#i could have done something with her hair

[moonlightwritingf1]

Starved | LN4

𓂃۶ৎ summary ━━━━━━━ After three weeks apart, Y/N and Lando finally reunite in a frenzy of teasing, need, and uncontrollable desire. He tries to pace himself, to savor every second, but she knows exactly how to make him come—whispering filthy words, dragging her nails down his back, squeezing around him just right. Lando, breathless and wrecked, gives in completely, fucking her like he’s been starving for it, like he needs to make up for every second they’ve spent apart. 

𓂃۶ৎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𓂃۶ৎ word count ━━━━━━━ 6.7k

𓂃۶ৎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, teasing, double creampie?

Based on this request.

The front door swung open with a creak, and before Y/N could fully register the rush of excitement coursing through her, Lando was already there—bag in hand, hair messy from travel, his eyes lit with an almost fervent need. The energy in her apartment shifted the moment he stepped inside. It was late, nearly midnight, and the city hummed quietly outside the windows. Y/N’s heart stuttered at the sight of him.

He set his luggage against the wall and straightened, looking at her with that hungry, burning gaze he’d worn ever since their early days of flirting. The difference now, after a year of dating, was that the tension was more intense than ever. Distance had stretched the longing between them like a tight elastic band—and it threatened to snap the second they touched.

Y/N stood barefoot in her cozy living room, wearing a pair of snug sweatpants and a slightly oversized hoodie. There was something about how Lando looked at her, even in that mundane outfit, that sparked an electric current across her skin. He seemed to devour her with his eyes.

His voice came out as a quiet rasp. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

She offered a slow, teasing smile and let her eyes drag along the planes of his face. “Oh, I think I might have an idea,” she teased, a little smirk curling her lips. “You look half-crazed with desperation.”

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he breathed. The weight of his stare lingered, unapologetically roaming over her body.

She gestured him closer, but deliberately inched backward, coaxing him to follow. Ever since they’d gotten together, she’d found a sort of magnetic pleasure in making him chase her. Lando always went along with it too—like he craved the thrill of being pulled right to her edge and then reeled back in slowly.

He dropped his coat on a nearby chair and caught her wrist gently, thumbing over her pulse. It was racing, and his grip tightened the slightest bit as he leaned in.

Her breath fluttered. “You could’ve at least pretended not to have missed me too much,” she teased, as he began planting soft kisses along her jawline.

He gave a low chuckle against her skin. “Trust me, I’ve done enough pretending on camera. Smiling for the fans, interviews, media days. But thinking of you was… dangerous.” He exhaled, warm breath ghosting over her ear. “I kept picturing your face, remembering the way you tease me, the way you say my name in that stubborn little tone you’ve perfected. It drove me mad.”

She practically purred at his confession. “So you want me to make it up to you, then?”

“Every day. Every hour. Right now,” he replied, tone edging on a plea. His lips found hers in a slow, sensual kiss that carried weeks of pent-up desire.

A needy hum slipped from Y/N’s mouth. He tasted faintly of mint gum, and the edges of his lips cracked into a half-smile as they kissed, like he found it strangely amusing to be so utterly at her mercy. When they finally pulled back, both were breathing hard.

“Missed me that bad, huh?” she whispered, nibbling her bottom lip in that way she knew drove him crazy.

Lando groaned softly. “You love torturing me, don’t you?”

She only answered with an impish grin. “Possibly.”

His chest tightened at that playful spark in her eyes. “But we have to move this somewhere else,” he murmured, glancing pointedly at the couch, then the door leading to the bedroom. The effort to remain calm was evident. His voice, though laced with need, carried a distinct note of self-control.

She raised a brow. “Feeling impatient already? Big day tomorrow?” Her playful tone jabbed at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, pressing the syllables of her name slowly. “It’s been weeks since I last saw you—properly. I’ve had to settle for phone calls, FaceTimes…not enough.”

Her heart throbbed with sympathy and arousal all at once. He reached for her waist, but she sidestepped him in the smallest, most maddening way, letting his fingers slip over her hip without fully connecting. Then she turned and started walking toward the bedroom, tossing a glance over her shoulder.

“Come on then,” she invited, voice laced with teasing.

He tried to hide how quickly he was following, how urgent his strides were. The bedroom light was dim, a warm glow casting shadows on the walls. Y/N pulled off her hoodie and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Underneath, she wore a simple cropped tank top that hinted at the curves Lando knew all too well. He swallowed hard.

She gave him an unhurried once-over. The crisp T-shirt and jeans he wore clung just right. His shoulders seemed broader than the last time she’d seen him in person, a testament to relentless training, and it made her mouth go dry with anticipation.

He strode closer. “You’re about to kill me,” he muttered against her lips, hooking a finger under her chin to bring her face back up to his.

She let out a low laugh. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, eyes dancing with mischief.

He brushed his mouth over hers. His hands found the hem of her tank top, lifting it slowly. Skin against skin, everything was scorching—like her body remembered the heat of him. As the soft fabric slid up, goosebumps rippled over her arms. He paused just before fully removing it, his thumbs circling the sides of her waist in a torturously gentle motion.

“That’s because I am,” he whispered, catching her gaze. “I’m lovesick, and I’m about to break if you don’t let me have you right now.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at his words. She let her arms rise, letting him tug the tank top off fully. Once discarded, her bare skin was exposed to the gentle glow of the lamp, and Lando’s eyes roamed over her with a reverence that made her pulse hammer.

He captured her lips again, deeper this time, and she hummed into his mouth. As his fingertips drifted up her ribs, she arched just enough to let him know she wanted his touch. But something in how he was moving felt restrained, cautious—and she understood why. He’d hinted at it more than once over their late-night calls—his voice low, edged with need. After weeks apart, he was afraid he’d barely last, that the moment he finally had her beneath him, wrapped around him, he’d come undone too fast.

When she slipped her hand over the front of his jeans, he inhaled sharply, body going rigid under her palm. “Careful,” he rasped, exhaling through clenched teeth. “I’m on a fragile edge, princess.”

“Princess?” she echoed with a low laugh, leaning up to nibble gently at his jaw. “That’s new. I like it.”

He let out a strangled chuckle. “You can make fun of me all you want, but you’re not helping my… self-control.”

Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Who says I want to help that?”

His breath hitched again as her hand roamed lower. She was only half-teasing, but the effect on him was immediate. He tried to focus on reigning in the rush of sensations. He was determined not to finish in what he jokingly referred to as “three strokes and a heartbreak.” Still, the desperation in him built. Every inch of him blazed as if starved for her.

“You’re absolutely lethal,” he breathed, capturing her mouth in a series of hungry kisses. He struggled to keep them slow, to drag them out when all he truly wanted was to lose himself.

Her responses were equally heated, equally needy. Her fingernails grazed lightly across his chest as she pulled his T-shirt up. She wanted every second of this, yet found a thrill in matching his struggle—knowing he was hoovering on the brink, but wanting to draw it out, to savor every moment of this union that they’d both waited far too long for.

He moaned quietly into her mouth when she slid his jeans down over his hips, grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his boxers. “I need you,” he whispered, a raw edge to his tone. “But I’m trying to—God, I’m trying not to—”

She silenced him with another kiss, swallowing his groan. “Shh, you’re fine,” she reassured softly. There was a gentle tease in her voice, but also a note of real affection. She loved that he cared so much about not rushing, about savoring every touch.

She reached behind herself, letting her sweatpants slip off. Lando couldn’t help but stare, throat bobbing, voice strangled with desire. “You’re perfect,” he managed to say.

She gave him a look that was warm and amused. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He trailed his hands along her waist, fingertips pressing into flesh that was already sensitive under his touch. Their kisses became a frantic dance of tongues and whispers. Her hand crept around his neck, and she guided him onto the bed, pushing him gently until he was lying back against the pillows.

Climbing on top of him, she leaned down, hair falling like a curtain around their faces. “Lando?” she murmured, voice honeyed with both affection and playfulness.

“Yeah?” His hands settled on her hips, kneading softly.

“You realize how adorable you are when you’re this desperate?” she teased, a mischievous spark lighting her gaze.

He let out a mock groan of frustration. “Adorable is not the vibe I’m going for,” he mumbled, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Fine,” she relented with a smirk of her own. “How about ‘hot as hell’ then?”

“That’s more like it.” He lifted his head enough to catch her mouth with his, losing himself momentarily in the sweetness of her lips. But the moment she straddled him, the heat of her pussy pressing along the rigid length of his cock, his breath hitched—sharp and unsteady. He gasped, tilting his head back against the pillow before dragging his eyes to hers, voice raw with desperation. “Sorry,” he panted. “Give me—give me a second.”

She stroked his cheek with unexpected tenderness. “We have all night,” she murmured, though her own voice shook with barely contained desire. “No need to rush.”

A shaky laugh escaped him. “Easy for you to say.”

She braced her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tense muscle beneath. “Let me take the lead for a bit, hmm?” Her tone was simultaneously soothing and heavy with suggestion.

His eyes fluttered shut at the mere offer, a shiver of anticipation running through him. “God, yes,” he whispered.

Y/N trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, down to his chest. The soft sighs escaping him fueled her confidence. She used the tip of her tongue to trace small patterns, peppering each touch with a light graze of her teeth. Meanwhile, his hands remained at her hips, occasionally gripping, occasionally loosening, as if he couldn’t decide whether to let go or hold on tight.

Every breath he took sounded labored. She could practically feel his heart pounding against her palm when she slid her hand across his chest. “You okay down there?” she teased.

He swallowed, eyes fluttering open to find hers. “Just struggling to hold back a bit,” he admitted with a self-conscious grin. “Last thing I want is to pass out from excitement.”

Her laugh was low and husky, dripping with wicked intent. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear, her breath hot and teasing as she whispered,

“You know, I was gonna be good tonight… but then I felt how fucking hard you are for me, and now all I can think about is how deep I can take you down my throat before you start begging me to breathe.”

Lando let out a sharp, ragged exhale, his hands gripping her hips like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. She smirked, letting her nails scrape down his chest before sliding back up to his throat, her fingers curling just enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

“And you keep saying you’ll finish too fast,” she went on, voice syrupy and sweet, “but baby, I want you to. I wanna feel you lose control, make a mess of me, then get hard again while I’m still licking your come off my lips.”

His whole body shuddered beneath her, his head pressing back into the pillows as he let out a strangled groan. She grinned, shifting her hips just enough to drag her soaked pussy along the length of his cock, the sensation making him curse under his breath.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she cooed, tilting her head mockingly. “Don’t tell me I’ve got you speechless already. We haven’t even gotten to the part where I bend over and spread myself open for you… or where I make you watch while I play with myself, nice and slow, until you’re desperate enough to shove me down and fuck me stupid.”

Lando’s grip on her tightened—hard enough to bruise. His breath was ragged, his jaw clenched, and when he finally looked up at her, his eyes were dark, blown wide with lust.

“You think you’re in control, don’t you?” His voice was hoarse, shaking with restraint.

She smirked, leaning down until their lips were just barely touching. “I know I am.”

She decided to ease the tension a bit and murmured dirty jokes in his ear, half-laughing between each whisper, making him grin and groan all at once. The more she joked, the more he relaxed, letting himself smile even as raw need clawed at him from the inside.

Eventually, she guided him to switch positions, rolling him gently so she was beneath him. He braced himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to hers. His breathing was ragged. “Y/N, I swear I’m trying to play it cool.”

Her lips brushed his earlobe. “Then don’t,” she whispered. “Just be with me.”

He swallowed thickly. “But I want this to last.”

“It will,” she promised, skimming her fingertips over his back.

Lando’s breath hitched as he positioned himself between her thighs, his eyes dark with hunger and restraint. His hands trembled slightly as he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against her wet heat. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one agonizingly perfect stroke. A deep, guttural groan escaped his lips, muffled against the curve of her neck. “Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, his voice thick with need.

He withdrew almost completely, his cock slick with her arousal, before sinking back in at a torturously slow pace. Every inch of him seemed to strain with the effort to maintain control. His hips rolled against hers in a rhythm that was both maddening and mesmerizing, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers dug into the sheets on either side of her head as he fought to keep the rhythm steady, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. He groaned again, his forehead pressing into hers as he continued to move with that same slow, deliberate pace. “You’re killing me,” he whispered, his voice trembling with restraint. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t go any faster or I’ll lose it.”

He paused mid-thrust, his body still buried deep inside her, his forehead resting heavily against hers. His chest heaved with labored breaths, his eyes closed as he struggled to regain his composure. “I need to slow down,” he panted, his voice barely audible. “If I don’t, this is gonna be over before I get to ruin you properly.”

Her hands drifted down to his abdomen, her fingertips brushing over the taut, trembling muscles there. She could feel the way his abs contracted with every shaky breath, the way his body fought against the overwhelming urge to lose control. “You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her voice soft and encouraging. Her nails raked lightly over his skin, and he hissed through clenched teeth, a curse slipping from his lips.

“You—that’s not helping,” he growled, his hips twitching involuntarily. He pulled out completely, his hands gripping the base of his cock as he fought to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, “I need a second, or I swear—”

She reached up to cradle his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks as she kissed him softly. “Take your time,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against hers once more. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both desperation and affection. “But fuck, what a way to go.”

Lando’s body shuddered as he guided himself back inside her, the heat of her slick walls wrapping around him like a intoxicating squeeze. His breath hitched, and his hands trembled where they braced on either side of her head. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, his voice raw and strained as he sunk in inch by torturous inch. She clenched around him instinctively, and he let out a sharp, breathless curse, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Jesus—Y/N, please—” he rasped, his forehead pressing against hers as his body fought to stay in control.

His lips brushed her temple, his warm breath ghosting over her skin as he whispered, his voice wrecked and trembling with need. “I thought about this every night—about being buried inside you, feeling you squeeze me like this. You’re unreal, sweetheart.” Each word was a desperate confession, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke. His hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, the rhythm faltering as he struggled to keep his composure.

He dragged his lips down to her collarbone, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. His breath was ragged, his movements careful and measured as he tried to focus on her instead of the overwhelming pressure building inside him. His tongue traced a path along her collarbone, his lips pressing firm and insistent, as if trying to anchor himself in the feel of her body beneath him. “You’re too good,” he muttered against her skin, his voice muffled and strained. “Too fucking perfect.”

Y/N tightened around him deliberately, her walls pulsing in slow, rhythmic clenches that made his hips stutter. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that tore from his throat. “Fuck—Y/N, don’t—” he begged, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he fought to hold on. But she didn’t stop, milking him with every pulse, and he let out a strangled curse, pulling out of her completely before he could lose control. His chest heaved, his body trembling with the effort to calm down.

But it didn’t last long. With a shaky breath, he guided himself back inside her, his thrusts slow and deep once more. His lips found her throat, and he mumbled against her skin, his voice hoarse and broken. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” The repeated curse spilled from his lips like a prayer, his grip on her tightening as he struggled to keep his rhythm steady.

His eyes stayed locked on her face, watching the way her lips parted with every thrust, the way her brows knit together in pleasure. It was nearly enough to undo him completely. He groaned, his voice breaking mid-moan as she clenched around him unexpectedly. “Fuck—Y/N,” he gasped, the sound desperate and breathless, his hips jerking forward as he lost himself in the sensation for a moment.

Then he let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against hers as he tried to catch his breath. “You—fuck—you’ve got me completely fucked up, you know that?” His voice was tinged with both desperation and affection, his hands trembling as they brushed her hair back from her face. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her nails dug into his back as she arched against him, her body practically vibrating with need. God, he was teasing her, not fucking her properly, and it was driving her insane. Every slow, deliberate thrust of his cock inside her was sending waves of pleasure rippling through her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted him to lose control, to give in to the raw, primal need she could feel simmering just beneath his carefully maintained restraint.

Her hips rolled against his, trying to coax him into a faster pace, but he only groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought to keep his movements slow and steady. "Lando, please," she whimpered, her voice breaking as her fingers tangled in his hair. "I need more. I need you to fuck me properly."

He let out a shaky laugh, his breath hot against her lips. "Sweetheart, if I start fucking you the way you want me to, I’m not gonna last," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "You feel too fucking good."

She clenched around him deliberately, feeling him shudder against her as a moan tore from his throat. "Then don’t last," she urged, her voice a desperate plea. "Let go. I want to feel you come undone inside me."

His hips stuttered, and he let out a strangled curse, pulling out of her completely as he fought to regain control. His chest heaved, his body trembling with the effort to calm down, but the look in his eyes was pure, unadulterated desire. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

"And you love it," she shot back, a wicked grin spreading across her lips as she reached for him, pulling him back down to her. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for more, and she wasn’t about to let him stop until he gave her exactly what she wanted.

He slid into her again, the thick length of his cock stretching her in the most delicious way. For her, the sensation was overwhelming—a perfect balance of fullness and heat, every nerve in her pussy lighting up as he buried himself to the hilt. He felt like he belonged there, like her body had been made to take him, and the ache of needing more only grew as he stayed still inside her. For him, it was pure torture. The velvety tightness of her walls clung to him, hot and wet, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from thrusting. His cock throbbed, desperate for release, and every second he stayed buried in her without moving felt like both heaven and hell.

Her lips found his in a soft, tender kiss, her tongue brushing against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. Just as the kiss deepened, she squeezed around him deliberately, her walls pulsing in a tight, irresistible grip. He groaned into her mouth, his control slipping as his hips jerked involuntarily. “God, Y/N,” he gasped, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and desperate. “You’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

She smirked, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Move, Lando,” she begged, her voice breathless and pleading. “Please. I need you to fuck me. I can’t take this anymore.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she arched against him, trying to coax him into motion. But he was determined to hold out, to savor every second, even if it was killing him.

She pressed her hips back against him, trying to force him to move, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her waist. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice strained but teasing. Then he began to move again, slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and deep. The drag of his cock inside her was agonizingly perfect, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her entire body. He groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought to keep the pace steady.

But she wasn’t about to let him win. Just as he found a rhythm, she pulsed around him again, her walls fluttering in a way that made him falter. His thrusts became erratic, his control crumbling as he let out a low, guttural curse. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice trembling with need. “You’re making this impossible.”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good,” she whispered, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “I want you to lose control. I want to feel you come inside me, Lando.” Her words were too much for him. He was already on the edge, and when she squeezed around him one last time, he was done for. His thrusts stuttered, his rhythm completely broken as he groaned her name, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her.

For her, the feeling was intoxicating. The warmth of his cum filling her only made her wetter, her pussy clinging to him greedily. She didn’t come, but the sensation of him spilling inside her, combined with the way his cock twitched against her walls, left her even more desperate for release. “You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice husky as she teased him. “I can feel how hard you came. Did I ruin your plans, baby?”

For him, it was overwhelming. The pleasure that ripped through him was almost too much, every pulse of his cock sending waves of ecstasy crashing over him. He groaned, his body trembling as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of adoration. “I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing through his hair. “You love it,” she teased, her voice sultry and full of promise. 

Lando let out a shaky chuckle, his hips still pressed firmly against hers. His cock, still semi-hard but undeniably sensitive, remained buried inside her, throbbing faintly as she clenched around him. He kissed her temple, his lips lingering against her skin. “And I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with lingering desire. His body trembled slightly with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around him kept him on the edge, unable to pull away.

He groaned softly, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re still so perfect. Can’t even think about leaving you.” His hips shifted slightly, a small, involuntary movement that sent a jolt of pleasure—and sensitivity—through him. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping her waist as he fought the urge to move again.

Y/N smirked, her legs still wrapped around him, keeping him close. “Sensitive, huh?” she teased, her voice dripping with playful mischief. She squeezed around him gently, just enough to make him groan and his hips jerk forward instinctively.

“God, you’re a menace,” he muttered, his voice strained but laced with adoration. He pressed a kiss to her lips, his movements slow and tender, as if reveling in the feel of her still around him. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

His words were a promise, and it was one she intended to hold him to.

His words were a promise, and she intended to hold him to it. Before he could say another word, she surged forward, capturing his lips in a searing, hungry kiss. Her mouth moved against his with a fierce urgency, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue swept inside, claiming him with a possessive dominance that made him groan. She kissed him like she was determined to remind him exactly who owned him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

And then she began to squeeze, her pussy clenching around his cock in slow, deliberate pulses that had him moaning into her mouth. He was still sensitive, his body trembling as his cock twitched inside her, the overstimulation leaving him breathless and aching. She didn’t stop, her walls fluttering rhythmically, milking him in a way that made his hips jerk involuntarily. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me.”

She smirked, her lips swollen from his kisses, and reached up to tug gently at his hair, guiding his mouth down to her breast. “Suck,” she commanded, her voice low and husky with need. He obeyed without hesitation, his lips closing around her hardened nipple, his tongue flicking over it in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his mouth, a soft moan escaping her lips as his teeth grazed her sensitive skin.

As he sucked, she began to grind, her hips moving in slow, sensual circles that made his cock slide deeper inside her. He groaned against her breast, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she took control, her movements deliberate and teasing. But then, unable to resist, he began to thrust, his hips rolling against hers in a rhythm that was both rough and tender. He fucked her with a desperation that left him breathless, his cock moving in and out of her slick heat with a wet, obscene sound that only fueled the fire between them.

He finally pulled back from her breast,and stared into her eyes as he continued to thrust. “Mmm, is this what you wanted?” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Me sucking on you while I’m still inside you?” His tongue flicked over her nipple one last time, making her whimper, before his gaze dropped to where their bodies were connected.

His cum was still slick on the length of his cock, glistening in the dim light as it disappeared into her with every thrust. The visual was almost too much to handle. “You feel that, baby?” he breathed, his voice trembling. “My cock’s still drenched in you—covered in my cum.” His eyes stayed locked on the sight, completely mesmerized by the way she took him, her pussy glistening with their combined arousal.

“Look at that—fuck, look at how messy we are,” he groaned, his fingers gripping her jaw and forcing her to watch as his cock slid in and out of her. She moaned at the sight, her eyes widening as she took in the way his cum coated his length, leaking out of her with every thrust. “Shit, that’s my cum leaking out of you. You like seeing what you do to me?” His voice was a low, desperate rasp, his fingers smearing the evidence of his release along her thighs before gripping her ass tightly.

“I can’t stop watching—you’re taking me so well, fuck,” he muttered, his thrusts growing more erratic as the sight of his cock disappearing into her soaked pussy drove him closer to the edge. She moaned again, her hands gripping his shoulders as she met his thrusts, her body trembling with need. “You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, his voice breaking as he lost himself in the heat of her, in the way she felt around him, in the way she looked, completely wrecked by him.

And she was perfect—every gasp, every moan, every clench of her pussy around his cock only proved it. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he knew he never would.

Lando’s thrusts were deep and relentless, his cock filling her completely with every stroke. She could feel the way he stretched her, the way his cum from earlier still coated his length, making each movement slick and intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Her hand slipped between their bodies, her fingers finding her swollen clit with ease. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she began to rub herself in slow, deliberate circles.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice trembling with need. “Watch me.”

His eyes snapped to where her hand was working between her thighs, and what he saw made his breath catch. Her fingers were slick with his cum, the evidence of their earlier union glistening on her skin as she spread the warmth across her clit. The sight was almost too much to handle. His thrusts faltered for a moment, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as he watched her play with herself.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with desperation. “You’re actually spreading it… you’re playing with my cum while I’m still inside you?”

She smirked up at him, her fingers never stopping their slow, teasing movements. “Mmm, look at that—your cum’s still dripping out of me, Lando,” she purred, her tone dripping with mischief. She dipped her fingers between her thighs again, deliberately rubbing his release into her swollen clit. “You see how messy we are? How much you’ve already given me?”

Lando’s cock throbbed inside her at her words, the sensation of her tightening around him nearly making him lose control. His thrusts became more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he struggled to keep his eyes on her fingers. “Shit, baby, keep going—let me see you make yourself come while I fuck you,” he begged, his voice breaking on the last word.

She moaned, her head falling back against the pillows as she let him watch her. Her fingers moved faster now, her clit pulsing under her touch as she neared the edge. “Come on, baby—watch me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Watch how I play with your cum while you fuck me.”

Lando’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he fought to keep his thrusts steady. “You know what that does to me?” he rasped, his eyes locked on her fingers. “Watching you play with yourself while I’m inside you? It’s fucking insane.”

But she wasn’t done yet. Just as he seemed to find his rhythm again, she stopped him, her hands pressing against his abs to halt his movements. “Wait,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. His body stilled immediately, his cock throbbing inside her as he tried to catch his breath.

With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached down and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, pulling him out of her. The sensation was almost too much for him, his cock twitching in her hand as she guided him free of her slick heat. He groaned, his eyes closing for a moment as he fought the urge to thrust into her hand.

But she wasn’t done. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she dipped her fingers inside her pussy, gathering the cum that was still leaking out of her. His breath hitched as he watched her, his cock jerking in her hand at the sight. “Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re killing me.”

She smirked, her fingers spreading his cum across her swollen clit, making sure he could see every second of it. The sensation was electric, her clit pulsing under her touch as she worked herself closer to the edge. “You see that, Lando?” she moaned, her voice low and husky. “You see how wet you’ve made me? How much of you I’m still holding inside me?”

Lando couldn’t look away, his eyes locked on her fingers as they moved over her clit. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with need. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

She reached for him again, her other hand wrapping around his cock as she guided him back to her entrance. “You’re gonna give me more, aren’t you?” she whispered against his lips, smirking as she pressed him deeper. “You feel that? How easy you slide in after you’ve already come inside me?”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward as she took him completely. “Y/N,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t take much more of this.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as she began to rub her clit again. “Now fuck me, Lando,” she moaned, her voice breathless and needy. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you deep—make a mess of me again.”

His thrusts were desperate now, his rhythm completely lost as he watched her fingers work her clit. “Fuck—Y/N, I can’t take my eyes off you,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking unreal… you’re gonna make me come just from watching.”

She tightened around him, her walls fluttering as she neared her own release. “That’s it, baby—give me everything,” she whispered, her hands guiding his hips deeper as he shuddered above her. “Fill me up again.”

Lando’s body tensed, his thrusts growing shaky as his pleasure consumed him entirely. “Oh, fuck—fuck, Y/N, I’m coming—” he gasped, his voice strained as his orgasm crashed over him. His hips slammed against hers in broken strokes, his cock pulsing inside her as he spilled himself for the second time.

She felt his release filling her, the warmth spreading through her as his body twitched with overstimulation. “Fuck, Lando, I can feel you throbbing—so desperate for me,” she moaned, clenching around him as her own orgasm ripped through her. Her clit pulsed under her fingers, her body trembling as she came on his cock, the sensation of him still inside her only intensifying her pleasure.

Lando whimpered, his thrusts faltering as the sensitivity overwhelmed him. “Shit—take it all, baby, take every drop of me,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Jesus Christ—look at that, look at how much I’m filling you up again.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, too lost in the moment, too addicted to the warmth, the wetness, the way she was still wrapped around him. His forehead rested against hers, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he tried to calm his racing heart. “So fucking full of me, sweetheart—fuck, take it all, take every drop,” he murmured, his voice trembling with adoration.

She smiled up at him, her fingers still lazily tracing circles over her clit as she savored the aftershocks of her release. “You love it,” she teased, her voice sultry and full of promise. “And you’re mine.”

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his lips pressing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. “Always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Always yours.”

They stayed like that for a long time, lost in the warmth of each other, the world outside forgotten. For Lando, there was no place he’d rather be, and he knew, without a doubt, that he’d never get enough of her. She was his addiction, his obsession, his everything. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Long moments later, Lando finally pulled himself out of her, his cock slipping free with a soft, wet sound that made him groan. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before murmuring, "Be right back," and disappearing into the bathroom. She lay there, legs still trembling, her body humming with the aftershocks of their shared passion.

He returned a moment later, a warm, damp towel in his hand. Gently, he knelt beside her, his touch tender as he cleaned her up, his fingers brushing over her skin with a reverence that made her heart swell. "You’re perfect," he whispered, his voice a little hoarse, as he wiped away the evidence of their union.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and slid into bed next to her, his body still radiating heat. He settled onto his back, pulling her with him so she lay half across his chest, her head nestled against his shoulder. He was still out of breath, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and she brushed it aside with the back of her hand, her fingers lingering as she gazed up at him.

“See?” she whispered, a teasing grin lighting her face. “You survived. Didn’t finish in three strokes.”

He gave a short laugh, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Barely,” he admitted.

She smoothed her hand through his hair. “I like that you were so worried.”

“Because it’s been so long since we’ve been together like this,” he breathed, looking at her intently. “I didn’t want to ruin it by letting it slip away too quickly.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said softly, nuzzling closer. “It was perfect.”

He exhaled, relief flooding his expression. “I love you,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest—she’d never get tired of hearing that. “I love you too,” she echoed, soft but sincere.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, each reveling in the steady rhythm of the other’s heartbeat.

[yanderedrabbles]

Speaking of the yandere outlaws, how would “the boy” behave when he finally earned the right to have the girl fully? Maybe after he catches her trying to escape and brings her back like you said.

Yandere Outlaws- The Boy/Betrayal

The boy exists in this in-between sort of space where I think he can be easily influenced.

He realises just as well as the others that holding you hostage is an awful, terrible thing. He recognises that you don't want this. And I think he's the only one who's truly guilty about it.

The gunslingers shrug it off. They wanted you, so they took you. Easy as that. The boss has done much worse in his life. What difference does one missing girl make? Even the wrangler and the second in command go against their better instincts with only a flicker of guilt.

The boy though? There's still a little innocence in him. A sense of justice stronger than the others. The question is - can he hold onto it?

I see the two of you getting along at first, maybe even getting friendly. You pity him - he's a victim too, a kid who got roped into something much bigger than he could handle.

He's the one who brings you most of your meals. Head down, sneaking glances at you from under his hair. He doesn't talk much at first, doesn't even stick around to watch you eat. Just leaves the plate on your vanity and hurries out of the room.

Maybe one day it gets too much for you. Maybe one day you ask him to stay.

He freezes, hand already on the doorknob.

"You want me to stay? Why?"

You shrug, not sure how to articulate it. Not sure if you want to address the ugly truth that both of you feel hovering. Eventually, "I guess I just want someone to talk to."

"Oh."

Maybe he comes a little closer, sits on the edge of your bed. Still not looking at you.

You push the food around on your plate.

"This is good. Who made it?"

"Oh, umm, I did."

"You're the one who does the cooking?"

"Mm-hmm. The others are too busy with work I guess. And you don't want them to cook for you."

"Why's that?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Their cooking is awful."

And that's how it goes. Snippets of conversation really. A few moments stolen between wrangling horses and learning to shoot straight. A few moments where he sits on the edge of your bed and you both pretend that your thighs aren't bruised with fingerprints.

Maybe you come to trust him. Maybe you think that just because he doesn't look at you like the other outlaws, that he doesn't want what they want.

A mistake. But you're too naive to realise it.

I think things finally change on one of those icy, stormy nights. Most of the outlaws are out on a job, and it's just the boy, the boss and you.

It's a cold night, devil cold, the rain sheeting down so hard you can barely hear anything over it.

Maybe one of the outlaws leaves your door unlocked or maybe you manage to climb out the window, rain soaking straight through your chemise. Either way, you make it to the stables without anyone seeing you.

You're shivering, your chemise clinging to your waist and practically see-through from the water. But you don't care. This is the closest you've come to escape and you aren't going to let the chance slip by.

There are only two horses in the stable. The boss's mean old mustang, and the boy's chestnut colt. Between the two of them, it's hardly a choice. You've got the bridle on the boy's horse and you're just about to reach for the saddle when someone grabs you.

They yank you backwards, startling out a short scream. Your back thuds against the wall and a hand slaps across your mouth.

"Shhh," the boy hisses, "The boss will hear you."

He's warmer than you and still dry.

"You're running away."

You nod hesitantly, his hand still pressed against your mouth. His face is blank. You can't read anything in his eyes.

"You're cold. You aren't dressed for the weather. You'll die of exposure before you make it home."

You shake your head. Anything is better than being a stress doll for a bunch of outlaws, how can't he see that?

He stays like that for a long while, his hand on your mouth keeping you pinned against the wall. The lantern light makes his eyes seem darker - the pupils wide, black as oil.

He sighs, and you realise he's made the decision for you. You're not escaping tonight.

"I know you hate it here, but you'll die if you try and ride out tonight."

He doesn't give you time to reply. Just grabs your wrist and drags you out and across the yard. You plead with him. Beg. Say that anything in the world is better than this.

But the rain is coming down heavy and he doesn't hear you. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

The kitchen door slams open and he pulls you in, both of you soaking wet. You might have said more, tried to reason with him again.

But the boss is waiting for you.

Standing in the half-dark between the kitchen and the hall, his revolver gleaming dully.

"Thought you mighta done something reeaall stupid, boy."

His voice is low, rough around the edges. A wolf learning to speak.

The boy is just as frozen as you are. It takes a few false starts before he can spit the words out.

"No, sir."

"You caught our filly right before she slipped the lasso I see."

"Yes, sir."

The boss moves toward you then, the light finally showing his eyes. That cool blue about as bright and dangerous as lightning.

He grabs your jaw, hard. Pulls you up on your toes so your lips almost brush his.

"Awful big storm for such a little girl."

The boy is still holding your wrist and looking at the floor, his hair blocking his face. He doesn't intervene.

"You coulda broken your neck, tryin' to ride in weather like this."

The boss leans closer, warm lips brushing your cheek. His voice is low enough for just you to hear.

"I'd be real heartbroken to lose you darlin'. You ain't gonna put an old man through such pain, are you?"

His grip tightens on your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. You know instinctively that the next time he comes to visit your room, he isn't going to be quite so nice. He isn't going to keep holding himself back.

"No, sir." Your voice is less than a whisper.

"Good."

He pulls back and smiles at you. Pats your cheek with small, rough smacks. He calls back to the kid, never looking away from you.

"Our girl is chilled straight through, boy. Why don't you warm her up?"

The boy is tense. You can feel it in the way he holds you, can see it in the set of his shoulders.

"Yes, sir."

He starts walking again, pulling you along behind him.

You wait until you're out of earshot, about halfway up the stairs. You say the boy's name, and maybe he hears some of the fear in your voice because he stops. One hand on the bannister and one still around your wrist.

"The boss is going to -"

"You shouldn't have tried running then."

His voice is harder than you've ever heard it.

"You're...you're my only real friend," he continues. "The only person I can really talk to. Some of the others aren't so bad, but they still think of me as just a kid."

His grip tightens on your wrist.

"You were going to leave without even saying goodbye to me."

He starts walking again, dragging you behind him. The door to your room is ajar, and all you can see is a crack of darkness, broken by the occasional flash of lightning.

"The gunslingers were right," he says, half to himself. "If you want something, you should take it."

Your heart stutters. What does he mean by that?

He stops in front of your bedroom, one hand on the doorknob. He turns to you and you finally get to see his face. His hair is dripping water down his temples and between his brows, making him look as bristly as a coyote.

There's something different about his eyes, about the way he looks at you. Like something in him has finally worn away.

You feel your whole body going cold.

He looks at you just like the other outlaws do. That spark of lust, mixed with a callous cruelty.

He doesn't seem like a boy anymore. Doesn't seem like a colt just growing into its legs, eyes all wide and sweet.

It doesn't matter that he's younger than you. In the half-dark, with the rainwater dripping off your clothes, he finally seems like a man. A man just like the others. With the strength and the will to take what he wants, regardless of whether or not you say yes.

A man who will take what he wants. Who's going to take it tonight.

And as he pulls you into the room, grip like iron around your wrist, you realise exactly what the boss was implying when he told the kid to warm you up. 

[mandoalorian]

the perfect fit [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: While preparing for an important congressional dinner, Bucky takes his personal assistant shopping for the perfect dress. But when the tension between them becomes unbearable, they find themselves tangled in a moment of reckless passion inside a dressing room. As professionalism crumbles, Bucky makes it clear—he’s done holding back.

Word Count: 2200

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, p in v, f receiving oral, exhibitionism kind of\sex in public, body worship, bucky is sooooo obsessed with you.

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

The morning after Tokyo was a delicate thing—silent, tentative, and wrapped in the weight of everything that had been said and done. You had woken up with Bucky’s arm draped over your waist, his body warm and solid behind you. For a few perfect moments, it felt like something real. Something permanent.

But then reality came crashing back in.

You had pulled away first, slipping from the bed before the morning light could make things more complicated than they already were. Bucky had let you go, watching you dress in silence, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, yet recognisable. And just like that, you had fallen back into your roles—assistant and congressman, professional and detached, as if the night before hadn’t happened.

Only, it had happened. And no amount of careful distance could change that.

The rest of the day had been routine, filled with meetings and preparations for the upcoming professional dinner with members of Congress. The event was a crucial one, meant to secure relationships and reinforce Bucky’s place in the political world. You had spent the afternoon coordinating details, ensuring everything ran smoothly, pretending not to feel the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you walked into a room.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Bucky called for you.

"We need to get you something to wear for tonight," he reminded, standing near the window of his hotel suite, his tie loosened just enough to make him look devastatingly good. "I want you to look nice."

You blinked. “Is it really essential I attend the dinner? It’s you that they want to see.”

Bucky frowned. “Where I go, you go. I’m not spending an evening with those stuck-up politicians without you by my side. Besides, if things go haywire, I need you there.”

You hesitated, knowing he was right. Bucky knew how to behave, but sometimes, when challenged, he could act a little irrationally, especially when it came to the campaign. His fight was so important to him. Bucky represented every person who had ever been misunderstood. 

“I could borrow a dress from Tara, I suppose.” You shrugged. Truthfully, you’d been sort of intimidated by Tara. She had golden tan skin and long legs and honey blonde hair. Asking her to borrow a dress would have been your own personal nightmare, but you’d rather do that than have Bucky spend his money on you.

‘Tara doesn’t have any dresses either,” He gave you a look that made your stomach twist. “At least, not the kind of dress that I want you to wear."

That should not have sent heat rushing to your core. But it did. He was really adamant about seeing you in this dress.

You swallowed hard, gathering your composure. "Fine. I’ll find something."

"I’ll take you."

That made you pause. "You don’t have to—"

"I want to," he cut in, voice low. "Come on."

You knew it was a bad idea. But you followed him anyway.

———-<3———-

The boutique was upscale, discreet, and filled with racks of elegant evening wear. You had tried to refuse when Bucky insisted on taking you shopping for the formal congressional dinner that evening, but he had been adamant. "I want to do this for you," he'd said, and that was that.

Now, you stood in front of a three-way mirror, examining yourself in a sleek, midnight blue dress that hugged every curve. Small Swarvoski crystals delicately outlined the hem of the dress, and as it caught the light, it sparkled. It was undoubtedly stunning—but you barely noticed. Your focus was on the man sitting in a plush chair a few feet away, his sharp gaze locked on you like a predator watching his prey.

Bucky had been quiet the entire time, watching you try on different dresses with an unreadable expression. But this time? This time, you saw it. The way his jaw tightened. The way his fingers flexed against the armrest. The way his blue eyes darkened with something unmistakable.

Heat pooled in your stomach.

You swallowed hard, adjusting the thin straps of the dress. "What do you think?” You were nervous to ask.

Bucky stood slowly, his movements controlled, deliberate. He stepped toward you, his warmth pressing against your back as his hands ghosted over your bare shoulders. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

"You know exactly what I think," he murmured, his voice a low rasp. 

A shiver ran down your spine. "Bucky—"

"Shh," he whispered, his hands trailing down your arms, then lower, fingertips grazing the sides of your waist. "Turn around."

You obeyed, heart pounding. The moment you faced him, his hands slid to your hips, fingers pressing possessively into the fabric.

"You shouldn't look at me like that," you breathed.

"Like what?" His lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. His question was innocently taunting. 

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat. ”Like you’re about to ruin me."

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips. "Doll, you have no idea."

Before you could protest, he was backing you into the nearest fitting room, the heavy curtain falling shut behind him. His mouth crashed into yours, all restraint crumbling as he kissed you with desperate, unrelenting hunger. His hands roamed, gripping, teasing, pulling you impossibly closer.

You gasped as he spun you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands were on your thighs, bunching up the silky fabric of your dress, pushing it higher and higher until his fingers met bare skin.

"Bucky, someone could hear—"

"Let 'em." His lips trailed down your neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. "You’re mine, sweetheart. I don’t care who knows it."

Your mind spun, torn between the scandal of it and the undeniable, dizzying need for him. Your hands clawed at his shirt, tugging it loose as his fingers slid under the fabric of your panties, teasing, tormenting.

You muffled a moan against his shoulder, and he chuckled darkly. "That’s right, baby. Be quiet for me. Think you can do that?"

Bucky dropped to his knees before you, his large hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the silky fabric of the dress higher until it bunched around your hips. He exhaled heavily, eyes dark and filled with reverence as he took you in.

This was madness. Reckless. Completely unprofessional.

And yet, you knew—there was no stopping him. No stopping this.

The dinner could wait. Right now, you had far more pressing matters to attend to.

And just like that, the last bit of restraint between you shattered.

"You're perfect," he murmured, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His stubble scraped deliciously, sending a shiver up your spine.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping the expensive fabric of his suit as his lips trailed higher, his breath warm against your bare skin. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with agonizing slowness. The anticipation sent heat pooling between your legs, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps.

Bucky glanced up, his pupils blown wide. "Gotta be quiet for me, sweetheart. Think you can do that?"

You barely had time to nod before his mouth was on you, his tongue sweeping through your folds in a slow, deliberate stroke. A strangled moan caught in your throat, your body arching as pleasure flooded through you.

He hummed against you, his grip tightening on your thighs to keep you steady. "That's it, baby. Just let me take care of you."

The way he worshipped you—every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck—had you unraveling too fast, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you deeper into the blissful haze of him. And when his lips closed around your clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, you bit down on your own wrist to stifle the cry threatening to spill free.

Bucky groaned against you, his own restraint barely hanging by a thread. "So fuckin' sweet," he muttered, the vibrations sending you spiraling over the edge.

You came undone with a silent cry, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky didn't stop, drawing out every last aftershock until you were nothing but a boneless mess against the mirror.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes were full of something dark and dangerous. He pressed a kiss to your thigh before rising to his feet, his hands framing your face as he kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"I could do that all day," he rasped against your lips. "But we’ve got a dinner to get to."

Your breath came in shaky gasps as he smirked, smoothing down your dress like nothing had happened. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

This was far from over.

Before you could catch your breath, Bucky’s hands slid back down your body, gripping your thighs as he hoisted you up against the wall. A gasp slipped from your lips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pressed his body flush against yours.

"Still want me to stop?" he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and teasing.

Your fingers tangled in his hair. "No," you whispered. "Please, don’t stop."

That was all he needed. With a desperate groan, Bucky hiked your dress up further, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between them. The sharp sound of his belt unbuckling filled the small dressing room, followed by the quiet rustle of fabric as he freed himself.

The first push was slow, agonizing, stretching you around him in a way that had your nails digging into his shoulders. He cursed under his breath, his forehead dropping to yours as he sank in inch by inch, savouring the way your body clenched around him.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he ground out, his voice strained. "You feel so fuckin’ good."

Your legs tightened around his waist as he started to move, each thrust deliberate, controlled—like he was savouring every moment. But you could feel the tension in him, the barely restrained hunger threatening to snap.

"Look at you," he murmured, tilting your chin up so he could watch your expression in the mirror. "Wearing this pretty little dress just for me… and now I’m ruining it."

The words sent heat shooting through you, your head falling back as he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate. The silk of the dress bunched around your waist, the delicate fabric caught between your bodies as he fucked you hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to ensure you’d feel him for days.

"Bucky—" You barely choked out his name before he silenced you with a bruising kiss, swallowing every moan, every broken gasp.

The coil of pleasure tightened low in your stomach, winding dangerously tight as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your thighs tightened, his metal hand cool against overheated skin as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

"Come for me, baby," he rasped against your lips. "Let me feel it."

And just like that, you shattered, your body arching as pleasure crashed over you in waves, dragging him down with you. He groaned against your neck, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you, his breath ragged and uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.

Then, with a lazy smirk, Bucky reached down, smoothing the crumpled fabric of your dress. "Guess we’re buying this one."

You laughed breathlessly, resting your forehead against his. "Yeah, no way we’re leaving it behind now."

His hands lingered on your hips, his eyes dark with something that looked dangerously close to devotion. "You really are somethin’ else, sweetheart."

And as much as you knew this was reckless, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You hummed, lacing your fingers in his hand and bringing it up to your face, pressing a chaste kiss across his knuckles. 

“Does this feel wrong to you?” You asked, out of nowhere. “What we’re doing… I feel like it’s supposed to feel wrong but it doesn’t. It actually feels right. For once it feels like I’m doing the right thing.”

His hand was so much bigger than yours. Before Bucky could reply, you gasped, noticing the time on his wristwatch.

“Shit, we’re gonna be so late for dinner. We have to go now!”

Bucky stayed still. “It’s okay if we’re a little late, no?”

“No Buck,” you laughed softly. “You have to make a good impression. There’s going to be senators at this dinner.”

Bucky grumbled. “I’m not dressed.” 

“Well, we’re at the tailors. I say it’s your turn. Let’s grab you a tuxedo.” You beamed, staying in the dress that you’d be wearing for dinner and pulling the Congressman out of the fitting room. “I’m thinking something dark blue… so we can match each other?” You suggested; lips pursed into a smirk.

“Whatever you want, darling.” He replied, following you out of the fitting room.

———-<3———-

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @mybuckynotyours @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog

[if you want to be added or removed from taglist, lmk<3]

[lalunanymph]

💭 thinking about . . . . priest!caleb being seduced by succubus!mc

tw. priest!caleb, succubus!mc, wet dreams, heavy religious imagery, inspired by that one fleabag scene (iykyk), guilt, self-flagellation, blasphemy, body worship, mc is possessive over her hot priest

Pure and sure—Caleb, a man cut from the holy cloth, doesn’t entertain the entity in the corner who twirls her hair, licks her lips, trying to get his attention.

“You cannot ignore me for long,” your seductive purr would’ve made a weaker man succumb to your advances.

But, Caleb’s measured control is honed from the strongest blade of repressed self-hatred. He glances at your glistening lips, the silky black dress hugging your figure.

Something sparks in his lower body, but he quickly quenches the desire, focusing on the task at hand.

He picks up a Bible, and holding it over his head, he recites the incantation to banish you away. With every utterance in the ancient text leaving his lips, the bindings drawing you back to Hell grows tighter and you snarl, trying to lunge at him.

Inadvertently, he takes a step back, and he stutters. He falters, and it’s the opening you need.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips seeking his with an insatiable hunger. The moment your tongue slips into his mouth, he wakes up with a start.

Father Caleb shivers, sitting up in bed. The lust stirring in his groin is white-hot, his heart palpitating irregularly in his chest. 

Splashing cold water onto his face, the shock does little to stop his thoughts from wondering. Even a cold shower doesn’t help. He cannot get the image of you out of his head; this little minx who stepped into his holy sanctuary and tainted it with all her seductive glory. 

The next day, at mass, as he speaks to the congregation at large, his eyes cannot help but stray to you. 

Despite you looking so innocent—so sweet—in a paisley blue dress and a veil covering your hair, he cannot get the image of his dream out of his thoughts. But, his sharp mind stays on track, and by some miracle, he manages to finish his sermon on the dot. After church, as he wraps up the last of his farewells to the good Christian families around the neighbourhood, he notices a figure kneeling on the frontmost pew, her head bowed and pretty hands clasped together.

Like you two are telepathically connected together, you lift your head and catch his eye.

Quickly signing yourself, you stand and genuflect, before turning around to smile at him. “Apologies, Father. I was just about to leave.”

He maintains a respectful distance from you, and yet, his smile is welcoming and warm.

“No worries, there. You can stay as long as you want. Just make sure to close the door behind you.”

He says nothing else, about to walk away, but your soft voice stops him.

“Father… I know this is sudden, but… I have a confession to make.”

Caleb stops in his tracks. He’s already out of his chasuble, and it’s supposed to be lunch time. But, he swallows down the prick of annoyance and turns to you, smile never faltering.

“Sure. Let’s begin.”

You tell him of these… feelings… you’ve been having for years now. Of needing to be devoured. Taken. Overwhelmed. There are tears in your eyes, the picture of a loathing so deep and shameful, you could never tell your grandma. The sweet old woman would call you a fiend, or worse, ship you off to a nunnery if she found out your true desires. 

As much as Caleb tries to remain impartial, he can’t help the tightening coil in his belly at your words. 

Through the flimsy booth walls, he listens to you prattle on about how you can’t live life like this anymore—feeling so lost and untethered. That you want someone to choose for you, to tell you what to feel, what to wear, how to cheer for a football team—influence you to pick your favorite football team.

That existing as someone with autonomy in this world is hard when all you want is to be directed the way he directs his people—his congregation.

And when you’re done ranting, close to tears, all Caleb can say in this instance is a low, and commanding: 

“Kneel.”

You pause, unsure if you heard him right. “Wh—?”

“I said, kneel.”

Tension, thick and syrupy, coats the narrow space, fogging up the confessional booth with an inexplicable heat. You don’t know what to expect when you follow his command, slipping onto your knees in the middle of the confession booth. Time comes to a standstill, and you’re holding your breath. 

One… two…

“Are you kneeling?” 

You swallow hard. “Yes, Father.”

Silence. And, when you start to wonder if he’s pulling your leg, the confessional curtain is suddenly drawn open. Father Caleb looms over you, tall and formidable. You have never noticed how broad his shoulders are underneath his cassock, and when he kneels before you, his touch is tender on your cheeks, holding you like you’re some precious thing worthy of salvation.

His lips slam into yours, and it feels like a world only for two. This moment is made to break every rule in the book, and when his tongue slides into your mouth, you moan softly, like a penitent dissolving into a sea of sin. 

You’re losing yourself in his touch, and when he stands, he brings you along with him, pushing you against the cool stone walls of the church. The moment lasts for what feels like an eternity—only when he pulls away, a thin strand of saliva connecting to your lower lips, does it strike you what has conspired. It seems that Father Caleb, too, realises his mistake, and he drops his grip from your cheeks, as if the fires of Hell have begun to lick at his hands.

“I must go.”

He doesn’t spare you a second glance, hurrying out of the sanctuary and away, leaving you painfully wanting and needy for him.

The guilt eats away at him till the evening sun sets. Caleb cannot get the memory of your lips out of his mind, and the taste of your breath on his lips. 

God, forgive me… He picks up the flogger in the corner of his room and rips off his shirt, kneeling right at the altar where Saint Anthony stands, his beady eyes joining a cacophony of religious figures staring down at this broken man who is a lost cause. Every rip of the whip on his skin tears another chunk of his self-hatred, soothing the iron fires of his remorse to numb it with the pain. 

Driblets of red dot the floor and he’s breathing hard, mind white with pain. His hand trembles as he prepares for another hit onto his lower back, when he feels a presence behind him. 

“Caleb—stop…” 

Your sweet voice fills his mind like a fine mist. He squeezes his eyes closed and leans forward, gasping for breath.

“God,” he mumbles, “I’m hearing things.” But, someone grazes his shoulder, and for the first time in his life since walking the holy path, Caleb feels pure, unadulterated fear. A feminine touch caresses his bicep, and he tenses, frozen.

It cannot be. “Caleb,” your sweet voice slips through his consciousness, and your lips touch the open laceration on his back. “I’m here.”

A dark thrill shoots up his spine, and he opens his eyes. He feels a rush across his skin, losing control when he spins around to find you astride his bed, no longer looking so innocent but in that same dress from his wet dream last night. He knows what you are, says your name in his mind, and you entertain him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Succubus.”

“True,” you purr, movements slow and languid as you lay on his bed, slipping your hand down to your thighs, sensually tracing the outline of your body under his scrutinising gaze. Caught in your tide, Caleb feels like he’s drowning. But, he cannot surrender.

To give in would be to lose the holy light of his life. He tries to stay grounded, and yet, the sight of you threatens to make him break his composure. 

“You should leave.” 

The tremble in his voice makes your blood-red lips curl into a smile. “Is that really what you want?” 

Hypnotised, he finds his feet leading him right to the bed. As if out of control, he kneels right before your spread thighs, and you can taste his surrender right on the tip of your tongue. 

“Why?” He manages to ask. “Why are you tormenting me?” 

You reach out to play with the silver chain around his neck, tugging him up towards you with it. 

“Why not? Nothing gives me more pleasure than to watch a strong man crumble.”

And, crumble he does. 

He loses himself in your body, your taste, your touch. It’s the first time in a long time he feels a woman’s walls sucking him in, and yet, he inexplicably knows you’re not of this mortal realm. With every touch and caress, you claim a bit of his soul, straying him further and further away from the light. 

Caleb can’t stop himself from pressing kisses along your supple body, fully wrapped in this unforgivable sin. Like a dog, he pants right at your altar, your desire dripping in his mouth like the sweetest manna the skies could never offer. The word and his vows mean nothing, not when he’s pounding into you from above, grunting and groaning your name into the crook of your neck.

When he takes you from behind, he swears you give a new meaning to the word ‘religion’. From the arch of your back to the way your shoulder blades move under his ministrations, he finds himself dry-mouthed with ecstasy. 

Mea culpa… mea maxima culpa…

Under the watchful eyes of the saints and even God himself, he spills inside of you for the third time in the night, his life force seeping straight to your core, sustaining you while leaving him feeling emptier than ever. But, the high humming in his veins puts him on cloud nine. He is a man born anew, baptised by your body and lust.

When he falls asleep next to you, your fingers slowly run through his hair, and you make eye contact with the scowling portrait of Saint Anthony perched on his makeshift altar.

Softly, smugly, you whisper: “I win.”

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[22ayla21]

👀 I suddenly just had an Idea after remember that I request about " a kid ask their father how they made a child (meanwhile the wife leave the father to answer the kid's question)" and you leave a note how the husband will take this to bed.

What if one day the wife start to walk limping (after that night) and the kid worried about their mother so they start to ask her if she is okay.

Meanwhile the mother just reassuring the kid that she is alright while silently glaring at her husband.

The kid notice this and begin to ask their father if he do something bad to their mother.

Nighttime showdowns and morning consequences

After his wife set him up, the husband took revenge on her at night for what she had done, although in the morning the children were worried about why their mother was limping.

The morning didn't start out quite as she would have liked.

She sat at the table, adjusting a lock of hair, and tried to remain calm. Her whole posture screamed that every movement was causing discomfort, but she held on steadfastly.

The children, as always, were running around, chatting about their own things. However, the eldest son suddenly stopped, squinted and looked closely at his mother.

- Mom, why are you walking so slowly?

The daughter, always attentive to details, also noticed something was wrong.

- Yes, you've been moving strangely since morning. Are you in pain?

She smiled reservedly, not showing it, and was just about to say something when she caught her husband's eye. He was calmly drinking his pomegranate juice, but a satisfied smile lurked in the corners of his lips.

Her gaze became warning.

The children, of course, did not miss this moment. They exchanged glances, then their gazes slid synchronously to their father.

- Dad, - said the son with a slight suspicion in his voice. - Did you hurt mom?

The daughter narrowed her eyes.

- Yes! You seem too pleased!

Mydei endured their gazes with complete equanimity, but his ears turned slightly red.

- Me? - he responded with such arrogant calm that it only increased suspicion. The children did not lag behind.

- Well, yes!

- Admit it!

The wife rubbed the bridge of her nose discreetly, hiding a tired smile.

- Everything is fine. It's just... I just worked a long time yesterday and was tired.

The children did not look completely convinced, but, fortunately, decided to accept this explanation. But Mydei, having finished drinking his juice, slowly put the cup on the table and lazily drawled:

- Yes, Mom tried very hard yesterday...

The wife almost choked, throwing him a look of complete indignation. The daughter frowned.

- What does this mean?

The eldest son nodded.

- Yes, explain.

Mydei simply chuckled contentedly, rising from the table.

- When you grow up, you will understand.

And before his wife could throw something heavy at him, he calmly left, leaving her to deal with the curious children.

The night seemed to last forever. Especially for her. When her husband quietly leaned towards her ear and whispered:

- You will answer for the set-up, darling.

She knew what it meant.

In the morning, when the first rays of the sun flooded the bedroom, she got out of bed with difficulty. Her back ached, her legs refused to move as she wanted. As soon as she stepped onto the floor, she felt an unpleasant aching pain and groaned barely audibly.

But there was no time to feel sorry for herself - the children had long since woken up.

As soon as she left the room, she was met by the wary glances of her daughters. They immediately noticed her cautious gait.

- Mom, are you okay? - asked the eldest.

- Of course, I just... I just slept uncomfortably, - she hastened to lie, trying to make her voice sound casual.

But the children were not stupid. They noticed their mother glance at their father, who was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. Anaxa looked completely unperturbed, only a slight smirk playing on his lips.

The sisters exchanged glances. Then they headed straight for their father.

- Dad, did you hurt mom?

Anaxa almost choked on his tea. His wife just rolled her eyes, trying to hide her blushing face.

- Of course not, - he answered calmly, but his daughters' gaze was relentlessly boring into him.

The younger one narrowed her eyes:

- But mom walks strangely, and she looks at you somehow suspiciously...

- Yeah, - the older one picked up, - and she looks like she wants to kill you.

Anaxa took a sip of coffee, paused, then chuckled.

- I told you that I should sleep in another room, since mom sleeps so uncomfortably.

The wife almost choked on a piece of bread, and the daughters looked at him even more distrustfully.

- Hmm... Well, okay, - the eldest finally decided, although she clearly did not fully believe it.

The children seemed to have decided to end the investigation at this point, but his wife knew: this was not the end. And judging by the sly way her husband looked at her, she would have to take revenge for this disgrace in the future.

The morning began with the usual noise of children, but this time the mother of the family moved much more slowly than usual. As soon as she stepped outside the bedroom, her two sons immediately jumped up to her.

- Mom, are you okay? Why are you walking so strangely?

She smiled, trying to hide her slight irritation, and nodded:

- Everything is fine, just a little tired.

But the small eyes were too attentive. Their mother was not just tired - she was stealthily throwing displeased glances at their father, who was calmly drinking his morning tea, as if nothing had happened. Phainon felt her gaze on himself, but only smirked, pretending to be the most innocent creature in this house.

The children exchanged glances, and then their attention switched to their father.

- Dad, did you do anything to mom?

Phainon, pretending to be surprised, slowly put the cup on the table.

- What made you think that?

- Well... - one of the boys looked at his mother, then back at his father. - She looks at you like that.

The wife snorted, but said nothing, giving her husband a chance to wriggle out of it. Phainon leaned toward his sons, pretending to be conspiratorial.

- Your mother just shouldn't provoke me sometimes.

- Hm? - the children looked at each other. - Dad, what did you do?

- Gave her a serious educational talk.

The wife flushed, but continued drinking tea, pretending that the conversation didn't concern her. Phainon held back a grin, knowing full well that he had really "taken revenge" that night for the trap she had set for him yesterday.

The sons, not receiving a clear answer, shrugged their shoulders and returned to their game. Phainon, feeling that this conversation would still come back to haunt him in the evening, enjoyed the moment of triumph.

[moldycheezeit]

Chapter 1

You were a good kid, great kid even. But no one ever really knew, well maybe your high school science teacher and Alfred, but they were the only ones.  

Someone out there is probably thinking ‘‘well what about your mom she would surely care?” Well to bad she wasn't there, well at first she was, during the pregnancy, but when it was time for you to come into the world all of a sudden she didn’t fit into said world. So death took her away from you minutes after you were born. 

For that and maybe because you look like her, they probably wouldn’t know because they barely look let alone talk to you, they neglected you and it hurt because these are the people who are supposed to love and care for you. But with the help of Alfred you learned to take care of yourself which leads you to this moment. Like right now where you are standing at this very moment. At the school's science fair because you, even if people don’t believe it because of how pretty you are, are really smart when it comes to science. You learned for your love of science by reading a book that your mom had written and left behind after she passed. She left behind many more things for you but this stood out among the rest. It was mostly filled with ideas on things to create and ways that could make it possible. So you tried the one that you found the most interesting and figured out a way to create it. Of course it took a bunch of trial and error but you made it work with what you had. Seeing as Bruce never gave you any money ,like an allowance, you had to find scraps to make your inventions work. Now let’s get back to that competition. 

You are currently standing next to the table with your invention ‘the gauntlet’ yea you didn’t know what to name it. What it can do is tell you any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient. It takes the form of a bracelet but when activated it basically takes up the back of your hand and half of your forearm. It has two screens, one that you use to type and the other that gives off a hologram-like screen. Yea it’s clunky and doesn’t look right at the moment, but for your first model it’s great. 

While standing around waiting for the judges to come see your product you see a man. He looked to be in his 40’s and had short brown hair, a weird looking goatee, and was wearing… sunglasses? Indoors…welp at least he’s not wearing something stupid like a bat suit. He does look familiar but you can’t remember were from. You notice he’s looking around at the invitations and talking to the creators. And he seems to be heading in your direction like right now. He’s 5 tables away, 4, 3, 2– “Hey kid what’s this you got?” The man is smiling like he’s actually interested in what you have to say. That is not really normal. “This is a gauntlet I created to tell you of any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient.” You had responded to the man’s question confidently. “Wow you really programmed it to do all that.” He questioned, interested in the gauntlet that sits in the display case. “Yes, it took me a while to do it though.” You had said, uttering the last part to yourself. “ I can imagine seeing as I've done a bunch of stuff just like it.” The uh.. Weirdo, yea lets go with that, had told you. Now that surprised you, But before you could ask any questions the weirdo ,as you've dubbed him, started walking away. “Alright see you later kid, hope you win with that invention you got.” you could hear his voice starting to fade a bit as he walked away. And all you could think was ‘ Man was a weirdo.’ 

It's been a while since the judges had come over to your table, because right now they were deciding on who the top 3 will be. You kinda hoped one of them would be the red haired kid who made that moving metal arm out of scraps. To you it was just really cool. You can't help but hope to get in the top 3 as well because the winners get cash. ‘ I need that money so I can create more inventions, yea using what I have on hand is good but there is a limit of how much I can do with it. Not like Bruce would give me any.’ you had rolled your eyes thinking about that last sentence. Hopefully with the creations your mom thought of they could help you get enough money to never rely on that man again.

Just as you ended that thought the speakers in the hall started projecting what the announcer was saying into the mic. “ Can all the contestants make their way to the stage, the judges have finally made their decisions.”  You and all the other contestants start making your way to the front where the judges are.  luckily it's not that far of a walk and when you get there you all stand in a crowd.  when you all get there the announcer starts speaking “ even though we had a lot of good intentions this year only about three of you can make the top.  so we'll start from 3rd to 1st place in order of who got which.” As the crowd stands there in anticipation  the announcer starts speaking again “ In third place is kidd with his metal arm that he has made to help people who are missing limbs, we hope to see more in the future for him.” as people clap you see the red-haired kid you saw earlier walking up to get onto the stage in the announcer hands him a third place medal and a check with money on it. “ Now for second place Elijah who has made a machine that can take packages of  food and can make them into full meals.” Just like before you had seen this kid Elijah start walking up to the stage and when he got on the stage he had received his second place medal in his check that he had won. “And finally for our first place we have a (y/n) Wayne who has shown us a gauntlet. That can help people in the medical field  identify diseases  if they have a hard time figuring out what they are or what the patient has.” You're surprised to hear that you knew you were smart but you didn't know you would win first place. As you walk up to the stage you have a rush of excitement in you. Finally, you can have money to help create your inventions, your mom's inventions. you can finally fulfill the dream she had that she wrote in her books from before you were born.But when you go on stage the announcer only handed you the first place medal you were surprised to not see a check that came with it then out of the corner of your eye you see the same weirdo man from earlier with a big check walking towards you. “ Hey kid you won just like expected, hopefully you can put this money to use and make more amazing creations like the one you made for today.” But you couldn't help but say “ you look familiar.”  and happily he answers your question saying “I'm Tony Stark kid.” Ah.so that's why he looked so familiar. 

If you watch one piece see what I did there. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و I thought it would be a funny thing to put in. Also sorry I keep posting at like 1am its really the only time I'm free

Taglist : @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz @simpingpandas @galaxypurplerose @spqce-buns @peche4et3chocolat @ryuushou @moon0goddess @fanficloverlol

[softtdaisy]

need your touch / Aaron Hotchner

summary. Hotch didn’t realize he developed an aversion to being touched until he became touch-starved.

words count. 2 776

what to expect. kind of grumpy x sunshine, very sad, mention of foyet and the attack, but very sad

a/n. I had this idea reading a book and I felt so sad about the man suffering from that, that of course I wanted to do with Hotch too so here it is

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

The shivers. The disgust. The sudden need to wash his skin.

Hotch didn’t realize he developed an aversion to being touched until it was too late.

It wasn't until he actually became touch-starved that he realized this. 

The first time he realized something might be wrong was after a case. One that they all thought would take days but was surprisingly done after a few hours. After they finished packing, Rossi walked behind him. “Well done,” he congratulated Hotch by patting his shoulder. 

He had a slight and unconscious movement of recoil. Something Rossi didn’t notice, already focused on someone else. But something that stayed in Hotch’s mind and didn’t leave him. 

Soon, he realized how every little moment where he was touched by somebody else made him feel sick. 

He had to fight against the need to run to the bathroom after shaking hands with anybody.

He started avoiding every form of affection from the team, not that they were numerous but still present.

And if after his divorce with Haley, Hotch stopped the whole dating process, the idea of being intimate with someone became a real anxiety issue. Hands getting lost on his body, the feeling of lips leaving wet marks on his skin… this was too much for him. So much so that he didn’t even know how to get over this now.

And with months spent staying away from any type of physical contact, he started to feel the consequences on his mental health. He was the one avoiding it, but in his mind, the idea of being repulsive started to grow.

The thing was, he knew exactly where it came from. 

It could have been “the best part” of this if he could find a way to fight against it.

But it was definitely the “worst part” of this whole mess.

Because there was nothing he could do about the memory of almost dying in the hands of George Foyet. Every physical contact was a reminder of the worst night of his life. His brain ended up associating it with the feeling of dying. Again and again.

If he had been feeling better, he probably would have found it funny that the universe decided to put you in his life at the exact moment he was starting to lose it.

Just like that, one day, when he arrived in the meeting room, you were there next to Penelope.

“Let me introduce you to the most amazing little fairy you will ever meet,” she said, her hands on your shoulder like a proud mom. Which, of course, caused some laughter from the team. Not that they doubt you could be some kind of fairy, especially if you were the one Penelope chose to work with her. 

“As you know,” she pursued, “I asked to have another pair of hands to help me, and so here is my little ray of sunshine.” 

“Ok,” you laughed, patting her hand gently. “I think we can stop with the cute nicknames; they got the idea.” 

The whole time you spent explaining what your job would be, basically supporting Penelope in her office but also going more on the field with the team to be the connection between them and her, Hotch never stopped looking at you.

Penelope was right: you were a pure ray of sunshine. You lighted up the whole room in a way he forgot was possible after years of discovering the worst cases between these walls. You kept smiling and laughing, joking with Derek at his silly remarks and blushing when you heard Emily’s compliments on your hair. You were already a part of the team in less than five minutes.

And when you walked to him to shake his hand, he realized there was something even more special about you.

For the first time in months, he was able to touch someone else without feeling any disgust. It was even pleasing.

“Nice to meet you,” he said in a low voice, still in shock from the lack of reaction his body gave. He got lost in the beauty of your eyes when you looked at him. More than the color of them, which was straight from a painter’s palette for him, he found some peace in it. You didn’t know all the struggle he was going through. 

You were like an open door to something new. To feel like himself again.

Of course, it would have been too easy if he could have just started to feel at ease next to you and put his touch revulsion away in a flash. 

Hotch was still the boss, and you were working for him. If he were being as responsible as he felt he had to be, he would put a respectful distance between the two of you. He couldn’t be there, longing for your touch.

But, without meaning to, you were making things way harder for him.

You were the affectionate type. And soon the team learned that they couldn’t escape your overflowing need to have physical contact with them to show your appreciation. Even Spencer, who made it clear from the start that he wasn’t comfortable with this type of affection, ended up asking for some of yours. 

Like the high five when the team progressed in the case, the handholding—or grabbing, in your case—for the person next to you in the plane or the comforting touch when you felt like one of them needed it. A hand on the shoulder, a squeeze on the arm, your fingers patting your thighs softly when a meeting was going wrong, or even a hug when it was necessary. It was a normal habit for you, and soon it became one for the team too.

You weren’t sure Hotch was appreciating it though. He was your boss, and for obvious reasons, you tried to keep a distance so you wouldn’t get fired for sexual harassment. But if you felt like some of them barely needed your affection—yet, still appreciated it—like Emily or Derek, and some truly loved having you around, like Penelope, there was something different with Hotch.

That man was the incarnation of sadness, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

The first time you overpassed your feelings about it was during a case involving children. The meeting with the sheriff went terribly wrong, and Hotch, who always seemed so calm and composed, let his anger out when he got up. Slamming the chair against the desk and closing the door just as hard. 

You didn’t hesitate a single second before running after him. “Hotch!” you yelled, a little louder than intended since people turned around. Well, most did, except for the one concerned. You had to run after him outside to finally be able to grab his arm. “Oh god, I’m not trained for this stuff,” you said, out of breath. 

He stayed silent. Still in shock that you went after him. Still in shock that your touch didn’t make him feel sick. Once again. He even found some comfort in the way your thumb was naturally brushing his wrist; he could feel your tenderness even through the tissue of his shirt.

“Are you ok?” you asked before laughing. “I’m stupid; of course you’re not. But…can I do anything?” 

Hotch was impressive for many, many reasons. He was your boss, sure. He was older than you; it was a fact. But he was terribly and undeniably handsome. It wasn’t easy to be in front of him most of the time. But right now, alone in the street, facing his eyes that were leaving your face and his deep silence, it was even harder.

“Can I offer you a hug? Maybe?” Your voice was so low that you were convinced he didn’t hear you. Which was probably for the better. You could live with the idea of missing the opportunity because you didn’t speak loud enough. Less with the idea that he deliberately ignored you.

But soon, you watched his movement as he made a step towards you. As his arms opened up before closing against your body. As his head is buried in your neck. It took you a second to react, and you held him tight against you. Your hand went to his back to caress it slowly. 

You wondered when was the last time he experienced a comforting hug.

Hotch knew it had been roughly a year. 

The following weeks, you noticed Hotch took some distance with you. You’d like to say he did it again, but the truth was you don’t think he was doing it deliberately before the hug. Now he was doing everything to not be close to you.

It was late at night when your bell rang. The camera on your phone immediately gave you the image of the man standing in front of your door. A tall man with dark hair and a dark coat that you knew well since these days have been cold and it was your boss’ favorite.

You didn’t question Hotch's presence at your door until you opened it and were met by his sad figure. “This has to stay between us,” he immediately said in a hoarse voice. And before knowing what this was about, you nodded. You had the feeling you couldn’t refuse what he was asking for. 

You watched as he entered your apartment. As he took off his coat, putting it on a hanger and hanging it on the coat rack in precise movements. Like he repeated it in his head many times to make sure everything went smoothly. Or to reassure him that if he didn’t mess up here, it meant he was doing the right thing.

And you watched as he faced you, again, and went to your arms immediately. This one took you by surprise. You were used to being the one initiating the hug, not the one receiving it. Or, more exactly in this case, giving it without offering it in the first place.

Because Hotch wasn’t holding you. He was being held by you. More than that, he was holding onto you tightly, craving your touch. You could feel his fingers grabbing the thin tissue of your pajamas. Like he feared you might disappear any second. Fearing that he would lose the only person that made him feel good about himself again.

The hand you put on his back slowly moved to his neck, softly touching and caressing his skin. In any other moment, this was something that would have stressed him. Hotch always felt sensitive in this part of his body. He used to love being touched there, but after these past months, the idea of someone else's hand here was impossible to conceive. But here he was, longing for your touch. Hoping you never stopped.

And when you leaned back, he was glad that your hand didn’t leave its place. “Let’s sit so we can talk, ok?” you offered in a whisper. It seemed right to grab his hand at that moment to guide him, as if your apartment wasn’t small enough that your living room was more than apparent from the door.

You found it funny, once you both settled in your vintage sofa, how you looked like two opposites. You are in your pajamas, far from the professional outfit you wore all day. While Hotch was still in his suit, it looked like his day had just started. 

Except for the tired eyes and the exhausted expression. You knew it wasn’t even caused by work; you had a very casual office day. Maybe that was the saddest part. How life has exhausted him to a point of no return.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, suddenly realizing that maybe you should give him the chance to decide instead of imposing an explanation. 

At first, Hotch didn’t reply. His eyes were still on your hand holding his, how little it looked compared to his big fingers. There was something almost fragile in his behavior, how he looked smaller, trying to disappear in your cushion. 

And so, you started to talk for him. You told him what you did when you got home, what you ate, and what you watched during dinner. Trying to keep his mind entertained. And since you had the habit of speaking with your hands, you kept playing with his fingers or hitting his thigh. 

“You’re the first person that can touch me,” he finally said after hearing one of your silly facts about burning your soup the other day. But his revelation didn’t ruin the mood. Sure, you weren’t laughing anymore, neither was he—even if he didn’t truly laugh, simply giggling. But the way you turned to him, your knee falling on his lap and your hands grabbing his in a protective way, he felt at ease. 

Hotch couldn’t look at you when he told you about Foyet, what happened that night, the stabs, and how he actually remembered everything compared to what he said to the others. But he was still looking at your hands. “After that, I realized that the idea of being touched was frightening. I just couldn’t handle it and avoided it at any cost. The feeling of someone else’s skin on mine was just…” He didn’t finish his sentence, closing his eyes at the memory of the sickness it used to give him. 

When you stopped brushing his skin with your thumb, he put his hand on top of yours. “But not you,” he continued, looking up at you. “Being touched by you is like an antidote. I can’t explain it.” 

Now that you were thinking about it, you realized that more than once you saw Hotch step back to not be touched by anyone. Something you never paid more attention to. You weren’t a profiler, not like the team. So you didn’t question his freeze when someone approached him, the tension in his jaw when he had to shake hands, or that the only person he sat next to on the plane was Spencer, the one that wouldn’t touch him without permission. 

“I don’t want to escape your touch.” He said after a long pause. You could tell from his eyes that it wasn't easy for him to say those things. “I need it.” 

This sounded like a confession. It was actually the first time that Hotch acknowledged that more than accepting your skin on his, it became a necessity. An urge to be touched by you. And feel alive. 

“What are you asking me, Aaron?” You asked. You were confused about the situation. “I’m happy to help, and I would have understood if you had asked me to stop being this affectionate with you because it makes you feel uncomfortable. But here…”

Something changed in his eyes; you could see it. And before you could understand, Hotch was up and already walking to your door. “I’m sorry. This was inappropriate.”

Running after your boss in your pajamas and slippers was not on your to-do list today. So you grabbed his wrist, but when you tried to pull him close to you, he stopped at the same moment. And so you fell against his chest. Naturally, one of his hands went on your back to secure your body. You did the same, putting a hand on his chest. 

It was hard to ignore the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. “I want to help you,” you said in a low voice, like a secret you wanted to keep between you. “I’ll gladly do it.” 

Something softened in his body when he couldn’t find the one thing he was convinced people had for his behavior. Judgment. Hotch had been convinced that anyone was judging him. And maybe some did, for what he knew.

You didn’t. All he could see was a comprehensive look and a will to do right. 

“But I need you to guide me,” you added. Slowly, you went for his other hand, held it, and brought it to his chest. 

You stayed like that. Skin to skin, body to body. This moment lasted longer than all the physical contact Hotch had in the past months. And you could feel his fingers untighten slowly, just like most of his body. Accepting your embrace, your touch, your help. You even saw a little smile grow on his lips, very subtle but that meant so much.

Maybe Hotch died a few months ago. Maybe a little part of him had accepted it.

But now, he had the feeling that in between your hands, he could experience life again. And with your help, making it worth living.

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee (if you want to be in it, ask me and I'll be happy to add you x)

[hazelira]

little miss grumpy

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

"Jay, I swear, this place is a maze," you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you waddled through the never-ending labyrinth of IKEA. The bright lights and warehouse ceilings seemed determined to drain whatever energy you had left. At nearly eight months pregnant, your feet were swollen, and all you wanted was to sit down and sip on something cold.

"Just a few more things, sweetheart," Jay murmured, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. "Then we’ll head to the cafeteria, I promise. I hear the ice cream’s only a dollar."

You gave him a tired smile, the thought of that creamy vanilla treat motivating you. But there was one more thing — your energetic, headstrong three-year-old daughter.

"Where's our little monster?" you asked, scanning the area.

Jay's gaze softened as he pointed to the corner of the kids' section. There, sprawled out on a tiny IKEA toddler bed, your daughter had tucked herself beneath the miniature duvet, her little body rising and falling in peaceful slumber. The colourful cartoon sheets and plush pillows must've been too tempting to resist.

"Oh, no," Jay whispered with a smirk. "She made herself at home."

"She gets it from you," you teased, thinking of how Jay had stolen the blankets in bed.

"Mm, maybe," he grinned, then sighed. "But I do not have to wake her up."

Your eyes widened. "Oh no, no. You’re on daddy duty. I’m claiming exhaustion rights." You plopped down on one of the display couches dramatically.

Jay chuckled but didn’t argue. He approached the bed, kneeling beside his daughter. "Hey, baby girl," he whispered, brushing her wispy strands away from her flushed cheeks. "Time to get up, missy."

A soft whimper left her lips as she snuggled deeper into the pillow. "No, Daddy."

"C'mon, bub," he cooed, rubbing her back. "We gotta go pay for our things. You can’t stay here."

Her little eyes fluttered open, squinting at him with the most prominent pout. "But it’s my bed," she mumbled, groggy. "Comfy bed."

Jay sighed, his heart breaking a little. "I know, baby. But we have to go now. We’ll get something yummy, okay? Maybe fries and ice cream?"

"No!" she wailed, her face scrunching in frustration. "No fries! No ice cream! Just bed!"

Her cries grew louder, drawing a few curious glances from nearby shoppers. You rubbed your belly, fighting the urge to step in, but Jay gave you a reassuring glance. He could handle this.

"Alright, little miss grumpy," Jay murmured, scooping her up despite her flailing limbs. "I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you."

"Daddy, no!" she sobbed, her tiny fists thumping weakly against his chest. Tears streamed down her face, her tantrum in full force. "I want a comfy bed!"

"I know, I know," Jay soothed, rocking her gently as he carried her. "But we’re almost done, princess. I promise."

Her cries didn’t stop, but Jay didn’t falter. His arms stayed strong, his voice low and calming. Even as her wails echoed through the store, he remained patient — the picture of a loving father.

When you reached the cafeteria, you had already claimed a table, resting your aching feet. Jay approached with your still-sniffling toddler in his arms. He kissed the top of her head before setting her down into the chair beside you.

"Hey, baby," you cooed, brushing the damp curls away from her face. "Guess what? Daddy said we could get ice cream and fries. Doesn’t that sound yummy?"

Her red-rimmed eyes blinked up at you, her lip still trembling. "Ice cream?"

Jay crouched to her level, his large hands cradling her tiny ones. "Yeah, bub. The best vanilla ice cream. And we’ll get fries, too. Only if my big girl feels better."

Her pout lingered for a moment longer before she gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Okay... but I want the biggest one."

Jay chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Deal, baby girl."

Soon enough, Jay returned with a small cup of creamy vanilla ice cream and a side of golden fries. The toddler’s tears were forgotten as she happily nibbled on her fries and licked her ice cream with a satisfied hum.

"Yummy," she mumbled, her earlier meltdown now a distant memory.

Jay smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "We survived IKEA," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Barely," you laughed softly, leaning against his shoulder.

As your daughter giggled through sticky ice cream fingers and salty fries, you couldn’t help but think—chaotic as it was—these moments made life so sweet.

Jay brushed a few stray crumbs from her cheeks as your little girl contentedly munched on her fries. Her face was still slightly puffy from all the crying, but the joy of ice cream had done wonders. The IKEA cafeteria buzzed around you — chatter from other families, the clinking of trays, and the soft hum of the coffee machines.

“You’re doing okay, sweetheart?” Jay’s voice was low, soft, just for you. His thumb traced lazy circles over the back of your hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, though your body told a different story. Every inch of you ached, and the pressure from carrying your second child was almost unbearable today. But even through the exhaustion, you felt grateful. “Just tired.”

Jay nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “I should’ve carried you, too,” he teased slightly.

“Oh, yeah? Think you could handle carrying both of us?” You gestured between yourself and the little girl, joyfully dipping a fry into her ice cream — a strange but adorable mix of salty and sweet.

He chuckled, though his gaze softened. “I’d carry all three of you if I had to.”

The words lingered for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest. Even when things got chaotic — like tantrums in IKEA — Jay was your anchor.

"Mommy, look!" your daughter exclaimed, her sticky hands thrusting her cup forward, a small glob of melted ice cream dangerously close to tipping over. "All gone!"

“You finished it already?” You gasped dramatically, making her giggle. “That was fast, baby!”

She grinned wide, though her face was still smeared with traces of vanilla. Jay shook his head with amusement, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face gently.

“All clean,” he announced with a proud grin.

“Daddy,” she giggled, wiggling in her seat. “I’m not a baby.”

“Not a baby? Says the little miss who cried for her comfy bed like one?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Her mouth opened in an exaggerated gasp. “I was not a baby! I was a… a big girl!”

Jay leaned closer, poking her belly playfully. “A big girl, huh?”

She erupted into laughter, her earlier tantrum now just a distant memory. Moments like these — the laughter, the sweetness, the unwavering patience — reminded you why Jay was such an incredible father.

But the day wasn’t over yet.

"Okay, little miss grumpy," Jay said, lifting her effortlessly from the highchair. "We’ve got one more mission."

Her eyes lit up. "Mission?"

"Yup. Help Mommy and Daddy get to the car without any more meltdowns. Think you can do it?"

She scrunched her nose in determination, her arms wrapping around Jay’s neck. “I can do it!”

You chuckled as you slowly stood, the weight of your belly making even the most minor movements feel like a marathon. Jay was quick to steady you, his hand never leaving yours.

"Lean on me, babe," he murmured.

"I always do," you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

With your daughter happily perched on Jay’s hip, you made your way toward the IKEA exit, the remnants of a long shopping day following behind. Bags of flat-packed furniture, a half-empty cup of ice cream, and the echoes of a tantrum that would become a funny story one day.

And through it all, Jay’s hand is yours. Always.

requested by @jalicecookie

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[littelovelunette]

Untamed Desires

Contains smut, spanking, mentions of ripping, fist-fucking, fingering, nipple clamps, mentions of inflatable dildo, squirting

Ambessa x Diva!Reader

Being Ambessa's wife meant having to attend extravagant events and parties which was good for you considering you were a party animal but the outfit selection was a complete nightmare. You were feeling extra haughty due to it, you had been on your feet the entire day and all the staff members assigned to help you get ready were walking on eggshells.

“Love, you have to be a little more lenient with them, they're trying their best,” Ambessa leaned against the doorway.

“I don't care, I look like shit! And all these stupid, puffy dresses make me look fat! Do something about it or I’m not going,” you huffed and crossed your arms.

Ambessa's lips pressed in a thin line for a few minutes. She didn't say anything and let the silence linger in the dressing room before she walked inside finally, gesturing to the staff to see their way out. They did, leaving the both of you alone in the huge dressing room.

“You did not just use that tone with me, young lady,” Ambessa’s hand wrapped around your neck.

You gasped for air, wincing at her touch and tried to pry her hand off your throat using both yours but it was of no use. She was hell-bent on making you pay for using that tone of voice and attitude towards her.

That's how you found yourself sprawled across Ambessa's lap with your reddened ass up in the air, counting down the number of spanks with a voice that was barely audible because of how much you were sobbing.

“I'm sorry, please,” you cried.

Ambessa didn't relent, “You need to learn the consequences of your actions, love.”

And with those words, another smack was delivered to your ass causing your whole body to jolt in pain, drool running down your mouth as you sobbed.

“H-hurts,” you trembled.

You were a bawling mess by the time Ambessa was done spanking your ass, bright red hand marks all over your butt. You were sure you wouldn't be able to sit down in comfort for a while after that, your skin stung with the pain from being spanked so hard.

“I'm sorry,” you babbled pathetically.

“There, there, shh,” Ambessa brought you close, lacing her fingers through your hair, “You've taken your punishment well, you deserve a reward.”

“I do?” You whispered.

“Yes, baby,” she responded.

Ambessa let you up from her lap so you could stand in front of her, she grabbed the golden clothes clips from the vanity surface where your makeup palettes were laid.

Ambessa grabbed your waist with one hand, other hand guiding one of the clips onto your left nipple causing you to gasp softly.

“I-It feels weird,” you stammered.

“Just hold still,” Ambessa ordered.

You didn't have the energy to resist so you let her put another clip on your other nipple. Ambessa tugged at the clip, the mouth of it digging into your sensitive nub.

You let out a small whimper, hands quickly grasping Ambessa's shoulders to steady yourself.

“Spread,” Ambessa tapped your inner thighs.

You spread your legs, standing with a good distance between both thighs so she could access your cunt. Ambessa's fingers rubbed your pussy lips, smearing the arousal and wetness all over your vulva.

“You're so wet, princess,” Ambessa purred.

Her fingers spread your pussy lips exposing your slit to herself, as her middle and ring fingers delved inside, you let out a small gasp of pleasure.

“It feels good, doesn't it?” Ambessa’s eyes were locked on your face, gauging your expression as if that's all it meant to her. She didn't care for your cunt, all she cared for was that you were feeling pleasure.

“Y-Yes, oh, it feels heavenly,” you moaned.

Ambessa's thick fingers disappeared inside your slit knuckles deep making your legs tremble but you held onto your balance. Her thumb— the rough, calloused pad of it— rubbed against your sensitive clitoris causing you to let out a high pitched moan. One you were sure the maids had heard.

Ambessa fingered you with rough efficiency, each and every thrust pushing deeper into your pussy.

“Your filthy pussy is drooling over my fingers, it's that good, is it?” Ambessa coaxed, “Coating my fingers completely, what a dirty little girl you are.”

You let out a small sound of protest, but just then you felt a third finger dip inside. “Ah! N-no, I'll rip,” you whimpered.

Ambessa didn't pay any heed to your begging if anything it only turned her on further. Your legs were violently shaking and you were so close to coming on her fingers but Ambessa had other plans.

Without any warning, she began slowly pumping her entire fist inside your cunt. If you hadn't taken all those inflatable dildos before, you were sure you would've ripped.

You were crying as Ambessa's fist nestled inside your pussy, the pain of the stretch was only a little bearable but the pleasure immense.

“Want me to start moving?” Ambessa inquired.

You nodded.

“Please, gently,” you sobbed.

Small whimpers and moans left your mouth as you felt Ambessa's fist start moving in your cunt.

Your legs shook even more than before if possible and your hands shot out to grab the back of the chair where Ambessa was calmly sitting.

"Dear me, is it really that good?" Ambessa teased as her golden eyes gauged your expression with years of expertise. She forced her fist deeper making you gasp, a small squeak issuing from you.

"Noooo..." You whined and before you knew it you were grinding back against her hand. You were moaning from her fist in your pussy and if that wasn't bad enough, you were now grinding against it.

"What a slut." Ambessa's eyes twinkled with amusement. She leaned back giving the most brutal few thrusts inside and that was enough.

"No! Please!" You pleaded but with the last thrust you squirted. All over the fucking place.

Ambessa slowly took her hand out of your spasming pussy, giving it a final rub before holding up her slick covered hand for you to see.

"Testament to your masochism." Ambessa said.

[81pastrys]

Curly Mess

Summary— Lila hated when her parents did her hair, but for picture day she wanted it done a certain way, the Lando way

Warnings— whiny toddler

A/N— I did a hair one for Oscar so it’s Lando’s turn

Lila had curls like her dad. Wild and untamed when she woke up. Her mum learned from Lando how to take care of them and did some research on it as well. Lila had her preferences though, only liking the way Lando would style her hair, or wash her hair.

Particularly, she absolutely hated when they brushed her hair. Even if it had copious amounts of leave in conditioner. The only way she would sit still is if Lando was brushing her hair and telling her sweet nothings or if her mum was brushing her hair and Lando was on call.

Her mum woke her up for school and began brushing her hair, Lila squirming and whining the entire time. Lando was in one of the odd countries where it was night as they woke up and shouldn’t be called.

“Sweetheart, let me brush your hair.” Her mum said. “You’re going to be late for school.” She noted. They wake up on time, but after breakfast and the fight for agreeing on an outfit, her hair was the most time consuming.

“It hurts!” Lila whined, trying her best to sit still. “I want daddy!!” She shouted. Her mum sighed and picked up her phone, dialing Lando for a FaceTime call. He was warned that he might get a few weirdly timed calls.

Lila held the phone as it answered and showed Lando, lying on his side, under a duvet, shirtless and tired. “Hey my girls.” He smiled. “Is mama brushing your hair sweetheart?” He asked, his voice groggy and croaky.

“It’s picture day daddy!” Lila said, suddenly forgetting her mum was brushing the curly knots away. “I want you to do my hair, so I look pretty.” She pouted.

“What?!” He said. “You always look pretty Lila, you’re my princess.” He smiled at her. His wife giggled. “What if I tell mama how to do it?” He offered. Lila nodded as her mum finished up the hardest part. “Yeah?”

Lila handed her mum the phone and Lando gave clear instructions on how he styles her hair. Something about rolling it with your fingers to create pretty ringlets. Her mum added tiny pigtails, as requested half way through, and Lila was ecstatic.

“Look at you!” Lando said. “Such a pretty girl.” He smiled at her through the phone. “Daddy has to go to sleep sweetheart, but I love you and have a good picture day okay?” Lila nodded and they blew kisses through the phone. He talked with his wife before hanging up and getting the sleep he needed.

It was safe to say her school picture got its own frame and was placed anywhere Lando could find. She looked adorable and they knew it.

Such a daddy’s girl I can’t 😭

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff

[dr-solomon]

blood in the water, everyone wants her

game synopsis: While dirty truth questions are answered on the table, reader gives a head to a random person under the table. If the person can be guessed by one of the others, the guesser receives $50 from him. If he cannot be guessed until cum, everyone gives him $100.

w: ot5 × f!reader, pretty much blow job, dirty talk, i mean DIRTY talk, alcohol, dollism, ambitious boys, bad boys, sweet boys, orgasms - can't orgasms, cum eating, different tastes, dirt dirt dirt

The red stars of the small home bar flow to create a burgundy pool under the table. The last thing you see before you fall to your knees is how late it is. And as you crawl, you wonder if there are five other boys in the world right now who have their zippers down at the same time.

It's a fact that somehow you enjoy this madness.

“Uh... What's a sex position that you've never tried that you're curious about?” Beomgyu grimaces as he flips through the pink magazine in his hand, reading indecisively.

“Kama sutra, bitch.” Yeonjun leans his head back. “Isn't there something more original?”

Beomgyu frowns as his eyes continue to wander through the questions.

“Gentlemen, there's a girl here.”

Soobin might be the most serious person at the table. “We're not going to talk about the fantasies you have while jerking off."

And yes, he was the one who gave you a long speech before you went under the table. He told you that you could leave whenever you wanted, that you could end the game whenever you wanted, that you could start whenever you wanted and end whenever you wanted, and tons of other things to make you feel comfortable while tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. He didn't expect you to agree to do that, and he probably didn't expect to feel you between his legs now.

“Where's the riskiest place you've done it?”

The question creates a small silence at first.

Soobin slowly crosses his arms over his chest and takes a deep breath as you take his already semi-erect cock in your hand.

“I am a trustworthy man.” he speaks, just before feeling your hot mouth.

Everyone must be looking dangerously into each other's eyes because they are not normally this quiet.

Your hands are on your lap, just the tip of Soobin's cock can fill your mouth nicely. Your teeth rest softly against Soobin's thick warm skin, you move your head a little and fill your mouth a little more.

“I don't know, family house?” Kai mumbles and a few seconds later everyone stops for a second as a wet sound comes from under the table.

You stop too when you remember that you have to be careful not to make a sound.

Yeonjun smirks, the fact that you're working quietly somewhere under the table is sweet to him.

“Office bathroom.”

And the third response is his.

“You must have a great story.” Taehyun comments.

“Yeah, the story of me not being a trustworthy man.”

Soobin doesn't even roll his eyes at this, no, he doesn't think he can do anything as your tongue grazes his tip and starts sucking again on the area you have wetted. You put your hands on his knees and you feel that he might even be holding his breath.

The sounds aren't if the best quality down there, but you can hear Soobin interrupting a sharp moan under his breath and swallowing.

You don't even need to touch his abs to feel how tight they are. He hasn't moved from his position since you started and his arms keep getting tighter and tighter across his chest.

Especially now when you start moving your head up and down.

He is not interested in any of the games going on over the table, his hips moving an inch or so where he sits and then stopping himself. There is no emotion in his face, nothing to give him away, but he shouldn't look so dull.

“At the college, in the professor's room.”

Taehyun keeps his eyes on Soobin as he responds.

“Professor's room?” Beomgyu's laughter echoes under the table, joking that he didn't know Taehyun liked old women. And Taehyun is distracted as he explains that he slept with a student, not his professor.

“Choi Soobin.”

But there's one person you left out.

“It's you, the trustworthy man.”

Yeonjun's bright smile is too cheeky as he makes others look at Soobin.

When your mouth stops as per the rules, Soobin takes off his glasses and presses his palm to his face. “Oh, god...” The thick sound coming out of his throat is almost terrifying. Now his body is partly more relaxed by the fact that he has nothing left to hide and it is increasing the intensity of his precum, but you can't touch him anymore. That must be why he tries not to look at your glossy lips.

Yeonjun chuckles at the money thrown in front of him with a perfect curse. “You're welcome.”

Not everyone knows how they found themselves in this game in the first place, but now things start to get fun.

You crawl in that direction as Beomgyu looks under the table, “Hey, love.” his hand touching your chin. “You might want to get some rest after Soobin.”

He means Soobin's big dick, but he doesn't seem to be thinking about it as he keeps his eyes on the dirty image of your mouth until the last word. Because it might be the hottest situation and image he's ever seen.

“I'm fine.”

There are a few murmurs around the table as your breathing is a little ragged and your voice now sounds sweeter than ever.

“Yeah?” Beomgyu smiles, the fact that you will soon be crawling to eat a new dick makes him bite his lip. “Okay.”

Yeonjun presses his lips together as he feels you crawl between his legs. You can see his hand curl into a fist on his knee for a second. But you're sure his face looks relaxed as he slowly spreads his legs a little further apart. You both know that if you weren't in this stupid game he'd want to press his cock against your lips.

“Next question?” Beomgyu's voice sounds thicker under the table.

“I'll ask.”

You pause at Yeonjun's unexpected response, but he seems quite confident as he gestures with his index finger for you to come closer and get to work.

As the stupid magazine is shoved next to his money, you put your hands on his knees and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

“Have you ever filmed a sex tape?”

There's something in his voice but you're not sure if the others will notice it. He must have already dispelled their suspicions when he took it upon himself to ask the question.

You can feel his legs contracting under your hands as your tongue plays with his tip like a cat.

“Come on.” It's clear that the harder you go, the more he's trying to talk to them. But it's also clear that he wants to focus on your mouth.

“I did.”

Kai joins Beomgyu's laughter as Soobin is the first to confess. As your mouth slowly takes every inch of him, you feel Yeonjun hiding a low moan behind the laughter. You swirl your tongue around him nicely and press it against his hardness.

“He's a perv, isn't he?”

Taehyun speaks looking directly at Yeonjun. You can see that his hand is balled into a fist again, because he knows that if it wasn't for Beomgyu, he would have been the one to expose Soobin just now.

You lift your head a little and start sucking on the tip again and this time you can taste the slightly salty flavor.

“I knew you were up to some shit with that mirror on your ceiling.” Yeonjun laughs looking at Soobin and starts to sweat a little as he puts his hands on the table, but he's determined to manage the conversation well.

His cock slides wetly between your lips, hardening with every movement of your head.

“I like to watch.” Soobin shrugs and says something about how he likes hes partner to be reactive, but you can't hear more than half of it. Because Yeonjun puts one foot between your legs and makes you sit on the thick leather of his shoe.

“Yeah,” Taehyun agrees with Soobin and all eyes turn to him. “I've done it a couple times myself, and I let them when they want to film it.”

“What? It's not just me? Gyu?” Kai says with a laugh, but anyone could swear Beomgyu has a collection already.

Yeonjun moves his foot a little in the following minutes as you lift your skirt up and start bobbing your head up and down. It's crazy how the thin fabric of your panties is the only sticky barrier between the two of you.

His liquid traces a hot path over your lower lip and down to your chin. He wants to burn the image of yourself fucking your mouth with his cock into his brain, he wants to look down there.

The feeling is too cruel.

So is this game.

“Yeonjun.”

So is Taehyun.

“It's you.”

“Fuck-” Yeonjun curses under his breath and immediately lowers his head to look at you, fuck the fact that he lost.

Rules.

His cock slips between your lips and slams into his stomach, and his eyebrows furrow with intense sensation. “Fuck, fuck...”

“You son of a bitch!” you hear Beomgyu laugh, talking something about his acting in the first place.

Yeonjun, not caring about anything, touches your chin with his index finger and follows the path of his liquid, bringing it back to your mouth. From below, you look into his eyes, open your mouth for his finger and he hisses as your tongue eagerly accepts it.

“Hey, hey...” But when Soobin grabs Yeonjun's wrist and stops him, he throws his head back. He swears some more. He's a little sweaty and there's a slight pinkness to his cheeks.

Then Soobin gently brushes your hair back as Yeonjun pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

The realization that you are about to make Yeonjun come, makes Kai lean over the table and look into your mouth... Under his dark eyes, Soobin asks you if you're going to stop, but no.

No, not yet...

Because Taehyun looked too hot when he hunted Yeonjun down and took his money.

Under the table, back in your half-dark world, the last thing you see is Taehyun bringing his beer to his lips.

The third time you agree to give head almost non-stop, like a warm sweet wind flowing from your body into the boys' bodies.

Something that will make each one of them want to take a personal care in you. The urge to keep you to themselves to let you know what a sweet slut you are.

The excitement that Yeonjun can give to your stomach just by touching your pussy reaches its highest level when you comes between Taehyun's legs.

He is full of surprises. He can make you feel both nervous and safe at the same time. The fact that he takes the game seriously from the start and is good at challenging whispers to you that you are moving on to perhaps the first person you will truly taste tonight.

When Taehyun doesn't even move his legs, as if he had already guessed that you were coming to him, a small smile forms on your lips that you don't know how it got there.

Your hands settle on Taehyun's thighs and slowly make a fist there, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him into your mouth.

“What is your favorite thing to do in foreplay?” Kai asks, looking into Beomgyu and Taehyun's eyes longer than anyone else. “I like to get a sloppy head.” leans back, giving his answer immediately after his question so he can get observant.

“Fingering.” You can hear how Yeonjun's voice changes after taking a blow job, sipping his drink like water.

“Fingering.” Taehyun repeats and one of his fingers crawls into your little fist. You open your mouth a little wider and move upwards from his tip, his thighs trembling for a second. He's relaxed, probably because only you can hear his breathing.

“Hand job?” Soobin pushes his glasses up his nose. “While kissing and stuff.” He looks like he's still mulling over the question. “Mutual touching is good too. I like eye contact.”

Taehyun's hardness goes further, brushing against your palate, using your head at a slow but intense pace. He sighs when you palm the part you can't take. You want him to trace lazy circles with his fingers on your pink cheeks as he whispers how good you feel.

Instead, your hands occasionally rub and resist holding each other.

“You can't say sixty-nine.” Kai speaks before Beomgyu has said anything and makes him laugh. You are impressed that Taehyun is not worried about the conversation.

Where the boys are ambitious, he is too relaxed.

And that must be his secret.

“Basically any position where he can eat the girl?” Yeonjun adds and Beomgyu gives one of those smiles where he bites his lower lip. “I can do it in any condition.” He says with a shrug. “I like boobs too.”

“Boobs, definitely.”

Soobin remembers that he can talk about how much he loves boobs and you start to jerk Taehyun's cock off into your mouth. His patience so far is really impressive but he wants to gently take your hand off his cock and wants to roll his hips into your mouth.

You stop the wet pace of moving your head by wrapping your lips around his tip and your hand starts working faster around his length.

Your tongue sways and swirls on his tip. The sharp breath he exhales must be quite hot. He bites the tip of his tongue and you see his hand tremble slightly as he rubs his palm against his pants.

The boob talk manages to keep the table occupied and you can feel Taehyun is close.

The excitement is almost dizzying.

You pull back to take a deep breath and his liquid drips a little on you and a little on the floor. When you take it in your mouth again, you go harder this time and now you let him drip into your mouth.

Taehyun slowly rests his elbows on the table, finally opening his mouth so as not to draw attention to himself before the chopping wave that is about to come over his stomach.

And the sound hits you first because you are closest to it.

It really hits you.

There's nothing wrong with his voice, nothing that you think is noticeable, and the thickness of his voice makes you press your knees together.

It's like he's telling you how well he could fuck your face if he wasn't in this game.

The hot breath escaping his lips after only half a minute doesn't matter anymore because Taehyun is the first one to cum in your mouth in the third round.

“Ah...” lays his head between his arms on the table, attracts all eyes.

“No.” Kai's eyes widen. “How-”

You swallow, but the hot liquid has already flowed past your chin and into the thin skin of your neck. Close your eyes and gasp with him as the taste of Taehyun remains on your tongue, numbing your whole body.

Everyone is baffled because no one thought there could be a winner in this game, but Yeonjun and Soobin certainly praise your little pink mouth as they profanely remark that it's a miracle Taehyun was able to keep quiet.

The arrogance of victory should have just been shining in his eyes, but Taehyun is quite gentle as he leans toward you. “Oh, pretty.” whispering as he finds your hands. Yeonjun watches as he presses his fist over his smirk.

“Pretty baby.” he takes you by the hands and sits you on his lap. Since he won, he can keep touching you, right? What a sweet prize.

There you are, sitting panting on one of Taehyun's thighs, too beautiful and wet.

And then there are the heads that rise eagerly to see you fall apart.

He's still breathing heavily from your intense moments and brushes his hair back a few times. His hand rests pleasantly on your waist.

The first $100 pushed in front of you tells you to turn your head to the right, Kai looks you in the eye the whole time he hands it over. Like if you ask for your wallet, he'll give it to you without a second thought. As if inviting you to sit between his legs for the last time.

Taehyun picks up two of the small hairpins which you left on the table in one of the more normal and innocent moments of the night.

“I wonder...” Yeonjun murmurs, drawing your attention to him, scratching his chin slowly. “What's your favorite position?”

His voice is deep, sounds a little sick with unfinished blowjob, but very sober.

And he takes your breath away by making everyone stop and look curiously into your eyes, as if they were waiting for him to ask this question. “I-”

Your cheeks are literally burning and your voice sounds worse than you expected.

When Taehyun's hands are in your hair, you squirm a little in his embrace. “I like... riding.”

They can't take your eyes off you, you often think that you are 'in danger.'

“Oh,” Beomgyu licks his lips as he leans a little on the table. “So, like some bounce, some praise, some grasping... Huh?”

The way he speaks is quite playful as he tilts his head left and right in sync with the words, and he's already accomplishing his goal, giving your lower body a new wave of warmth. You nod in agreement and he looks at your glowing mouth as his smile widens.

“Fuck, she's so sweet.” Yeonjun says, giggles.

They watch Taehyun's careful fingers comb through your soft hair and gently insert your hairpins.

Now your hair can no longer hide your face and there's some people who's happy about it.

You don't think anyone has noticed Kai's hazy eyes. All the intense eye contact you've been making with him all along is just a little secret between you two.

He wants to taste a little of this, but the possibilities have diminished.

Him or Beomgyu.

“Do you like loud or silent people in bed?”

And Beomgyu asks, looking into Kai's eyes when he can't feel you between his legs.

Your lower lip slips from Kai's vein, you start by wetting his cock, which is hard enough. He's already just said that he likes getting a sloppy head, and he believes that Beomgyu should keep his mouth shut a little while he takes just that.

“I guess it depends on time.” Soobin answers as thoughtfully as ever.

As the taste of Kai's precum covers your tongue, you open your mouth a little wider and place your hands on his inner thighs. The chair moves slightly, his thighs are too tense. He fidgets in his seat as if he wants to put you there after he cums in your mouth.

“Isn't silence a bit romantic?” Taehyun says, running a hand through slightly sweaty locks of his hair.

And Beomgyu shrugs. “Should they lie face down and be quiet?”

He draws attention to himself with his thick voice.

“Or close their pretty mouth and listen to you?”

He runs his eyes over everyone at the table as he tries a spicier way of asking about loud and silence.

You place your knees further between Kai's legs and the tip of his cock rests carefully against your throat. You keep sucking him like that to avoid making any gagging sounds. Kai starts to bounce his right knee. You are a little relieved to know that he is not usually noisy, but the low moan you just heard was absolutely heavenly.

Yeonjun combs his hair back. “Keep their pretty mouth open and listen to me?" answers and grins at the awkward look between Beomgyu and Kai.

“Okay, the awful dirty talkers are making themselves known.” Soobin grimaces, but you can hear in his voice that he's grinning too.

When you decide you've warmed him up enough, you slide Kai's head slightly towards your throat and his mouth opens. Despite the wolves around the table, he nonchalantly puts his hand on his thigh and you are a little nonchalant yourself as you hold his hand with need.

You try to swallow and when that increases the pressure around his cock for a second he squeezes your hand lightly. His hand is warm and sweaty, intertwining your fingers.

“Kai, what about you?”

You hear Beomgyu's voice.

It is deep. Almost insinuating.

You squeeze Kai's fingers nervously. It takes you a few seconds to realize that no one gives a fuck about the game anymore.

Kai doesn't hesitate to make wild eye contact with Beomgyu. When he lets go of your hand with everyone's eyes on him, your mouth stops in surprise.

"Loud."

He whispers sharply before pushing the table a little away.

A droplet from your mouth cools on your chin, your heart beats aggressively as if trapped in your chest.

Kai's fingers comb your hair back gently. First you look at his pink mouth and then at his eyes.

“You need to open your mouth more, pretty thing."

You don't know what time it is. You're not used to it being quiet here. Either one of the little bulbs of the led lamp is blinking or alcohol or...

Your knees, pressed hard together, relax at Beomgyu's touch. You're both kneeling in front of Kai and he strokes the back of your head, push your hair back for Beomgyu and pulls his hips back a little to let you breathe.

Beomgyu's warm mouth rests against the thin skin of your neck, you moan when he presses his tongue there. With Kai's tip resting on your palate, every sound you make sounds hotter than the last.

Beomgyu's one hand follows your thigh, remembering only that you haven't taken his cock in your mouth. “You don't like me?” asks quietly.

Something is wrong with his voice but you are already being manipulated. “I'm-”

“Ssh.” He grabs your chin and lifts it towards Kai and you wrap your lips around his cock.

Beomgyu leans into your neck again, the small smirk on his lips still there as his hand goes under your sticky panties. The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit as Kai starts to slowly roll his hips towards your mouth.

As soon as Beomgyu gets you to sit on his lap, he starts rolling your clit in a delicious rhythm.

“Ah-” your face rises up with a sweet moan.

You see three other shadows falling over you next to the man you gave a blowjob to and the one fingering you.

Hands in pockets, eyes dark.

It's hard to tell if you've fallen into a dream or a trap.

you were hot, stay with us 🎩!

©dr-solomon

[noctiva]

reader and Toby get into a heated argument which leads to hate sex and Toby is SOOO mean the whole time like degrading, spiting on reader, choking her whole nine yards and reader tries to stay mad and keep their attitude during all this but just totally crumbles and becomes sooo pathetic - 🪽

OOOOOOOOH MAN mean!toby… the way to my heart truly.. I know this is a request but writing this was very self indulgent I was kicking my feet giggling writing this

//

Unbearable

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 8.4k

Summary: Fighting with Toby is always a lost cause, because it’s just a case of two stubborn forces butting heads with one another. It all just comes down to who caves first (spoiler alert: it’s you. It’s always you.)

CW: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships + behaviour, I repeat - they are so toxic, this is not healthy relationship behaviour!, they fight and Toby’s an asshole about it, possessive and jealous behaviour, degradation, choking and asphyxiophilia, biting!!, biting and blood!!, very dead dove, rough handling, rough sex, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, toby being so fucking mean I hate him, mocking, face slapping, spit and drool, overstimulation, arguably CNC, but it’s alllll consensual, just maybe not safe or sane, hate sex!, multiple orgasms, dom/sub undertones, unsafe sex, creampie, hair pulling, dacryphilia, putting this here again bc I have to make it clear toby! is! an! asshole!, they make up at the end, but again - toxic, did I say dead dove? because dead fucking dove.

Reminder to separate reality from fiction!! Some of the acts written here are definitely not meant to be endorsed or romanticized irl! Stay safe!

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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“You don’t have t-to be such a bitch all the t-time.”

That, is what set you off.

Those words, spoken in that stupidly nonchalant tone of Toby’s as he milled around the kitchen after a mission, looking through the cupboards for a snack to ease his rumbling stomach.

And maybe, he was just tired. Maybe, he was just irritable because the mission had taken a lot longer than he was hoping it would. Maybe, you were both too cranky to have a proper, civil conversation. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What was certain, was that those words had pissed you off, because they had been said in response to you telling him it would be nice to know if he’d be home for dinner, so that you could be prepared for it.

And yet, despite your words so clearly showing your care for him, he decided the best plan of action would be immediately attacking you - like some stuck up teenager with his head up his ass. You loved Toby, you did, and you found more and more reasons to every single day - but, he also gave you more and more reasons to be left seething on the couch while he padded around the house as if he had done nothing wrong.

He was exhausting to deal with, just as much as he was a joy to be around. It was something you had gotten used to, chalking his snippy attitude up to just being a side effect of the strenuous line of work he found himself to be a part of. But, it got to a point. Got to a point where you just couldn’t excuse it anymore, especially when you had spent the greater half of your day tidying up after him. Making sure the cabin was nice and spotless, so that he wouldn’t have to do so much as lift a finger when he got home.

“Is that what I am?” You snap back to him, one hand on your hip with your eyes trained on his back as you watch him in the kitchen - peeling open a pack of chocolate chip cookies before promptly shoving one in his mouth. “I’m a bitch, because I want to know what time you’ll be home?”

“Uh, yeah. Y-You really want me to re-repeat myself?” His voice, partially muffled by the half-chewed cookie in your mouth, just proves to stoke the flame of anger brewing within you. You feel your eye twitch, and somehow you manage to just get angrier when Toby turns around to look at you. It’s the nonchalance on his face, like he couldn’t see a single reason in the world why you’d be getting so upset over his choice of wording. It’s maddening really, how this argument had barely even started, and yet you already felt like you were two words away from fucking strangling him. “I’ve t-told you before, I can’t predict how long these- fuck! -these things will take. Maybe, if you listened-“

“I do fucking listen, Toby!” You snap back at him, cutting him off so swiftly it makes his expression harden. You can practically see the switch in his brain flip, when he realizes that this wasn’t just going to be another one of your little spats. You were mad at him, actually, genuinely mad at him. Brimming with anger as you stood before him, jaw clenched and fingers curling into fists down at your sides. “All I do is fucking listen, and be the perfect little homemaker so that you don’t have to do jack shit when you get home.” You lift a finger to point at him, and his eyes narrow. “But you don’t seem to give a shit about any of that.”

“W-What?” Toby takes a step forwards, bringing with him an aura that was so imposing it nearly made you shrink. Thickening the air around you, making your lungs feel tight as he imposed on your personal space. Another step, he takes, then another, before tilting his head down to look at you - making it all too clear who would really have the upper hand if things went far south. “I’m supposed t-to pat you on the back be-because you swept the fuh-fucking floor?” His growing annoyance only made his tics worse, sporadic jerks of his neck and shoulders making him look all the more intimidating as he glowered down at you. “I just spent f-five fucking hours in the d-damn woods, hunting down four people all on my own b-because Brian and Tim were t-too busy to help.” You swallow thickly. “But when I come home, d-dead tired, the first thing I’m supposed to do is thank you for doing the ff-fucking dishes?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s the least you could do.”

“The least you could do, would be to at least be a little bit appreciative.” You spit back at him, crossing your arms over your chest and standing your ground though the weight of his presence was making you tremble.

You didn’t often think about what it might be like to be one of Toby’s victims - but standing there right then with him towering over you, the look in his eyes so cold it brought a chill to your veins - you could really picture it. Really picture the fear that he struck people with, before stealing their last breath. “You’re barely around anymore, y’know? And when you are, you’re like this.”

“Like what?” Toby presses, tilting his head down more to encroach further into your personal bubble. Those words were bait. And if you took it, you knew that this fast devolving conversation would just take a turn for the absolute worst.

But well, he had already resorted to name calling, so why couldn’t you?

“Like, an asshole.” You grit out, taking a step forwards as proof of your resilience, even when faced with a man you knew was dangerous. Toby wouldn’t really hurt you. You knew that, you hoped that, and yet pushing his buttons was still something that made your stomach twist. It was the knowledge that, if he wanted to, he could. Easily. Could probably incapacitate you before you even realized what had even happened. Knock you out cold with a swift jerk of his arm. He wouldn’t though. Not to you. That’s what you were banking on. “Like some self-centred prick that I can barely stand being around.”

Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but the point still stood. And you really, really, just wanted to get it through his head that as of late, he really hadn’t been acting like ‘boyfriend of the year’ material. Was that something you should expect, from a literal axe murderer? Probably not. But he used to be better. A new, heavier workload on his shoulders was forcing a strain onto your relationship that you hadn’t been prepared to face.

Toby was barely home. And when he was, it was for mere hours at a time. He barely touched you, barely kissed you, apparently finding a quick peck on the lips before he left again to be an adequate amount of affection. He was hardly present. When he was by your side, he was mentally distant. Never letting you peer into his mind, most likely for your safety, but forcing a wedge between the two of you nonetheless.

At the root of it all, your anger stemmed from sadness. Sadness, because you missed him. Missed the Toby that had stolen your heart, went out of his way to do stupid things just to earn a laugh from you, showered you with love every moment he got, and hated leaving your side for even a moment.

But, all those cushy soft emotions were hidden under the hardened shell of annoyance that had built up over time. And so, you were left spouting awful, awful words at the man you loved so dearly.

Hoping that maybe, this would be what cracks him.

“You c-can’t stand being around me?” Toby’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher, but it looks far too close to hurt for comfort. Whatever it was, he masks it quickly, covering the rawness of his emotions with that same passive expression he wore so often. “That’s c-cute. Why’re you still here th-then?”

“That’s not even funny.” You hiss, words laced with venom as they drip off of your tongue. “You know I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.”

“No, b-be my guest.” Toby snorts, sarcasm laced around every letter. You knew, that arguing with him was a lost cause. You had been down this road before, and it was much more beneficial to just roll over and let him believe that he was in the right. Not today though. As you had said before - it got to a point. “The d-door’s right there if you hate me so much.” He gestures towards your front door in a mocking manner, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“As if it would be that fucking easy.” You spit back at him, before promptly turning on your heel. Unable to stomach another moment of eye contact with him. Those eyes, weren’t the ones you had fallen in love with. They were lifeless, filled with the type of malice you never would’ve dreamed he’d direct at you of all people. It just made you angrier. Angry at the fact that he felt like he had a reason to be mad at you. “Acting like one of your buddies wouldn’t track me down and kill me for ‘knowing too much’.”

You stalk out into the living room, and you hear him follow behind you, the heavy soles of the boots he hadn’t taken off tracking dirt against the hardwood floors you had just cleaned earlier that day. “I don’t have a choice, you know? I have to either put up with you, or die, those are my only options.”

“‘Put up with m-me’?” When you turn around once more it looks like Toby had quite a lot to say about that choice of words - jaw clenched with his eye twitching - but he bites his tongue. Choosing instead to say; “A-And you act like it’s my ff-fucking fault. You knew what you were getting into w-when we started dating.”

“I didn’t!” You spit back at him, chest tight with anger as you force the words out of your lungs. “You told me you were a fucking hunter!”

Toby barks out a harsh, dry laugh, his eyebrows crinkling together in disbelief as he stared down at you. He looked almost amused, in some sick sense of the word, soft snorts of laughter bubbling from his lungs before he’s able to speak again.

“D-Don’t tell me you actually believed that.” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow. When the only response he gets is a quiver to you pouted lips, it just makes him laugh even harder. “H-Holy fuck, you did. I- chirp! -I didn’t think you were that- that fucking stupid.”

And with that, he’s managed to stun you into silence. The absolute disconnection and lack of accountability for throwing you into such a volatile way of life was sobering. He didn’t look the least bit remorseful, or even just a little bothered by the fact that he had effectively stolen away your freedom as a normal member of society. He hadn’t taken you hostage, you had agreed to be with him despite his flaws - but to pin all of the blame on you? That was just insanity.

You gaze at him with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you try to shake the shock from your bones. Toby, either just isn’t patient enough to wait or simply doesn’t care, because before you can form a proper response he’s turning on his heel and walking back into the kitchen. All while muttering; “‘Hunter’… Fucking idiot.” Under his breath.

Christ, he just didn’t know when to stop today, did he?

“Do you hear yourself?” You tell after him, snapping out of the stupor he had frozen you into. You don’t move from where you’re stood though, knowing that keeping distance is probably the smartest move. “You can’t fucking speak to me like this.”

“W-Why not?” He asks, refusing to meet your eye. “Normally it gets you t-to shut up faster.”

Every time he opened his mouth, it just got so much worse. And maybe, the reason he wouldn’t look at you was because he knew he was in the wrong. Wouldn’t be able to stomach it, if he saw the unbridled wave of hurt that coated your entire expression when what he said sunk in. You blink a few times, and almost feel the need to rub your eyes in disbelief - because there’s no way he actually just said that to you, right? Had your boyfriend been swapped out one day, replaced with someone who looked just like him, but was filled with spite instead of love?

It sure seemed like it. The more you stared at him he didn’t even look like the Toby you knew anymore. Pale skin somehow paler. Sickly. His chiseled jaw too sharp, cheeks too hollow, the normally well-kept stubble on his face obviously a few weeks past being properly groomed. His under-eye bags were darker, and his eyes in general were… Deader.

Had something happened to him? He wouldn’t tell you, even if it had.

“Fuck you.” You hiss back out to him, and if your mind wasn’t so clouded by anger you wouldn’t shocked yourself with the amount of malice you managed you pack into those two words. You spit them out at him like you were trying to wound him, and it almost works - you see his shoulders tense up completely.

But his ego, his horribly inflated ego, just couldn’t let him back down. Couldn’t let him realize that he was doing a lot of damage, and that he should really stop while it was still reversible.

So his shoulders relax, his neck cracks in a way that was extremely unsettling, and then he’s muttering;

“Y-You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He picks at his fingernails absently, still not lifting his gaze to meet yours. “You sure that’s not w-what this is all about? Just mad I haven’t been giving it to you lately?”

Maybe. Partially. But not the fucking point. And the way he was treating all of this like it was just a joke? Yeah, you felt pretty close to jumping to kitchen counter and fucking killing him.

So, you choose the less violent route instead.

You don’t respond, you simply turn on your heel and start walking. Through the living room, on a beeline towards the front door.

That, had Toby’s gaze flicking up immediately. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Out.” You snap back to him, already slipping on your shoes and grabbing your jacket. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen Toby move faster in his life once he realizes that you’re serious - crossing the living room in large strides, in just a matter of seconds.

“N-No you’re not.” His voice holds a tone of finality, but you couldn’t give less of a shit. You weren’t about to start taking orders from a man who had spent the last half hour making a complete mockery out of you.

“Why not? You do all the time.” You cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowed as you glare up at him.

“B-Because I know how to deal with what’s out there!” Toby borderline growled back at you, jerking his arm towards to window as a means to enunciate his point. Towards the forest outside, that your little cabin resided in. The forest that you knew was teeming with genuine monsters, and people that were closure to monsters than humans. Toby, being one of them, when he wasn’t at home with you. “It’s- It’s late, and the sun’s going down. You cannot go out there. Jack’s probably-“

“Jack’s probably out hunting, I know.” You cut him off in a tone so cold he can’t even mask it when it visibly startles him. “I don’t give a fuck. He’d probably treat me better than you do anyway.”

A disastrously low blow. Such an egregious thing to say, even in your fit of anger, that you regret it the second the words slip off of your tongue. Because in general, that’s just such a horrid thing to say to the man you love, but saying it to a partner that you are well aware has some pretty unresolved jealousy issues?

Yeah, you just dug your own grave and laid in it.

You freeze after you speak, and the silence that follows makes your skin crawl. You stare up at Toby with bated breath, watching as shock settles onto his expression - and you know the worst is yet to come. It seemed like it took him a moment to really process what you had just said, or maybe he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Hoping that, you’d backtrack, or correct yourself and clarify that’s not what you meant.

But you don’t, too stunned at yourself to even speak another word.

And that’s when everything blows up.

Once the shock drains from his face, Toby looks like you just slapped him. His expression crumpling, eyebrows furrowing together as a mixture of hurt and anger flooded his eyes. You could practically feel his temper rise, the air around you growing thicker and thicker the longer that he just stood there and stared at you like you had insulted his entire being. Maybe you had.

And then;

“W-What the fuck did you just say?” His tone is dangerous, holding an undeniable threat that shook you to the core. You couldn’t think of a single instance in the years you had been together where you had actually been scared of Toby (besides the day you had found out what he really did for a living) but right then, you were fucking terrified.

Suffocated by the fury in his eyes, feeling like you were being choked by the weight of the tension around you. It had never been more clear, who exactly you were dating.

Someone who could - might - hurt you.

And your fight or flight instinct kicked in fast. So fast, that Toby didn’t even have time to react before you were whipping open the door and darting outside. Down the steps of the front porch, feet crunching leaves under your feet as you sprint off into the very woods he warned you against traversing day after day.

Toby wastes no time perusing you. He is on your trail in a matter of seconds, bursting through the door after you with all the practiced ease of someone who had done this chase many, many times before. You hear him bark out your name after you, the low growl of his voice echoing through out the forest - bouncing off the trees to meet your ears and send a shiver down your spine. “G-Get the fuck back in the house!”

“Fuck you!” You scream back at him, still running though your lungs were starting to burn. The air around you was cold, stinging your skin and biting through your clothes to rise goosebumps on your arms. Your heart was racing, pounding so loudly in your ears that you could barely even hear the sound of your own feet hitting the ground. You could hear him though, gaining on you fast - boots snapping sticks beneath the soles. “Get the hell away from me, Toby!”

“Fat chance!” Toby snarls back at you, and fuck he sounds really close now. You won’t look behind you, knowing the sight of him would only make you falter - but you know it’s probably fruitless anyway. He’s close, and just gaining on you by the second. “You th-think you can just say that shit to me and then r-run away?”

His fingers graze your back as he reaches out to grab you, and you yelp, just barely steering clear of his grasp. “What the fuck is wr-wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” You push forwards through your legs are starting to ache, lungs burning with each cold breath of air that you suck in. “What’s wrong with you? You started this by being a dick for no reason!”

“At l-least I didn’t- didn’t threaten to fuck one of your friends!” Toby reaches out again, and this time - he gets you. Fingers curling into the hood of your sweater, yanking you backwards with a force that made you choke and wheeze - hands flying up to try and claw yourself free of his grip. It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t, but he does release you a few seconds later, only to shove you to the forest floor below you. Your back hits the ground and nearly knocks the wind out of you, eyes blowing wide as you struggle to take in a few panicked breaths.

“I never said that!” You grit out, going to prop yourself back up on your elbows but he promptly shoves you back down with a boot to the chest. He pins you down that way, nearly crushing your ribs under the weight of his body as he stands above you - absolutely teeming with unspent rage.

“No? You didn’t?” Toby sneers as he glares down at you. In the low light of the forest, he looks even more intimidating. The low lighting casting stark shadows against all the high points of his face, his eyes glinting with something downright maniacal. “W-What were you implying then, huh? Saying he could- fuck! -could treat you better than me?”

His boot leaves your chest and then he’s dropping down onto you, knees digging into the ground on either side of your hips - pinning you to the forest floor with his body weight. “Y-You really want a piece of that fuh-freak?” Toby reaches down and grasps your face roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks so deep it forces your lips into a pucker. “He’d bite your p-pretty little head off.” He leans in close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your face, and he looks like a beast. Snarling, twitching, shaking from the potency of anger flowing through his veins. Not looking the least bit fazed when the legs he had pinned down started to kick. “I-I’m a fucking saint, compared to the rest of them. You’re l-lucky I’m the one you met first.”

“Lucky?” You somehow managed to keep up the attitude despite the absolutely humbling situation you found yourself in - pinned to the forest floor by your serial killer boyfriend. And yet, it’s the closet you’ve been to him in days. The longest he’s held you in weeks. “Yeah, I sure feel lucky right now.” You spit out another wave of sarcasm as you struggle against his grip. “Get the fuck off of me, Toby.”

He doesn’t listen, predictably. If anything, your words just fuel him.

“And y-you wonder why I call you a bitch.” He hisses, the sting of his nails biting into your jaw making you wince. “M-Maybe, if you stopped acting like one, I’d stop calling you one.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick, that might happen.” Again, you struggle, straining against his unyielding grip as a strained whimper of pain slips from your lips. You make no progress though, forced to be at the mercy of this unmoving force above you. “Get off of me, asshole!”

“Fuck no.” You can feel rocks and twigs biting into your back, your face throbbing where he’s gripping you so harshly. “A-Act like a bitch, get treated like one.” His hand slides down, curling around your throat instead with a grip just as mean. “Maybe I’ll j-just tie you up and leave you here. Let ol’ Jackie find you.” His eyes are feral as he gazes down at you, as is the smile that stretches across his lips - uncanny sharp canines glinting in the low light. “That’s what you w-wanted, right? Wanted him to treat you good?” You were really kicking yourself for letting those stupid, stupid words slip before. You should’ve known he was going to fixate on them. “I bet he’d t-treat you real good, actually. Would really make you scream.”

Your breathing comes out as a wheeze as his palm presses down against your windpipe, restricting your airflow and making your vision swim. He’s done this before, in a much different situation (when you asked him to), but this time around you’re not too sure he’d stop if you asked him. When little black dots start popping up in your vision, your stomach flips in fear.

But, why the hell would you make things easier for yourself?

“I hate you.” The words come out as more of a wheeze than anything, but they do the job nonetheless. The job being, just riling Toby up further.

His fingers tighten around your throat, and your eyes widen even further - legs kicking and arms flailing when you feel your airway close up completely. You knew he was strong, but being at the mercy of his strength was something else entirely.

“You h-hate me?” He spits leaning down lower so that his nose is pressed to yours. “You don’t fucking hate me.” He says it like it’s a certainty, like there’s not even a single possibility that his words might be true - and the worst part is, that he’s right. Because you don’t. You don’t hate him, even as your vision starts to go fuzzy. “I-I could turn you back into a lovesick little slut in ss-seconds. I’d love to hear you try and say that you still h-hate me when I’m stuffing you with my dick.”

You must be sick. Or maybe, just unfulfilled as of late. Because as horrible as it was, his words sparked up something within you. Something that desperately wanted that, something that would kill to feel his bare skin against yours once more - even if it was just to get his anger out.

And you must not have masked it as well as you would’ve wanted to - too preoccupied with trying not to pass the fuck out - because you watch through blurry vision as Toby’s grin widens into something menacing. “I knew it.” He laughs - not the warm, sweet sound you had grown accustomed to - this laugh was bitter, and cold. “Look at you, p-practically drooling at the thought of it.”

He releases your neck, to which you greedily gasp in air so quickly it nearly makes you choke, before you feel a sharp sting connect with the side of your face. Not hard enough to make the skin smart, but hard enough to shock you - because did he actually just fucking slap you? “F-Fucking whore.” He did.

Too stunned, you barely have time to think before you feel Toby’s rough fingers curling under the fabric of your hoodie. In a matter of seconds, he’s practically ripping it off of you. The cool wind hits your bare skin and makes you hiss, goosebumps immediately trickling up your arms and across your chest.

“Oh, fuck off, Toby.” You grunt, bringing your arms up to shield your chest from his hungry gaze. “We are not doing this here.”

He snorts out a laugh as if you had told him a joke, and shakes his head. Not listening at all, as his hands trail down your stomach, finding a home at the button of your jeans.

“And why would I l-listen to what a whore has to say to me?” He mutters, already popping the button of your pants and tugging down the zipper even as you try to jerk your body out of his hold. His fingers scratch at your skin as he starts tugging your jeans off with an insistence you could only dream to fight against. “T-Talking about letting Jack have a p-piece of you.” Fucking hell, this again? “Gotta remind you what you already have.”

He tugs off your jeans so harshly that you hear them tear, the fabric buckling under the force of his grip. And now, pinned to the forest floor beneath him in nothing but your underwear - it’s really setting in what situation you had gotten yourself into. How did the day end up like this? Just one horrible decision after another leading to you trapped beneath Toby like prey for him to feast on, with the cool night wind nipping at your skin and leaving you shivering.

“Give it a rest, Toby.” You huff, trying again to wriggle away from him but failing yet again. “You really think I meant that?”

“I don’t c-care if you meant it or not.” He snaps, your hips jolting when his fingers slide down towards your panties. Giving you no warning before his touch meets the front of your clothed cunt, pressing against your clit in a way that had you gasping. “The fact that you e-even fucking said it is enough.”

It’s around then, that you realize something absolutely horrific. Absolutely mortifying. With calloused fingers roughly rubbing your core through your underwear, you’re getting wet. Actually, getting wetter. You realized it the moment he tugged your pants off, the coolness between your legs when the breeze hit your cunt - you had been getting wet from Toby pushing you around like a cat batting around a mouse. And that… That was fucked up.

And Toby knows that too. “You’re already so f-fucking wet.” He growls. “And I’ve barely even touched you.” With this new revelation, he wastes no time slipping underneath the waistband of your panties instead, sliding his fingers through the wetness accumulated between your folds. “What a stupid slut. I c-coulda killed you, and yet here you are, soaking your panties.”

“F-Fuck you.” You bite out, your shoulders bowing and back arching against the forest floor as he rubs rough circles against your swollen clit with his thumb. Your teeth grit together, so tight you’re almost afraid you might crack a tooth. But right now, you’d much rather that than to accidentally let a moan slip out. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He didn’t deserve it.

“I know you’re impatient, b-but at least he subtle about it.” He doesn’t let up in his ministrations, playing with your clit as his other hand comes up to roughly grasp your tit. Gripping it hard enough to make you wince, maybe even enough to bruise. And it’s stupid, how good it feels. “You still hate me? S-Say it again.”

“I hate you.” You don’t even hesitate, taking the bait eagerly as you feel him nose into your neck, stubble scratching against your skin.

“Hm. I’ll follow back up on that later.” Then you feel his lips part, and you’ve been under Toby enough times to know he wasn’t going to just gently kiss and lick your skin. Especially not right now. So, the sting of his teeth sinking into your neck is expected - but that doesn’t lessen the pain any. It’s a dull ache, and then it’s a sharp skin.

When he breaks skin, it’s a blinding pain. Your vision goes white for a second, your whole body goes rigid as absolute agony ripples through your veins. It’s a pain that couldn’t be described, unless you were there to experience it. A pain so ruthless, that the scream that tears from your throat because of it sounds almost inhuman.

A shrill, desperate cry, like a wounded animal. Echoing throughout the forest like a taunt. “Oh that’s good.” Toby mutters once he tugs his teeth from your neck, gazing down at the gruesome indent of his teeth in your skin. Watching as blood pools in the deepest pits of the wound, before it starts trickling down your neck. “K-Keep on screaming. Anyone who could hear you doesn’t care.”

And then he’s biting down again, just a few inches lower than the first one. Pinching your skin between his teeth with a pressure that makes your head spin. His jaw locking into you as your fingers pick up in speed - rolling your clit beneath them with an unrelenting force. Ruthless, in every action. Overwhelming your body on every single front. Pleasure, pain, it was difficult to even tell the two apart anymore when both were so intense that your ears were ringing. “‘I hate you’ she says.” Toby murmurs in a mocking tone against you, his lips smearing your blood across your skin. “A-And yet you’ve stopped fighting. Why? Feel too good?”

Yes. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

Not that it mattered anyway, because your body was going to give you away regardless. You could feel it, that familiar heat, almost mocking in the way it just kept burning hotter and hotter even with all the violence being dealt upon you. Your stomach was twisting into a knot, hips bucking and twitching as you tried to hold back.

You were failing, miserably, because Toby was hellbent on making you fail. He wanted you to crumple, wanted to wipe away that attitude you were still clinging to so desperately. He wanted to break you down, and to your detriment and his gain - he knew just how to do it. His hands had roamed this body a million times before.

He drags his head down your chest, and uses his free hand to push your bra upwards - freeing your breasts to the cool night air. He captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue against it as his fingers pinch your clit, and your thighs start to shake. He grazes it with his teeth, then biting down with enough pressure to make you wince - and you’re done for.

Your hips buck off of the ground when your orgasm hits you with full force, the intensity of it nearly knocking the wind from you as your vision goes fuzzy. Your own voice sounds faraway and foggy, but you know you’ve failed at keeping your moans held back - because your jaw has gone slack now. A chorus of desperate, choked out sounds spilling from your lungs as drool drips down your chin.

And it’s humiliating. Absolutely humiliating how good he makes you feel, even when he’s being such an asshole. Even when he’s throwing your body around like a toy.

That feeling of shame only intensifies, when you hear Toby snicker. A cocky, self-satisfied sound - mocking in its nature. “H-How ‘bout now?” He chuckles against your skin, before leaning his head upwards to stare down at you. His chin dripping with your blood, teeth stained with it when he cracks a grin. His eyes are wild, glinting with a crazed sheen that makes your whole body feel cold. “Still hate me?”

“You-“ Your voice cracks, raw and strained from all of the screams and moans that had ripped out of your lungs. “You think that changed just because you made me cum?” You try to glare at him, but your convincing factor was gone now that you lay quivering below him - streaked with your own blood and slick. “I can do that myself.”

“I bet you can.” Toby laughs wickedly, his eyes never leaving yours even as his hands travelled to the buckle of his belt to pull it free. He’s quick with it, and in a matter of seconds the belt’s undone, his button’s popped, and his fly is tugged down. “B-But not like I can.” You watch with rapt attention as his thumbs hook under the waistband of his boxers - no shame in his actions as he lets his cock spring free.

And god dammit, it’s been too long. You try to hold it back, but you can feel drool pool in your mouth just from the sight of him. Thick, long, and so unbelievably hard. Flushed red at the tip, leaking precum that was just begging to be lapped up by you.

Maybe he deserved to be a little cocky, walking around with a dick like that. “O-Oh look at you.” He slots himself between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side before grinding his length against your slick folds. Coating himself in it, rocking his hips against you, really letting you feel the size of the cock you were about to be stuffed with. “You’ve practically got hearts i-in your eyes, baby. You can drop the act.”

Both hands curl around your waist, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh - and you can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth. “Just ss-say it. Say you missed my dick, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“Forgive me?” You jolt when you feel the head notch on your entrance for just a moment before it’s slipping past it again - nudging against your clit instead. “Y-You were the one being an ass.”

Toby hums softly, not looking at you, too preoccupied with watching his cock slide against you. Glistening with slick already and he hadn’t even sunk into you yet.

“M’kay, make it harder for yourself.” He mutters, before finally lining himself up properly. “I d-don’t mind.” His hands pin your hips to the ground, leaving you nowhere to run as the head of his length slips past your entrance - and despite it being awhile, you should’ve known he wasn’t going to be gentle. He practically rams his cock into you, filling you up in a motion so quick it wipes every single thought from your brain.

Your body doesn’t even know how to respond to it, really, your pussy spasming and twitching around him as it struggled to accommodate to the mind-numbing stretch. Your hands fly up immediately, instinctively trying to push at his chest, but the other half of you (the stupider half) was what took over. You push against his chest weakly just once, before your fingers are curling into the front of his shirt - knuckles going white from the force of your grip.

Your whole face was scrunched up, tears springing to your eyes and clinging to your lashes from how overwhelmed you were. It hurt, of course it did, being stretched open around him without an ounce of care, but that fullness. God, it just felt so right. Felt like everything you had been missing over the past few weeks. You could feel him throb inside you, pressed so deep it made you dizzy. You can also feel, all of the anger within you fizzling away.

Just like that. Because he had been right earlier, unfortunately. “F-Fuck-“ Toby groans out, his eyebrows pinching together. An expression of unbridled ecstasy washing over his entire face. He takes a moment to savour the moment - just a moment - before he starts pounding away at your cunt like he owned it. Barely letting you adjust, snapping his hips into you with an intensity that stole all of the air from your lungs. “F-Forgot how good this pussy is.”

And the way he says that, he nearly sounds lovestruck, awe dripping off of every letter. But, then he had to go and ruin it. “Too bad it belongs t-to such a stupid bitch.”

And you can’t even respond, you want to so badly, but with how he was drilling his cock into you the only sounds you’re capable of making right now are downright pitiful gasps and moans. He was fucking the daylights out of you. Fucking you, like it was the last thing he’d do on this godforsaken planet. Like he was trying to mould your body to the shape of his cock, carving open a path that only he could fill. Leaving you absolutely ruined, for if you ever did run away with someone else.

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Not when the pleasure he was dealing upon you was downright godly. Rough, aggressive, but so fucking good. Making you gush all over him, coating his cock and staining the front of his jeans every time he sunk into you. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

The feeling of his palm connecting with your cheek again barely even sobers you. The sting is welcomed, because it only deepens the pool of ecstasy he had thrown you into. Even more so, when he does it again to the other side of your face. The force of it, making your head crack to the side.

Cheeks stinging, tears rolling down your face, and dirt caked deep into your hair - your whole body was melting. Absolutely melting for him as his hips slammed against yours. “Say it again. S-Say you hate me.”

And you know he’s asking again, because he knows that he’s gotten you. You’re a pathetic mess on the ground below him. You don’t even have to see yourself to know that. Taking his cock like he hadn’t been insulting you since he got home. Like he hadn’t been insulting you while inside you. It’s degrading, and completely demoralizing - but that’s not all it is.

It’s the passion you had been missing. It’s his hands gripping your hips like letting you go would physically wound him. It’s the sound of his husky grunts and groans. The feeling of the wounds on your skin throbbing, while his cock pulses inside you.

It’s what you had been needing. Being his again. Being the object of his obsession. No work, no missions, no distractions. Just you, him, and the sticks digging into your back. This forest belonged to the two of you right now, all the dangers living within it fizzling away to create a sanctuary made to take you apart.

The ground you laid on, an altar where you sacrificed yourself to the man above you.

“I-“ With your cheeks streaked with tears, you can barely speak past your sobs of pleasure - hands slipping upwards to claw at his shoulders, pulling him in closer though he was the one dealing all the damage. You didn’t care. You just needed him. That’s what this had all been about, after all. “I don’t-“

“You don’t?” Toby’s hands slip under your thighs and press them upwards, folding you until your knees nearly touch your chest - spreading you open as wide as could be for his taking. And his stamina, never falters. Just one after another, he deals these brutal thrusts upon you, the head of his cock abusing your gspot every time he snapped his hips back in. He was downright punching the moans out of your lungs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs and scraping against it - leaving angry welts behind that you knew you’d feel the sting of later. “Say it proper.”

It’s a tall order, considering that you can barely breathe. More so just a puddle of drool and tears beneath him, than a person who could form coherent thoughts. You can barely even feel the scrape of bark and rocks against your back every time your body slides across the ground from the force of his thrusts. Mouth hung open, but producing nothing but intelligible babble choked out between sobs. Eyes squeezed shut because you couldn’t even see properly even if they were open, vision blurred with tears you couldn’t blink away.

He had, effectively, completely broken you down. He had the moment his cock slipped inside you. And the worst part was that he knew this is how it was going to go down, he knew that you’d crumple the moment he sunk in balls deep. He had said it himself; ‘I-I could turn you back into a lovesick little slut in ss-seconds’.

And he had. Almost laughably easily.

“T-Toby-“ You cry, hands clawing upwards to tangle in his hair, tugging at the strands so hard that the sting probably would’ve buckled him if he could feel it. “I-I didn’t mean it. I don’t-“ A particularly harsh thrust makes your eyes roll back, stars dancing behind your eyes as your words choke off into a moan. “I don’t hate you. I c-could-“ He’s not making it easy to get a full sentence out, with the way he was seemingly trying to pound you into the ground. “I could never! You- You were just being mean.”

A sniffling, blubbering, sobbing mess. That’s what Toby was staring down at as he bruised your cervix. Such a pitiful sight that it made his chest twist, so incredibly beautiful throughout it all, that it sent a shiver down his spine. You just looked the most lovely like this - completely broken down. Crying for him while taking his cock so wonderfully.

He can’t help it when his expression softens. Can’t help it when the lingering annoyance started to morph into affection.

Could you blame him? You looked like an angel. An angel he had soiled, and ripped the wings off of.

So, he caves too.

“I know I was.” He murmurs, the grip on your thighs lessening a little bit. Leaving a sting behind but soothing it as his thumb smooth over the welts. “I know. I was r-real fucking mean.” The force of his thrusts doesn’t weaken, but he does slow down just a little bit - finally giving you a chance to catch your breath. “W-Wasn’t even mad at you. Just life in general. Work’s been… Really hard to deal with lately.” He pauses, eyes honing in on your face, tracing across every tear-soaked feature. “Well, not until you said that shit about Jack.”

“I was-“ Your toes curl, breathing stuttering when he grinds the head of his cock against your gspot. “I was just trying to hu-hurt you back. You know I- I’d never.”

And he really does believe you now. Because if you’d still love him like this, after he’d brutally broken you apart piece by piece, you’d probably love him every which way. Which, may be your downfall, but he still felt lucky to be the reason you were willing to go that far.

“Y-Yeah, I know.” He curls his body over you completely, nuzzling into your neck as his hips start to stutter, only spurred on by the way your pussy had started twitching around him. Your walls squeezing him tight, the beginnings of your release coaxing out his. He parts his lips, and this time he is gentle, lapping at the wounds he created with a tenderness so starkly contrasting his previous actions that it nearly gives you whiplash. “I’d kill him i-if he touched you anyway.”

And the sentiment is cute, but…

“Isn’t he like, an immortal demon?” You manage to gasp out, rolling your hips back to meet his thrusts as you let your head fall to the side - giving him more surface area to lick and kiss upon.

“I’d find a way.” And then his free hand is slipping down lower, finding your clit to roll it in time with his thrusts. Taking you higher and higher, practically smothering you as his hips snapped against yours. Skin on skin echoing through the forest, the sticky sound of him separating from you making your cheeks burn hot.

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in him shoulder and breathing in his scent, and then - you’re cumming. Even harder than the first time.

You all but convulse, eyes rolling back as the pleasure consumes you - nails digging into his back through the fabric of his sweater. And you sob into his shoulder, an absolutely wrecked sound that Toby was sure would be pinging around his skull for weeks to come.

And your pussy - it practically strangled his dick when you fell over the edge. So tight, and milking him so good, that he only manages to get three or four more thrusts in before he’s coming apart as well.

Nestled right up against your womb, he spills his spend. Pumping your cunt completely full of that warmth you had missed the feeling of so dearly. Toby, obviously just as pent up as you had been, absolutely flooded you with it - having it dripping out around his length before he even pulled out.

And then, he collapses. The only thing stopping him from being complete dead weight on top of you, being his elbows which he propped himself up on. Still inside you, he stayed that way for awhile, letting you feel his cock soften inside you as he took in dazed gasps of breath against your neck. You can feel his hair tickle your skin - practically soaked with sweat that was rolling off the strands to drip onto you.

As soon as his erratic panting turns to calmer, quivered breathing, you hear him mumble. “I’m s-sorry. You’re not a bitch.” He finds the strength to snake his arms beneath your body, pulling you in close and shielding your bare body from the cold ground. “O-Or a whore. Or any of those horrible names I called you. Sh-Should’ve never said that shit. It’s like I’m trying to get you to hate me.”

Should you forgive him so easily? Probably not, but well, you had already crossed that bridge.

So you do anyway, your body pliant as you sink into his hold. “A-And I know you do a lot for me. I’ve just been too wrapped up in m-my own shit to appreciate it.”

“It’s fine, Toby.” You murmur softly, as you let your eyes flutter shut. All the anger you felt before just feels like a distant memory now, completely fizzled out. Insignificant, with your body pressed to his. That was all you had been wanting, really. And though you may have taken the worst route possible to get here, you were here nonetheless.

“It’s n-not, though.” Toby grumbles, his arms curling around you tighter. And you can feel his heart beat against your chest, still frantic - just like yours was.

“Maybe it’s not.” You agree. “But I’m too tired to fight about it anymore.” You lift a hand, and use it to gently pry his face out of the crook of your neck, tilting his head up so that you could look at him properly. “Can we go home now? It’s cold out here.”

You watch, as Toby’s lips slowly curl up into a disbelieving little smile, before he’s nodding softly. Then, he turns his head to the side, to press a gentle kiss against the centre of your palm.

“Y-Yeah. Let’s go home.”

—————————————————————————☆

OKAY! yeah this was filthy but honestly very fun and refreshing to write considering that the last smut I posted was fluffy fluff with some fluff on top

I hope you enjoyed it lols

thank you for reading!!

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part nineteen: the talk

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

eighteen | nineteen | twenty

Alex had texted her again after that, hoping to finally set their plans into motion.

alex :) : Let’s do something this Friday. Just us.  No laptops, no deadlines, no work talk. You in?

She smiled at the message. Even if it had taken them nearly two weeks to find an overlapping free night, the idea of just sitting across from him and talking like they used to felt like something worth holding onto.

They chose a quiet little trattoria near the university, a place with soft lighting and handwritten menus and a clumsy charm to it. He arrived five minutes late, apologizing with that boyish grin she remembered liking the first time they met. She told him it was okay. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t exactly true, either.

“You look nice,” he said as he pulled out her chair.

“So do you,” she returned, and it wasn’t a lie. His hair was slightly tousled, probably from running between lectures, and he had the faintest ink smudge on his wrist from jotting down notes during a lab.

The first few minutes were easy. They laughed about a classmate of his who had fallen asleep mid-presentation. They exchanged complaints about professors and tuition hikes. They took turns trading stories that, at one point, would’ve stretched into the hours.

Y/N sat across from Alex, her fingers idly stirring her straw in the water glass. The background noise of the place filled the lull in their conversation—light conversation from other tables, the clink of silverware, the low hiss of steam in the kitchen.

He looked good, even if tired. He wore button-up sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair misted from the initial drizzle, dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

This was… nice. Familiar. Safe.

But they were both dancing around it.

It came after the main course, somewhere between her barely-touched ravioli and his third glance at the clock.

“This was nice,” she said, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. He offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I missed this.”

“I missed this too,” she echoed, because it was true.

But there was a pause, and the pause said more than anything they could put into words. Because this had become rare. This had become something they had to schedule, not something that came naturally. They were both always tired. Always behind on something—notes, reading, sleep.

“I’ve been meaning to text,” he said, and she gave him a look that was almost amused.

“Of course.”

His smile turned sheepish. “It’s not that I didn’t want to—it’s just… with lab hours and midterms and—”

“I get it. Really.” 

They both knew what was coming.

“I like you,” he said gently.

She met his eyes, and hers were kind. “I like you too.”

Another silence.

He reached across the table, his hand slipping into hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles with a barely there touch. 

Barely-there. Ha. 

For a moment, he just looks at her. Not like he’s looking for something, but instead as if he was trying to commit her to memory. The view before him would have been picturesque – good food, better wine, warm lighting, a beautiful girl– but it’s tinged bittersweet by the guilt that lodged itself in his throat.

Her hand was warm in his, soft and familiar. He liked holding her hand.

Alex wondered what he’d done in some previous life to have deserved a girl as sweet as this.

He hesitated. “I just– I don’t want to pretend like this isn’t... fizzling.”

Y/N’s heart sank, but not from heartbreak—more like confirmation.

Ever the hopeless romantic, huh? “I know.”

He looked at her again, just one more time. For a second, that first date flashed in his mind – the two of them sat across from each other in a restaurant much like this one, except there was sadness in her eyes now that didn’t remember being there that first night. 

Disappointment. Like she had wanted better, but got this in return.

“It’s just not the right time, is it?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head the way she used to when she used to  laugh at his bad puns. “I’m afraid it’s not.”

He studied her carefully. “I care about you. You are so  smart and so kind, and I…  I’ve loved spending time with you.”

“...But?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. She’d never dated much, but this had always been the part she’d dreaded the most.

She always did get attached too easily.

But Alex looked at her with those same kind brown eyes–the ones she’d watched crinkle with laughter and glow with ambition and warm with fondness. Now he looked…

There wasn’t really a word for it. For the first time, she couldn’t really pinpoint what it was that he was feeling.

But he smiled at her, and it seemed sad. She suddenly wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. Or at all, for that matter. Sitting here, out in the open and  forced to confront emotional truths, made her feel exposed.

“But we barely have time anymore,” he continued softly. “We’re always trying to find windows in calendars that are already packed. And when we do—it feels like we’re trying to remember what this was.”

They were quiet for a long moment. The restaurant around them buzzed with soft conversation and clinking glasses. Someone at another table laughed faintly in the background, and she briefly wondered if that could’ve been how this dinner was supposed to go. 

Alex had a nice laugh. It made you want to know what was funny just so you could laugh with him. But even if you didn’t, you’d probably end up laughing with him anyway. 

She liked Alex’s laugh.

“I wanted it to work,” she admitted. “You’re easy to talk to. Nice, y’know? You make me feel like I’m not totally losing my mind.”

“You are… brilliant,” he said, his tone lowering with sincerity and softening with thoughtfulness. “And you deserve someone who has more time. More energy. I’ve got my head so far in my thesis I sometimes forget to eat.”

She smiled, nodding slowly. “I get it. I think maybe we’re just... trying to hold onto potential now?”

“That’s fair,” he said, sounding sincere. “Do you think we’re still friends?”

“I’d like that,” she said, even if it felt like an ending.

Neither of them said the word breakup. It didn’t feel right. They’d been... something. A quiet, almost-relationship that held potential. Maybe even comfort. But it hadn’t grown. Or maybe they hadn’t had the time to let it.

They paid the bill and walked out into the chill of the night. He offered to walk her home, and she let him. When they reached the end of the street, they shared a quiet, lingering hug. No bitterness. Just a softness. A mutual understanding that they’d both tried. He kissed her cheek before they parted, lingering just a little too long like he might change his mind, like maybe this didn’t have to be the last try—but neither of them said it. Y/N didn’t go up to her apartment right away. Instead, she wandered aimlessly for a while, letting the cool night air clear her head. The ‘breakup’—or whatever it was—wasn’t devastating, but it still left a hollow feeling in her chest.

She reached for her phone and typed out a quick message.

Y/N: Hey Margot, do you have someone to cover my shift tomorrow morning?

The elderly woman replied almost immediately.

Margot❣️: I’m not sure. But I can check, dear. Everything okay?

She looked at the message, re-read it, and proceeded to click her phone off. She definitely felt guilty for leaving her on read knowing that she’d probably worry, but not enough to take it back. Y/N just needed a night.

It wasn’t like she cried when she got to her room or anything like that. It was more like she just lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. As the clock ticked faintly in the dark room, the sound of a familiar playlist played faintly until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, she stared at the wall for a few hours, then emailed her professor to ask for an extension on her paper—one she probably didn’t need, but couldn’t bring herself to write just yet.

She called out of her shift, too.

Margot had taken the call early that morning—Y/N’s voice slightly hoarse, apologies tucked in between practically every word. With her voice low, Y/N told the shopkeeper she wasn’t feeling well. That she'd try to make it up tomorrow.

Margot hadn’t pressed. She had a sense for people, especially for someone she’d known for as long as she’d known Y/N. Margot showed up to the cafe, brewed the espresso herself, and ran the shop like she had in the old days, humming along to the soft jazz from the speakers.

She didn’t show up to the café the next day.

Lando noticed it first the second he stepped inside near close—something felt off. The lighting was warm, but the place was quieter than usual. The radio still hummed softly in the background, a lazy jazz tune floating through the air. But her laugh wasn’t there. Her voice wasn’t behind the counter. She wasn’t at her usual spot next to the espresso machine.

Instead, it was Margot.

The old woman stood near the bar, wiping down a mug with the care of someone who had been doing this for decades. She looked up when she heard the bell, smiling from behind the register when she saw him. Her silvery hair was pinned back with a navy scarf, and she wore a classic, well-loved cardigan — the one with the worn cuffs and a coffee stain near the elbow.

“Evening, darling,” she said. “Your usual?”

Lando paused, scanning the shop, then gave her a faint nod. “Yeah, sure.”

Margot began preparing the drink with her usual, methodical grace. Lando leaned against the counter, still glancing around.

“Liam,” she called out, using the name she’d been told. “Y/N is not here tonight.”

Lando nodded, though the use of the name felt like a stone in his chest. “I thought… she was working tonight.”

“She called out this morning,” Margot said. “First time in a while.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the room as if she might suddenly appear from one of the back rooms anyway. “Erm, uh– Is everything alright? With her, I mean.”

Margot studied him for a moment. She’d seen the way he lingered, always arriving just a little before closing. She’d watched the way her girl smiled at him without quite realizing she was smiling. And she’d noticed the way he hovered—not in the unsettling way of the men she’d had to warn Y/N about before —but like he didn’t quite know if he was allowed to come near, to care.

At his question, Margot gave him a look, one that made it clear she knew he was fishing for information. She poured him a cup of spiced black coffee without asking and set it in front of him. “She said she wasn’t feeling great.”

Lando hummed in response, lifting the cup but not drinking from it yet. “That right?”

Margot tilted her head, studying him in that way only people who had seen decades of life could. “You two are close?”

Lando smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mm, I give her a ride sometimes.”

Margot let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm.” 

She wiped her hands on a rag and leaned easily on the counter, her expression more knowing than accusatory. “You know, Liam… I have been running this café for a long time. I see a lot of people come and go. I know when someone is paying attention more than they should.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, playing along. “S’that so?”

Lando’s grip on his cup tightened for a fraction of a second. 

Does she know?

While the Reaper was well known throughout Monaco, Lando’s face wasn’t exactly posted on billboards. It made him tougher to identify, more elusive to his enemies. They’d always be surprised to learn that someone as young as him was the face of a reputation as notable as his.

Yet Margot looked at him with a certain glimmer in her eye, barely concealed and rooted in the wisdom that comes from decades of reading people.

Margot smiled softly, patting his arm once before straightening up. “She’s a good girl,” she told him as she turned to refill the sugar jar beside the register. “But she carries a lot of things on those little shoulders. I think people forget that sometimes, because she is always smiling.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, processing that. 

She pointed at him, a mock-stern expression on her face. “So do not go making things complicated for her, alright?”

Lando took a sip of his coffee, swallowing down the impulse to say something too honest. Instead, he just smirked and said, “Me? Complicate things? Never.”

Margot let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Sure, dear. Keep telling yourself that.”

Margot wiped her hands on her apron, letting the conversation lull and seeming deep in thought. “You check on her sometimes, don’t you?”

Lando’s jaw ticked, turning the words over in his mind. 

Does gelato count?

“We're… friends,” he replied instead, looking away to admire the wall of bookshelves instead. The peonies looked sadder today.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Funny. You don’t look like the kind of man who has many friends.”

He didn’t answer that. Just stepped forward, eyes scanning the café like he could find something of her still lingering in the air. Her scent in the roasted beans. Her laughter woven into the music from the speakers.

“You are kind to her,” Margot added. “I notice it. She is very, how you say…,” she trails off, looking off in the distance for the right word to come to her. “Ah! Soft-hearted.”

Lando nodded before looking back down at his coffee cup, wrapping his hand around the paper cup. The foam swirled around slowly in invisible circles, shimmering against the dark drink. It didn’t taste the same today, but his mind wasn’t on the coffee.

Instead, he thought about the empty space behind the counter. The absence of her laugh. The faint echo of her voice in his memory.

And all of a sudden, he was hit with the striking and very uncomfortable realization that he missed her.

Margot, unaware of the Brit’s internal dilemma, continued to clean out the espresso machine, before wiping at the counters with a rag as she spoke to him. “Tell her I said to rest tomorrow, too. And you—” she narrowed her eyes as she handed the cup over—“don’t make her think she has to explain herself. She doesn’t tell me these things as if I won’t worry about that girl anyway.”

He was still sitting at the counter, watching the cars drive by through the large windows spanning the front of the shop. He probably would have left sooner, but he wasn’t sure if she was still conversing with him, seeing as he was the only customer here past closing. They’d been talking and she hadn’t kicked him out, so he felt it’d be disrespectful to leave just yet. 

Looks like he was right.

He met her gaze, something almost rueful in his. “I wouldn’t, Madame.”

There's an awkward beat where Margot, an elderly woman who’s maximum height was likely still below that of Lando’s shoulder, shoots the young man a look like she’s looking straight through him.

“Right,” he said finally. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see her next time, then. Cheers.”

He turned to leave, but Margot’s voice stopped him. Lando paused, eyes flicking back to her.

“Whatever name you gave her,” Margot spoke gently, as if they were discussing something as simple as the weather of living room decor, “whoever you are outside of this place—I see the way you look at her. Do not betray her trust just because you are scared of what your presence might mean.”

The name you gave her? Whoever you are?

Lando’s heart began to thud against his chest.

Immediately, he gave her a nod in hopes that it would be enough for the shopkeeper to be satisfied. As he turned to leave, Margot called after him one final time, soft and unassuming: “She’s not like the world you come from, you know.”

He paused. Tensed.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Fuck.

a/n: dun dun dun!

also i very much rushed to edit this and get it out. sorry if it's not good. lmk if you find any typos/errors!

[carnalcrows]

PROJECT WOES - CHEONGSAN

pairing: lee cheong-san x reader

synopsis: The two of you fight. A lot. Neither of you really know why thought. What happens when the both of you get partnered up for a project?

content warnings: They just make out lol, everything is pretty tame here.

word count: 0.6k

Cheongsan had never hated a school project more in his life.

And that was saying something.

There were a lot of things he could tolerate. Long nights cramming for exams? Fine. Dodging Gwi-nam’s bullshit every day? Manageable. But this? This?

This was hell.

"You can stop glaring now," you said, not even looking up from your phone.

He scoffed, dropping his bag onto your desk with more force than necessary. "I’m not the problem here."

You snorted. "Yeah? Then why do you look constipated?"

He exhaled sharply, biting back a very colourful response. "Because I’d rather be doing anything else right now."

"Wow. Your flirting skills are amazing."

He shot you a glare, but you just grinned, clearly enjoying his suffering.

The worst part?

No one—not even he—knew why the hell you two were like this.

You didn’t hate each other. You weren’t enemies. Hell, you were even chill with his friends.

But with him?

For some reason, every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match. Every single time.

And now, thanks to this godforsaken history project, he was stuck in your room for the next two hours, listening to you be insufferable.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." You slid your laptop in front of him. "You write, I research."

Cheongsan frowned. "Why do I have to write?"

"Because your handwriting looks like an AI-generated font."

"And you think I’m constipated? Damn, you are flirting."

"Cheongsan, please. I have standards."

He gawked at you, absolutely seething. "You—"

"Oi, brats!" Your older sister’s voice rang through the hallway. "If you break anything, you’re both dead!"

"We’re fine!" you called back. Then, turning back to Cheongsan, you smirked. "You might not be, though."

Cheongsan grumbled under his breath and cracked his knuckles, forcing himself to focus. "Let’s just start."

For a while, it was fine.

Mostly.

You still annoyed him every five minutes. He still snarked back. But the work was getting done.

And then?

It happened.

To this day, Cheongsan still wouldn’t know what exactly changed.

Maybe it was the way you leaned over his shoulder, way too close as you pointed at something on his laptop screen.

Maybe it was the way your breath fanned against his ear, the scent of your shampoo way too distracting.

Maybe it was the way he turned his head just as you looked up—only for your faces to be inches apart, the heat between you shifting from hostile to something... completely different.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

The room felt way too quiet.

And then—

Your lips were on his.

Cheongsan barely had time to process before his body reacted—grabbing onto you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss before he could even think about what he was doing.

And god, it was good.

He should’ve expected you to be a tease, but the way you nipped at his bottom lip, the way you tilted your head just right—it was unfair.

His grip tightened on your waist, fingers digging in, and you hummed against his mouth, a low, satisfied sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

His brain was screaming at him, but he did not care.

Not when you pushed him back against your desk, not when your hands slid under his hoodie, not when you—

"WHAT THE FUCK."

Cheongsan jerked away so fast he almost fell over.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. "Goddamn it."

Your sister stood in the doorway, horrified. "In my house? In my presence?!"

"Technically, it’s my house too," you muttered.

"Not the point!"

Cheongsan was mortified.

Your sister pointed an accusatory finger at the two of you. "You owe me therapy. Both of you."

Then, with a dramatic shudder, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Silence.

Then—

You snorted.

And then Cheongsan snorted.

And then the both of you were wheezing, half-doubled over in laughter, because what the hell just happened?

"I hate you," Cheongsan wheezed, shaking his head.

You grinned, smug as ever. "Yeah?" You leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear. "You kiss me like you don’t."

His face burned. "Shut up."

But when you kissed him again, he didn’t exactly stop you.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[yuriosakawa]

Ride or Die 

As Danny Phantom and Johnny 13 drifted through the Ghost Zone, Danny’s hands firmly around the older ghost’s waist as he drove, the eerie green mist swirling around them, Danny spoke up.

“So… can I ask you something?”

Johnny, who had been quiet until now, smirked and glanced at Danny. 

“Yeah, sure, kid. What’s on your mind?”

Danny hesitated, but then decided to just go for it. “Kitty.”

Johnny’s smirked died down, and his grip on his bike’s handlebars tightened ever so slightly. He returned his gaze at the rocky road in front of him. 

Danny continued carefully, “I mean, when she—when she, y’know, followed you… what was your first reaction?”

For a long moment, Johnny didn’t say anything. His jaw worked like he was chewing on the right words. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

“I was pissed.”

Danny blinked. “Wait, really?”

Johnny let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. I loved Kitty, don’t get me wrong. But when I found out what she did? I lost it.” He clenched his fists. “I yelled at her. I told her she was a damn fool. That she had everything—her whole life ahead of her—and she just threw it away. For me.”

Danny had expected sadness, maybe regret, but not outright anger. “But… wasn’t she just trying to be with you?”

Johnny shook his head. “That’s the thing, Danny. Yeah, I missed her, but I never wanted this for her. I wanted her to live. To move on. Not… this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the swirling, endless void of the Ghost Zone. “She was supposed to grow old, have a life, have a family if she wanted one. Instead, she got stuck here with me.”

Danny could hear the bitterness in his voice, but there was something else beneath it—something raw and painful.

“A part of me is still mad at her for it,” Johnny admitted, his voice quieter now. “But mostly? I think I’m just mad at myself.”

Danny frowned. “Why?”

Johnny sighed and looked away. “Because if I hadn’t been such a reckless idiot… if I hadn’t gotten myself killed… she never would’ve done it. I know it was her choice in the end, but I was the reason she even had to make that choice.” His fingers tapped restlessly against the handlebars. “I guess a part of me wonders if she ever regretted it, y’know? If, deep down, she wished she had stayed alive.”

Danny thought about Kitty—how, despite everything, she always seemed devoted to Johnny. But he also thought about the way she sometimes looked at the human world, the way she tried to fit in, the way she occasionally longed for something she could never have again.

“I dunno, Johnny,” Danny said finally. “I think she loves you. But I think she probably misses being alive, too.”

Johnny let out a long breath, nodding slightly. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They rode in silence for a while after that, the hum of Johnny’s bike the only sound in the endless expanse of the Ghost Zone.

[h0efor2ho]

DK X Reader

TW : Best friends to lovers, Oral (f) Fingering, PIV, Unprotected ( wrap it up kids ) Creampie

WC : 1.7k

You couldn't remember the moment you met Seokmin. Not the first words he said to you, not the first time he made you laugh, or smile or the first time you hung out together. And that simply is because outside of your immediate family, Seokmin is the first person you met after birth. Yup, that always gets you guys puzzled looks when you tell people. When you explain that Seokmin's mom and yours are best friends. So naturally after you were born she was one of the first people to come and visit, bringing little Seokmin along with her. 

As soon as you too could walk you two did everything together. You went to the same school, had the same friends, went on vacation with each others family's. You cant count how many sleepovers in your families living rooms you'v had. Needless to say you two were inseparable, so it wasn't a shock when your families found out you planned on going away to the same college. You two were the best of friends. 

Which is why it was no shock to your friends when you turned down plans to go to a frat party to spend the night in your apartment with Seokmin. Cuddled up on the worn out couch in your little apartment, where you had spent many nights like tonight. The room bathed in the soft glow from the movie, some horror slasher film, casting long shadows over the two of you. You had just turned your head and buried it into the side of Seokmins shoulder as something on screen jumped out at the lead actor. 

It's a second before you feel fingers cupping your chin, his long delicate fingers lifting your face up, his big brown eyes looking at you. "I can't keep pretending, Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean Min' " You ask confused. You get his answer when he leans down placing a small gentle tentative kiss to the corner of your mouth. You gasp at the contact. He pulls back slightly eyes searching yours. "I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with just being friends. I'v been in love with you for years." Your brain short circuits, eyes going wide. 

Seokmin, your best friend of your whole life just confessed his feelings for you. All the years flash before your eyes, all the times he's made you laugh, all the times he's ditched his friends to hang out with you, all the times he's been there letting you cry on his shoulder. All the times you had noticed his looks change over the years, growing into his handsome face. The times you took note of his body after he started going to the gym. All the times his touch made your heart flutter, or the sound of his laugh made your stomach do this flippy thing.  But you always pushed those feelings down. Fear of rejection making you scared to lose him. 

He clears his throat, your silence giving him an answer he thinks. "I... I'm sorry.... I'll go." He quickly stands up, going to make his way to the door. You spring up following him, grabbing his wrist "Wait!" Slowly he turns, looking from where you grip his wrist up to your face.  "I.. Dont go" you say. Your hand sliding down to interlock your fingers with his. An act you have done countless times but this time having renewed meaning. "I.. I don't want you to leave" you say, your heart pounding in your chest. "The truth is, I have loved you for years. I'v never said anything because you mean so much to me and I didn't want to ruin our friendship." 

He takes a step toward you, hand coming up to cup your face, leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let me show you, how I'v dreamed of ruining this friendship" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. Before you can say anything he crashes his mouth to yours. The kiss is fierce and demanding and full of need. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck, and lace your fingers through his dark hair. His hands roamed your body, pulling you closer, his desire evident against your hip. You gasp when he dips down, hands cupping your thighs and lifting you into his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

He walks the two of yo back to the couch, softly laying you down. Breaking the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he placed his hands on the hem of your shirt, his eyes asking the silent question. You shake your head yes, giving him the go ahead. Slowly he pulled your shirt over your head. Your body on fire as he slipped a hand under your bra, his fingers tracing circles around your nipples, sending shivers down your spine, before his hands move to the back to unclasp it, pulling it away from your body. 

You can feel his hands slightly tremble as he cups your bare chest. You watch as he leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth giving it a harsh suck before flicking it with his tounge. Your back aching at the sensation as a moan slips past your lips. He leans over and give your other nipple the same attention. After a few minutes he begins to pepper your chest with kisses as his hands moved to the waist of your jeans. "Please" you whimper out. You didn't realize how bad you'r body had been yerning for his.

His fingers unbutton them with a swift motion before pulling them down and off you completely. His hands moving to your knees to spread your legs open wide for him. Slowly sliding up your thighs, his eyes taking in every exposed inch of your skin till his hands meet the apex of your body. His thumb gliding over your pantie covered center.  "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his fingers pressing into the fabric. "You're so wet."

He knelt between your legs as he pulled your panties to the side exposing your core to him, his eyes devouring your naked body. "I've dreamt about this for years," he said, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit. A moan you didnt even think you were capable of slipping past your lips as your back arches off the couch. He lapped at your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of you. His prominent nose bumping into your clit as his tongue pocked at your entrance. 

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his lips vibrating against your clit. He sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it, as your hands gripping the couch cushions for support. Slowly he slipped two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm. "I need you to cum before I can fuck you baby," he murmured, his fingers curling inside you hitting that sweet spot. Your body trembling as you neared the edge, his fingers and tongue working magic on you. All it takes is one more flick of his tongue over you clit before he sends you over the edge. Body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you, gushing all over his fingers as your core tightens around them.

Slowly he eased his fingers out your entrance. You watch through half lidded eyes as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. "God you are the best thing I've ever ever tasted." He says as he stands up. You watch as he starts pulling off his shirt, the abs he's worked hard for on display disappearing into his jeans. You watch as he revels more and more of his body to you as he undos his pants, tugging them down his hips. Your mouth waters as his cock springs free. Hard and throbbing and the pretty pink tip oozing pre cum.

He kneels down between your legs, his cock nudging against your entrance. "Please Min'" You whine out, opening your legs wider for him "Need you so bad" "Fuckkk" he groans as he slides the tip of his cock through your slick folds, bumping your clit before slotting himself at your entrance again. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he growled. His eyes locked on yours as he slammed into you, his cock filling you completely. You cried out, your body stretching to accommodate him. "Fuck your so tight" He moans "I'm not gonna last long" He pulled out till just the tip was in you before slamming back in. 

He sets a brutal pace as his cock pumps in and out of your cunt. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his pace quickening. He pounds into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your body trembling as another orgasm builds, your nails digging into the hard plain of his back. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue as he explores your mouth. "I need to feel you cum on my cock," he growled against your lips. Reaching between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, as his cock brutally pounds away at you. Its not long before your crying out, your body shaking as you cum all over his cock.

"Fuck yes, thats it baby, squeezing my cock" he moans "Fuck, FUCK" he groans as his thrusts become erratic. You feel his cock twitching deep in you as he slams home and stills. Filling you with ropes of his hot cum. He collapses on top of you, his body slick with sweat as he places soft kisses to the side of your face. Slowly he pulls out of you, being extra careful after you wince at the loss of his length. He rolled over to lay next to you before pulling you into his arms.

"That was....amazing" You panted, your body still trembling as you lay on his chest. He smiled down at you, his eyes shining with satisfaction. He held you close, his heart beating in sync with yours. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled, his eyes shining with love. "Now I can tell my mom to stop hounding me about confessing to you and asking you out" he laughs. "She knew!?" you ask joining in on his laughter. "Oh yes" he says "Which means your mom does too."  "Oh boy, at this rate we might as well start planning our wedding" you joke. "Yeah, we might as well" he says as he lays a kiss to your forehead.