, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he adjusted the straps of his suit. He’d just finished a late patrol, and his mind was still buzzing. Something had felt different lately—something he couldn’t quite place. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from

MJ: “Good night, love. Miss you. :)”

Peter's heart clenched with guilt. Last night, instead of being alone with Michelle, he had been with Dominik Maximoff, brother of Wanda and Pietro, in a night of passion and lust in the shower. Peter bit his lips as he headed towards Avengers' Tower to set the record straight with Dominik. 'I can’t be with him. I won’t. I love MJ.' Peter told himself. Peter swung to Avengers tower towards Dominik's window.

Spiderman landed silently on the windowsill of Dominik's room, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and knocked softly on the glass. The room was dark, but he could hear movement from inside. After a moment, the curtains parted, and Dominik's face appeared, sleepy but alert. "Peter? What's wrong?"

Peter's expression was serious, his eyes searching Dominik's. "Can I come in?" He asked, climbing through the window without waiting for a response. He stood in the middle of the room, his body tense. "Dominik, we need to talk."

"About what?" Dominik asked, sitting on the bed.

Peter ran his fingers through his hair nervously, unable to meet Dominik's gaze directly. "About last night," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened between us... it can't happen again." He took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists."The kissing, the... everything." Peter said firmly, his voice gaining strength. "Dominik, I need you to look at me." He waited until Dominik met his gaze before continuing, "I'm in a relationship with MJ. And no matter what happens between us, I don't..."

"You don't feel the same way." Dominik finished for Peter.

"No, I don't..." Peter said softly, his eyes dropping to the floor again. "I care about you so much. But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you or to MJ." He took another step forward, pleading with his eyes. For the first time since they'd known each other, Peter couldn't look at Dominik. He felt the weight of his words - words he never wanted to say. "I love MJ."

"Then you need to do what's right. Because I would do the same thing if I could." Dominik said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter asked, his voice rising. He was starting to get frustrated. He needed Dominik to understand, to get angry, to yell at him. Anything but this calm acceptance. "You're just going to let me walk all over you?"

"What do you want me to do, Peter? Use my powers and make you love me?" Dominik raised a glowing red finger for emphasis.

"I would rather you punch me in the face than look at me like that." Peter snapped, his anger finally boiling over. "You're making this too easy! You're supposed to be fighting me, yelling at me, not sitting there like a... like a..."

"A bitch? A doormat?"

"Yes!" Peter said. "I want you to fight me, Dominik. Tell me how much this fucking hurts." His voice cracked. "Tell me I'm an asshole."

"You are an asshole. And I hope MJ dumps your ass." Dominik said. "You can go now." Dominik waved a hand, and suddenly Peter was back in his room in his apartment. His knees buckle, and he collapses onto his bed, feeling completely drained and empty. Peter whole body shakes with sobs, his heart physically hurting. He buries his face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I fucked up."

A few weeks went by, and Peter tried to get back to have things used to be before he slept with Dominik. But everything felt... hollow. He went through the motions of being Spiderman and spent time with Ned and MJ, but his heart wasn't in it. He missed Dominik. Not just the physical aspects, but their conversations, their connection. Peter saw him sometimes. Dominik. He watched him from afar. Being a part of the Avengers. Practicing magic with Doctor Strange. Cosmic arm wrestling with Captain Marvel.

Every time Peter saw Dominik, his heart would ache. He'd watch him laugh with the others, his eyes sparkling, and Peter would feel a pang of jealousy. He missed being the one to make Dominik laugh, to see that spark in his eye. He missed him so much it physically hurt. One night, Peter was battling against Venom, but his head wasn't in the game, and Venom got the drop on him.

Venom's symbiote tendrils wrap around Peter, dragging him to the ground. He struggles, but his mind is clouded with thoughts of Dominik - his strength, his speed, how he'd never let himself get caught off guard like this. "You're weak, Spiderman." Venom said. Peter gasped as Venom had him spread out eagle style.

His heart races as Venom pins him down. "You're weak, Parker." Venom hisses. "Just like you were weak with that magical pretty boy. Couldn't keep him, could you?" Peter closes his eyes, memories of Dominik flashing through his mind. Suddenly, a blast of red magic hit Venom into a nearby wall on the building. Dominik was floating a few feet in the air, glowing with cosmic energy and chaos magic. "Get away from him."

Peter blinks in shock as Dominik appears, his eyes blazing with power and anger. He looks stunning and terrifying, and Peter's heart skips a beat. "Dominik."

"Spiderman." Dominik said, voice cold and unfeeling. "Want more, Venom?" Venom snarls, but it quickly submits, slinking back into the shadows. Peter watches in awe as Dominik hovers there, still glowing with magic. He looks incredible. "How did you know I was in trouble?" Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I could sense you. Wanda and I have been practicing with Strange. and he taught me how to sense people."

Peter looks down, unable to meet Dominik's gaze. "I miss you," he admits quietly, then adds with a shy smile, "You look... intimidating. And amazing."

"Thanks, but I should be going." Dominik said.

"Wait!" Peter calls out, sitting up. "Where are you going? Back to the Avengers tower?" He gets in front of Dominik.

"Of course I am." Dominik said.

"Can we..." his voice cracking slightly. "Can we talk? Please? Not as heroes... just... as us." Peter removed his mask, running a hand through his hair nervously, hating how vulnerable he feels right now. "I swear, I've missed you every single day." Dominik scoffed. "I don't think so, Peter. You made your choice. Now you have to accept the consequences."

"Which is what? You ignoring me forever? Pretending like I never existed?" Peter's voice raises a little, frustration and hurt mixing together. "You're really going to act like a child and hold a grudge?"

"You started this, Peter. You should have never slept with me that night, knowing you were with MJ. Now, wallow in misery. I don't give a fuck." Peter watched Dominik fly off like a rocket into the night sky of New York.

[ujuinluv]

the wreckage of missing you (riwoo) - nav

synopsis — you love him so much, it hurts.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ tw: angst with a happy ending

you don’t mean to cry when you see him.

he’s standing in your doorway, smiling like nothing is wrong, like he doesn’t know you’ve been thinking about this conversation for days now, holding it in until it feels like it’s clawing out of your chest.

“sweetheart,” he says, stepping inside. “i missed you so much.”

you let him hug you, let him bury his face in your neck, breathing you in like he’s been starved for you.

and maybe that’s what breaks you—the way he acts like everything's okay when you've been drowning alone.

“sanghyeok,” you whisper, voice shaking. “we need to talk.”

he freezes immediately, pulling back just enough to see your face. the smile drops from his lips in an instant.

“what’s wrong?” he says, already sounding scared.

you step back, putting space between you because you know if he touches you again, you’ll lose your nerve. you swallow hard, hands trembling.

“i think…” you begin, forcing the words out through the tightness in your throat, “i think we should break up.”

silence.

like the whole world just stopped moving.

he blinks at you, stunned. “what?”

you bite your lip, trying to stay strong. “you’re so busy, sanghyeok. and that’s okay, it really is. you’re chasing your dream. but i miss you so much it hurts. and i hate feeling like i’m just… waiting around for you.”

his mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“i don’t want to be clingy,” you say, voice cracking. “i don’t want to make you feel guilty for working hard. i love you too much for that. so it’s better if i just–"

“no,” he says suddenly, fiercely, cutting you off. “no. no, no, no.”

you flinch at the desperation in his voice.

he crosses the space between you in two steps, grabbing your hands like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear.

“please,” he whispers, voice breaking. “y/n, please don’t leave me.”

you can see the tears pooling in his eyes, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

“sanghyeok–"

“i’m sorry,” he says, choking on the words. “i’m sorry i made you feel like you’re second place. you’re not. you’re never second. you’re everything to me.”

tears stream down his cheeks, and your heart shatters.

“i missed you too,” he says, voice raw and shaking. “i missed you so much it made me sick. every night, every morning, every time i got five minutes to breathe, i thought about you. i just… i thought i had to pretend it didn’t hurt, because i didn’t want to seem like i couldn’t handle it.”

he lets out a broken laugh, wiping at his face uselessly. “turns out i can’t handle it at all.”

you stare at him, at the boy you love more than anything, standing in your living room crying for you, begging you to stay.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers. “i'm so sorry, y/n. i– i fucked up, but please. please don't leave me.”

he drops to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed against your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

“i’ll do anything. anything you need. just… just stay," he begs again, voice muffled.

you sink to your knees too, cupping his face in your hands, wiping at the tears streaming down his face.

“sanghyeok,” you say, voice cracking, “i love you.”

he sobs, eyes squeezing shut.

“i love you, too,” he gasps. “i love you so much that i don't know who i am without you.”

you kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his trembling lips, feeling your own tears fall freely now.

“i don’t want to break up,” you whisper against his skin. “i just… i didn’t know how to keep hurting like this.”

“let me fix it. please. i’ll be better. i’ll show you you’re my priority. i swear. just give me another chance," he says, desperate

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes—red, puffy, but shining with so much love it makes you ache.

“okay,” you whisper.

he lets out a broken sob of relief, pulling you into his chest so tightly you can barely breathe, but you don’t mind. you cling to him just as hard, burying your face in his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat pounding wild under your palm.

“thank you,” he keeps whispering. “thank you, thank you.”

you stay like that for a long time, tangled up in each other on the floor, until the tears dry and the silence turns soft instead of heavy.

later, when you’re curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, he pulls you even closer.

“i’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. “for every night you felt alone.”

you shake your head. “i’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

he kisses the side of your head. “we’re learning. together."

you close your eyes, breathing him in, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the way his hand never stops moving across your back like he’s reassuring himself you’re still there.

“we’ll make this work,” he promises. “no matter what. you’re my everything.”

[billskeis]

ᡣ𐭩 beach days w the kaulitz twins

the water felt amazing to touch as you dipped your feet in. it’s been a while since you’ve actually been to the beach and had made plans to go with the kaulitz twins.

luckily, the plans made it out the groupchat and with your busy schedule as a solo artist and theirs as tokio hotel, everyone was able to follow through.

swimming by yourself, you moan in satisfaction to how the water cooled you down from the heat of the summer.

“bill! tom! hurry up!” you exclaimed to the twins as they begin to usher themselves towards the shore.

“fuck! it’s cold,” bill complained.

“man up bill, don’t be such a puss,”

“oh shut up tom!”

tom laughed but immediately gasped as the black haired twin splashes water, getting tom somewhat soaked.

“my..my hair..!”

“that’s what you get!!”

“you little shit.. wait, y/n?”

…

“oh shit y/n! i’m so sorry,” bill made his way towards you in the water, a little slow as the water provided a little resistance.

“y/n—FUCK..!”

“TOM—!”

“GERONIMOOOO!!¡!”

both you and bill screamed while bill fell into the water as tom leaped on top of him, the impact of the water and the weight of the two twin’s bodies held you underwater for seconds longer than they were.

tom was the first to raise his head from under the water, seeming to no longer care about his locs being wet.

giggling, he witnessed as his baby brother came up second gasping for air.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“hey! you started it first,”

“you fu—y’know what—nevermind.. where’s y/n?”

“dunno, weird.. she was just here,”

the twins called for you, voices muffled due to the body of water.

you hid underwater. in a panic. you have no fucking idea as what to do. the twins cannot see you like this.

imagine your childhood friends seeing you in this state. god, how fucking embarrassing.

your bikini top came off, and is nowhere near to be found in the water. it must’ve come undone when tom jumped on the two of you, that little shit.

you cannot hold your breath for any longer, fuck, what do you do?? it’s getting harder and harder to stay underwater. you panic, bubbles escaping as you then begin to gasp in the water.

fuck it.

you choke, but your head rises above from the water and the twins flinch at the splash of water and the uncalled for jumpscare.

“y/n!! are you okay??” bill exclaimed as he ushers himself closer to you in a worry, tom quietly following behind as he also worried.

“d-don’t come any closer,” you squeak as the twins stop in their tracks, “are you hurt?? why were you under the water for so long—oh..”

tom scrunches his face in confusion as he sees the surprised expression on bill’s face. your face heats a bright red as you realize that bill notices whats wrong, clutching your bare chest between your arms even closer.

“what?? what is it??” tom asks, “you’re not hurt right y/n?” you nod your head, slowly turning around to reveal the situation that is completely tom’s fault! how could he!?

he swallows a hard lump in his throat, swimming trunks becoming a bit tight. he questions whether it’s the heat from the sun or the fact that you’re presented topless in front of him.

bill cannot also help but feel a little bashful, as your back is turned to him he holds a hand to his mouth in shock, also hiding how red his face is.

“i—i think it’s time for me to go..”

“wait y/n! stay, the water is still so nice,”

why was he so insistent?

“how can i tom!? i lost my bikini top and it’s nowhere to be found..”

tom clutches the piece of fabric behind his back, he attempts to shove the garment down the trunks of his shorts without you noticing.

bill smirked as he places a hand on your shoulder, you turning to him to look up at how he smiles ear to ear.

“y/n.. do you wanna go back to the hotel?”

you gulp, what’s with this sudden change of atmosphere. bill’s body was way closer than expected you cannot stop but stare at the star tattoo that was peaking through his shorts.

“i, uhm..”

he’s really close, you’re getting all flustered and you don’t want him to catch on to that. he’s one of your best friends for god’s sake! get it together y/n..

as you begin to widen the gap between you and bill, your back hits a rock. there’s rocks this shallow on the shore?? you swore that the spot the three of you went to swim in was pretty open.

a hand grips your waist, you whip your head in shock to meet tom’s gaze, his lids a bit lowered as he bites his lip slightly to hold in a groan.

your backside was pressed onto his crotch, obviously hardened.

“y/n..”

“t-tom!”

in a frenzy, your attempt to escape was feeble as bill closed the once open gap between you two. completely sandwiched in between the twins, you look down to hide how completely shy and pathetic you look.

bill grabs one of your arms, you gasp in trying to hide your chest once more as he places the hand he ripped from you onto his lower groin.

“see what you do, y/n? god—we’ve been giving you so many signs but your little head just didn’t see them hm?”

“what’re you talking about??”

“cut the crap y/n,” tom chimes in from behind, “we want you. we like you. so bad. since the moment we met you,”

“…”

the twins?? like you?? no fucking way, not one but two?? unbelievable. your heart thumps an unexplainable speed as you cannot help but feel giddy and anxious given the current situation.

“i’ll ask again, schatzi, do you wanna go back to the hotel?”

bodies pressed against yours, you’re chest flush against bill’s, your hand no longer guarding the breasts you so desired to hide. with your back against tom’s chest, you feel everything.

did he get harder?

you tilt your head up to look at bill and tom, obviously grinning. they’re expectant. needy. spoiled. you’ve always given them whatever they wanted when asked for but this is just a whole other level.

with a sharp breath you inhale,

“yes.”

“f-fuck..!” you yelp as the constant touching of the twin’s on your cunt has your brain turning into mush.

as the three of you made it back to the hotel room, it started off with kissing. quick and rough, both using their mouths to work on two different areas at once.

bill suckled on the right of your nipples as tom’s tongue danced with yours. knees buckling, you’re now losing the strength to stand up.

“up we go!” tom lifts you up princess style after the two of them unlatched their mouths off you. body littered with hickeys, you’re gonna have to find out a way to cover these while also dealing with the malibu heat.

or not.

as tom lays you gently on the couch, he lays your head onto his lap as he bends down to place a kiss on your forehead, smiling.

bill taps your thigh to catch your attention, looking down at the only piece of clothing that had covered what the two of them really wanted.

“can i take them off?”

“mmhm,”

he slips your bikini bottoms off in no time, throwing them somewhere far away, heck, probably even out of the balcony window as all they wanted to see you in all of your glory 24/7.

“fuck y/n..” bill moans as you instantaneously spread your legs out in front of him, tom’s hands playing with your hair that fell onto his legs.

“i’m so glad you said yes.”

and that’s how you ended up where you are now.

moaning like a bitch in heat as you clutches the cushions of the couch with how tom moved his thumb in circles over your clit while bill had two of his digits fucking into you, purposely curving them to press on your g-spot again and again.

they bullied your cunt to their liking, and they fucking loved it.

loved the way your moans slipped out of your mouth, lips swollen from how hard you bit them to not let the noises slipped. but bill only went harder.

loved the way your tits bounced from the impact of how bill pistons his fingers in and out of your wet pussy.

loved the way your legs would convulse from attention and intricacy to how tom would rub your clit. nice and slow to ensure you felt everything, a grip on his shorts when you panicked at how an orgasm would quickly wash over the other.

“no..no more..! please!”

it was like, what, the fourth or fifth time you came?? after each and every one of them the twins would giggle and continue to wring them out of your body dry.

cooing sweet nothings to you as they promised they would ‘stop after this one’ or ‘just one more baby okay?’

“fuck schatzi.. you’re so wet.. so fucking hot, ” as tom slaps your pussy lightly, fingers hitting your clit just right.

“can’t believe we didn’t do this earlier.. you’re just so perfect y/n..” bill moans as he thrusts his hips against the couch, tom palming himself as he lolls his tongue out to play with his lip piercing.

they’re drunk off of just seeing you in such a state. they’re so happy, so happy that you let them toy with you as if they own you.

“h-hahh.. stop.. please—unnnggghh..!”

your gummy walls are nothing but sensitive, feeling everything as bill thrusts his fingers into you, a constant squelch of your pussy as he fucks you. it didn’t help that tom also wasn’t done with your clit, the hooded bud only ever sending electricity through your body.

and then it came down. either your fifth or sixth orgasm as your cunt spills with squirt, the couch now becoming soaked with your come.

“what a fucking sight.. look at this pussy..” tom kneads at the flesh of your breast with his free hand as he slows the pace of his thumb on your clit.

“mm.. good girl, y/n.. doing s’well for us..” as he leans down to lick a stripe up your torso starting from your belly button, tongue traveling as he reached below your breasts to now bring his head up.

the twins admired you and how you grind your hips into their hands to ride your orgasm out. are they finally done? they slowed down, god please let this be over you thought.

you almost fainted from the pleasure

tom props you up to his on his lap as he pecks your cheeks and shrugs your shoulders playfully as nothing ever happened.

your chest heaves to catch a breath, body soaked in sweat and your own juices. you softly smile, “you okay?” he asks, “y-yeah..”

bill hands you an opened bottle of water from the hotel fridge, you thank him and take a swig of the cooling liquid, “had fun?” he giggles.

“shut up..” you grumbled, the twins did nothing but laugh as they looked at you and then exchanged looks. bill kisses your lips after taking the water bottle into his own hands.

“you’re godsend y/n.. we enjoyed every moment of it,”

as bill sits beside tom, tom brings a blanket to cover the three of you. you nuzzle your body into the two of them, all exhausted from your indecencies.

..

“soooo about liking me..”

“we love you, y/n,” tom blurts out.

“really??”

“like, really,” bill responds.

“well shit.”

“do you not like us back??” tom asks with concern in his voice, bill pouts, a tinge of guilt in their chests as they felt like they’ve forced you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with.

“no shit! you think i was just gonna let you guys finger fuck me till’ i almost pass out if i didn’t like you??”

“oh,” they both say at the same time.

“i love youuuuu,” you say,

“love you too princess,” bill smiles like an idiot.

tom can only smother you in kisses, too shy to speak.

“hey!” bill does the same.

it is now a competition.

a/n : and there you have it, my first kaulitz twins x reader fic ! also im so sorry i havent posted in like almost a week, on top of school i went clubbing for st pattys weekend and my drunk ass fell down a flight of stairs, i fucked up my knees and fingers . pray for a speedy recovery y’all 😭😭

[gldwing]

Stay?

Warnings: no warnings, just angst and fluff. A/N: this is my first fic ever, i've taken inspo from other lovely writers on this platform. i also just felt like writing something so enjooooooooooooyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -------------------------------------------------------------------- The door clicked behind you harder than intended. Billie didn’t flinch.

She was sitting on the couch, phone face-down on the armrest, eyes blank, arms crossed like she’d been sitting in the same position for hours. The TV was still playing something no one was watching.

You didn’t bother easing into it this time.

“Are you seriously gonna keep ignoring me?”

She didn’t look up. “Not ignoring. Just done talking.”

“Cool,” you muttered. “That makes this way easier.”

Now she looked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m sick of being in a relationship with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be in one.”

Her laugh was short, humourless. “Right. Because I’m not giving you a fairy tale, I must not give a shit.”

“No. Because I ask what’s wrong and you shut down. I try to help and you treat me like the enemy. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she snapped, standing. “You’re not responsible for how I feel.”

“No,” you said. “But I’m affected by it. And you pretending like I’m not just makes this worse.”

Billie was already pacing. “You want me to bleed out in front of you every time I’m off just so you can feel better about yourself?”

“Jesus, no. I just want to not feel like a stranger in my own relationship.”

The room was still for a beat.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ask for this conversation.”

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask to feel like I’m fucking begging for scraps.”

Billie looked at you like she hated you for a second. Not really. Not truly. Just that flash of I want this to hurt less, and right now you’re the closest target.

“Maybe you should just leave,” she said.

You didn’t move.

She blinked. “Go on. Door’s right there.”

You stared at her. “That what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“You want me to leave? Then say it like you mean it.”

She looked away.

“Billie.”

Still nothing.

You exhaled, slow and shaky. “I’m not playing chicken with you. I’m not standing here hoping you’ll stop me. You either want to figure this out or you don’t. But I’m not gonna keep showing up for someone who doesn’t show up back.”

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the buzz of the fridge. Then:

“I don’t know how to let people stay,” she said flatly. Not emotional. Not dramatic. Just tired. “I’m always waiting for the day you stop trying.”

You walked over, slowly. Sat down next to her without touching her.

“I already tried. Every day. Still doing it.”

“I know,” she whispered.

You looked at her.

“I’m not asking you to magically be okay,” you said. “I’m asking you to stop punishing me for giving a shit.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the wall like it held all the words she didn’t want to say.

Then she shifted - just barely - leaned her shoulder against yours.

You didn’t move.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said finally.

“Then stop pushing me like you do.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I’ll try.”

She didn’t move for a moment. Then, with a quiet, almost hesitant breath, she curled into you. Full body. Not just a lean, but like she was exhausted and letting herself give up the weight of everything she’d been holding. Her head tucked into your chest, her hand found your hoodie and fisted into it like she needed something solid.

You wrapped your arms around her immediately. No hesitation this time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice small, muffled. “I mean it.”

You kissed her hair. “I know.”

“I just get scared. Even when nothing’s wrong.”

“I get it,” you said. “I really do.”

She pulled back enough to look at you, eyes glassy but open for once - really open. “I’ll get better at saying it. I’ll stop making you guess.”

You nodded. “And I’ll stop treating every silence like a threat.”

She gave a soft, broken laugh. “We’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But I like you. Kind of a lot.”

She smiled - tired, but real. “You like me, huh?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Billie leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t slow or dramatic - just warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for forgiveness, just offered peace.

When she pulled away, she whispered, “Stay?”

“Always,” you said.

She grabbed the blanket from the couch, draped it over both of you, and burrowed into your side like she finally let herself be soft without apology.

The TV kept playing in the background, but neither of you paid attention. She fell asleep with your fingers laced in hers, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like something had actually shifted.

Not fixed. Not perfect.

But hers. And worth it.