#i have no idea when part two will come out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidrum · 20 hours ago

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how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face.

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit.

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.”

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection.

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks. He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact.

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain.

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?”

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other.

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.”

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side.

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it.

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

Text

When Billy was a Newbie

I like to think some of these scenarios happened when Billy was first starting out as a hero.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *doesn’t even let them finish and socks the shit out of them and takes them to the police department*

This happens a good twenty times until one villain has enough.

Villain: *monologging*

Marvel: *about to attack while they’re talking*

Villain: “OKAY WAIT WAIT WAIT, STOP RIGHT THERE YOU BASTARD.”

Marvel: *stops, confused*

Villain: “I know you’re new to this whole thing, but you do realize you’re supposed to let us monologue and tell you our evil plan, right?! You’re not supposed to cut us off!”

Marvel: “I’m not?”

Villain: “No!”

Marvel: “Oh. I’m sorry about that, Mx. Supervillain. I’ll let you and the other ones talk next time.”

Villain: “Wait, really?”

After this, he actually does end up letting them talk and all that.

I also think something like this would happen when he was getting used to fighting crime.

Marvel: *throws one of the big blue mail boxes at some low level, human, emphasis on human, crooks* “Oh… my bad, guys! I was a little too harsh.”

Crooks: *severely injured* “What do you mean ‘your bad’?!?????? That was a little more than harsh!”

Then, there’s the fact I think he wouldn’t care about where he’s saving people. By that I mean, Billy has a lot of free time because he doesn’t go to school. Because of this, you’ll casually see Captain Marvel in flipping Milwaukee helping some people who got into a car crash, then in Orlando helping out with a fire, then in San Jose helping someone who lost their dog. Point is, if there’s someone to help out, he’ll help. Through this, he met Superman actually. Funnily enough, it was while holding up a building.

Marvel: *holding up a building*

Supes: *flies down* “You’re Captain Marvel, right?”

Marvel: “Huh? Uh yeah?” *looks over Superman, seeing his suit and thinking he’s another hero (Billy doesn’t know most heroes because this was when the time bubble recently popped)

Supes: “You need a hand with that?”

Marvel: “Yes, please.”

Supes and Marvel: *work together to move the building to somewhere safe so it won’t hurt anyone*

Marvel: “Thanks.”

Supes: “No problem.”

*awkward silence*

Supes: “If I can ask, what brought you to Metropolis?”

Marvel: “I’m here to fight crime…?” *says like it’s super obvious*

Supes: “Wha? Don’t you have your own city?”

Marvel: “I mean, I guess. Fawcett isn’t really my city though. I just protect it.”

Supes: *blanking and trying to come up with something to say* “Captain, you can’t just go around in other hero’s cities and fight crime for them. It’s a breach of territory.”

Marvel: “It is?”

Supes: “Yes, it is. Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t do this in Gotham. Batman would’ve been furious.”

Marvel: “Oh. Okay then… so just stick to cities that don’t have heroes?”

Supes: “Well, I guess but don’t you normally-”

Marvel: *beaming smile* “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Superman.”

Supes: “Your…welcome? Wait, what do you mean ‘stick to the cities that don’t have heroes’?”

Marvel: “Oh, well, when crimes slow and nothing’s going on in Fawcett, I kind of just fly around everywhere looking for stuff to do. Just the other day I helped these two old, farmer people, husband and wife, lift their tractor out of some mud.”

Supes: *a little astounded he has that much time on his hands* “Really? Where was that?”

Marvel: “Kansas. I think the town they lived in was Smallville or something?”

Supes: *nearly shits himself* “Ah… I see.”

Then there was the time he met a random Green Lantern. He had no idea what the Lantern Corp were, but any information Solomon gave him made them sound cool though. But you want to know the worst part of this interaction? The Lantern was trying to give Marvel a ring.

Random GL (RGL): *talking about how he wanted to give Billy the ring and yadayadayada*

Marvel: *not even listening due to the Gods talking a whole lot*

Mercury: “BILLY STEAL THE RING!”

Marvel: *saying this out loud* “What? What ring?”

RGL: *confused, says something Billy isn’t paying attention to*

Mercury: “THE RING ON HIS FINGER. KEEP UP WITH THE PROGRAM.”

Marvel: *still talking out loud* “Oh okay okay… how do I do that?”

Solomon: “You are supposed to use your will.”

Marvel: “Huh? Solomon there’s no way that’ll wor…” *trails off as he wills the ring off the lantern’s finger* “I take back what I said.”

RGL: *starts to fall*

Marvel: “Holy moly!” *rushes down to catch him*

RGL: “Earthling what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that??!?”

Marvel: “I’m sorry! The voices has told me to.” *gives them back their ring*

RGL: *flies off grumbling how he’s a psychopath*

Then there was when Marvel joined the Justice League. When he got the communicator, he put it in his pocket dimension and promptly forgot about it.

Marvel: “The Justice League hasn’t contacted me. I wonder if I’ve done something wrong…”

Meanwhile…

Batman: “This is like the third meeting he’s missed, Clark.”

Supes: “I know, I know! I’m sorry! He didn’t seem like the type to skip out on meetings. He talked like he had a bunch of free time.”

WW: “You should go talk to him. You are the one who invited him.”

Supes: *sighs* “I will.”

Back in Fawcett…

Marvel: *helping a cat down from a tree*

Supes: *flies down when he sees him* “Captain! Can we talk?”

Marvel: *hands cat back to its owner* “Mr. Superman. Of course! I’ve actually had something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you too.”

Supes: “Right, well I guess I’ll cut straight to the point. Is there a reason you haven’t shown up to the last meetings?”

Marvel: *stares at him with the most confused face* “Meetings?”

Supes: *confused at Billy’s confusion* “Yes? You get notified on your comm about them.”

Marvel: “Comm… Comm?” *thinking face before recognition flits across his face* “Wait, this thing?” *reaches hand into pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm*

Supes: *slightly horrified when he saw his arm disappear for a moment* “Yeah. That.”

Marvel: *taps comm and sees over 45 unread notifications* “Oh.”

Supes: *wondering how in the world Marvel never checked his comm* “Oh indeed.”

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #captain marvel dc #fawcett comics #fawcett #fawcett city #superman #clark kent

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misctf · 12 hours ago

Text

The Demon's Curse

Here's the final Halloween story I have for the month! Hope you enjoy it- I do plan to work on the requests I got soon- please feel free to keep them coming too. Thanks everyone and enjoy!

_______________________

“This can’t be real.” Luke thinks, as he stares blankly at his professor.

The brunette looks down at the ancient book his professor gestures to. If it was any other situation, he and his bros would be laughing. There’s a detailed illustration of a large demonic figure, surrounded by six muscular men. All of whom are on their knees, sporting vacant eyes, caged cocks, and large asses. A seventh sits atop the demonic figure, his ass impaled by its meaty cock.

“So you see, this demon...” His professor continues.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He only visited Ms. Galva- an isolated crone living at the edge of town- to apologize for his fraternity brothers. They threw toilet paper across her lawn and smeared shaving cream on her home. All part of a decades-long, yearly tradition the night before Halloween. And Luke, as the recently appointed risk manager, did not join them. He even tried to stop it. But Jim wasn’t about to give up on tradition. Luke tried to apologize to her the next day. He was not expecting her to finally lose it after years of mistreatment by the community. Warning him that he would get what he deserved.

“Luke, are you listening?” Luke snaps back to the present and looks over at Dr. Finnigan, “You know, I was quite intrigued as to why you wanted to discuss this particular demon.” The older man says, “He is a fierce one. A demon of sexual deviance.”

“I just heard the name somewhere.” Luke lies. In truth, the day after his visit with Ms. Galva, the demon visited him. Telling Luke to refer to it as his new master.

“I pity the man who meets this demon.” Dr. Finnigan continues, “He torments his victims for six days, up until finally taking them.”

“Yeah...” Luke mumbles, trying to discretely adjust his boner. For the past six days, his cock remained rock hard. Yet no matter how much he tried to jerk off, he couldn’t reach climax. The sensation now tortuous, “What do you mean by take them?”

“He takes them to live eternity as...as its... well...” He gestures to the book and Luke gets the idea. He feels his stomach drop, a wave of nausea washing over him. His situation becoming all the more dire- today was day six.

“Is there any way for someone to...”

Dr. Finnigan shakes his head, “Not when they’ve been taken.” Luke’s heart skips a beat, “But for the curse to be unleashed in the first place, the victim’s name must be written in a book of the damned. If that book is destroyed, well...”

“The curse is lifted.” Luke finishes the sentence and receives a nod from the professor. He feels a sense of hope, “Thank you, Dr. Finnigan.” He smiles, and the brunette stands up and quickly leaves, his mission clear.

_______

“I think I know what book you’re talking about.” Stacy says, “Ms. Galva keeps it on a pedestal in her living room.”

Luke sighs, “Are you sure? I don’t want you...”

“I will. I’ve been bringing her groceries for months and we’re friendly. I’ll grab the book.” She replies with a small smile.

Luke returns the smile, unable to verbally express his gratitude. Not only for her believing him, but for helping too. He met Stacy at a mixer, where it was clear the two had feelings for one another, however, no moves were made. Yet now, Luke was determined to ask her out after this was settled.

“I can go over right now. She’s expecting me.”

Stacy leans over and kisses him on the cheek, causing Luke to blush. And with a quick wave, she leaves. Luke sighs and falls back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. But he’s soon interrupted as the room around him heats up. Sweat pours from his skin and he removes his shirt. The heat becoming unbearable.

“Luke.” Luke jumps when he hears the voice echoing around him, “Oh Luke...” It taunts, “It’s almost time Luke.”

“Leave me the fuck alooooohhhh.” He moans as an invisible hand strokes his hardened dick.

“I can’t wait, Luke. I can’t wait to fuck you for the first time.” The demon moans, “To make you mine. For all eternity. Just my beautiful muscle slut.”

Unwanted images of his future fill the young man’s mind. His ass bloated with fat and muscle. The demon’s hand’s groping and squeezing his juicy mounds, causing him to moan. He can hear himself begging for the demon’s cock. His voice filled with lust and desperation.

“No please...” Luke pleads, shaking his head. Trying to dispel these images.

The room returns to its original temperature and Luke is alone again. The young man breathing heavily. His body covered in sweat. It was only a matter of time, and Luke knew his time was soon.

“Hey bro, you good?” Luke grimaces at the sound of Jim’s voice, “I’m setting up a bonfire. You interested?”

“I’m good, dude.” Luke replies, wincing as his dick throbs.

“Suit yourself.”

----------

An hour later, Stacy returns- book in hand. Luke could barely contain his relief. He hugs her, not bothering to put on a shirt.

“We... we should take care of this.” She says, her face reddening.

“Yeah, for sure.” He replies, blushing and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “I think I know what to do with it.” Visible from the window, Jim’s bonfire rages.

The two hastily approach the dancing flames. Luke can see Jim near the forest, grabbing more wood. Some thunder rumbling in the distance. The brunette looks over at Stacy and smiles. And the two toss the book into the flames. It makes a hissing sound as it slowly burns, and for the first time in days, Luke feels a sense of peace wash over him.

“We did it.” He mumbles, “We...” His words are cut short as Stacy kisses him deeply, and runs a hand along his bare chest.

And a few moments later, they’re back in his bedroom. Kissing passionately. Her hands running along his chest. His own hands moving up her shirt. He moans as she moves lower, removing his pants and exposing his throbbing dick. It had been a few days and he was ready. And as she sucks him off, he lets out another moan. He could feel himself getting close. And closer. And closer still. Yet after a few minutes, no climax. Stacy is clearly tired at this point, and looks up at him.

“Is something...?”

“No, no, it’s great.” Luke pants, “But...”

There’s a knock at his door and the two quickly fumble to redress. Luke walks over and opens it, to reveal Jim.

“Hey dude.” He says with a grin, “I saw you throw something into the fire.” He holds up the charred, yet very much intact, cursed book. He can hear Stacy gasp, but he’s too shocked to react, “It started raining and put it out.” Luke stares at the book, his heart pounding in his chest, “But dude, this thing looks pretty expensive. You sure you...?”

“No, no, no!” Luke says, a sense of dread filling him as he backs away, “We need to...”

The sound of wood cracking fills the room as an arm reaches up from the ground and grabs Luke’s leg. The young man yelps as he falls flat on his back. Jim and Stacy look on in horror as more arms reach out and restrain Luke.

“No please!” He shouts, as he struggles against the muscular arms, “Fuck! Get off me! Help!”

He watches as his pants burn away, leaving him exposed. His erect cock throbbing more intensely than ever before. He cries out as he feels something cold and metallic wrapping around his dick, forcing it to soften. The sensation is unbearable as his manhood is forcefully restrained.

“Ah please, fuck!”

He writhes as a cage secures itself around his dick- sealing it away for all eternity. Never to find release. He cries out again as his muscles start to contract and relax rapidly. His lean figure beginning to swell with meaty muscle. He begs for mercy as his pecs violently expand, the new growths partially obstructing his view. His arms and thighs follow- becoming engorged with meaty muscle. He cries out as his bones crack and shift, accommodating his new mass and height.

“No please...help me...” He begs, his voice deepening. He looks down at his stomach as his abs forcefully pop into existence. And he realizes with dread that he’s taking on the features from the men in the drawing- the demon’s personal muscle slut, “I can’t... Someone! Please help me!” Arghhhhh!”

More images of his future start to flash through his mind. He can see it more clearly than ever- his vacant eyes, his mouth and ass filled with his master’s cock. Master? Luke’s eyes widen as he realizes his mind is betraying him too.

“Not... not my master...” He grunts, trying desperately to free himself.

But even with his newfound strength he is unable to. And as the hands grope his growing ass, Luke cries out again. But this time in unwanted pleasure. He can feel them teasing his hole, preparing him for his new master. Weakening his resistance.

“No, don’t! Ohhhhhhhhh...” He moans as the teasing fingers push deeper into him.

He barely registers the embers that singe away his body hair leaving him hairless. Even his messy brunette locks singe away, leaving him with a buzz cut. The only similarity now between the writhing muscular man and the former Luke are his terrified eyes.

“You’re ready.” A voice whispers in his ear.

“No! Wait!” Luke feels the hands grip him tightly. And then they pull him down.

The room around him begins to vanish. The horrified looks from Stacy and Jim disappear from view. And as he’s dragged to his new life, his mind starts to break. He tries to think of anything besides his caged cock and throbbing, needy ass. But he can’t. His name, memories, and dreams are locked deep in his mind. Tears of frustration fill his eyes as he tries to access them. But suddenly, he’s on all fours, panting heavily. When he looks up, he’s greeted by the sight of his new master’s meaty cock, which slaps him in the face. He whimpers and slowly looks around at the other men- his new brothers. And then his attention turns back to his master. A sudden, unbearable, and desperate hunger begins to fill him. His tongue falls from his mouth. His eyes half-lidded and vacant.

“Welcome Luke.” His master says with a grin, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

________

The storm rages outside as Dr. Finnigan goes to close his book. But something catches his eye.

“Odd.” He mumbles, inspecting the picture closely. Instead of seven men with the demon, there are now eight. The eighth man is bent over as the demon fucks his ass. The new man’s mouth opened wide in an endless moan, “I could’ve sworn... I must be getting old.” He mutters, closing the book.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #straight to gay #forced tf #dumber tf #muscle tf

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hannieehaee · 2 days ago

Note

How would loser jk react to the oc giving him a boo/spooky basket? (A gift basket given in fall/halloween time with whatever the person likes with just more fall/halloween themed items if you didnt know!) This thought wouldn’t leave my head for some reason while i was reading the latest loser jk 😭

content: loser!jk, halloween stuff, some insecurities from jk, pure fluff, mentions of making out etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, (extra)

wc: 600

a/n: this was just a short little halloween themed drabble for my loser!jk couple. thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoyed!!

masterlist

"this is for me?"

your nod was far too giddy and excited. the poor boy was already in shock at your sudden gift, staring at you with those gigantic eyes as he looked at the basket you'd laid on his lap.

a shy smile took over his lips, bunny teeth biting onto the plush of his bottom lip to conceal a smile.

"i- what's the occasion?"

"it's halloween, bunny! it's a boo basket for my boyfriend!", you said happily, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

he could no longer conceal his smile, you knew this. it was the word boyfriend. he always had a viscerally adorable reaction when you called him the b word.

and he looked specially adorable in his vampire costume.

well, maybe adorable wasn't the right word. but your nerdy little boyfriend looking hot was not a can of worms you wanted to open — because if you found him hot, that meant other girls would too, and that was a huge no-no (though maybe you should get that possessiveness checked).

for now, you appreciated the pretty boy sitting in front of you as he looked through the basket, eyes lighting up like a kid on christmas morning. his little 'oooh's and 'ah's as he went through the assortment of halloween themed gifts made your heart warm.

then suddenly he halted.

"what's wrong, baby?"

"i- i didnt get you anything," he pouted up at you, genuine worry in his eyes.

"that's okay, bunny-"

"no, god, i'm such a bad boyfriend. you're so nice to me and i- fuck, i'm sorry. i didn't realize halloween was a couples' holiday. ive never had a girlfriend before. i had no idea," he rambled on, looking genuinely remorseful at his lack of gift.

you couldn't help but pout at the poor boy. he worried too easily. it was adorable, but it also made your heart hurt a bit. the poor thing felt like he had to apologize over such a needless issue.

your only solution was to shut him up by sitting on his lap, moving the basket to the side before gifting him all your attention.

"c'mon, baby, you know i don't care about that. plus, i made this basket for the two of us. we have a cute lil matching costume," you gestured to your matching vampire outfits, "and now we have spooky snacks and fuzzy pumpkin socks so we can watch scary movies together. see? no harm, no foul," you traced at his cheek, biting your lip at the way in which he continued to get flustered at the attention despite it not being new in your relationship.

"okay," he sighed, "thank you for the gift," he repeated before giving you an innocent peck on your lips.

god. he was the cutest thing.

you got up from his lap then, taking note of the tiny frown on his face upon the newfound distance between you. extending your hand, you got him to stand up beside you. your hands went to pat at any wrinkles you'd left on his outfit by sitting on him, unable to help yourself in casual touches.

"now, come on. we have a halloween party to hit and some trick or treating to do. we can come back home and make out after that. i wanna smudge that lipstick," you grinned at him, booping at his nose as you eyed what would soon be a mess of red on his lips.

he nodded happily as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him out of the apartment, spooky basket in his other hand.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfic

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cevansbrat0007 · 22 hours ago

Text

Witches' Brouhaha

Summary: Ari saves you from a real-life fright on Halloween night...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Drunk/Abusive Asshole, Mildly Racist/Xenophobic Language, Mentions of Domestic Violence, Angry/Protective Ari, Physical Violence, Face Slapping, Wrestling, Manhandling, Oral Sex (Male rec), Cum Swallowing, Allusions to P in V Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Well, this should be the last of it.” You huff, setting a box of decorations and spare prizes down on the desk in the back of your shop. Wiping your hands on your gown, you turn around just in time to avoid colliding with your friend, Marisol Gonzalez, as she carries in several oversized event posters.

“Sorry! Comin’ through.” She breezes by you, doing her best not to trip over the hem of her dress.

“Just lean them against the wall.” You tell her, stretching your arms above your head. “Yeah, right there is fine.”

Tonight’s Spooktacular Soiree at the local library had been an overwhelming success. You’d co-hosted the event with Marisol, who also happened to be the town librarian. While it was true that she was a couple years younger than you, you two had become fast friends over the past few months. And when she’d pitched this idea to you over coffee at the end of the summer, you’d known immediately that you wanted to be a part of it.

It was a family friendly event, complete with music and games, dancing, a costume contest and, of course, books. Tons and tons of books. Talk about a perfect way to spend your Halloween. And you couldn’t have been more pleased with the turnout.

Which was why, after numerous requests, you were already planning on doing the same thing again next year. Matter of fact, you two are so excited by the prospect, that you’re already discussing ideas when Ari walks in.

“So, word on the street is that tonight was a smashing success.” You immediately perk up at the sound of him joining you in your office. “Not that I expected anything less from the Wicked Witch of the West and Cleopatra.” The handsome bounty hunter tosses a wink your way.

“Actually, I’m dressed as Nefertiti.” Marisol corrects him with a smile.

“My mistake.” He amends before reaching for your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Eh, no biggie. I gave up trying to explain it to people about an hour into the party anyway.” She tells him with a shrug. “Hey, chica. Should we go check to make sure we got everything out of your car?”

“Yeah.” You sigh before standing up and offering Ari your chair.

“Need some help, ladies?”

“Nah. We got it.” You reassure him, rising on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Just keep my seat warm for me, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gifts you with a lazy smile as he slides into your chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Hurry back now."

After triple checking that you’ve gotten everything out of your vehicle, you and Marisol return to the warmth and comfort of Baubles & Quills. Still riding the high of tonight’s success, you’re actually in the middle of showing off a new display when you hear the chime of your front door opening behind you.

“Sorry, but we’re closed. Come back tomorrow…” The words die on your lips the moment you see who the hell just waltzed into your shop holding a bulging pillowcase.

Although you’re not exactly sure who you were expecting, it was safe to say that this was the last person you wanted to see – especially on a night like tonight. Because standing before you is a man by the name of Dale Edwards.

And it becomes alarmingly clear that he’s drunk as fucking skunk.

“Dale.” You begin, keeping your voice calm and even. “We’re closed right now. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Hell naw.” The pudgy man slurs. “I–I…drove all the way here to deal with your ass now.” His murky gaze strays over Marisol, as if he just realized that you weren’t alone. “And when I’m done with you, I’ma call immigration on Gaudilupe here. Let ‘em know they might want to stop by for a visit.”

Your mouth falls open in shock as Marisol audibly gasps. Even though she spoke with a hint of an accent, the woman was as much of a citizen as you were. Not that she owed anyone an explanation.

Least of all him.

“Get out or I’m calling the cops.” You threaten, wishing you were standing near your panic button.

“Go ahead.” Dale snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. “And I’ll tell ‘em that I wanna press charges against the bitches who tried to corrupt my daughters by giving them pornography!”

“Now that is an absolute lie, Mr. Edwards!” The sweet librarian exclaims. “You know we would never do something like that.”

“Yeah? Well, I…” He shakes his head in an effort to regroup. “I went through their rooms. Got all the evi–evidence right here.” The man shakes the bag. “And I know you tried it again tonight. With families!” His voice grows louder with each word. “Offering candy like you ain’t just invited 'em to dance with the Devil!”

Oh good God, this was not going well.

“Marisol.” You whisper as you look around for a weapon. “There should be a phone right there next to the register. Grab it and dial 911.”

Unfortunately for you, you make the mistake of taking your eyes off the man for two seconds. Which is why you miss the moment Dale reaches his hand into his bag before chucking the contents in your direction.

Drunk or not, the man proves to have good aim. Which is something you find out the hard way when several pieces of hard candy manage to graze your left cheek, making you scream.

Thankfully, it doesn’t hurt. Much.

Momentarily stunned, all you can do is stare back at him, mouth open, as you try to process what the hell had just happened.

Because had this man really just thrown a fistful of candy at you? At ten o’clock on Halloween night?

“What the actual fuck–?” Is all you can manage before turning your head to look at Marisol’s equally shocked expression.

“Um, Dale…I mean Mr. Edwards…I think it’s time you left now.” The sweet librarian tries, holding the phone tighter to her chest.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He snarls at the same time as one of his pudgy hands grabs ahold of your discount book rack, knocking it over, sending almost two dozen of your precious books crashing to the ground. “In fact, I think it’s high time someone put the fear of God into you two bitch–” Dale falters suddenly, his spine going ramrod straight at the sound of another man’s voice joining the fray.

A voice that belonged to Ari.

In all the commotion, you’d completely forgotten that he was here – peacefully minding his business while he waited for you to join him in the back of your shop.

“Just what in the hell is goin’ on out here?” You find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as your bounty hunter’s deep baritone washes over you like a balm.

��D-Dale was just leaving.” You tell him, sparing a quick glance over your shoulder to offer up a reassuring smile.

“Of course he was.” Ari agrees, jamming his hands into the pockets of jeans. “And as soon as he cleans up his mess, Mr. Edwards can be on his way.”

“I ain’t doin’ shit!” The angry man hisses at the same time as you eek out the nervous “that’s okay”.

However, Ari doesn’t really seem all that in the mood to listen. Not after what he just witnessed before you realized he was standing there. In fact, the only reason he hadn’t already personally introduced this drunken asshole to every goddamned wall in your store was because he didn’t want to cause anymore unnecessary damage.

But that also didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

He’s by your side in seconds, his eyes never once leaving the other male’s disgruntled form as his long legs eat up the space between you.

“You okay, Marisol?” He asks, not bothering to hide the tick in his jaw.

“I–I’m fine, Mr. Levinson.”

“Glad to hear it, darlin’.” The bounty hunter takes a second to roll his shoulders, cracking his neck as he does. “Do me a favor. Take that box to the back and ring Bell’s Creek PD for me, would ya? Tell ‘em we’ve got a buddy here waiting for pick up. Go on, now.” He tacks on the last bit when he notices the young librarian hesitate briefly.

She hustles away with a nod. And although she tries to hide it, Ari doesn’t miss the way her lower lip starts to tremble as she makes her way to safety. Shit sets his teeth on edge. So much so, that he doesn’t speak again until he’s confident she’s out of earshot.

“Gotta be honest, fella, I’m about two seconds from breaking your fuckin’ jaw.”

“It’s okay, Ari. Really.” You try once more, bending your knees so you can begin collecting the candy littering your floor. “I can…I’ll tidy this up.”

“Baby.” The danger laced in his silky tone has you halting your movements almost immediately. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Once he’s confident he’s gotten your attention, he returns his attention back to the man at the heart of this disruption.

“You know what I hate, Dale?” The man at your side grunts, pushing up the sleeves of his thermal to reveal his brawny forearms.

“This here ain’t none of your business, Levinson.” Your aggressor hisses, spittle flying from his lips. “Hell! This ain’t even your town.”

“Men who act like bullies once they’ve got a little drink in ‘em.” Ari shrugs, continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Especially with women. Really pisses me the fuck off.”

It’s only then that one of his hands goes to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his stormy gaze. While he was almost certain that you weren’t hurt, you knew there was a part of him that needed to see for himself. And although it’s hard, you manage to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

“I run my house, okay? I–” Dale wobbles to the left before finding his balance. “I am the king of my goddamned castle and I don’t want my family readin’ any of the trash these two like to peddle.” He rails, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Have you seen ‘em, Levinson? We’re talkin’ stories about women openly fornicatin’ with all kinds of creatures! Demons and vampires, an-and werewolves. Why, they might as well be…be…layin’ with dogs!”

“Oh go to hell!” You snort, unable to catch the words before they come tumbling out of your mouth. “You seriously just insulted the entire genre of paranormal romance!”

“Easy, Bird.” Ari murmurs, even as you bristle.

“You and Guadalupe over there are out here promotin’ beastiality. I’ve seen it on the cover of those damned books. The same ones I caught my girls readin’!”

Gritting your teeth, you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. It’s not like you’d forced those books on his girls, both of whom were 19 and 22 respectively. They were romance novel junkies, just like you. And you couldn’t be more proud that you’d turned them onto authors like Kresley Cole, Jeaniene Frost, and Nalini Singh.

But deep down you also knew there was no use in arguing with this man. All you really wanted was him out of your store so you could finally lock-up and go home.

“Look Dale, you’re drunk. I can see it and I can most definitely smell it.” Your fingers come up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “If you leave now, I promise I won’t press charges.”

Which means your poor wife won’t be stuck bailing you out of jail. Again. Although you’re smart enough to leave that last part unsaid.

“I ain’t leavin’ until I’ve made my point.” Dale grunts, kicking at one of your fallen books. You grimace when you notice the way his boot rips the cover, nearly tearing it in half. “This filth ain’t welcome in my town.”

“Jesus Christ, you moron - the police are already on their fucking way so it’s your goddamned funeral!” You screech, throwing your hands up in the air.

“How ‘bout you shut your whore mouth before I –” Unfortunately for him, Dale doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

Moving with a speed that belies his size, you can only watch in what feels like slow motion your bounty hunter strikes. Slapping the other man dead in his mouth with enough force to send him staggering backwards.

“Let that be the last time I hear you disrespect this young lady.” Ari rumbles, the fierce sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “And her shop.”

“I think you cracked my tooth!” He wails, clutching at his injured jaw. “And all over this bitch and her—ah fuck!” You can’t help but wince when his drunken stream of consciousness is interrupted once more when Ari slaps him in the mouth for yet the second time.

“Now what the fuck did I just say, Dale?” His dark chuckle makes you shiver. “Nope – eyes on me, buddy. There we go.” Your bounty hunter does a quick side step, using his big body to shield you from view.

Feeling a bit dizzy, you lightly grip the back of your man’s shirt as you silently will your pulse to settle down. It had been awhile since you’d seen Ari like this. The last time he’d gotten physical with another man over you had been back at the local tavern. The night you credited with jumpstarting your relationship.

A pained noise escapes Dale’s throat as he takes another step backwards. And then, wouldn’t you know it? That motherfucker has the nerve to spit out a broken tooth. The sound of it hitting your hardwood floor seems to echo throughout the store.

“I reckon you’re gonna want to see a dentist about that.” Comes the lawman’s cheeky response before he turns to you.

Smiling down at you, he’s actually in the middle of instructing you to go check on Marisol when a hard covered tome connects with the side of his head. But to your surprise, Ari doesn’t even so much as flinch.

In fact, he barely reacts at all. At least not until the guy tries to tackle him, sending them both flying and you scrambling out of the way. Any real worry for your man fades when you see him quickly regain the upper hand. He lands a solid blow to the pudgy man’s kidney before pinning him to the floor with a knee in his back, his right arm trussed up in a way that looks mighty uncomfortable.

“Fuck you, asshole!” Dale squeals, belatedly reminding you of a stuck pig. “Fight me…” He wheezes. “Like a–like a man!”

“Dale, if I fought you like a man we’d be callin’ you an ambulance right about now.” Ari snarls before twisting the other man’s arm hard enough to make his bones snap. It only makes the man squeal louder. “Now apologize to my lady for making an absolute ass out of yourself tonight. And it had better be fuckin’ good, or I swear I’m gonna do a hell of a lot worse than a bruised kidney and dislocated shoulder.”

Seeing your man like this, acting so protective and possessive over you and your shopwas doing funny things to those damned butterflies in your belly. Although you liked to think that you were more than capable of handling yourself, knowing that you had a man in your life who wouldn’t think twice about defending your honor made you feel so unbelievably loved and cherished.

It also made you wet as fuck.

As your thoughts take an increasingly naughty turn, you get so caught up in the heat pooling between your thighs that you almost miss what’s transpiring in front of you. Key word: almost.

“I don’t think she heard you, Dale.” You watch as the man continues to thrash in Ari’s hold, his pathetic mewls of pain falling on deaf ears. “How bout you try that again?”

“I’m sorry!”

Covering your mouth with your hand, all you can do is nod. Seconds later, flashing red and blue lights capture your attention as two squad cars pull into your parking lot.

Frankly, it was about damn time.

You’re so grateful when Deputy Milton and another officer come waltzing through your front door. Just as Marisol makes her way back into your lobby.

Milton frowns the moment he catches sight of her. While you had suspected that he might have a thing for the young librarian, his reaction only seemed to confirm it. Because you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you saw him angry before today.

“We got a call about a disturbance?” The Deputy surveys the scene, his frown growing more pronounced at the sight of the books and candy strewn across the ground. “Would you happen to know anything about that, Dale?”

His response comes out muffled. Not that it really matters any.

“I already informed Mr. Edwards that you boys would be more than happy to escort him back to the station.” Comes Ari’s gruff reply. “As soon as he cleans up his mess.”

“You know, I think the owner of this establishment would really appreciate that.” Milton cheekily turns to the officer at his side. “Right, Elkins?”

“I reckon it’s the only gentlemanly thing to do.” Officer Elkins pauses to wave at Marisol before continuing. “Ms. Gonzalez mentioned something about you both being assaulted. Would either of you ladies like press charges?”

You both shake your head no. If anything, you were pretty sure that Marisol wanted this whole nightmare to be over the same as you.

“Alright. Guess that makes today your lucky day, then. Huh, Dale?” The officer hauls the man to his feet once Ari releases him. “Now, I’d get to cleanin’ if I was you. I’m anxious to get back to the supper I left behind at the station.”

“You can’t be…” The man sucks in a harsh breath. “That guy just broke my tooth and you expect me to…to…”

“Clean up your mess?” Milton helpfully supplies. “Absolutely.” All three men chime at the same time.

“And when you’re done, we’ll escort you to your room. I’ll let you know right now that it ain’t the Marriott, but I suppose it’s better than the cold, hard ground.” The deputy muses with a shrug. “Mariam kicked you out after this latest episode. Can’t say I blame her after what you did to her face.”

“Oh my God.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around Ari’s trim waist. “Is she okay?”

“Eh.” Milton casts a sideways glare at Dale, silently warning him that he better get a move-on. Or else. “She walked away from tonight with a couple stitches. And possibly one hell of a wake-up call.”

You decide you’re better off remaining silent as haggard-looking Dale Edwards begins collecting the books he’d upended. And you remain that way even as he begins haphazardly stacking them back on the shelf.

Which was fine. You’d simply fix it tomorrow.

Next he moves to pick the candy he’d thrown at you. A soft sigh escapes you when you feel your man’s warm, lightly calloused palm come to rest on the back of your neck, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

The entire process takes a little longer than it should, but given that the man is obviously inebriated, nobody sees fit to complain.

Eventually, the task is complete. And a defeated Dale is led away in cuffs before being placed in the back of Elkins’ squad car.

Good riddance.

And when you offer to give Marisol a ride home, you’re not the least bit surprised you’re intercepted by Milton, who eagerly agrees to escort the traumatized woman home. They’re out the door a few moments later, leaving you alone with Ari.

“Well shit.” He chuckles, his hand coming up to gently massage his shoulder as he watches you secure the lock. “That was…somethin’.”

Instead of agreeing, you silently turn to face him, your hands resting on your hips. After all of that commotion, you had just one thing on your mind. And you weren’t going to let this man out of your store until you got it.

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to break out the vacuum, Duchess. I can go grab it if you–”

You cut him off a look before grabbing a fistful of his shirt, tugging his head down to your level to capture his lips in a kiss. Swallowing his surprised gasp, you can’t help the moan of appreciation you let out when he grabs your ass – hauling you even closer to his muscled body.

“Fuck that.” You hiss, nipping at his plump bottom lip. “Don’t wanna vacuum.” Needing to taste more of him, you ultimately abandon his mouth in favor of kissing your way along his bearded jaw.

He’d made a man bleed for you tonight. And words simply could not express just how horny that made you.

“Oh yeah?” One of his large hands winds its way into your curls, wrenching your head back so that he can take control. “Then what do you want?” His eager tongue sweeps past your lips to dance with yours as he grinds his rapidly hardening cock against your belly.

“You.” Comes your heated growl as you force him backwards. “I want you.”

Ari doesn’t protest when his back collides against the wall, or when you all but rip the shirt from his body. In fact, he fucking loves it. Although he might not be sure exactly what he did to make you act so goddamned feral, he’ll be damned before you ever hear him complain.

“I’m right here, baby.”

“Need more.” You hardly recognize the sound of your own voice.

A wave of pure feminine satisfaction courses through you when you feel his big body shudder beneath your touch, his soft groan of pleasure driving you even closer to the brink. You rain sweet, hot kisses down the hard expanse of his chest, only pausing your ministrations long enough to give into the temptation to bite his left nipple, before continuing to move lower.

Right now, you were a woman on a mission. And nothing was going to stop you from reaching your intended destination. His turbulent blue eyes darken as they follow the path of your nails gliding along the ridges of his abs, causing goosebumps to rise across his tanned skin.

“Thank you for always protecting me.”

“Fuck! Always.” He grits out through clenched teeth.

Raw hunger fills you the moment you finally reach the fastening of his jeans. You quickly undo the buttons before dropping to your knees to undo the zipper of his fly with your teeth, making your intentions clear.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Your bounty hunter rasps, tangling his fingers in your hair once again. “This what you need right now?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod. Tonight, this man had unlocked something primal inside of you. And at this moment you wanted the taste of this man on your tongue more than anything. It takes you no time to free his impressive member from the confines of his pants before shoving them down his hair covered thighs.

Later, you might allow yourself to be embarrassed by the sound of appreciation the bubbles it’s way past your lips. But not tonight. Refusing to break eye contact, you wrap a hand around his girth as your head dips to lap up a salty bead of precum. A familiar warmth pools in your belly as your core spasms with need.

Ari’s chin tips back on a groan when you draw him into your mouth at the same time as you begin working him up and down with your hand. His fingers dig into your scalp as he spurs you on, loving the little noises you make as you greedily suck him off.

“That’s it, baby. My good fuckin’ girl.”

Emboldened by his response, you increase your pace, hollowing your cheeks with every bob of your head. It’s damn near impossible to take all of him – he was much too big. But you’d been practicing.

Thankfully, your bounty hunter had proven to be a patient man. He never complained whenever you decided you wanted to practice.

You’re rewarded for your efforts when you feel your man’s hips begin to move in time with your rhythm, damn near choking you in the process. But Ari doesn’t stop. Your pretty little mouth feels too goddamned good right now for him to even dream of it.

“Ah shit, Duchess.” He chuckles when you gag around him for the second time. “I know you love it like this. My girl loves chokin’ on my fat dick. Don’t you?” You try to respond as your eyes begin to water, your mascara running down your cheeks.

“Mmph!” Your free hand moves to cup his heavy sac, kneading and massaging as you continue to devour him. And then your mouth moves lower, briefly sucking on his balls in a move that has him rocking back on his heels. In response, Ari readjusts his grip on your curls, forcing himself deeper down your throat. Having anticipated this, you do your damndest to control your response by breathing through your nose.

It works like a charm.

“Fuck, baby.” His eyes roll back in his head as his impending orgasm threatens to overtake him. “Keep–keep me–oh fuck!”

And you were determined to take it all. You were gonna swallow him down like he was your favorite treat. Because let’s be honest, you’d come to crave him just as much as he craved you.

“Cum, Beast.” You purr, swirling your tongue around the plump mushroom head. Once. Twice. “Fucking cum for me.” You allow the wet heat of your mouth to engulf him once more, not missing the way his body begins to tremble beneath you.

He continues to thrust, his breathing becoming more labored as his movements grow increasingly erratic. He was so close. So goddamned close. You knew it. And so did he.

‘Give it to me, baby.” You beg between deep, ragged breaths, no longer caring about how desperate you sound. “Gag me. Make me choke on it.” Your thighs clench together as the heady thrum of pleasure dances along your skin.

And as Ari always liked to say, your wish was his command.

“FUCK!” He roars as he rears back, forcing you to take him to the hilt as jet after jet of his seed pumps its way down your throat.

Once again you’re forced to rely on breathing through your nose until he’s finished, making a show of swallowing him down. And then you lick your lips, not wanting to miss a drop of your man’s salty goodness.

Like the good girl you are, you remain on your knees as you patiently wait for him to recover. You knew without having to check that your panties were positively ruined. That came as no surprise.

“Happy Halloween, Beast.” You murmur, nuzzling your nose against his still half-hard cock.

“Oh yeah.” He responds with a quiet chuckle before gently cupping your chin. “You sure you’re okay, little Bird?” Your eyes flutter closed as he smooths the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Yeah.” You find yourself leaning into his touch, feeling safer and more protected than ever before.

“Good.”

You watch as he rests his head against the wall, his big body now fully relaxed. But you’re not done with this man yet. Not by a long shot. Which is why you don’t bother trying to hide the impish grin that spreads across your features as you reach for his dick once more.

“But I bet I’ll be even better once you fuck me.”

END

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thehandsresisthim · 2 days ago

Text

“a test of endurance - part two”

contains: smut, gn!dom!reader x sub!johnny x sub!ghost, orgasm delay/denial, punishment, bondage (rope), nipple clamps, toys under clothing, semi-public

this work is part of a small “kinktober” thing - i sadly don’t have the time to write a lot, so instead of posting something for each day in october, i decided to try to post something on each sunday in october. here’s the first part!!

word count: ~1100

The next time you tease both your boys, it’s induced by Johnny.

On a cold Wednesday morning - Simon and Johnny are still on leave, you’ve got the day off work too - Simon wakes up to a strangled moan, mixed with a weird sensation against his thigh.

It doesn’t take longer than a second for him to recognise what’s happening - Johnny is humping against his thigh, cock catching against Simon’s boxers as it weeps, staining the fabric.

Johnny sighs and whines with every thrust, his body shaking. It’s been three days since you’ve denied them an orgasm, and Johnny, ever the needy brat, refuses to accept that.

So, waking up to you gone, presumably having left to buy some breakfast for the three of you, Johnny decides to grab the moment by its balls, having relieved himself of his clothes and now humping against Simon.

Could he have also just quickly stroked his cock, hidden away in the bathroom, to only be found guilty by the next session since he’s so bad at pretending to be desperate to cum when he really isn’t?

Sure, but Johnny is determined to drag Simon down with him. The blond bastard had it coming, he decides - boyfriend or not, Simon’s determination to be obedient is getting on his nerves.

Besides, the idea of corrupting the man into disobedience, breaking Simon’s perfect record, is very appealing.

And, - Johnny can only guess that it’s because the man is still half asleep - Simon takes the fucking bait, chomps down on it before he can realise that he’s become a fish on a hook.

“Johnny, wha’-“ he stutters out, “master told us not ta-“

And Simon reaches down, his calloused hand closing around Johnny’s weeping cock, clutching his base. Of course, he’s attempting to shove Johnny off, to make him behave by roughly tugging on his sensitive cock - Simon doesn’t want to be involved with Johnny’s disobedience.

Unfortunately for Simon, he choose the worst fucking moment to hold onto Johnny.

Unfortunately for Simon, it looks like he’s touching Johnny, giving him a handjob.

Unfortunately for Simon, you walk in at this very moment.

You almost drop the tray of breakfast you were holding, setting it down on the nightstand as you calmly walk towards your boys.

Your expression has immediately turned sour - from happy and kind to cold and mean. Johnny whimpers, but he can’t help his smirk - his eyes are betraying his excitement as he notices your disapproving glance at Simon’s hand wrapped around his cock. Simon has frozen in place, big brown eyes wide and glistening as he swallows, speechless for a second.

You sit down on the bed and look at your watch.

“You have a minute to explain yourselves.”

“I-I didn’t t-touch Johnny. ‘was only shoving him off, he was trying to hump me and I-,” Simon stutters, “I wasn’t bad, master, I wasn’t, I swear, please-“

Johnny interrupts his boyfriend’s babbling and - with a surprising gentleness - takes Simon’s hand off of his cock. Simon whines as he only realises just now that he was still holding onto his dick, which he knows looks bad. Very bad.

“Simon was touchin’ on me, master, he got my dick out n’ everything, ” Johnny lies, voice confident, “he’s a fuckin‘ brat.“

“‘m not, ‘m not, he’s lying, he’s lying-“ the panicked tone in Simon’s voice is heartbreaking, he looks like he’s about to cry. “Please master, don’t believ’ ‘im, he’s lying, I only wanted to shov’ ‘im off of me, I promise, master, p-please…”

You clap your hands, indicating that the minute is over.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.”

Simon whines and slumps his shoulders, hiding beneath the blankets.

“I’ll punish you later,” you say, “my boys need some breakfast now.”

+🎃+

Johnny squeezes his boyfriend's hand as they huddle closer - he’s desperate to hide his whimpers and whines. Once again, you’ve used his sensitivity against him. There’s a vibrating ring nosing his dick, and it’s hell.

The vibrations keep him even more horny than he’s usually is, and the ring keeps him from cumming. Johnny’s walking slowly. If he moved too quickly, he’d rub the fabric of his boxers right against his leaky tip, and he’s already noisy enough.

The park you’re taking a stroll through is calm and empty, the cold october night illuminated by the street lamps, the (barely visible, light pollution and all that) stars and almost full moon. Under normal circumstances, Johnny would appreciate the scenery, but with a constant stimulus vibrating away at his cock - not a chance.

Then again, as he glances over at Simon, he wonders if he got the lesser of the punishment.

Simon is wearing the black surgical mask that he usually wears when going outside, and his hood is up, but the tears in his brown eyes tell of his distress.

The hoodie that he’s wearing, as well as the jacket, is some of the baggiest clothing that he owns, and Johnny well knows why.

Beneath all of his clothes, - of course, without intercepting his arms and legs - Simon is bound in tight rope. A beautiful pink, thin rope is artfully woven across his skin, teasing his sensitive nipples and his aching cock.

His hands are in his hoodie pocket, and they’re also tied together, albeit with a different rope.

Simon has always been susceptible to rope, the tight, woven restraints always signalling comfort, and to his dismay, arousal.

Johnny can imagine what it’s like - each step, no matter how slowly he’s walking - is tightly interlaced with the sensation of rope tugging on him, a constant reminder of the rope that’s both a thing to hold him together, and a thing that keeps him restrained.

Johnny knows that the rope alone is enough to turn Simon’s brain to mush. Too bad for him, because there’s not only rope on Si - you’ve used rough metal clamps on his nipples, a delicate weight hanging on both. Everytime he moves, the ropes running across his pecs tease the sensitive flesh, and Johnny knows that he’d long have started crying if he was the one in Simon’s shoes.

Luckily, he isn’t, because he knows that he would scream as you place a hand on Simon’s neck and tug at the ropes, rubbing against the clamps.

“Please, please, ahhh- master-“

Simon shudders and sobs, his body trembling as a few tears escape.

“Aww, baby, what's the matter?”

Simon hiccups and nuzzles against your shoulder as soon as you let go. Squeezing yourself between both boys, you place your hands on their necks.

“Let’s get you two home.”

thank you for reading!! here’s part one ❤️

here’s my masterlist!!

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russo-woso · 5 hours ago

Text

Designers || Leah Williamson

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Part of the Mini Williamson universe

Summary You and Leah decide to design Mini Williamson in her own special kit.

A/N Very very old fic that’s been sat in my drafts forever

You and Leah had come up with an idea for the euro final.

For the second time running, the lionesses had made it to the euro final, and for the second time running, it was Leah leading them.

It was such a big thing, that when the idea popped into your head, you knew you had to do it.

You and Leah had agreed to make Charlie a dress made out of an England kit.

Charlie loved dresses, she always had such a big smile on her face when she saw you were putting a dress on her, so you figured, why not make her a dress so she can support her mummy and aunties?

Amelia, however, was Leah’s mascot for the final, she had been throughout the whole tournament, and so she was wearing a kit.

One night, you and Leah were in bed and decided to design the dress yourselves, before taking it to a dressmakers.

When you received the dress back, you decided to not let Leah see it, hoping to make it a surprise.

When the time came to put it on Charlie, emotions were high, purely due to it being such a big day, but seeing it on her made you so happy.

You and Leah had spent so much time working on designing the dress and it looked perfect.

You couldn’t wait to see Leah’s reaction.

Charlie babbled to herself as she played with the bottom of the dress.

“Ami!” You called her as she came running into the room.

“Yes, mama?” Amelia asked before gasping. “Look at your dress, Charlie!”

Amelia’s speech had improved so much now that she was three, like there had been a massive jump between two and three.

“It looks pretty doesn’t it, just like you two.” You told Amelia, looking at your two girls as they wore their outfits.

You pressed a kiss to both their heads, before picking up Charlie and resting her on your hip.

“Ready to go see mummy?” You questioned and Ami nodded straight away, Charlie babbling, clearly saying ‘mummy’ which happened to be the latest word she’d learnt to say.

—

The final whistle had blown, England had won the euros again.

Leah fell to the floor crying, as you watched her with tears streaming down your face.

“Mummy win!” Ami cheered, hugging Amanda, who was sat next to her.

Once Leah had celebrated with her teammates, you were the first one she went to.

She enveloped you in a hug, before kissing you deeply.

“I’m so proud, le. So so proud.” You whispered as you rested your forehead on hers.

“Thank you, love. Hi, baby girls.” Leah said, hugging Ami and taking Charlie in her arms.

“Mummy you won!” Amelia cheered again, as Leah nodded with a big smile, moving Charlie to one arm so she pick up Ami too.

She kissed both of them on their cheeks as they both laughed.

“Look at your dress, Charlie. Don’t you look gorgeous.” Leah said, looking at Charlie’s dress. “We’re good designers, aren’t we?” Leah joked, and you agreed.

“Mummy, we go on pitch? Me go see auntie lessi.” Amelia asked and Leah nodded, picking her up and heaving her over the barricade.

Beth then came over to take Charlie too, putting her on the floor and helping her walk over to the rest of the team.

“At least we know that if your career somehow ends suddenly, we know you can be a designer.” You joked, as Leah wrapped her arm around your waist pulling you closer.

“As long as you’re my business partner.” Leah said and you hummed.

“Of course.”

“Hey! Why does Ami have Russo on the back of her shirt?” Leah questioned, her jaw wide open as her signature frown, that both your daughters had, appeared on her face.

“Ami insisted that she wore auntie lessi’s shirt. I had to force her to wear a Williamson one before she walked out the tunnel. As soon as she got to the sidelines, she made me put her Russo one on.” You explained, watching Leah’s face turn red with anger.

You laughed at her anger, watching her jump the barrier before jogging over to Amelia.

“Amelia Williamson! Why have you got that shirt on? Amelia, don’t you run away.”

Ami then pushed Leah to the floor where the confetti was, coating her head to tow in confetti.

Leah gently took ami in her arms, pulling her down too.

Charlie came over laying down before rolling in it.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of you.

Your three girls laughing and smiling away.

“Y/N, come!” You heard Leah shout as she gestured for you to come to them.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, before jumping the barrier and walking to them.

Leah tackled you to the floor, you landing on top of her.

You smiled at her confetti covered face before leaning down and connecting your lips.

“Children here.” You heard Amelia say, resting her hands on her hips, before looking at Leah, the two of you laughing.

“She gets her attitude from you.” Leah told you, and you smacked her arm lightly.

“No she doesn’t.” You defended, standing up and resting your hands on your hips, just like Ami did.

“Really? I find that hard to believe.”

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fluff

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 day ago

Text

Love, Money, Fame

The three times that Seungcheol tries to show you he cares, and the one time you finally let him.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and poor mental heatlh. A tiny bit of angst.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

Seungcheol likes you. He’s liked you since he laid eyes on you. Admittedly, one of the things he likes most right off the bat is that you’re on the shy side. He thinks it’s cute that you flush bright red at the tiniest bit of attention. And heaven forbid he lightly touch you or flirt with you. He’s actually incredibly surprised when you agree to go out with him and he swears he’ll be on his best behavior for it.

The first sign is actually when he’s walking you home from the first date. He puts you on the inside of the sidewalk so he can walk along the street edge and casually reaches for your hand. It’s sweaty and you apologize for it. He smiles kindly. “Do I make you that nervous?” It might sound like a tease, but he really hopes your answer is no and there’s another reason for it.

You can’t quite meet his eyes but he’s relieved that you don’t pull your hand away from his. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you. “Maybe. The whole concept of dating does, to be honest.”

He hums. “Haven’t dated much?” He hopes you don’t take the question as a jab, because it’s not. He just wants to know where you’re at so he can meet you there.

However, you shrug. “I wouldn’t say that… I’ve just been burned pretty badly before. The idea of starting over is kind of intimidating.”

He loves that you can be honest with him despite your shyness. He squeezes your hand lightly. “It’s your pace, Y/N. I’m not in a hurry.”

You glance up at him and give him a shy smile and squeeze his hand back lightly. The two of you fall into conversation again as he walks you home, but once you’re safely inside your apartment, his mind wanders to what exactly you meant by being burnt badly before. It kind of makes him heat with anger. You’re so sweet. How dare someone mistreat you or take advantage of your love?

Later, while staring up at a dark ceiling, he resolves to make sure he doesn’t burn you too.

Two

He brings you to a house party. Things are going really well between you it seems. You’re still shy, but there are moments that you seem to warm up to him over the last couple months. This is one of those warm moments. You’re leaning into his side while standing in the kitchen and talking to a couple of his friends. He’s kind of touched that despite your nervousness about meeting new people you’re braving through it next to him, and because of him, because he asked you to accompany him. He gently rubs your back as you stumble over the words you’re trying to get out.

He’s also relieved that Jeonghan bites back the grin at your little stumble. He’s already warned all of them that you’re pretty shy and he doesn’t want to have to hit his friend for embarrassing you.

You’re mid sentence when there’s a loud sound that echoes through the kitchen. Someone’s popped a balloon. He feels you tense against his hand and glances down at you. You don’t look nervous. You look scared, every muscle in your body tensed and tears pricking your eyes. Instincts take over because he absolutely does not like this look on you. “Come on. Let’s step outside.”

Your feet are planted and he has to nudge you a few times to get you to move. By the time he slides the back door open and you step out into the night air, your breathing is a little jagged. He does his best to be gentle, because he doesn’t want to startle you anymore. “Talk to me, Y/N. How can I help?”

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” There’s something mean about your expression all of the sudden and it takes him by surprise. He really tries not to take it personally, especially when you back up to keep him at arms length. You pace for a second and he lets you. When you stop and place your hands over your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Something inside him plummets at the crack in your voice.

Cautiously, he steps forward, placing a hand on your back. “It’s fine. You were startled, I get it. Does that happen often for you?”

You nod and he thinks you look a little numb now. He hates it. “Why don’t we sit out here for a while? We can stick our feet in the pool.”

Your eyes light up a little at the offer and he feels kind of proud when you lead him to the side of the pool and start peeling your shoes and socks off. You seem to do a 180 when your feet hit the warm water, the tension leaking from your shoulders.

He loses track of time there by the pool while he talks to you. He decides he’ll ask you if you really want to go to something like this next time. Maybe this isn’t the best environment for you.

Three

Seungcheol is at dinner with you and some of your friends. He agreed immediately when you asked because you’ve already met many of his friends and he thinks it’s important to show the same courtesy. Your friends are nice. A little protective perhaps, but that’s something he can appreciate.

They ask him more about what he does for a living - the long nights, the traveling, the working with other idols. He feels like he has an answer for all of this. He loves his job, but it is ultimately just a job and won’t last forever. This seems to be acceptable.

They ask him what his intentions are with you. Again, a valid and totally expected question. He has an answer for this too. He’d like this to be long term and he really has a soft spot for you. He watches you flush from across the table and grins. He seems to pass this part of the test with flying colors.

Then they ask how he intends to protect your privacy given what he does for a living. He knows this is a trick question. Either your relationship is out and your privacy is gone, or you’re like a dirty secret. He’s always hated the catch-22 of dating in the profession he’s in, because it will always be anything but normal. But the only reasonable answer is kind of a cop out. He’d follow your lead on it. If you want the relationship to be out, then it will be and he’ll be proud of it. If you want privacy, he’ll do everything he can to preserve it. Your friends seem to recognize it for the cop out that it is but don’t say anything else about the topic.

Then the threats begin. If he makes you cry, if he mistreats you or cheats on you or lays a hand on you, they’ll be coming after him. He almost laughs and starts to brush it off, but the whole vibe at the table has changed. They’re deadly serious and you’re squirming in your seat, picking at your food.

“I won’t be doing any of that, but if I ever do, I’ll deserve whatever you guys have planned.”

He means it and he hopes you can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t need to know your history to know he doesn’t want to repeat any of it.

Four

You’ve dropped off the face of the earth. At first he thinks you both have just been busy. But when he gets a couple days off and reaches out to you, his texts and calls go unanswered. He starts to panic as the hours tick by. Has he done something wrong? Are you okay?

He’s impatient and worried, so he stops by your apartment with dinner as a peace offering just in case he really has done something wrong. It takes a long time for you to come to the door and when you do his heart drops. “Baby, what’s wrong?” The food is unceremoniously dropped onto the entry table and he’s cupping your face. You look like you haven’t slept much recently and your face looks thinner like you haven’t eaten much lately.

“Seungcheol, what are you doing here?” You look surprised to see him.

“I hadn’t heard from you lately and I was getting kind of worried.”

You give him the same look you did by the pool a while back. Despite the red in your eyes, you look a little angry at the intrusion. “Well, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Fine, huh?” Seungcheol grinds his teeth. You nod. “Don’t make me do this the hard way, Y/N.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about getting you to open up a little bit. I’m here to help and I will not hesitate to throw you over my shoulder and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Seungcheol’s words bite more than he meant them to, but he’s frustrated. You disappear for nearly a week and this is the condition you’re in when he finally sees you?

“Have you always been this pushy?” You scoff.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Have it your way.”

You let out a little cry when he scoops you up, tossing you over his shoulder just as promised. With a free hand, he grabs the bag of food. In the kitchen, he carefully places you on a stool. “I had no clue you were such a brat,” he chuckles with the tiniest bit of humor as he unpacks the bag of food, placing a few items in front of you. You have your arms crossed, glaring at him, but he smirks. “Now do I have to feed you? I will.”

“We should break up.”

His eyes narrow at the threat. “We’ll talk about that after you eat. Now what will it be?”

You huff, peeling off the lid of the take out container, refusing to look at him. The dish isn’t even a quarter of the way empty before he’s abandoning his own food to stand and wrap his arms around you. You realize you’re crying. He doesn’t say anything, just holding you against him, placing a light kiss on the top of your head. It makes you crack open.

“I’m sorry. It seems like I have to keep apologizing,” you sniffle.

“I guess it depends on what you’re sorry for,” he mumbles.

“Being mean. Ghosting you like that. It’s just been a bad week.”

“Just talk to me, baby. I want to help.” He wipes your tears, sitting on the stool next to you. “You don’t have to tell me everything until you’re ready. But tell me how I can help when you’re like this.” He picks up your chopsticks, reaching for a bite of chicken to feed you. You push it away with a chuckle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to break up with me?” You ask nervously. You didn’t mean anything by the threat earlier and you hope he didn’t take it seriously.

“I’m sure.” He says it so solidly that there’s little room for doubt. He kisses your cheek for good measure. “Now, come on. You need to eat more.” You don’t fight him this time when he picks up the chopsticks again. There’s something warm in your chest at the way he takes care of you and you aren’t sure why you resisted for so long.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #scoups

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 day ago

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Sweet Dreams

Summary: For you it was just a very intense wet dream, clearly never thinking a candle you bought at an occult store would give you the best orgasm you had ever experienced. For Dave York, cursed to fuck whoever lit said candle, you were a willing virgin waiting for him to take you.

Pairing: Ghost!Dave York x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: non con/ dub con (I don't know how to tag this, reader thinks it's a dream, but it's really ghost Dave fucking her), smut (oral sex m+f receiving, unprotected sex), ghost cumplay, dream sex but not really, dirty talk, losing virginity, spooky stuff, candles (do not light candles and then go to bed!)

Shout out @clawdee for the idea with the cursed candle. Otherwise this whole thing would be even weirder lol

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Main Masterlist // Dave York Masterlist

Dave York had been watching you the moment your fingertips touched the candle at the little occult store you had been in.

He still had no idea who the fuck whoever cursed him knew who his next, let’s call them unknowingly willing partner, was, nor did he know how this all started.

One moment he was on top of a tower trying to kill that Fucker Hall, the next moment he found himself in a dark bedroom, his nose filling with the scent of sandalwood and cherry with a fucking hard on from hell with nothing on his mind but sinking into whatever hole was made available to him.

Hell.

Yeah maybe that was who cursed him.

Cursed him that the moment one of that cursed fucking scented candles were about to be lit, his body would become a vessel for all the dirty things those mostly not so innocent minds dreamed up, and he was only able to stop once he fucked his cum so deep inside of them, he became a part of them.

And it was always on fucking Halloween. Maybe it had to do with ghosts being able to walk the earth or some shit like that.

It’s not like he got a training at being a fucking ghost. (You get it? A fucking ghost… anyways)

He remembered the first time he had come back, he remembered the blonde woman he had fucked and he remembered not being able to stop. Like he would died (pun intended) if he did not fuck her in positions he hadn’t even tried out before until he passed out.

It’s like everything he did was controlled by someone or something. He just thought it easier to imagine it was the person who lit the candle who was controlling their little fuck session.

The longer he stayed dead, the better he got at influencing their wet dreams.

He had fucked them all.

Young women, old women, young men, old men, very old men, trans men and women.

Married women with their husbands sleeping next to them while he fucked their wife in ways they would only dream of.

And they were none of the wiser.

When they woke up after he fucked them for hours, after he blew out the candle (which the dad side of him saw as a fucking fire hazard, I mean who lights a candle and then goes to bed?) and went back to wherever he was until someone else lit one of those candles again, they only thought they had a super intense wet dream.

He long gave up on trying to figure out why his dick seemed get hard the moment a fucking candle got lit. Or how it worked. Or who chose who would got one of those candles. By now he was just enjoying the ride. (Or to get ridden, preferably reverse ;-)

I mean, who in their right mind would think a cursed ghost would appear after they bought and lit a sex dream candle at an occult store and fucked them all night?

But you…. He could tell you were special.

You were wearing a long black dress, a pointy black hat, a witch costume he realised, laughing about something the two girls who were with you were saying, reading out the instructions written on the glass of the candle out loudly.

„For hundreds of years the ingredients of this candle have been the same, sandalwood, cherry and some magical extra ingredients that will turn your deepest fantasies into a night full of pleasure,“ she read out loud.

You looked shy, arguing about spending money on a shitty candle just because there’s some silly line written on it.

„Do it for the orgasms,“ your one friend grinned and Dave could see how you were fighting with yourself.

„Imagine you experience such a good wet dream, you think you lost your virginity,“ your other friend whispered, making you slap her arm with a scandalised gasp before all of you giggled.

A virgin.

It had been some time since Dave got to fuck one of those.

Since he didn’t know how long he actually had been doing whatever the fuck he was doing, he only had a vague memory, but he thought it was at least some years ago.

His encounters all blurred together after a while.

He still watched you as you reread the writings on the candle before you brought it to your nose to inhale the scent.

„Fine. I am buying the sex dream candle,“ you sighed with a chuckle and he watched you go up to the counter any pay, his cock twitching.

He stayed back as you left the store, still none of the wiser about what was gonna happen once you chose to light the candle and go to sleep. He only stayed long enough to watch you walk down the street before he disappeared again, waiting for your call.

Which came eventually.

Dave was standing at the feet of your bed, watching you sleep, the candle lit on a dresser not too far away.

He was pleased to find you alone in bed, having thought of all the ways he wanted to have you ever since he had seen you in the store.

While partners sleeping next to his intended partner weren’t a problem, the candle seemingly taking care of doing whatever it was that it was doing also knocking them out, he preferred to be alone in the bed while he fucked his partner.

Letting his fingertips brush over your soft bedsheets, he closed his eyes, his clothes gone when his eyes opened again, his cock hard and already leaking.

He wanted nothing more than to pull your bedsheets away and sink into your virgin pussy, but decided that he wanted to take his time with you.

Ever so slowly he got onto your bed, crawling until he was hovering over your face, his head tilting to the side as he watched you.

He wondered if you would scream if you’d wake up right now. If you would slap him, scratch him, trying to get him off of you.

And deep down Dave knew that you would.

If you would wake up as normal you right now, he would be fucked.

But he knew the only part of your brain that would wake up during the next hours was the part that was absolutely feral and horny and ready to get fucked.

He smirked, leaning down, his nose brushing over your cheek as he inhaled your scent deeply, chuckling to himself when he felt you shiver.

He sat himself up, kneeling above you, your legs between his, pulling at your sheets until the only fabric separating his skin and yours was the buttoned shirt you had on to sleep.

Some buttons had come open, revealing some of your tits to his eyes and he licked his lips before he opened the last few buttons, slipping the fabric open.

„Fucking perfect virgin tits,“ he grinned to himself, his fingers brushing over your already hard nipples. He let his eyes wander, positively delighted to find out you weren’t wearing any panties.

„Dirty girl,“ he hummed before he leaned down to put one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it.

He let one of his hands slip between your legs, finding you already wet and dripping. His eyes caught what looked like your vibrator laying abandoned on the bed not to far away from you and he grinned to himself.

You were fucking touching yourself before he got here.

Playing with your pussy while he sucked on your tits he noticed your body reacting to him, one of your hands slipping through his hair with a soft sigh. When he looked up at you, your eyes were still closed but you were smiling.

„Gonna have a taste of this pretty pussy now,“ he said to no one in particular as he slipped down your body. He parted your legs for him, wrapping his arms around your thighs. His cock was fucking throbbing as he licked into you. Moaning at the faint taste of you, this afterlife not letting him have your full taste but just enough to drive him insane.

He played with you, feeling you trying to roll your hips against his mouth, a little sigh escaping your lips. He grinned as he played with your clit, one finger slipping inside of you.

„Wonder why nobody fucked this pussy yet. Is it you or is it them?“ He asked out loud, slipping another finger inside of you as he just looked up at you, your lips parted, your brows furrowed. You were clenching around his fingers and he was about to cum just thinking about fucking you. To be the first cock inside of you.

And you wouldn’t even know it happened.

He angled his fingers inside of you until you jerked against him and he grinned when he felt that spongy spot inside of you.

„You gonna cum for me,“ he hummed before he sucked your clit between his lips, swirling is tongue around it, and he felt the moment you fell apart, your back arching from the mattress, your lips parting in a low moan, your pussy squeezing his fingers like a vice.

„Fucking beautiful,“ he grunted.

He continued to move his fingers inside of you, prolonging your orgasm until he slipped them out, licking them clean. He sat himself up on his knees, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping it slowly as he watched you.

He got some sick sense of satisfaction out of watching you just lay there, unconscious but willing to be fucked like a dirty whore. And he knew you were willing because he was only doing what you wanted.

Because you were dreaming it.

You were dreaming of getting fucked. He was just a vessel for your little dirty mind.

He hummed, bending down to kiss up your body, his lips closing around one of your nipples, playing with it. He lined himself up, slipping the head of his cock through your wet folds.

Letting go of your nipple with a plop he rested his weight on one arm next to your head, his face hovering over yours, watching you as he slowly pushed his cock into you.

He watched every expression of your face as he filled you, deeper and deeper, your pussy so wet he felt no resistance at all. When you gasped as he pushed through your barrier he grinned, his cock now fully inside of you.

The first cock you ever had.

The one you wouldn’t even remember.

„Not a virgin anymore you little slut,“ he grunted before he began to move. Fucking his cock into you wet pussy over and over again. He was surprised when you tilted your face up to kiss him, your eyes still closed. He hummed against your lips, his tongue parting your lips, kissing you deeply all while pumping into you faster and you moaned against his mouth.

Grinning he parted from your lips, pulling his cock out of you.

With little effort he turned you on your stomach, pulling your ass up so you were on your knees, before he was inside you again. His fingers digging into your hips as he fucked himself into you in hard quick thrusts.

You were so fucking wet you were dripping down his balls.

It wasn’t long before you began to meet his thrusts, now moaning shamelessly into your pillow while still deeply asleep.

He slapped your ass, before he leaned down to wrap his arm around you, pulling you up against his chest. With his hand gripping one of your tits as he kept you flush against his chest he pumped his cock inside of you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin the only noise in the room, apart from your moans.

„You gonna cum for me again,“ he whispered against your ear, feeling your shiver. Smirking his other hand wrapped around your neck, using only a tiny bit of pressure to choke you, your pussy clamping down on him immediately a loud moan escaping your lips as you came, Dave grunting behind of you as he fucked you through your orgasm before he groaned, biting into your shoulder as he came, fucking you full of his cum.

You were both out of breath, panting as he held you up. As soon as he released his grip around you you fell back into your bed and Dave chuckled to himself.

He was still hard.

And he wasn’t finished yet.

He moved to lay down on his side, putting your body against him, his cock entering you from behind.

„I wonder how many positions you wanna be fucked in before we’re finished,“ he hummed against your ear, his hand playing with your clit as he fucked into you.

It was almost time for the sun to come up when he didn’t feel the need to fuck you anymore.

You finally must be running out of ideas. Or you weren’t horny anymore.

No, not that. He could see your pussy still dripping from your shared releases. Of course you wouldn’t know it was his… ghost cum leaking out of you.

In the beginning he questioned if he would be able to impregnate someone like this, but by now he just didn’t care anymore.

He must say, this might have been his favourite encounter yet. He almost lost it when he was fucking your face, finding himself wishing you would open your eyes so he could see your eyes watering as he fucked your throat over and over again.

Who could have known how deeply kinky and horny you little virgin whore were?

He took one last look at you, sweaty and positively wrecked, the mark he sucked into your neck on full display, a soft smile on your kiss swollen lips, before he walked over towards your dresser where the candle was still flickering.

He blew it out, watching the smoke rise into the air, feeling his body get lighter.

When he turned around, already feeling his body slip into nothingness he was surprised to find your eyes opened and looking at him.

You were awake.

That had never happened before. He usually was gone before they woke up.

But before he could process what was happening or hear you scream he was gone.

Waiting for next Halloween when someone would light a seemingly innocent scented sex dream candle they bought at a witchy store, that would summon him to fuck them senseless.

#my fic #Dave York #Dave York x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #ghosts #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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jozor-johai · 2 days ago

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This is just a short note I will expand on elsewhere, but GRRM has this somewhat infamous quote about LOTR, about what to do with the orcs after the story ends. This is about rulership—what happens after the conquest?

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?

Part of what I love to death about ASOIAF is that it seems fundamentally more interested in these questions than the excitement of the conquest itself.

I see this quote brought up about the Others every once in a while, but I also think that we might be seeing one iteration of this idea with Dany in Meereen and the children of the slavers:

“The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” (ADWD Dany IV)

There are obvious differences—for a start, humans have the potential to grow up to be anything, rather than the known entity of the inherent evil when it comes to orcs.

In an ASOIAF-relevant context, though, the question is similar: you won, do you eradicate your enemies? Their remaining families? What if it looks like a direct path to peace for those you were fighting for? “What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children?”

Considering that slavery is some of the clearest evil we’ve seen in the books thus far, I think this is one way GRRM is be bringing his thoughts on fantasy rulership to a more human context in ASOIAF.

The issue of letting the children live (or not) also makes for another very interesting parallel between Dany and Robert Baratheon, who is another key figure in ASOIAF’s exploration for how one rules after the battle has been won. Barristan makes the connection nearly explicitly for the reader, standing up for Ned’s name:

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.” (ADWD Dany II)

Robert was faced with the same choice and, over the course of his reign, has been given two different takes, one to start his reign and one at the end of it. Robert’s peace was bought with the blood of Rhaegar’s children, the young Aegon and Rhaenys, delivered—albeit unsolicited—by the Lannisters, to cement Robert’s legitimacy and their own stake in his rule. At the end of his reign, Robert is faced with the premise of a new Targaryen baby being born and Ned offers an contrary opinion much like Dany’s own (in spirit if not in allegiance):

“Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

There’s plenty more to be said, but I just want to point out this angle for interpreting the GRRM LOTR quote. For one, sometimes people take issue with how literally GRRM himself is enacting his criticisms (saying things like, 'we never see Robert's tax policy either')—but this is a great example of how GRRM can raise a criticism that fits for a different series and make it work within his own world by adjusting the circumstances.

Also, I think that for discussions that attempt to predict where the story will go from here based on comments like this from GRRM, it’s important to see where GRRM is already exploring these ideas. In ASOIAF, this sort of application doesn’t require this idea to be explored with some kind of similarly-undying evil like the orcs or like Sauron, GRRM is applying these ideas to much more human evils, like slavery, and much more human applications, like any kind of military victory.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jozor thoughts #robert baratheon #grrm #asoiaf fandom commentary #daenerys targaryen

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amorisxx · 1 day ago

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Snickerdoodle pt. iii

(Halloween special)

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: The fall fest rolls around. You and Art are part of the parent committee. An unexpected meeting leads to another moment in a parking lot. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, description of panic attack word count: 3.6K a/n: This part gives a bit more context to each of their lives. It doesn't really progress the plot very much, but I enjoyed writing it. previous part here

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s a Wednesday afternoon. The house is quiet, free of the frenetic energy that children bring. Kaleb is still at school, and you’d taken the day to finish preparing your baked goods for the fall fest on Friday. The only noise to be heard is the sound of Art panting into your ear.

“Oh…f-fuck… please, please.”

Halfway through decorating the sugar cookies, he’d started pressing kisses to the side of your neck. You had tried shooing him off, but it was to no avail.

That’s how you end up pressed against the kitchen counter with your dress bunched up at the hips. One strap is halfway down your arm as Art frantically ruts into you from behind.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans into your neck.

He has one hand holding your hip in place while his other arm pins your back against his chest. In between thrusts, he uses one hand to greedily palm at your breasts.

When you start clenching around him, Art snakes a hand around to your front. He moves his fingers to where his cock is throbbing inside you. He groans at the wetness that has seeped out of you and collected at his base. You moan when he drags his fingers up to rub desperate circles over your slippery clit.

“Want you to cum, ah, need to feel it baby, please,” he pants.

It isn’t long before you’re throwing your head back and squeezing around him.

“Now, will you please let me finish these cookies?” You huff. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come over.”

He snorts. “You said you could use the help.”

“Well that’s when I thought you’d actually be of some help.”

He grins at you with lidded eyes.

The truth is Art did come over to help you, but he also came because watching you bake has become one of his favorite things to do. Since the two of you have started seeing each other more often, he’s started spending time at your place during the weekends when Kaleb has to stay with his dad. Though you don’t admit it, he’s noticed that you tend to bake when you’re worried. Art thinks it must take your mind off of things. It’s as if you go on autopilot. You disappear into the task as everything fades to the background. It reminds Art of what tennis used to feel like.

The baking also reminds him of his grandmother. Before she moved to the nursing home, she would always bake cookies for Art when he was young. He’d know because the sweet aroma would fill his nostrils upon entering the front door.

Sometimes, he was able to watch her bake and take in the entire process. It was calming for him to observe all the various steps and pass her different ingredients. He wondered how she knew the exact amount to add, and she’d tell him it was because of “years and years of practice.” Art quickly grew fond of the idea of building something up from scratch. And he learned that through lots of practice, you could make something really sweet.

So, in a way, you remind Art of his grandmother. He doesn’t tell you that though because he doesn’t think that’s the best thing to say to someone he’s just been balls deep inside. He does tell you, however, that he likes seeing you like this.

You look up at him in between adding orange icing to a cookie. Some of the icing spills onto the counter as you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He gestures around the kitchen. “It’s nice, you know, being able to watch you make something.”

Though you’re looking down at the cookie, he sees the smile splitting your lips open. Art leans forward and swipes the icing from the counter with his index finger before popping it into his mouth. He smiles at you around his finger, and you flush as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Nancy,” you start. “I just finished setting up this entire table. I am not moving all of this again.” You gesture to the spread of homemade cookies, pumpkin shaped cake pops, and pretzel rods dipped and drizzled in orange, black, and purple icing and sprinkles. The cookies themselves were a pain to arrange. You wanted there to be an even number of skull and jack-o’-lantern shaped sugar cookies on each platter. And each cookie needed to be facing forward. You didn’t think you had the patience for some snaggletoothed kid to ask what’s this? And plant their finger right on the cookie only to decide they hate pumpkins and leave it there.

“Okay!” She says defensively. “I just wonder if it’s such a good idea for the sweets table to be so close to the bouncy house. I wouldn’t want the kids to get sick.”

She turns to assess the giant inflated pumpkin. “I’d say they probably need a good 50 feet to walk and let the cookies settle before they start jumping up and down…don’t you think?”

You stare back blankly at the woman. “You just had me move because you said the smell of the petting zoo might ruin appetites.”

“And it could!” She whips her head back around at you, her blonde bob slapping the side of her face. “Those baby goats are cute, but they don’t smell great hon!”

You fold your arms.

“Alright.” Nancy raises a hand with a shake of her bobble head. “We won’t move,” she relents, “but could you maybe just tell each kid to eat their treats at the table, you know just to make sure they stand around for a couple of minutes before running to the bouncy castle?”

You start to tell her that it’ll be hard to control what a bunch of excited, elementary schoolers do after they get some sugar in them, but decide it’s not worth arguing with her. You glance over at her husband, Frank, who has set out his red and black folding chair next to the drink cooler. She’d instructed him to make sure each kid grabbed one drink at a time because “lord knows we’ll be picking up half full juice boxes all night.” Without so much as a glance, he’d mumbled a well versed “yes honey” and sat in his chair, staring into the distance and scratching his chest.

You decide to take a page out of Frank’s book.

“Sure, Nancy.”

Your table proves to be a popular one. You’re not even halfway through the festival, and most of your cake pops are gone, and the sugar cookies are depleting by the minute. You blame Art for being such a distraction that you didn’t think to bake more cookies just in case. Once he’s done with face painting duty, you plan on letting him have it.

You’re counting how many jack-o’-lantern cookies are left on the platters when a voice interrupts you.

“I always did love your baking.”

“Chris? What are you doing here?”

Your ex husband is standing in front of you, hands in his pockets as he smiles down at your spread of goodies.

He makes his way over to your side of the table. “My boy practically begged me to come, so of course I had to show up.”

You turn and purse your lips. “Well I hadn’t heard from you so I assumed you weren’t coming. They took your name off the list at the PTA meeting.”

“Dad!”

You look over to see your son barreling towards his father. He laughs reaching out to haul him up into the air. His little pirate hat goes crooked on his head. “You came!”

“Yeah, man, I told you I would!”

They fall into their own conversation as you help serve treats to some other kids that have wandered to the table. Despite your feelings about Chris, you can’t help but smile at the sound of Kaleb’s giggles. You’re glad that his dad’s presence brings him so much joy. You remember a time when you too felt that unyielding happiness around him. That flutter in your belly and the warmth in your chest that can only be characterized as pure, genuine fondness. God, you were so fond of him.

At the time, you thought you could never experience anything better than that. It’s why you agreed to marry him. And why you also agreed to stopping your birth control. Knowing he wanted to start a family with you made you love him even more, because to have a child with someone is to irrevocably tie yourself to that person. Being loved by Chris was your point of reference for so long.

But that was before.

Before he decided you weren’t enough for him, before he decided to be withholding, before he made you feel unlovable. It turns out that having a child with someone isn’t the symbol of unconditional love that you’d believed it was. Once you had removed the rose tinted glasses, you were able to see that love isn’t something that’s promised to you. Even if someone makes that promise to you, the love itself may not endure. You’re not sure how much control Chris really had when it came to loving you. You’re still figuring out what love entails when you’re not with him.

Now, you just hope that Kaleb will never learn what it’s like to not be loved by his father. That he’ll never have to vie for his affections nor his attention. That he will always feel held by his love and not stifled by it.

You feel something poke your hip, jolting you from your thoughts. It’s Kaleb, pressing his plastic pirate’s hook into your side to get your attention. You grab the hook in your hand, reminding him to be mindful of the point. He offers you a sheepish, snaggletoothed smile. “Sorry.”

You sigh and run your hands over his curls before gently tugging his ear. It’s a habitual motion that began when he was a toddler. He could be a little rambunctious, running around the house in nothing but a pull-up to avoid bedtime. When you’d finally catch him, you would ruffle his hair and gently pinch his little ears, calling him a silly monkey. He would erupt into fits of giggles before breaking away again making “ooh-ooh ah-ah” sounds.

Kaleb takes his arm behind his back in an effort to control his hook. “Dad said I can go with him tonight!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Said once this is over we can go have some real fun!”

Chris laughs, patting Kaleb’s shoulder.

“What does that mean? Real fun?” You raise an eyebrow at your ex.

“Oh Christ! I’m just gonna take him to get some ice cream or something,” he says.

“I’m just trying to make sure my son doesn’t pick up any of your…” you look over him from head to toe, “… bad habits.”

He rolls his eyes.

“But yeah, that’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you have the booster seat?”

“Yeah, and it’s the perfect height for him to see the girls at the strip club tonight,” he cracks a smile like it’s the funniest thing ever.

Kaleb catches sight of a classmate and almost knocks his dad over in his haste to run to them. Chris shouts “Be careful!” before glancing over at you and chuckling.

You curl your lip in disgust before turning toward the couple approaching your table and offering them a bright smile. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you as you move to serve them. Once they’ve gone, you turn to him.

“Is there a reason you’re still standing here?”

He chuckles. “How do you know I didn’t want some of your cookies?”

“Okay, well what are you getting?” You ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he runs his thumb over his bottom lip and smirks, “You look really good.”

Your stomach twists.

“I miss you.” He searches your face. “You know that?”

You scoff. “No you don’t,” you say definitively before turning away from him.

You then notice that Art is making his way over to your table. He’s wearing the same black and orange “fall fest committee” shirt that you are, but his figure fills it out much better than you can. His jeans are hanging effortlessly on his hips, and you think that if he hadn’t stuck with tennis all those years, modeling would’ve been a great second option.

Your field of vision gets cut off by your mosquito of an ex husband. You literally swat at him to move away, but he’s still smiling at you.

“Please just get whatever you’re gonna get and leave me alone.”

He reaches for you. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

You yank your arm out of his reach, sending him a warning glare.

He ignores the warning, stepping closer to you to lean down near your ear. “You know every time I come pick up Kaleb, I just think, God, what will it take for me to get those pretty legs open again?”

A loud smack resounds as his head snaps to the side. You’re gritting your teeth. “Fuck you.”

He holds his cheek from where you’ve smacked him, a tiny smirk etched onto his face.

You point your finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you come to me with this shit! You have a fucking fiancée!” Your hands have started to tremble as your anger rises. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?? You don’t get to treat me the way you did then come here saying shit like that!”

You don’t realize that Art has been standing there. He sees your trembling hands and glassy eyes and subtly positions himself between the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

You’re still glaring at your ex as if daring him to say something else.

Like the coward he is, Chris lowers his voice like he’s talking to a rabid animal. He tells you that you need to calm down before turning to Art. “Yeah, man, everything’s fine.” It’s just like him to make it seem like you’re the one who’s unhinged in the company of outsiders.

Thankfully, Art isn’t just some person.

He fully stands between the two of you, blocking you from Chris’ sight. You hear him say, “yeah well it doesn’t seem like it, man.” The muscles in his back are tense and his shoulders are square.

Chris sounds like he’s about to say something, but Art doesn’t let him finish. “I think you should leave her alone.”

You swallow and look down at your shaky hands willing them to be still.

Chris makes a move to step around Art. His jaw is clenched tight. “Respectfully, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Art lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t a request,” he says.

A second or two passes by as the two men stare at each other. Chris squints at Art, throws a glance around at you before stepping back with a laugh. He shakes his head assessing the way Art has planted himself in front of you. His eyes drop to where you’re fisting the end of Art’s t-shirt in an attempt to calm your nerves. He mumbles something about not being surprised but continues his retreat. “I’ll drop Kaleb off Sunday night,” he announces over his shoulder.

Once he’s gone, Art turns to you, rubbing his palms down your arms. “Hey,” he bends down to look you in your eyes. “You’re okay.”

It only makes your lip tremble more, the anger from earlier dissipating as something else takes over. Art tells you he’ll be right back. You bring your arms over your chest as your breathing gets heavier. The ruckus in the air is starting to feel suffocating. Your ears are ringing and you begin to feel tingling in your cheeks.

When Art comes back, he has Nancy’s husband, Frank, in tow. He tells him something, but you can’t hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. You’re gasping for air. You barely pick up Art’s voice saying “come with me.” You let him take your hand and lead you out of the chaos.

The sound of Art’s car door shutting makes you realize that your face has stopped tingling. You blink as your breathing returns to normal and the static-like ringing in your ears fades away. You rub your palms over your fabric covered thighs and take one big breath before exhaling. Something moves in your peripheral vision, and you glance to your left. Art is sitting in the driver’s seat, but most of his upper body is facing you. His soft eyes watch you with a patience that makes you want to cry all over again. You reach for him.

Art immediately pulls you to him, letting you settle in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to your head.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Baby,” he runs a hand over your back.

“No, it was pathetic. I can’t believe I let him get under my skin like that.”

“It was a panic attack. It’s not your fault,” Art murmurs into your hair. “And that’s exactly why he did that. He wanted to get a reaction out of you. Don’t blame yourself.”

You lift your head up to look at him. You search his face. All you find is sincerity.

You brush your thumb over the skin behind his ear and lean in. Your noses gently bump against one another before you’re pressing your lips to his. It’s soft, slow, and deliberate. Art places his palm flat against the small of your back as he returns the kiss with equal tenderness. Through your lips and your tongue, you try to tell Art everything you aren’t able to say with your voice. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling you the exact same thing back.

When you bring your hips down to roll against him, Art tells you “we don’t have to.” It’s your turn to tell him that you want this.

You move to the backseat. He peppers quick kisses over you every now and then as you both work to get each other’s pants down. It would probably be quicker to simply take them off one at a time, but you two aren’t thinking properly. Your head is swimming from how bad you need him right now. Once you’ve gotten your jeans off, and Art’s are to his knees, he’s sitting back against the black leather, pulling you with him.

You release a small whimper when his wet mouth attaches to your throat. His forehead knocks against your shoulder as you reach your hands under his shirt. “Off. Please.” He lets out a soft grunt as he complies with your request.

Before he can fully toss the committee shirt to the side, you’re running your hands over his chest. You stop at his nipples, letting your thumb roll over the small buds. Despite his attempt to hold it in, Art moans when you lean down and swirl your tongue around his nipple. It makes his cock jump.

You begin to move against his hard member, seeking out the friction of him bumping against your clit. Art gets his tongue back into your mouth as he reaches under your shirt, pinching your nipples. His lips smack against yours as he brings his hands around to your back. He lets them trace down your spine until they meet the band of your underwear.

Art dips both hands into your panties and smoothes his palms over your cheeks. He grips your ass as he guides you to rock against him. You moan into his mouth before you lift your hips to allow him room to pull his underwear down his thighs.

His dick slaps against his abdomen.

Your mouth waters and your stomach clenches in anticipation. You reach for him, and Art lets you take him in your hand, pumping him one, two, three times before he’s greedily grabbing your hips. He promptly hooks his thumb in the seat of your panties. He uses the leverage to pull them to the side, and you guide his tip to rub against your sticky folds. You moan as you drag it upwards to which Art starts rutting his head against your clit.

Without warning, you press Art’s tip to your opening. He hisses when you start to sink down onto him. With him fully buried in your cunt, you let out a sigh. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you to his chest. You two share a kiss as he begins shallowly thrusting into you.

After the both of you have finished, Art doesn’t pull out right away. He keeps you there for a moment telling you he just wants to feel you for a little bit more. Naturally, you don’t protest. The two of you sit within the fogged windows of his car in blissful silence as he lazily strokes your back.

Unfortunately, the shrill ringing of your cellphone punctures that silence.

It’s Nancy.

She asks where you’ve disappeared to, then doesn’t let you respond as she tells you that Frank is at your table which is now empty. They’re going to start cleaning up in about 45 minutes.

When you rejoin the festival, you and Art spot your kids and their friends comparing their various prizes and candy. Standing off to the side is Tashi. She sends you a smile when she notices you. Your stomach drops.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: As always, let me know what you think <3 my asks are open!

#happy halloween!#art donaldson x reader #challengers #pta!art x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #snickerdoodle fic #pta!art #dilf!art

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tmbgareok · 2 days ago

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Evening Mr. Flansburgh!

I am an aspiring musician! I really want to create my own songs, but since I'm an absolute beginner starting from the ground up, I am soul-crushingly daunted by which skill I should focus on learning first, especially with the amount of resources available to me online (Singing? Lyric writing? Learning a particular instrument? Mixing? Music Theory? etc).

Do you remember what skill(s) you focused on doing first when you were just getting into music, or have any recommendations about the order to do then in?

Much appreciated!

JF: reflecting on it, my experience was extremely organic, slow-evolving and combined so many of my interests and obsessions I am not sure it is necessarily that universal. (For instance I was kinda obsessed with recorded sound before I started writing and recording songs on a tape recorder, which I did for a couple of YEARS before I ever played in front of another human being). So I came to writing songs with some extra skills that actually facilitated my earliest efforts.

An art history professor of mine said "Art is foisting your obsessions on the world" and I think he was right. Another art professor of mine said if you embark on a dozen creative projects, the odds of creating an inspired one greatly increases over simply working on one. I think this is very good advice, and is echoed by a lot of folks writing about the nature of creativity.

If you can't play chords, or move your hands around a keyboard or a fretboard fast enough to play a chord progression, saddle up to a screen with a movie and practice scales so your fingers get stronger. Do it everyday for some time. Then practice toggling back and forth between two chords as quickly as possible. Get a metronome. You know why!

Yes, a song is exactly the confected thing your mentioned in your request--it's a lyric, a melody, a progression, a beat, an evolving musical notion. But those parts are often created at separate times and simply smushed together. It doesn't have to be done in one go, and if the whole enterprise seems odd, or your skill set is underdeveloped in one way or another, assembling a song from the various moving elements might be an easier way to approach it.

(also a couple of days ago someone was asking about singing and I pointed at a few ideas there--essentially taking advantage of these free online vocal warm up videos)

I think you should gather a small clutch of tools--a tape recorder or a DAW that is simple enough to master quickly--there are multitrack recording apps that you can install on your phone that are intuitive. A couple of instruments-a guitar or keyboard, maybe an auto harp.

Find a place to work where you can make noise and not be heard.

I think you should start writing in a physical notebook where you can write down your ideas and revisit them. I wouldn't do it on a computer. It's slow writing, and the screen just creates distractions.

Write a bunch of lyrics without trying to write music: Make one about you but write it like it's about someone else, one about someone else's experience but sing it first person, write one about a group of people. Be positive. Be negative. Be regretful. Be optimistic. Express anger. Be as extreme as you can stand. Experiment in writing in every mode you can think of. Here somebody would write "express your own ideas", but ALL of your ideas will be your own! You are making choices based on musical notions that inspired you, but what comes out of you will almost certainly be different enough, and if it's too close to something else, shimmy it around so it isn't distracting! Write a few chord progressions. (A two chord progression that just sounds interesting going back and forth. A four chord progression. Make a beat, or find a beat online, and write a bass line or just a sequence of single notes on a keyboard or guitar to make a pleasant, evolving line. And see if you can write a "song" or two with a two or four chord verse, and a chorus that is a different chord progression.) Write it down and revisit it! Record it slow. You might want to speed it up later when it's "under your fingers."

Pretty soon you will have all the component of what you need to put lyrics to music. You can also try just singing lyrics over a beat, and then figure out the chords underneath AFTER you have a notion of a melody.

That's enough free advice. Go write some songs!

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bamsywrites · 3 days ago

Text

And Comes Dawn pt 9

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, isildur x reader, sauron/halbrand x reader

Word count: 2k.

Summary: dudes just gotta stop deceiving people.

Tags: angst, insecurities, isil being a Good Dude, Galadriel and the reader still hate each other

Notes: I'm very tired (two sick kiddos will do that to a mom) and not too happy with this one. But it's a filler part. As always love yall and the feedback

You stood in silence as Halbrand left. His revelation of his past with his father and uncle had broken your resolve in your anger towards him. Confusion still sat in your chest and itched the back of your mind, but you had forgiven him. He seemed so passionate in his intention to earn you, but you had no idea what he meant by that. His deeds had already shown his character. He had saved you so many times it would be useless to count. You could only wonder what had plagued him so that he felt he still felt as if he was too tainted for you.

You thought this over, getting lost in your thoughts and thoughts of what had transpired the night before. You had never felt anything like that. Sure, you'd had desires that crossed your mind late at night. You’d had a rather large crush on one of the local farm hands, and he had entered your dreams many times. However, nothing compared to the heat that burned through you at Halbrands touch, the gruff sound of his voice, the feel of his hot breath. You had to close your eyes, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you willed the thoughts that filled your mind to go away.

Soon, though, you found yourself wishing for the sound of the waves and smell of the ocean air, so you made the venture outside the inn. You watched the hustle and bustle of the locals, the sound of children's laughter. You never wanted to leave this place. It was so different from your home.

The sound of your name being called made you stand straight and tall. Soon, Isildur was running up to you, breathing heavily. “I don’t have much time, I have to be at the beach in…well, very soon,” He looked at you with a smile, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I came here to apologize for making a scene and for putting your honor to question. That was never my intention, and if you wanted to, I would completely understand if you wanted to slap me in the face a time or two. I have more than earned that.”

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head, “I don’t think that will be needed.”

He laughed, “I am relieved, I was not looking forward to explaining that black eye to my father.”

His smile faltered for a moment as he searched for words, “If your heart belongs to another, I hope you know that I would find contentment in your friendship as well. Perhaps it would not be my first choice, but being your friend would be an honor beyond measure.”

You nodded, reaching out and squeezing his hand, “I would be content with that too. I hope that I did not lead you to believe there was more.”

Isildur shook his head, “You did not. You are simply beautiful and kind and funny, and I am but a man. I still would like to show you more of my city's culture. There is a massive library and halls of art and food better than what we were treated to last night. That is, if you are indeed interested in that.”

“Of course,” you grinned, excitement bubbling in your belly.

“Yes? Yes! Well, then I shall see you later this evening? Right before sun down. I’ll meet you here?”

You nodded, your lips parted to answer when you heard one of his friends call his name, and he simply smiled at you before running off. You remembered what Halbrand said. He wanted you to have friends, and so you would. Isildur was kind. He was respectful, and you had no reason not to trust him.

“Where is Halbrand?”

You looked from your lunch of rice and fish, your spirits dropping at the sound of the elf's voice. You had avoided her as best as you could, and it had been successful for the most part. You knew she hated you, and while you did your best to understand her hatred, there was part of you that blamed elves as well. If it weren’t for them, your mother would still be alive, and you’d have the baby sibling you had been so excited for. But you knew it was unfair to blame Galadriel for that. You just wish she would understand the same for you.

“Where is Halbrand?” She repeated, sounding annoyed. You noticed that in her hand, she held what appeared to be a scroll.

“I do not know. I have not seen him since this morning.”

“Did he give you any idea to where he was going?”

You shook your head, turning back to your food. You did not want this conversation to last longer than it needed to.

“You seem rather content to sit and do nothing, to feast on the food of a people who have earned prosperity. I seek to fix the wound your ancestors and your family caused. Do you not seek redemption?”

You stared at the rice on your plate, your expression hardening as you tried to keep your tongue. A fight would solve nothing. You knew she was hurting as were you but the smugness in which she carried herself, the arrogance that radiated from her, it was fueling an anger in you.

“I have committed no crime to be redeemed for.” You spoke softly, not bothering to look up at her.

“Do you not feel guilty for the 37 elven souls your father, brother, and uncle took. Are they not worth redemption? Are they not worth trying to right your fathers wrongs?”

“And what of the families in the Southlands that your kind oppresses for a sin none of us committed. Crops die, money is scarce and yet we have to give a portion to the great elves who want not for food or medicine.”

“It is a reminder…”

“A reminder that to elves, we will always be less than. You act as if the Numenorians were bestowed greatness by your kind as if man can not achieve that on his own. You act as if children are responsible for the sins of their fathers as if the elves have committed none.”

“You speak of which you know little,” Your raised voices were beginning to draw a crowd. “Do you feel no guilt or remorse for what was done?”

“I feel remorse every day. Do you forget I was a child? Do you feel no remorse for your people making me watch as your people executed my only family.”

“It was what had to be done.” She replied, coldly staring you down.

“You are but a petulant child. Your callousness and arrogance will leave you without friend or affection, and I can not imagine what a lonely existence that will be for someone who does not die.” You stood up and pushed past her, walking fast to escape the eyes following you.

It was after Isildur took you to the grand library and to get dinner that you had learned of Halbrands fate from the whispers of locals as you walked past. You had enjoyed your time, feeling a true bond of friendship between the two of you. You were falling more and more in love with this island and hoped upon hope that you would be able to stay here. There was nothing for you at home. Orcs had burned down the only home you knew, but this seemed so far away from that. As if evil could not touch it.

Halbrand wasn’t evil, but he may be ruining your chances of being here with his antics. You had come to the realization that wherever you went, he was likely to follow. It was a strange sentiment to have in such a short time, but you knew you’d follow him too. No matter where his temper might land him. It was for this reason you had found some food and skin of wine and were down to the dungeons.

It seemed you weren’t the only visitor he had. You heard the elves' voice before you saw her and waited in the shadows, listening to the conversation unseen. Perhaps you shouldn’t but your curiosity got the better of you. A dispute about a woman? You could tell from the way he was speaking that it was about her.

Of course it was.

You wanted greatly to believe all that he had told you that morning, that he had shared something personal with you and that was a sign of how he trusted you but here he was so freely telling her of his past. The heir to the throne of the Southlands, how his ancestor was who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. All of those had been lacking from the story he had told you. You didn’t think him a liar, but you didn’t know what to think as it seemed he so easily opened himself up to the elf.

You heard as the elf mentioned fate bringing them together, of him going to Middle Earth with her, and he did not argue against any of it. If his intentions were truly with you, why then did he not make that known to her? You were able to see his expression as she ascended the stairs. He watched after her as if she was some grand prize with a twinkle to his eyes and a smirk playing at his lips. She was a prize, you supposed, she was an elf. Truly unattainable, with beauty that men merely dreamed of finding. She was mysterious and strong.

And what were you?

You had nothing to your name. Your only talent was in what your mother and the family kept you as a ward taught you - healing and gardening. You didn’t suppose you were all that beautiful. No one had attempted to court you. You were not mysterious or battle hardened or the daughter of a noble bloodline.

You were just you.

Of course, she would be the prize.

Quietly, you slipped from the shadows and made your way to where Halbrand stood. You saw his smile, and perhaps if you hadn’t been so caught in your insecurities you’d see how he looked at you as if you were the dawn itself. But his smile faded slightly when he saw your face.

“Sweet one?” His hands reached through the bars for your hand, which you simply pulled away from him. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“I brought this for you,” You slipped him the cloth full of bread, fish, fruits, and cheese along with the skin full of wine.

His eyes never left yours, sitting it all behind him on the bench as your eyes looked at the ground. “Will you not look at me? Are you upset about this? It was simply a…”

“Dispute about a woman,” you repeated his words back to him. You saw his expression shift. He knew you heard his conversation.

“Sweet one…” He started.

“I could find contentment in a friendship with you. That would be an honor,” Your words echoed what you were told mere hours before.

“Friendship?” He laughed softly in disbelief, looking at you as if you grew two heads, “I told you of my intentions, and I meant it.”

“I do not know if you did. I do not know if you know what it is you want. I do not want to fight in a competition with the elf when I know I would lose it.”

“What are you talking about?” He breathed the words out.

“I see how it is you look at her. I hear how you two talk. I am not stupid enough to think that you do not want for her as she does for you. In talks of what your future holds, you never mentioned me.”

He scoffed, “You are reading too much into it.”

“I do not think that I am.”

“Do not reduce this to mere friendship. Please, sweet one.” He looked at you as if his heart was breaking, his eyes frantically searching your face for an answer.

“I need to go,” you backed away from the cell.

His fingers reached for you, but you pulled away, “Please, sweet one, please do not go when I can not follow.”

You spoke no more words, turning on your heels and wiping at the hot tears that were spilling from your eyes. You ignored the desperate calls of your name as you ascended the stairs. The only thing you could see was the way his face lit up when he saw Galadriel.

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #annatar x reader #annatar x oc #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #halbrand x galadriel #annatar x galadriel #sauron x galadriel #isildur x reader

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foreverisntenough · 12 hours ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 3- Crossed A Few Lines | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.7k

Your heart raced at his reply. You were both mildly beating around the bush, but there was no denying the pull between you. A shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with anticipation. You smiled to yourself, your fingers already flying across the keyboard in response. You knew you were pushing boundaries, stepping into uncharted territory, but a part of you was thrilled by it. You had always wanted to see how far you could go with Trent, and now you were finding out.

The seconds that passed after you sent the message felt like hours. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, loud and fast, and your entire body was alight with anticipation. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you were ready to find out, whatever it might be. He was sitting downstairs in the cinema room with your brother and the boys, trying to keep it together. But after reading that text, there was no staying focused on the movie. He excused himself, saying he wanted a glass of water, but instead, he found himself sneaking upstairs, toward your room. His mind was racing, his pulse thumping in his ears. You heard a soft footstep outside your door and your breath caught in your throat. He knocked lightly but pushed the door open before you had a chance to respond. The doorknob turned slowly and your body tensed with anticipation. Trent stepped into the room, a figure in the dim light, your eyes adjusting to you two alone in your bedroom, taking in his athletic frame and handsome face. This wasn't the first time he'd been in your room, but it was the first time he'd seen you like this-laid out on your bed, bralette barely holding you in. laying there ready for him. His breath caught in his throat.

"What you doing sending me pictures like that?" Trent's voice was low, but you couldn't read whether he was mad or something else entirely. You shifted slightly, suddenly a bit nervous.

"You didn't have to come up," you said, trying to gauge his reaction. Was he angry? Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for his next move.

"That's not what I said," he replied, stepping closer, eyes darkening. "I'm down there with your brother and our mates, trying not to think about your tits." His voice was rough, and his eyes were lit with something you hadn't seen before. You smirked, knowing you had him.

"Do you like them?" you asked coyly, cupping them and pulling your bralette down a little lower to reveal just about everything you could without being completely exposed. You couldn’t risk that, what if he rejected you again. Trent chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're fucking dangerous. Where did this confidence come from?" He asked you with a dangerously handsome smile. You sat up slightly, your smirk deepening.

"I've always been like this." You cooed seductively but you couldn’t hold back a slight giggle.

"Nah," he said, stepping even closer. "You've never moved like this before."

"I'd never kissed you before," you pointed out.

"That good, huh?" he teased, clearly loving this back-and-forth. You tilted your head, your eyes locked with his.

"I could ask you the same thing. You're here, aren't you?" Trent laughed softly, the tension between you now thick enough to cut with a knife. He knew the moment he walked into that room, there was no turning back. You were desperate to feel his touch. He padded across the room and climbed onto your bed, and it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. His movements were confident and purposeful. Trent was in your bed! You felt like you were about to black out.

“C’mere.” He commanded you and you shifted, reaching your arm out towards him grabbing the back of his neck as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your hands gripping his hair as you pulled him closer. Trent's kiss was demanding, possessive, and you loved the way he took control. His tongue teased yours. It was like you could taste the sweetness of the moment you’d longed for. His hands roamed your body, caressing your boobs, your stomach, and thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of your bralette, you arched your back, offering yourself to him. Breaking the kiss, Trent trailed his lips along your jaw and down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He nibbled on your ear, whispering how much he wanted you, and you moaned in response, your body throbbing with need. You felt his hand slip between your thighs, cupping your heat, and you spread your legs instinctively, granting him better access. His fingers teased your clit through your panties, and you bucked your hips, desperate for more.

“You like when I touch you, baby?' he murmured, his voice husky and deep. You’d dreamed of this moment for ages and it was proving to feel better than anything you could’ve imagined.

'Y-yes,' you panted, your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the sensations flooding your body. Trent kissed his way back up to your mouth, silencing your moans with another passionate kiss. His hand moved to unclasp your bralette, the suddenness of the fabric falling off you causing you to gasp. Trent had seen you in bikinis, he’d see you wear tank tops with no bra but this… This was a dream come true. Your tits on full display just for him. He paused, his thumb brushing gently over your peaked nipple, and you whimpered, wanting him to take more. Then, with a swift movement, Trent took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, while his hand squeezed and massaged the other. You cried out, slapping your hand over your mouth to quiet your pleasure, your head throwing back as pleasure spiked through you. You could feel his teeth slight nip the skin, sucking purposefully. He left a hickey on your boob, marking you as his.

“That's the only type of bruise you should be getting from a man… from anyone,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “Got it?” You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your body tingling with a mixture of pleasure and a sense of protection and ownership. Then, without warning, Trent rolled off the bed. You opened your eyes, your body still buzzing, and watched as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand over his slightly messed up hair.

“I gotta get back downstairs, pretty girl”' he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he looked at your half naked, satisfied form.

“Wait… where are you going?!” You yelped as your chest heaved and your pussy throbbed with need. Just as the intensity was rising, Trent suddenly pulled back. You could see his breathing was just as heavy, his eyes dark with desire. The smug smile still there, one that made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip with frustration. "Trent, what—" you began, but he silenced you with a soft, almost teasing kiss on the forehead, but not without his thumb brushing over the blooming bruising forming from his lips.

"I really should have to go," he said, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the heat of the moment. "They’re going to wonder where I disappeared to." His grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes, as if he was well aware of the effect he was having on you. You blinked, completely taken aback.

"You’re leaving? Now? I… what?" you asked, your voice incredulous. You could hardly believe what you were hearing. You could hardly believe what just happened. You had just been on the edge of something incredible, something you’d been craving for so long, and now he was pulling away? Trent nodded, clearly enjoying the power he held in this moment. He stood as if he’d just won some secret game, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You watched him, your body still tingling with the remnants of the heated encounter, a mixture of shock and frustration bubbling up inside you. "You’re really just going to leave?" you asked again, your voice laced with disbelief. Trent leaned down, his lips teasingly close to yours, hiis thumb moving to trace your cheek.

"For now," he murmured, his lips ghosting yours, his tone promising more. "But trust me, Y/N, I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot." And with that, he turned and slipped out of your room, leaving you lying there, breathless and bewildered. Leaving you alone, nothing more than kisses and a love bite darkening to remember him by. Your hand reached up to touch the mark he'd left on your boob, a reminder of the intense passion that had just played out. A satisfied smile played on your lips as you snuggled into the bed, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. The door clicked shut softly behind him, and you could hear his footsteps receding down the hallway, back toward the laughter and chatter of his friends and your brother downstairs. You stared at the closed door for a moment, your mind racing. You couldn’t believe he’d just walked away, right when things had started to get good. A mix of frustration and longing coursed through you, making you roll over in bed with a groan. You buried your face in your pillow, feeling the heat still lingering on your skin where his hands had been.

"Ugh, Trent," you muttered, half-exasperated, half-amused into the now empty room. He had left you wanting more, and he knew it. You couldn’t decide whether to be angry or impressed by his restraint—or maybe his nerve. But one thing was certain: he’d lit a fire within you, and you knew he was right this was far from over. As you got ready for sleep, you wondered what the morning would bring and whether Trent would be back for more. The possibilities were endless, and the anticipation was already building for another encounter. You need to get yourself off after that because you weren’t sure you’d ever been so horny or wet in your life and he only kissed you. You guessed being left needy was better than being left without him at all.

And so the floodgates had finally opened. Things were much better between you two than they were after the rejected kiss at the club which was great except now the uncertainty and the possibility of when and if he’d ever kiss you again loomed. The air was thick all the time. So what now? After that stolen moment in your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about Trent. Every glance, every word shared between you was now charged with a new electricity. So when the next movie night rolled around, you found yourself eagerly anticipating Trent's arrival. The minute he walked in, the air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension, a shared secret that only the two of you understood. As everyone settled in for the film, Trent offered to share his blanket with you, a casual smile on his lips. Without a second thought, you slipped under it, your body naturally leaning into his. The dark cinema room felt cozy and intimate, the movie playing softly in the background. You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you in tight. It was so dark in the room no one could see just how close you’d gotten. You were tucked away in the back of the room, hiding from the other boys and hiding from how much you were excited by this. The room buzzed with murmured conversations and laughter, the movie flickering on the big screen. But to you, it was all background noise. You and Trent were tangled up together under the blanket, caught in a kind of intimacy you hadn't allowed yourself to imagine, even with all the flirtation and stolen glances. You’d always sat together but this? This was new. As you drew your knee closer to him, his fingers dug slightly into your thigh, grounding you with a touch that sent your heart racing.

"Can you just-" he grumbled, gently grabbing your leg and pulling it over him fully, letting you feel the firmness of his thigh under yours. "Your knee was digging into me." He smirked, his voice hush.

"Sorry," you laughed, but the apology didn't feel genuine. You wanted to be close, closer than you had been, closer than maybe you should’ve been. "Are you sure this is... okay?" you asked, glancing up at him, your voice softer than you meant it to be. His gaze held yours, intense but teasing.

"Y/N, you're good," he murmured, his fingers squeezing your thigh as if to reassure you— and then pulling you even closer. "Just come here, yeah? And shh." That small smile, that bit of warmth in his eyes, it gave you all the permission you needed. You leaned into him fully, your body curling up next to his as he adjusted the blanket, his arm draped protectively over you, and his hand resting on your hip. His fingers grazed your skin just above the waistband of your shorts, making your pulse thrum louder than the movie. You couldn't hide your smile, feeling bold and bashful all at once. Then, without really meaning to, you moved your hand over his abs, tracing the outline of muscles under his shirt. It felt natural, like you'd done it a hundred times, though the thrill in your chest reminded you that you hadn't. Trent let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at you. Absentmindedly you let it drift a little too low for Trent to be able to manage.

"You’re not watching. I told you you’d like this one.” he smiled again, one brow arched with that familiar, teasing glint in his eye. He picked up your hand and moved it up a little bit. You sheepishly let your eyes shut, feeling awkward that your hand was unintentionally so close to somewhere you were dying to explore but knew that this was definitely not the place for.

"I’m tired," you shrugged lazily trying to move away from the tension, giving a little smile, your voice soft as your hand remained on him just marginally less suggestive. It was almost like you were in two conversations. One spoken, one physical.

“I'll fill you in, alright?" He pulled you even closer, his voice low as he murmured, There was something in his tone that made your heart skip—a promise in the words that went beyond explaining a plotline. His hand moved lower on your hip, fingers dipping under the waistband of your shorts just slightly, warm and firm against your skin. It felt like the start of something, an unspoken acknowledgment of what had been building between you.

"Thank you." Your voice dropped to a whisper, playful but shaky with the thrill of it all. His eyes met yours with a look that made your breath hitch. You weren’t really thanking him for the offer but rather what his hands were doing. Reassurance. He had just given you reassurance that your hands on him were okay. He hummed, his tone rich and warm, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His hand traveled a little lower, grazing over your ass beneath the blanket, his fingers pressing into you in a way that made your whole body tense with anticipation.The energy between you was thick, charged in a way you couldn't ignore. His thumb brushed over your skin slowly, each stroke sending waves of heat through you as he molded his hand to your curves. You glanced up at him, not bothering to hide your reaction anymore. And then, without saying a word, he leaned back and guided your head to his chest, pulling you into him fully. His hand stayed possessive on your hip, his fingers lazily tracing circles, his touch both gentle and thrilling. You settled against him, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You yawned quietly, the warmth and security of his embrace lulling you into a drowsy state as you rested against him. You felt your eyelids growing heavy, yet every brush of his hand on your skin kept you alert, the push and pull of relaxation and excitement making your head swim.

"Okay?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as his fingers drifted up your side and back down, lingering at the edge of your waistband.

"I like your hands on me," you whispered, emboldened by the warmth of his embrace and the way he was holding you like you were his to protect. Trent chuckled softly, his breath warm on the top of your head. Your lips parted to say more, but no words came out. You wanted to say something, to let him know how you felt, but his arms around you spoke for themselves. So, instead, you closed your eyes, your body melting further into him as his hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts once more, more daring this time. His fingers brushed over the curve of your ass, his touch possessive yet tender, a promise that you were the only thing on his mind.

"Shhh," he whispered, his tone teasing but comforting. "Relax" He cooed, telling you that you didn’t need to talk, not right now. And as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, the line between you disappeared entirely. His hand traced lazy patterns on your skin, each touch soft and lingering, leaving you breathless yet more at peace than you'd felt in ages. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the warmth of him, knowing that things between you had changed and would never be the same. The film ticked on as you were curled up against Trent, head resting on his chest, peacefully asleep. Noah went to grab something to drink and spotted your oh so cozy moment. He grinned, unable to help himself.

“Lads, I feel like I pulled the short straw in this friendship,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “How does Trenty end up with Y/N on top of him for a movie night?” Noah cheekily spoke, not loud, but enough for all the boys to hear, but quiet enough for you to stay asleep. Trent tried to keep a straight face, shrugging it off as the rest of the boys chuckled. Jack, however, didn’t laugh. His eyebrows furrowed, and he turned around, finally noticing the cozy scene unfolding on the couch. You’d always sat next to Trent but this… This was a proper cuddle.

“Hey—” Trent held up his hands defensively, moving them slightly away from you, though he’d definitely been resting his hand all over you a moment ago. “Innocent, alright?” he mumbled, hoping Jack wouldn’t press too hard.

“Isn’t she in those—” another friend piped up with a smirk, catching himself just in time as he met Jack’s warning glare. You were in tiny biker shorts, and the guys clearly noticed, but Trent’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to Jack before shooting his friend a look of caution.

“Mate,” Trent muttered under his breath, the unspoken warning clear. Jack shook his head, his expression softening just slightly but not enough to let you two off the hook.

“Embarrassing. Y/N, get the fuck up,” he said, voice half-exasperated, half-amused as he swatted toward you, though he didn’t make any real effort to wake you. Trent looked down at you for a second, his arm slyly stayed around you as if he couldn't bare to part and selfishly he didn’t want to disturb you because he didn't want you to move.

“She’s not bothering me, mate,” he replied casually. “Honest.” Jack groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the movie.

“Gross. Just keep your fucking hands to yourself, bro.” he muttered, though there was an undertone of resignation, like he was used to this now knowing there was a line that hadn’t been crossed. A satisfied smirk crept onto Trent’s face, and he shifted slightly under you, settling you more comfortably against him. He glanced at Noah, daring him to say anything more. Trent tried to be nonchalant but whatever unspoken thing existed between you had come bubbling up to the surface. Jack cared too much about you to embarrass you or to wake you right now. You were his little sister but that line often blurred when it came to things like your relationship with boys. Often, he acted as a best friend, he’d listen to you rant about how bad a guy was at flirting and he’d enjoy it and then other times you’d simply wear something he didn’t like and big brother Jack would storm back. Depended on his mood, depended on what he thought of the guy involved. Jack didn’t see Trent as a threat and so he let you stayed as is. As Noah walked out of the room he got closer to Trent and you.

“How focused are you right now trying not to get hard?” He laughed in a lower voice joking with Trent. This humor wasn’t new. Sure, did Noah push boundaries a lot, yes, he knew the time and place for it though. But Jack always was a good sport, probably better than most would be because up til now no one dared try anything with you. He knew you were objectively pretty and boys liked you. He’d be naive to think otherwise and so he took his friends' jokes light heartedly and just as that… jokes. Trent’s face got a little flushed from Noah’s teasing.

“Mate…” he murmured with a look that said don’t push it, but Noah’s grin only grew. Jack turned back from the screen, catching the exchange. He chuckled,

“You better not be, Trentski,” though he laughed it off, turning back to the movie, clearly not sensing anything serious. Jack had long written off the way you and Trent interacted as harmless banter. He’d seen you two sit together during movie nights before, even team up during games, and he figured it was just easy camaraderie. Like another older brother figure in his innocence. Though lately, Trent was acting far from like a brother to you. The guys finally simmered down, letting the movie carry on in silence. You shifted in your sleep, snuggling deeper into Trent, and his arm instinctively curled around you. Jack glanced over to check if you’d woken up yet but found you even more comfortably nestled into Trent’s chest. But Trent still remained coy, the arm under the blanket stroking your skin, the one out of it showing innocence. Jack shook his head, unable to hide a grin.

“Such a baby,” he teased, looking at you. Then, with a chuckle, he nudged Trent’s foot with his own. “Seriously, man, wake her up. She’s heavy, bro.” He teased using something false about you as an excuse but Trent kept his gaze on the screen, giving a casual shrug.

“Yeah, I will after the film. She’s fine,” he replied nonchalantly, though his hand shifted protectively around you. Jack started to object, a glimmer of confusion crossing his face, but the movie pulled his attention back just as a loud crash exploded on screen. As the film’s intensity increased, Trent’s attention stayed divided—partly on the screen but mostly on you, feeling your warm weight leaning into him. The tension was undeniable, yet somehow it felt natural, like an unspoken secret only the two of you shared, hidden in plain sight. You nestled in closer, murmuring his name with a sleepy whimper, oblivious to everything around you. Your quiet murmur of ‘T’ melted into the air. Your body shifted against him naturally, instinctively, pressing into his warmth like you belonged there. Trent froze, his entire body tensing at the way your breath brushed his neck, at the gentle graze of your lips along his collarbone. His hand hovered, uncertain, before he finally placed it back down on your waist steadying you. Trent's hand moved reflexively, slipping just beneath the edge of your shirt, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist.as But the warmth of your skin, the subtle weight of you against him, sent a shiver through him he couldn't hide. At first, he thought maybe he'd imagined it-that your soft, whispered ‘T’ was just some sleepy mumble, meaningless. But then you did it again, and the way you shifted, nestling even closer, made his pulse race. Your body had moved in a slow, subtle grind, your warmth pressed against his thigh, and Trent's hand tightened instinctively, his fingers digging slightly into your hip to keep you in place. He swallowed hard, glancing around. Noah and Jack and the other boys were all engrossed in the movie, thankfully oblivious to the tension simmering under the blanket between you and Trent. He let out a silent breath of relief, but his mind was racing. Every nerve screamed at him to move, to put a little distance between you and him before he lost control. He couldn’t though, he loved this.

You had conked out like a light, comforted by his embrace but exhausted from your week. You were a heavy sleeper and right now the only thing occupying your mind was the last thing you thought before you fell asleep. Trent. You remembered the way he felt in your bedroom and now he was underneath you. Your subconscious was in overdrive. And then you murmured again, a barely audible whine, and his grip on your hip tightened just slightly, holding you close. His thoughts spun as he tried to focus on the movie, on anything other than the way you felt against him, but it was impossible. His heart pounded with the overwhelming urge to pull you fully onto his lap, to guide you through the motions you were making so innocently in your sleep. The things he wanted to whisper in your ear... ‘Just like that,’ or ‘Good girl, keep going’ -things that made him clench his jaw as he struggled to stay in control. You shifted again, pressing your warmth more firmly against his thigh, and Trent's breath hitched. He knew he was in trouble, his body responding in ways that left no doubt about how he felt. He couldn't help it, couldn't help how much he wanted this, wanted you, and the fact that you were dreaming of him only fueled the fire simmering beneath the surface. He was so fucking hard he didn’t know what to do. But he couldn't do anything, not with everyone around, he couldn’t wake you up. So instead, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment to steady his breathing. He kept his hand on your hip, holding you protectively, as if to shield you both from the rest of the world. He could feel the weight of your trust, the warmth of your skin, and as his thumb brushed your hip absentmindedly, he felt himself sinking deeper into the feeling of having you so close. Just when he thought he might regain some control, you let out another soft sound, shitting closer. The sensation sent a jolt through him, and he found himself nearly holding his breath, praying no one would notice as he gently caressed your skin, savoring the warmth of you against him. The movie played on, but for him, everything else had faded. You were all he could focus on. Finally, he forced himself to ease back, though his hand lingered on your hip. With a deep, steadying breath, he whispered just barely above a murmur, "You have no idea, do you?"

When you finally stirred from your sleep, the movie’s credits rolling softly in the background, you were met with the gentle pressure of Trent’s lips brushing your forehead. The warmth of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a rush of exhilaration, your heart fluttering wildly. It was instinct, it just happened. It was a tender moment, more intimate than anything you’d ever shared before. The simplicity of the gesture made you want to scream and call Layla immediately to share the excitement. You blinked awake, taking in the dimly lit room and the familiar sound of soft laughter and muted conversations. Although the boys had dispersed after the film ended—two had left the house, Noah had fallen asleep, another was starting a second movie, and Jack had already gone to bed. The room was quieter now, a calm settling over the space. You turned your gaze to Trent up, who was still holding you close. His arm was wrapped securely around you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back. You shyly smiled up at him, the playful glint in his eyes matched by your own. You tried to act casual as you settled back into Trent, even though you were now acutely aware of every little shift, every breath, and the heat radiating between you. His hand hadn't moved from your waist, grounding you, sending a subtle but undeniable thrill through you with the gentle squeeze he'd given just before you tried to sit up.

"Comfortable?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a kind of warmth that melted any lingering awkwardness between you. Trent chuckled, low and soft, his breath brushing over the top of your head. You bit your lip, nodding with a shy smile.

"Yeah... sorry for just falling asleep on you." You awkwardly told him feeling a bit guilty but not enough to move.

"Don't be. I didn't mind," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly along your back. "Couldn't bring myself to wake you up, honestly. You seemed like you had a good sleep." He chirped recalling just* how comfortable you had gotten. You were unaware of how much of your hand you’d shown. Nevertheless, you leaned into him again, the warmth of his chest so inviting that it made your eyelids grow heavy. Glancing around, you could see Noah fast asleep on the other side of the room, the glow of the screen casting soft shadows.

"Maybe I should get to my room..." you whispered, knowing it was probably the right thing to do but reluctant to move still.

"Nah," Trent's voice was barely more than a murmur as he held you in place, his hand warm and steady on your hip, "Stay here with me." It was then you became keenly aware of the pressure against your thigh, the firm presence of him, his hard length, and a spark of curiosity and excitement flared in you. You stifled a soft gasp, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment, and as you nestled closer, his grip on your waist tightened, as if he didn't want you to go anywhere. "Not gonna watch?" he teased softly, his voice carrying that familiar note of playful challenge, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. Your gaze was set completely opposite of the screen. You shook your head with a shy smile, realizing your attention was entirely elsewhere. You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted slightly, shifting so that your hand landed just over his lap, you palmed over his bulge but you didn’t do anything more. You were testing the waters. The slight intake of his breath didn't go unnoticed, nor did the way his gaze lingered, darker, more intent than you'd ever seen before.

"Okay," you whispered, cheeks flushing as you turned toward the screen, feigning interest while your hand subtly shifted, brushing over him going a bit further. His eyes flickered down, and for a moment, he looked like he was holding his breath, his gaze smoldering as he watched your every move. You felt bold, bolder than you ever had before, and the thrill of it only intensified as he let his hand slide lower, settling on the curve of your thigh. His fingers pressed gently, almost possessively, sending a shiver up your spine as you leaned back into him, the subtle tension between you deepening with each shared glance and unspoken touch. You stayed like that for a while. Hidden by the darkness of the room and the blanket. The movie played on, but for the two of you, it was as though everything else had fallen away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the moment. Trent's breath hitched as he felt you press against him, his face buried in the crook of your neck as if grounding himself. His fingers slid around your waist, holding you close, a quiet sigh escaping him as he struggled to keep his composure. He could feel you about to speak. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes warm and teasing.

"Should I go... or...?" you asked softly, your voice barely a whisper. Trent's lips curled into a smirk as his gaze softened. You were asking a question with only one correct answer and you prayed he knew that.

"Stay with me. Seriously. In my room tonight," he murmured, his tone inviting but playful. It wasn’t uncommon for the boys to use one of the guest rooms to crash if it was late, but tonight, the invitation felt charged with a different kind of energy. You hesitated for a moment, the tension between you palpable. It was clear that both of you were aware of the risks, the potential complications of crossing that line. But the pull between you was undeniable. The warmth, the closeness, and the flirtatious banter were too tempting to resist. You felt a thrill go through you, the weight of what he was asking settling in.

"Okay," you whispered, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, your cheeks flushed.

"Yeah?" he asked, brushing his nose against yours as his hand skimmed up your back under your shirt. "You wanna come sleep with me?" He asked through a whisper. You nodded, the warmth in his gaze making you feel bold and nervous all at once. He grinned, his voice dropping low. "Can't be this shy, though. Not in my bed."

"I won't be," you promised, your words barely audible but carrying a weight you both felt. You glanced around the room quickly to make sure everyone was still asleep, then leaned in, letting your lips find his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but then his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into him. You melted against him as he responded, his lips warm and inviting, and the room faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled in that quiet, breathless moment.

"C’mon" he whispered against your mouth, pulling back just enough to take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The two of you got up off the couch, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring as you both stood up quietly, knowing full well that the night and your relationship was about to change. He led you down the hallway, both of you trying to settle your racing hearts and keep quiet. As you and Trent quietly snuck down the dim hallway, he was right behind you, his presence warm and magnetic. You felt his hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer.

"If you don't want this, you need to tell me now. Because once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop myself." His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in and whispered. The gravity of his words sent a rush through you, and you knew he meant every bit of it. Your heart hammered in your chest. This was really going to happen. Finally, you slipped into the guest room. Trent shut the door behind you softly, the sound barely registering as he turned and wrapped you in his arms, pulling you into him. It was obvious both of you were caught in the shared thrill of the forbidden. You looked around the room, taking in the stillness, and then back at Trent, who was watching you, eyes filled with lust, disbelief, and excitement all rolled into one. His gaze intense as he faced you, his hands reaching out to pull you close. His hands roamed over your sides, and you leaned into his touch with a soft, unbidden moan.

"Oh my god," you whimpered, feeling his fingers explore, his touch leaving trails of warmth. A quiet, smug chuckle slipped from his lips.

"Gotta be quiet for me," he murmured, brushing his thumb along your jawline, his voice low and teasing. You exhaled a shaky breath,

"We can't go back after this, T." You cautioned him. There was a flicker of hesitation, a weight to the words, and you looked up, the heat and the excitement dancing in your gaze.

"I don't want to go back," he said, his hands pressing firmly against your back, drawing you closer until there was no space between you. "You want this? You want me?" His voice was rough and needy, the vulnerability almost hidden under his intensity. Without another word, you closed the distance between you, your mouth capturing his in a kiss that said everything you couldn't put into words.

“So fucking bad," you murmured against his lips. The kiss deepened, growing more intense as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him until you could feel every inch of him pressed to you. Every touch, every kiss felt like it had been building for years, and with each moment, the tension only heightened. Trent's hands roamed possessively, his touch a promise, while his lips moved with a hunger that left you breathless. In that room, with the door shut and the world outside, it was as if nothing else mattered but you and him, and the weight of everything you both had kept hidden. He pushed you up against the wall. You felt the hard plane of his chest against your soft tits, and your nipples immediately pebbled, betraying your desire. His hands were on your waist, and you could feel his breath on your neck as he nuzzled your scent. "T," you moaned, your eyes closing as you leaned back against the wall, offering yourself to him. He growled low in his throat, a sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then his mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting, marking you as his. You whimpered, your hands gripping his hair, encouraging him, wanting more.

"I've want you, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. "Want to know what you taste like, feel like, everywhere." His hands moved up your body, cupping your tits, thumbing your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Take it off," you pleaded. "Please, Trent." You actually felt like you might have a heart attack, you just were so shocked his hands were actually on you. Finally, Your heart was beating so fast. His response was to pull your shirt over your head with an ease you didn’t know possible. He stepped back to admire the view, your full boobs spilling out of your lace bra, and then he sank in front of you, taking one hard peak and then the other into his hot mouth. You cried out, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him to you as he sucked and nipped, his hands squeezing and kneading your soft flesh. You could feel your pussy getting wet, could feel the juices running down your thigh, and you knew he could smell your arousal.

“Shhh, baby," he said, looking up at you with dark, heated eyes. "Gotta be quiet if you want me to keep going.” He cooed gently. He was so in control and you were so… not. You nodded but then his mouth trailed down your stomach, licking and kissing a path down to the waistband of your shorts. Being quiet was starting to feel like and impossible task. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and tugged, slowly stripping you, his eyes never leaving yours. You stepped out of your biker shorts and kicked them away, now dressed only in your bra and panties. "So fucking gorgeous," he growled, his eyes roaming over your body. "Been wanting to see you like this for so fucking long, just for me to see." He stood then, and you could see the bulge in his pants, could see how much he wanted you. You reached for him, needing to feel his hard length in your hand. He moaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, gently.

"You like when I touch you?" you asked, your voice a whisper. It was teasing but it was also a genuine question. You two had never done this before. You felt like you were on another planet. It almost didn't make sense

"Fuck, yeah," he hissed, his hips bucking into your hand. "But I want to feel your mouth. I want you to be a good girl f’me tonight. Can you do that f’me?" He asked and you nodded. You didn't need to be told twice. You sank to your knees in front of him, your eyes never leaving his, and then you took him into your mouth, sucking and teasing, your tongue flicking over the sensitive head of his cock. He tasted his pre cum and it had you wanting more. You moaned as you took him deeper, your hands cupping his heavy balls. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you but not forcing you. "Good girl. Suck my cock. Just like that" A part of Trent was confused that those words flowed out of his mouth so easily to you… to Jack’s little sister but he couldn’t stop them, he couldn’t not twitch at the way your tongue felt on him. This was everything he wanted. You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke, your free hand wrapping around the base of his shaft, stroking and twisting as you sucked. You could feel his thighs trembling, knew he was close, and you wanted to taste him. After a while, Trent couldn’t manage any longer. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck baby, gonna make me cum," he warned, his voice tight with need. You sucked harder, faster, and with a muted roar, he came, flooding your mouth with his hot cum. You swallowed it all, moaning with pleasure as you milked him dry, your hands and mouth gentle as he rode out his orgasm. Slowly, he helped you to your feet, his eyes burning with desire, and then he kissed you, deep and hard, his tongue dueling with yours as he claimed your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you hungrier for more. Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and carried you to the bed. He laid you on the mattress, crawling over you, his lips and tongue trailing down your body. He pushed your bra up, baring your tits, and took a nipple into his hot mouth, sucking and biting as his fingers pinched and pulled the other peak. You moaned and arched your back, your hands grabbing his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh. He suckled you like a man starving, his hands roaming over your body, squeezing and caressing, learning every inch of you.

"Please," you whimpered, your need building. "Trent, I need—" He cut you off by tugging your panties down your legs and settling between your thighs.

"I know what you need." He hooked your legs over his shoulders and blew a hot breath over your wet center, making you shiver in anticipation. "God, you're so fucking wet f'me," he groaned, his tongue dipping into your slit and tasting your essence. His mouth was magic, his tongue probing and flicking your clit, licking and sucking your juices, delving into your hole and fucking you with his tongue. You moaned and writhed beneath him, your hands gripping the bed sheets as he ate you like he'd never be allowed to taste you again.

"T please," you begged, your body tightening, coiling like a spring. "I'm close, so close." You whined. He hummed against your clit, sending vibrations through your sensitive flesh, and that was all it took. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as you came, your pussy clenching and releasing around his probing tongue.

"Good girl." He murmured against you. Slowly, he let you down, kissing and licking his way back up your body, and then he was beside you, pulling you into his arms, your heads pillowed on his broad chest. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest, could feel his heavy cock pressed against your thigh. "Oh my fucking god" you whispered, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. You felt dizzy form the best orgasm of your life and the fact that you were naked in front of Jack’s best friend.

"You don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, baby." He told you and you hummed, unable to get anything more concrete out. “Not done with you.” He growled, his hands skimming down your back to cup your bare ass. "I want to feel that tight pussy around my cock." You shivered at his words, a bolt of need shooting straight to your core.

"Please, T," you begged, your voice thick with need. "I want you inside me." You begged. He rolled you onto your back and positioned himself between your thighs, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slippery slit. You whimpered, spreading your legs wider, cradling his balls with your thighs, urging him on.

"Condom," you whispered, your eyes searching his. With a nod, he rolled onto his back, giving you access to check the nightstand drawer, praying something would be in there. You scrambled out of bed and retrieved a condom, your naked body on full display. You’d think about why there were some in the room to begin with later because right now you weren’t complaining. He growled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your curves appreciatively. Back in bed, you sheathed him in latex, your hands stroking and petting, enjoying the weight and length of him in your hand.

"Come here... right now," he commanded you, his voice rough with need. Crawling onto the bed, you straddled his hips, positioning yourself over him. Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch, filling yourself with his thick cock. "Just like that. Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his eyes rolling back as you took him all the way to the hilt. “Good girl.” You moaned, biting your lip as you adjusted to his size, your inner muscles clenching around him. Slowly, you started to move, rising up and sinking back down, riding him with slow, deep strokes. Your tits bounced with each movement, your hard nipples rubbing against his chest. Trent's hands came up to cup your tits, massaging and squeezing as your hips worked, your bodies slapping together in a lewd, wet rhythm. "Always wanted to fuck you, baby," he confessed, his eyes burning into yours. "Been wanting this for so long."

"Shit, shit -Me too - shit - so fucking long," you admitted, your head falling back as the pleasure built. You didn’t know it was possibly for sex to feel so good. Something so wrong but so right about this. "Oh, T… Fuck this feels so good. Fuck, this is so good." You quickened your pace, riding him faster, harder, your juices flowing freely as your body worked towards another climax. Trent's hands moved down your body, one squeezing your breast, the other rubbing your swollen clit in time with your hips. This was so forbidden and it was making it all the hotter.

"Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice thick with his own need. "Cum on my cock. Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum.” His words sent you over the edge, and you cried out, your body shaking as you came around him, your pussy milking his cock. You’d never heard Trent talk like this and it had your brain short circuiting and evidently your pussy clenching tighter. With a groan, Trent joined you, filling the condom with his release, his hips bucking up to meet your downward strokes. Spent, you collapsed on top of him, your breath ragged, your heart racing. He held you tightly, kissing your sweaty forehead, stroking your hair, your bodies still joined. Hi hands stroking over your sore muscles.

"That was—" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth, tasting of you.

"Not nearly enough, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark and full of promise. "Not nearly." He rolled you over and you giggled as you made out with him, your arm awkwardly reaching to the bedside table again tapping around until your hand found another condom. “You don't fucking understand how long I’ve wanted you. I need more of you.” Trent told you kissing your neck as your arched into him, helping him put on another condom.

“I've needed this forever, I need more, T. I need you." You answered him with a whine. He hummed in agreement but bit down onto your sensitive skin. You moaned loving every second of this, the fear and risk of it all faded and covered up by the passion and pleasure. You needed more of him and so Trent gave you more. He fucked you again and again till you ran down to the last spare condom. You had orgasm you didn't know were possible; earth shattering, squirting, convulsing, life changing.

“I’m the only one that gets to make you cum like this.” He whispered against your skin slick and shiny after what you would consider a workout. Your pussy sore and throbbing from orgasm after orgasm.

“You’re the only one who ever has.” You breathily giggled. The night’s darkness wrapped around you as you laid tangled with Trent, still basking in the warmth of each other's presence. You shifted slightly, and he caught your gaze, smirking with that signature confidence. "T… this was…I’ve never cum like that before in my life," you admitted, half laughing, half in disbelief at yourself for even saying it. The smirk that grew on Trent’s face was so obnoxious and so handsome you couldn’t believe it. "Oh god, l've fed the beast, haven’t I?" you sighed, trying to downplay the flattery you'd just given him.

"Nah, nah, just tell me it was the best sex of your life, it’s fine," he laughed, clearly amused.

"Stop!" you swatted playfully at his bare chest, cheeks warm from both laughter and lingering shyness. He pulled you in closer, his arms wrapping around you with ease.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice softer now. "I'm kidding. Just want to make you to feel good, baby. I’m glad I was able to." He kissed the top of your head and then said, "I'll tell you something, how about that...”

"Hm?" You looked up, curious.

"Never came that hard in my life. That head? The first time I came inside? Fucking hell, baby. Fighting for me life,” he confessed with a low chuckle, eyes softening as he looked down at you.

"Really?" you asked, the innocence in your tone betraying just how surprised you were.

"Y/N, you've been flirting with me for 10 years," he laughed, shaking his head as if the entire situation was surreal even to him. "I was dying." You giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"I thought you lasted a long time… longer than I thought you might.” You giggled.

"Oh, well I'm glad you think that." He grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. You gave him a playful smile, nudging his shoulder.

"A very valiant effort." You smiled. He raised an eyebrow, leaning in close.

"Mm, so best sex of your life?" He teased. But the thing was… it probably was true.

"Shut up!" You laughed, burying your face into the pillow. But then, after a beat, you nodded. "But yeah was top." You laid draped over him, feeling his warmth seep into you as your heart started to slow.

“Yeah, Top.” He concurred quietly. You shifted a little, clearing your throat.

"I guess I should..." you began, feeling a slight wave of shyness creep back in.

"Nah, Y/N…" Trent's voice was soft but firm, a small smile tugging at his lips as he pulled you closer. "Stay here with me for a bit. I don’t want… just stay. Gotta make sure you're good after all that.” A smile spread across your face as you nuzzled into him, settling comfortably against his chest. You knew it’d be a bad idea to sleep in the room, making the risk of getting caught much larger but leaving so soon felt weird. Trent could sense that tension. It was… awkward in the logistics but not in the feelings blooming.

"Okay," you murmured, letting yourself sink into the moment. You felt so comfortable with him but it was also simultaneously terrifying. Both emotions coexisting and fighting for the top spot.

"Such a good girl f'me," he muttered, his fingers tracing light circles on your back. The comment made your heart skip a beat, though you tried to brush it off. In any other situation you wouldn’t have batted an eye but now in post nut clarity you were almost shocked hearing that come out of his mouth again.

"You can't call me that anymore," you said with a giggle, feeling a little flustered, though it was hard to deny how much you liked it.

"What?" he laughed, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Baby, we're in bed. I think we've crossed a few lines here."

"Yeah, but it's..." you trailed off, trying to come up with a reason, but the words slipped away as he looked at you.

"C'mon. You were so good f'me, taking my cock," he teased, the smirk on his lips both infuriating and irresistibly charming. The memory of the way his hands had explored you, how he knew exactly how to make you fall apart, sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed, feeling your muscles tense as you tried to come up with a retort, but before you could say anything, he brought a finger to your lips. "Shhh," he murmured, "you like being a good girl for me. It's okay. Just lay here.” And so you took his finger in your mouth teasingly. He had you and he had you acting like a complete mess for the dick he just gave you. The way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded and full of a quiet, possessive affection, made your pulse quicken. And as you lay there, the weight of what had just happened settled around you. It was a dangerous game you were playing, but at that moment, wrapped in Trent's arms, it felt like the only place you wanted to be. You fell asleep like that tangled with him. It was the best sleep of your life. Your body sore but you’d never felt more alive.

“Shit…” you mumbled as the soft morning light filtered through the guest room curtains, casting a faint glow over you and Trent as you woke, wrapped in each other’s arms. You were still half-asleep, but the weight of the situation hit you all at once—the fact that you were cuddling with Trent in your house while your brother, Jack, was likely just upstairs, god, you prayed not downstairs yet. Panic fluttered in your chest as you glanced at the clock on your phone. “I have to go,” you whispered, trying to sound casual, but the urgency in your voice betrayed you.

“Nah.” Trent’s response was a lazy, contented hum as he buried his face into your neck, pressing a kiss against your skin. It was so bad how good that felt.

“I have to go soon,” you corrected yourself, trying to wriggle free, but Trent’s arms only tightened around you.

“Definitely not soon,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your collarbone. You laughed softly, even though your heart was racing.

“What? Do you have some sort of death wish? Jack would kill us both if he found out.” Trent grinned, his hands gently caressing your back under the covers.

“At least we’d die together.” He cooed. You tilted your head to look at him, surprised by how calm he was.

“You’d really risk it? For a cuddle?” His brow furrowed slightly, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Mmm.” He hummed with a sleepy raspiness.

“You never struck me as a cuddle person.” You smiled letting your hands run over his arm skin.

“What are you on about? I’ve cuddled with you before.” He smirked knowing very well this was a radically different type of cuddle. You were naked.

“Yeah, but that was… innocent, right?” You asked, suddenly unsure. Everything felt different now—charged with the weight of what had happened between you.

“Was it really though?” Trent smirked, raising an eyebrow. Your eyes widened as your stomach did a little flip.

“I don’t know!” you yelped, your voice half a laugh, half a nervous squeak. He shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully. He said your name slowly, and your pulse quickened as he locked eyes with you. The conversation shifted from what you were doing now to talking about what you had been doing before.

“Come on. I always cuddle with you because it felt right. I feel like we have a good time, I like spending time with you, and…” He hesitated for a second before continuing, his voice dropping lower. “I didn’t exactly mind if it led somewhere.” Your breath caught in your throat at the openness of his words. His hands continued to trace soft patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel your cheeks warming, and you looked away shyly.

“I don’t mind any of those reasons,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Good,” Trent whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, pulling you even closer. Giving in to the temptation, you let your fingers continue their slow, teasing dance across Trent's chest, savoring the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. His breath hitched as you traced over every ridge of muscle, and you could feel his body heat rising with each delicate stroke. "Alright. Stopppp," Trent groaned, his voice low and husky, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away. His head fell back against the pillow, a helpless laugh escaping his lips. "You always do this. You’re turning me on. Stop!" He whined complaining in typical Trent fashion.

"Do what?" you teased, feigning innocence but unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. He shook his head, glancing down at you with a mix of frustration and affection in his eyes.

"This. The nails, the way you touch me, like you don't know exactly what it does to me. You drag your nails over me in specific spots you know will get me thinking. You do this everytime we just chill or like even if we’re taking photos! You’re such a tease!” He accused you, his voice trailing off, his hands slipping beneath the blankets to rest on your hips, fingers tightening just slightly. "You're always teasing me.” He smirked. Your manicure pulling across his skin. Your smile widened teasingly, dragging your nails across his chest again, but slower this time, more deliberate. Trent's groan was deep, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. “Ohhh so you know you’re doing this? Wow I see. Innocent cuddles such bullshit from you as well.” He laughed, shaking his head. His hand on you slipped higher, skimming your waist. His touch was possessive, warm, and the way his fingers brushed your skin set your pulse racing. He let out a breath, as if trying to compose himself, but you could see the effect you had on him. "You're not as innocent as you pretend to be," he said, tilting his head to look at you more seriously, his lips twitching with amusement. "You know exactly what you're doing." You giggled, leaning into his chest, feeling your cheeks warm as you tried to keep your composure.

"Okay, maybe I do a little," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"A little?" He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing.

“Don’t make it out like I’ve had some long game plan,” you giggled, though your heart was racing at how close you were, how his hands were pulling you closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. Trent's gaze softened, his hand still resting on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. His voice dropped, more serious now.

“No? “He inquired with a raised brow and a smirk You swallowed, heart pounding.

"No, maybe just hope.” You shyly told him, glancing up at him. His smirk faded into something softer as he shifted slightly, turning more toward you.

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with a kind of gentle curiosity, his hand sliding higher up your side, his touch now more comforting than teasing. "I'm glad you did.” The weight of his words hung between you, unspoken but understood, and suddenly, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment-his warmth, his touch, his eyes locked on yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You both just lay there, wrapped up in each other, the blanket pulled tight around you as if creating your own little bubble of warmth and secrecy. Trent's fingers brushed over your skin again, a slow, deliberate touch that made your breath catch. You shifted slightly, letting your fingers continue their teasing exploration of his chest.

"You know," you whispered, leaning in closer until your lips brushed the curve of his ear, "I didn't mean to drive you crazy." Trent chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck as he tilted his head toward you.

"You did a pretty good job of it anyway," he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. "And you're still doing it." You hummed in response, your lips curving into a smile as you let your nails rake over him again, watching his eyes flutter shut.

"Is it really all that bad?" you whispered, your voice playful but with a hint of challenge. His eyes flicked open, locking onto yours, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you again.

"It's bad because I can't think about anything else," he said, his voice rough with desire. "You've been driving me mad for a long time." The tension between you was thick, but instead of pulling away, Trent's hands slid back to your hips, gripping you just a little tighter. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, but not quite closing the distance.

"Is that so?" you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest as you tilted your head, letting your lips hover just over his. You wanted him to close the gap, to take what he'd been holding back, but you also wanted to savor the moment, to stretch it out just a little longer.

"Yeah," he whispered back, his breath hot on your lips, his hands tugging you even closer under the blanket. "You're not going anywhere." He cooed. You grinned, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you tilted your head, lips barely grazing his.

"Not yet," you whispered back, enjoying the game, the push and pull between you two. Trent's eyes darkened with desire, his grip tightening on you as he leaned in just enough for your lips to finally touch in a slow, searing kiss that made every nerve in your body ignite. His hand tangled in your hair as the kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into him, every playful tease forgotten as his lips claimed yours. The worry of Jack finding you almost disintegrating entirely by Trent’s lips on yours.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 4 xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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honeyhotteoks · 4 hours ago

Text

an innocent man doesn't stand a chance (j.yh)

summary: it's halloween and your boyfriend has a fantasy. he wants to be the masked killer and for you to be the final girl, and he wants you to run.

note: this was written in a feverish haze of ghostface yunho brainrot, you can thank this fanart and this edit for making this one about yunho, but i have to give all credit for the idea to the nsfw audio creator augustinthewinter who's masked hookup audio killed me. also please read the warnings, this one is potentially very triggering.

warnings: ghostface!yunho x final girl!reader, boyfriend!yunho, hard dom!yunho, girlfriend!reader, sub!reader, sadism, masochism, knife play, primal play/chasing, threats of violence, heavy cnc that really looks like noncon because part of the play is that he wants her to struggle and say no BUT there are consent checks explicit throughout, rough sex, fingering, gloves, masks, breath play, impact play, mirrors, finger sucking don't look at me, dry humping, clothed sex, ripping off clothes, size kink, ass play, lots and lots of degredation including use of sl*t/wh*re/fvcktoy/c*cksleeve, yunho is seriously mean in this i'm not kidding, fear, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie, subspace, there's more i'm sure but this one is a doozy. also lots and lots of aftercare!! after a scene like this i had to write detailed aftercare and confirmation of limits, so that's there too! yunho is v sweet when not in the zone.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: smut and more smut, no plot in sight

word count: 7.9k

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The house bumping with music and every corner decorated for Halloween. You’re late enough that you can just slip in through the back door, and that was the plan from the start. Yunho arrived first, nearly two hours ago, and made excuses for why you were late, for how you might not even make it to the party. No one would see either of you come or go together, so when you both disappeared to play your game no one would ever know. You had come up with the plan in bed, whispered fantasies and what-ifs between the sheets as he rewarded your willingness to try something new with his tongue.

His fantasy is special, and to do it right you can really only do it on Halloween night.

You weave through a throng of drunk acquaintances, searching the crowd for him, but it’s not as easy to find him as you thought it would be. You’re not sure how a six foot something Ghostface killer could hide from you in the crowd of your friend’s house party, but no matter how many rooms you check you can’t see him. Nervousness pits inside you as you check your phone and see nothing. He could be caught up with friends, he could be changing his mind, but you can’t tell if you can’t find him.

Adjusting your very 90s costume, you dart away from the kitchen where a group of your girlfriends are pouring shots and weave your way into the back of the house. Maybe you can call him? Text him? Would that completely ruin the mood of psycho killer stalking? Maybe, but it’s been forty-five minutes and you haven’t so much as seen a sliver of his mask.

You flick through your phone, checking for any new messages, and then scroll to find Yunho’s contact card in your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button as you lean against the quiet hallway wall, and then in your peripheral vision you see it.

A dart of black, something looming, and when you finally turn your head, you see him. Ghostface, standing wide and imposing in the hall, blocking any way past him and back out into the party.

“Spooky,” You sigh, tucking your phone away.

Silently, Ghostface nods his head.

The hair on the back of your arms stands up. This is it.

“What? Are you looking for the bathroom or something?” You take a step or two towards him, leaning into the character you dressed for.

He shakes his head.

“Looking for me?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

Slowly, he nods.

“Mm,” You raise a brow at him, “what’s the line from that movie? You wanna play psycho killer?”

His head tilts slightly to the side and he nods once again.

“And who do I play?”

He takes a step towards you and you fade back.

Fear starts to spread through you, even with it all being pretend, you can’t fight the feeling that your subconscious drums up in your gut.

He takes another step, and then another, and then you’re running.

Spinning on your heel you push deeper into the house, away from the party and towards a line of doors down the hall. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, your stomach a bundle of nervous trembling knots, and your hands are so slick with sweat you can barely grab the door handle of the basement. It’s not as easy to run as it looks in the movies, especially not in a tight skirt and penny loafers, and you skid down the basement stairs taking them two at a time until you slip forwards and crash down onto your hands and knees.

You don’t have time to assess the sudden sharp pain as the skin of your palm drags over the concrete floor though, so you scramble up in a flash and in a panic you weave your way deeper into the basement.

It’s familiar enough to you, your best friend’s parent’s place. You know there’s a tiny half bathroom in the far back corner, a rarely used guest bed against one wall as you descend the stairs, a collection of old video games and movies, and then around the corner to the left more and more basement, more storage, more dusty nooks and crannies to hide. You’re frozen for a split second, trying to decide the best place to go where he won’t find you, but heavy footfalls on the stairs ring in your ears like drum beats and you don’t have time to weigh your options.

You take off towards the bathroom, fumbling with the door again when you reach it.

The masked man behind you doesn’t say anything, but you hear him moving. His feet are sure and quick, the heavy fabric of his robes making a whooshing sound as he darts forwards to try and close the space between your bodies.

A panicked sound leaves your mouth as you tumble into the sink, clocking your hip hard on the porcelain and bracing yourself on the wall. Turning you reach back for the door, if you just get it latched maybe you can give yourself a second to think, to shimmy out of the very small, high set window. Pushing yourself into action you grab the door, he’s so close you can hear his breath, seconds away. Seconds away.

The door stops abruptly as you throw your body against it, six inches from closing. You push again, but it doesn’t budge, and when you look down it’s clear you’ve lost this game. His heavy black boot is firmly set in the door’s path, and you know there’s no chance for escape.

He crowds you instantly, leaving you no time to recover, his body pushing into the cramped space of the bathroom and flinging the door backwards into the adjacent wall. You stumble into the sink and he moves right up against you, the firm length of his body pinning yours in place.

For a moment everything is still, completely and shudderingly still with only the sound of your hitched breathing and thundering heart filling the room. You’re not sure what you should do - beg? Plead? Stay silent and let him do what he wants?

The masked man’s head tilts to the side as if he’s observing you, something you can’t tell through the ghostly plastic of his mask and dead black eyes. You’re trembling for real, hands shaking as they grip the cool porcelain. Ghostface leans into you, one of his gloved hands reaching for your face, a soft brush against your chin at first that turns to pressure as his fingers slide up your jaw to push you face to the side. It’s like he’s studying you, his hand slipping lower and dragging down your throat.

Your breath comes faster, stomach tight.

Ghostface closes his hand around your throat and your eyes widen. He holds you like this for a moment, his other hand locking down over your waist and gripping you tight, pinning you in place.

When he squeezes, panic bubbles through your body.

Yunho’s never choked you before. He’s never even suggested it, despite all your little jokes about how nice his hands would look around your neck. It seemed pretty clear to you that within the bounds of your relationship that was one thing he just wasn’t interested in, but whoever has you in the bathroom knows exactly how to hold your throat and where to press. Part of the fun is not knowing who’s beneath the mask, but your body still locks up, and an anxious voice inside you starts to wonder - what if? It’s not as if Ghostface is that rare of a costume choice, you see dozens of them on the street every year. It’s not inconceivable to think that at this party there would be more than one.

Your heart beats in fluttering fits and starts in your ribcage as your mind turns over this possibility, and then he squeezes. The fight comes back into you full force when you hear him sigh, his hand tightening even more and cutting off your airway. You wriggle in his arms, pushing against his chest and trying to use your hips for leverage, a startled whine ripping from your throat, but fear laces through your body as you shove against him and realize just how immovable he is.

Ghostface releases your throat, the same gloved hand slipping into the back of your hair to hold you steady.

“No!” The word tumbles out of your mouth as soon as you can properly make noise again.

He crowds you more, masked face dipping by your ear, “Shh, shh,”

You freeze.

“Safe word?” Yunho’s voice is a balm in your moment of sudden panic, his tone low and hushed.

“T-treasure,” You manage it, the realization coming back into your body that this isn’t a total and complete stranger, it’s still him. Your fear starts to melt into anticipation.

He gives you a squeeze, just one gentle pulse with his hand on your hip to communicate that he’s heard you, “Color?”

You take a second to assess yourself. This game is intense in a way that you’ve never experienced. Yunho had tried to tell you how your body might react to this kind of manufactured fear, how it would play tricks on you, how even if you knew it was him your body would still have the urge to fight and flee. You knew it, but you didn’t really understand it until this moment.

Yunho’s gloved thumb drags lovingly over your cheek for just a moment, “Color?”

If he has to ask you a third time he’ll end the scene, you know he will, but the brief flicker of tenderness in his touch reminds you of everything you already know about him. He has you. You’re safe. This is a game.

“Green,” You finally answer, “I’m green,”

One more quick pulse to your hip, he’s heard you again. More than that, he’s pleased with you.

His shoulders straighten as he draws to his full height, his body filling the space of the tiny bathroom and caging you in. You swallow tightly, audible in your ears and then he moves fast.

His hands around your waist, lifting you up and then shoving you back until you’re sitting on the lip of the porcelain sink, uncomfortably balanced and pushed back flush to the mirrored wall behind you. You yelp when he moves you, hands scrambling for purchase on something, gripping the sleeve of his black cape in desperation. Fear and anticipation pulse through you, but he doesn’t give you a rest to get your bearings.

He shoves your legs open wide and slots between your thighs and shoves your face to the side until your cheek is squished against the cold mirror, his hand a controlling brace from your jaw to the crown of your head.

“You look so pretty running from me,” He strokes your face, but this time it’s not loving, it's possessive, it’s pure control.

You grip the edge of the sink and whimper.

“Should we play a little game?” He teases, “It’s Halloween, you must like scary movies,”

Your breath quickens, “Y-yeah,”

He drops his voice low, in a mimic of the movie, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You’ve heard Yunho do that voice before, lazing on the couch last October when you had yourselves a movie marathon, the day he realized something about your favorite scary movie that turned you on, the day you called him out for being hard during a kill scene. It took a year for you both to work up the courage to actually act on any of those fantasies, but here and now with his mask on and his voice low, you feel that mix of terror and arousal bleeding through your body in a way only he can elicit from you.

You can’t help the little smile that passes over your lips, “Scream,”

“Meta,” He teases, pinching you hard on the thigh, “for every question you get wrong, I’m taking something off you,”

You swallow hard again.

He reaches into his black robes and then you see it, shining in the reflection of the mirror and in your hazy peripheral vision. The glint of a real knife is unmistakable, the cool sharp edge of the steel crystal clear and you can’t stop the actual fear that jolts through you. You jerk in his hold, instinct driving you for a split second, and he pushes your face harder into the mirror.

“Tch,” He makes a disappointed noise with his tongue against his teeth, “the game’s no fun if you don’t play.”

He won’t hurt you, at least not in ways you don’t already like. You have to trust that.

Settling yourself with a slow breath you summon the act he wants, find the fear within yourself and let it inform your words to give him what he wants.

“Please, don’t,” You’re trembling is real, that you know.

He shifts between your legs, drawing the knife closer, shifting it in his hand so he simply presses the cool flat side of the blade against one of your nipples. You hiss at the sensation, tightness building in your gut.

“First question,” He drags the knife a little over your nipple, “What movie franchise is Jason from?”

It’s an actual quiz, of course it is. At least he’s starting off easy.

“Friday the Thirteenth,” You reply fast.

“Correct,” He lifts the knife, and with the blade pointed away from you, he pushes up your tight tshirt until it’s bunched above your breasts.

“I got that right,” You glance down at the way he’s touching you, breaking his own rules already.

“Just getting a better view,” He insists, and then the cool knife is against your nipple again, only the thin fabric of your bralette between skin and steel.

Your body is aching in this position, but you can feel the heat off his body, and the heady tone of his voice from under the mask still has you starting to ache in different places.

“Let’s make this a little harder,” He taps the knife against you and you shiver, “what movie has a group of teenagers being stalked on an island by a killer fisherman?”

“It’s,” You start to answer but he taps the knife again and you jolt, “fuck, it’s I Know What You Did Last Summer,”

You watched it with him two weeks ago. You remember it, clear as day.

“Wrong,” The knife twists, the tip gently skating over the swell of your breast.

“Wait,” You start but he tips the knife under the center of your bra.

“I Still Know What You Did Last Summer,” He clarifies the sequel, “they weren’t on an island in the first movie. I thought you liked scary movies,”

“I,” You press back into the wall as the knife edge kisses your skin, “I… I do,”

“You’re not very good at this,” He twists the knife and drags the sharp edge out so that it severs your thin bra in half, falling open and revealing your breasts to his wandering eyes.

A little gasping sound leaves your lips, a desperate noise you try to bite back, but he hears it.

He hums a soft, amused laugh and suddenly the knife is gone, sheathed and away and he leans into your space again, “You fucking like this, don’t you?”

“No,” You insist, despite the way your stomach is in tight knots.

“Did running away get you hot?” His gloved hand skims over your exposed body, “Do psycho killers make you wet?”

“Fuck,” You whine, “no, no,”

“Liar,” He whispers, and then he delivers a pointed slap to your thigh, “spread.”

Your legs widen instinctively at his command, but he doesn’t reward you or praise you like he normally would, this is different. He reaches under the hem of your taut mini skirt, finding the apex of your thighs, and his fingers gently rub up and down from the base of your slit to your clit. A tiny gasp bubbles out of your throat.

“Are you afraid?” He all but growls.

Your stomach flips and his hand tightens in your hair, “Y-yes,”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” He finds the edge of your panties and drags them to one side.

“I don’t want it,” You answer him, body shaking now.

“Tell me to stop,” One gloved finger presses into your entrance, the softness of the leather and the warmth of his skin beneath it making you tremble.

“Stop,” You beg, “please, please, stop,”

“Why would I?” He slowly pushes inside, stretching you around his finger, “When I know how wet being fucked by a stranger in a mask makes you,”

A tense thready sound pulls from your throat as he adds a second finger.

“If you don’t want this,” He pulses his hand once, forcing both fingers deep into your slick channel, “why are you panting like a dog in heat?”

“N-no,”

“If you don’t want it,” He whispers, “don’t come.”

Your eyes shut as his hand starts moving, a steady pulse of his gloved fingers inside your aching cunt, curled just right in the way he knows gets you off fast. A pumping drag against your g-spot, the sound of his heavy breath, the unmistakable sensation of your own wetness making a mess between your thighs.

“Looks like you want it to me,” He adds the circle of his thumb against your clit and you jerk in his hold.

“Stop, fuck,” Your nails dig into his forearm.

“You don’t want me touching you, but you’re soaking my fingers,”

“N..No, no,” You babble, heat pooling in your gut.

“Fight it,” He pumps his fingers faster, drumming against your sweet spot, “don’t come,”

You hiss sharply, pleasure dropping low in your belly, the sensation of his gloves and his hot hand too much to bear.

“Moaning like you want it,” He laughs, pulling his hand suddenly out from under your skirt and yanking your head back to center.

You yelp at the position change and the sudden lack of contact but he doesn’t make you wait for long.

“Open,” He smacks your cheek lightly.

Your mouth falls open and he shoves both gloved fingers between your lips. You choke against the suddenness, at the way he presses down on your tongue, blinking to clear the haze from your eyes.

“Suck.”

You shiver, your lips closing over his digits, the sharp taste of leather mixed with your fluids assaulting your senses and you can’t fight the moan, the way your eyes drift shut as you swirl your tongue.

He hums, pleased, “Does it hurt?” He asks.

His question doesn’t make sense, and you blink your eyes back open to look up at the cool passiveness of his ghostly mask.

“Pretending you’re not a whore?” He clarifies and your mouth stills over his fingers. He pulls them out, delivering one more pointed slap to your cheek, and dives back down to plunge them back into your aching cunt, “Moaning like that, your nipples rock hard, and this pussy,”

You choke, a bubble building in your core as he abuses your slick channel again.

“Clenching around my fingers, sucking me in,” He chuckles, “I can feel you, baby,”

“Fuck, fuck,”

“Hold back,” He doubles his efforts between your thighs and you keen, “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop, don’t come,”

“Stop!” You whine, giving him exactly what he wants, “Please, please,”

“No,” His thumb rubs fast, his hand practiced at making you fall apart at the seams, “you come, you keep your eyes open, and you come all over my fucking hand,”

Your breath is fast, heart pounding, and you feel the cord tightening in your belly in a way that makes you want to rub yourself back up into his touch but he has you pinned, stuck, at his mercy just like he wants.

“Come,” His voice is clear, authoritative, and familiar. Like a trained response, your body releases and cracks open into a desperate orgasm, crumbling in his hands as you pitch forward onto his shoulder and grind your hips down to take the last little bit of what you need from his fingers.

When his hand stills, you realize you’re still clinging to him and you jerk back, one hand over your mouth as you try to recover your breath.

He steps back, his hands sliding off you and body slotting out from your thighs. You can’t see Yunho beneath the mask, but you know he’s looking. You can feel his hot gaze sliding over your body and taking in every wet and shaking inch of you. Your body is throbbing with need, but the game isn’t done, he hasn’t even made you touch his cock yet, and you know there’s no way you’re making it out of this basement without that.

“Tell me again how you don’t like it,” He finally says.

You shiver.

“Cat got your slutty little tongue?” He prompts you again, voice hardening.

You swallow hard, finding your words, “I didn’t like it,”

“Mhm,”

“I d-don’t want you to touch me,” You lie.

“Yeah?” He teases, “Well then run,”

“W-what?” Your eyes flick up to the impassive plastic of his mask.

“If you didn’t like it, why are you still sitting there?” He takes a step to the side, clearing your path to the door and you slide off the edge of the sink, your loafers making a click onto the tile floor.

You swallow hard, eyes darting out to the rest of the basement.

“Come on,” He teases, and you can hear the sick smile in his voice, “try to get away,”

You look between him and the room ahead of you again.

He leans forward and you shiver, his gaunt stretched mouth at your ear again, “I can’t fuck you if I can’t catch you,” his gloved fingers yank your top down over your exposed breasts and he chuckles, “better run fast.”

You spring forwards, adrenaline pumping through your body and blood rushing in your ears. Leaping out of the bathroom he gives you a couple steps to get a head start, but he’s so much bigger than you, his stride so much longer, and he closes the distance with ease as you scramble in mock terror to get to the steps.

Yunho’s arms close around you, hauling you up off your feet and against his chest, his touch rough and probing as he drags you up into the air.

“No!” You shriek, “Fuck!”

“You think I’d really let you go?” He laughs, “After that?”

“Fuck you!” The words bubble up out of your mouth.

“That’s the idea,” His hand slides down your belly, closing over your cunt and cupping you tightly.

Your body is reacting before your mind, and you jerk in his hold, kicking back your leg and catching him in the shin with the flat heel of your shoe.

He groans and wrenches you higher in the air, “Keep struggling,” he pants, “I like it,”

You twist again, trying to free one of your arms, but he has them pinned tightly to your body, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Not a fucking chance,” He takes two wide steps to the mattress and then tosses you down.

You collapse onto the bed, the old and rarely used springs creaking under your weight, and your scramble forwards in some kind of an attempt to get your bearings, but he’s on you just as fast. He yanks you back with a hand around your ankle and in a flash he’s on top of you.

He presses one hand firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned face down to the bed, and then his body weight drops down as he straddles the backs of your thighs. Your hands curl into the bedding beneath you, rough sheets and scratchy camp blankets, nothing soft and soothing to take a moment of comfort in.

His free hand wanders, searching your body slowly. The sound of the party raging upstairs drowns out any competing noise, but you can still hear his heavy breath against the mask and your pounding heart, the sound of anticipation thick in the air around you.

Yunho presses his hips forwards and you feel the thick hard length of his cock through his costume nestled against your backside.

“Look at you,” He palms your ass, “shaking for me,”

A whimper leaves you as his fingers dig into your back.

“Do I scare you, baby?” He delivers a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and you yelp, “Are you fucking terrified?”

Another slap leaves you trembling and you hide your face in the mattress, pressing your eyes shut tight. You love when he touches you like this and he knows it. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from whining, wetness pooling in your core. He wanted you scared, he wanted you fighting, you can’t give in just because his glove on your stinging skin feels like sin.

He groans, his cock pressing down harder to your ass and you feel both his hands slide from your hips up to your back and back down again until he has a grip on your waist.

A whimper slips out from between your lips.

Yunho freezes above you, his thumbs massaging a quick circle into your lower back, “Color?”

“Green!” Your voice is muffled by the bedding but you know he heard it.

He groans, pulsing his hips to rut his cock against you again.

Even between layers of fabric, you can feel the heat of him, throbbing and ready for you. Your mouth waters as you picture it, cockhead leaking precum and Yunho’s familiar hand wrapped around the base as he directs it to your mouth.

“Little slut,” He chuckles and it pulls you straight out of your mental fantasy, “rubbing that ass on a stranger’s cock,”

Your stomach clenches, and you twitch under him.

“That’s fucked up,” He drops his body weight over you, one hand pushing your head to the side as he leans over you, “you’re so fucked up, aren’t you?”

Your breathing is fast, a thready sound in your throat.

“Aren’t you?” His voice is low, a shade away from a growl, and he rocks his hips again to rub his cock against you.

“N-no,” You try to shake your head but his hand tightens against your scalp.

“Liar,” He keeps grinding against you, his free hand snaking underneath your bodies to grope your breast, “I know a needy whore when I see one,”

You moan into the sheets as he tweaks your nipple, tears springing to your eyes as he palms you, taking you apart with every touch.

“Let’s see how you like this,” He pinches your nipple once more and you squeal at the sharp sensation that rockets through your chest, a sharp line down to your clit, and then he slides back and shuffles back to sit up over your thighs.

He pushes the stiff fabric of your mini skirt up over your ass and then you feel the cold metal again.

You jerk underneath him, and he tuts softly, the sharp edge of the weapon gently dragging over the curve of your ass cheek.

“Tell me,” He grips your flesh tightly with one hand, painfully pinching, “do you still like scary movies now that you’re in one?”

You shake your head, a whimper on your lips when the knife slips under the edge of your panties, “P-please, don’t,”

He yanks the knife up and splits one side of your panties with a taut snap of fabric, “Please?” He taunts, “Please?”

You sob softly in response.

“Is ‘please’ all you can say?” He delivers a sharp smack to your exposed ass check and you jerk under him.

“I can’t,” You shake your head into the sheets, “I can’t,”

He sighs, and you feel the knife shred the other side of your underwear and then you hear the sound of the blade clattering to the floor. With both hands free he palms your exposed flesh, squeezing you almost painfully and inspecting your exposed body.

Shivers run through you, and you try to hold yourself still for his touches.

“Which hole should I fuck first, hmm?” His fingers search you, probe you.

Your body locks up tightly, a gasp on your lips. You hadn’t discussed that, and you shake your head.

“Scared?” He ghosts his fingers over your rim.

“Please,” It’s all you can manage.

“Beg me,” He presses down with his thumb, “beg me not to fuck your ass if you’re so scared.”

You scramble in the sheets but he has you stuck, “Please don’t, don’t fuck me like t-that, you’re too big, it’s too,”

He massages one cheek and hums, “What should I do then?”

“What?” You crane to look back at him, at the masked man pinning you down.

“Beg,” He says it like he’s bored, like it’s obvious, “beg me to put it somewhere else, or I will fuck this pretty ass open and make you say thank you.”

Heat floods your belly, your body a sizzling live wire, and you fall right into step with a heady whine, “Please, fuck my pussy,”

“Again,”

“Fuck my pussy, please, I’m begging you,” Your voice sounds needy and strange even to your own ears, “I need it inside me, g-give it to me please, fuck my pussy, please,”

“Better,” His hands disappear into his robed costume and then he pushes forwards, his cock finally free and sliding up and down your slit to find your aching entrance.

“Y-yes,” You drop your head back down to the bed and in one sharp thrust, he pushes his thick length all the way inside you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Yunho groans, bracing himself with one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the bed beside you, the mattress creaking with every shift, “Needy pussy,”

“Fuck,” You moan.

“Greedy,” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, starting to pick up the pace now in earnest, “gripping my fucking cock like that,”

All you can do is hold on, bite down on the sheets and let him use you, focus on the sensation of his impossibly hard cock driving in and out and in and out.

“Are you crying for me? Hmm?” He rolls his hips, the fabric of his costume dragging against you as he fucks into you faster.

Your eyes are wet, pleasured tears bubbling up and you nod, a tiny sob passing through your lips.

“Good cocksleeve,” He presses down harder with his hand on your neck, forcing you lower into the mattress.

Your back arches instinctively, and you whine at the angle change. A few more thrusts and you’ll be done for, you know it.

“That’s it,” He pants, voice muffled by the mask, “come for me,”

“C-close,” The words tumble out.

“Come for me,” He stays steady with his thrusts, pushing your orgasm closer and closer, “come for me, come for me,”

“Ah!” You fist the sheets, legs starting to shake, “Ah, fuck, fuck!”

“Come on this stranger’s fucking cock,” He grunts, shuddering above you, his fingers digging into your skin and no doubt leaving a bouquet of bruises behind.

So close to the edge, just a little more will tip you over, and you whine, “Harder,”

He gasps, forcing his pace to clap harder, deeper, and it only takes two pointed thrusts of his cock into the deepest parts of you to send you careening over the edge.

“Coming,” You twist beneath him, moaning into your fist, “oh, god,”

“Fuck,” He curses as your muscles clench and flutter around him, “fuck, oh fuck,”

Your orgasm has your body locked up and shuddering, but when he pulls free suddenly you gasp into the bedding, “N-no, no, please,”

He yanks off any scrap of clothing you have on with frantic hands and then rolls you in the sheets so that you’re lying on your back spread open for him. You try to form a sentence, to ask what’s happening but suddenly he’s tearing off his mask and the world slows to a stop.

Yunho’s sweaty, flushed pink in the cheeks eyes blown wide with need, his plush lips parted and his chest heaving with labored breaths. In a flash he’s stripping off the costume, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots.

“Come here,” He spreads your thighs wider and presses down over you, his cock finding your entrance with ease as he sheaths himself again in one thrust.

You moan sharply and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he collapses over you.

“Need you,” He pumps his hips, “have to have you,”

Pleasure crackles up your body, “Yours,” you nod, “I’m yours,”

He presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hot and hard, “Fuck,” he groans.

Yunho gathers you closer, your slick bodies now flush together as he rocks into the warm cradle of your hips, “never heard you moan like that,”

Your walls clench around him.

“You wanted me to do this,” He groans between messy kisses, “you wanted to run,”

You nod, lips pressed together.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He pumps into you harder, like he’s desperate to get as deep as possible, “my dirty girl,”

“Oh, fuck,” Your head falls back against the bed, a pleasured moan caught in your throat.

“My little fucking slut,” He groans, tipping your hips open wider, his hands tight on your skin, “so desperate to come on stranger cock,”

You whine sharply, nails digging into his back.

“Say it,” He threads a hand through your hair and tugs your head back up roughly, “say it,”

“Yes!” You whine, “Yes, I-I need it,”

His gaze darkens, the cool mask of your dominant returning, and he slaps your cheek sharply, just enough to give you a pointed sting, “Need what?”

Your brain is soft, fuzzy with pleasure, but the slap focuses you and you blink, “Need to come,” you pant as he thrusts into you, “on a stranger’s cock, need you to… fuck, need you to take it,”

He nods, lips parting open in pleasure, “That’s right,”

Your stomach tightens, pressure dropping low in your belly and you can’t stop feeling the way his cock punches into the deepest parts of you over and over again. Your eyes close tight and you hold onto him, one of your hands slipping up to his neck to tangle into his black hair.

“Oh,” You’re so close, almost there, “Y-Yunho, oh, god,”

His hips thrust forward once more, burying his cock impossibly deep and then he stops. That’s when you realize your critical mistake.

“Is my cock so good you forgot your manners?” He says and your eyes fly open.

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to recover, your head is too mixed up to know what’s up and what’s down and you’ve never played a scene where he’s a stranger before. You’re used to your rules, you’re used to calling him sir or daddy or master, but now you feel unmoored.

“Now you don’t get to come,” He leans back, taking your wrists in his hands and pushing them down flat to the bed.

You know better than to protest, but you’re sure he can feel you shaking.

He drops closer, pinning you open with the weight of his body, his head nudging yours to the side, “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, baby,”

Liquid heat spreads through your body and you shake your head just a little.

“So drunk on cock,” He bites at your ear, “you forgot you don’t want this,”

Your pussy tightens, and you hear him chuckle.

“Filthy,” He maneuvers your arms above your head so that he can close both your wrists together in one of his large hands, “fucked up little fucktoy,”

Your eyes roll back and you fight the urge to move your hips, his words enough to put you on the precipice.

A sharp slap stings over your exposed breast, your nipple hardening even more and Yunho draws his hips back before slamming forwards, driving you deeper into the squeaking mattress. At the painful stretch, the sharp sting inside, you do cry out.

“Does it hurt?” He thrusts again, just as hard.

You struggle under him, a little for play and a little because it does hurt, but you love the way he groans when you please him and you can’t stop, “Y-yes,”

“Too bad,” His hand claps over your mouth and then he starts to fuck you again for real.

Pleasure and pain in equal parts spike through your body, a perfect combination to get you right up to the edge of orgasm, but you know you’re not allowed. You moan into his hot hand, the sound feral and taut, tears gathering in your eyes and slipping down your temples into your hairline.

Yunho slides the hand on your wrists up to clasp your hands together palm to palm, still pinning you to the bed but offering you a line of communication you desperately need in a scene like this. He doesn’t stop, but his eyes find yours in the dim light of the basement and he squeezes your hand once. You squeeze back just once, your silent sign to keep going.

He keeps driving into you, cursing every time you moan and clench around his thick length, the mask of dominance slipping again as he starts to rut into you with artless, needy thrusts. He’s chasing his own pleasure now, with no regard for your own release.

“No one’s coming to help you,” He groans, “you’re mine,”

You can’t hear everything he says, not with your mind spinning so close to a forbidden orgasm and his pants and groans punctuating every few words, but you hear it when he says he’s coming inside you.

Thrusting deep, he spills himself hot in your belly, hips grinding into yours to milk himself dry as he moans into your ear. The bubble of your own pleasure builds with every rock of his body and you whimper into his hand, tears spilling over as you try not to let it take you.

Yunho’s hand pulls away from your mouth and suddenly his fingers are rubbing fast and firm on your swollen clit, his cock still buried deep.

“Ah, n-no, please,” You grip his hand tightly and lock your eyes closed, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, “please,”

“Fuck,” He groans, overstimulated.

You’re going to come, there’s no way to hold back if he’s going to torture you like this and you thrash under him, “I can’t,” you’re sobbing in earnest now, “I can’t hold it,”

“Shit,” He curses sharply, “come, sweetheart, come, I’m so sorry,”

At his permission, your pleasure rips through you, a hot slice of rapture rocketing up your body. Your ears are ringing, black dots over your vision, and your body wrenches up with tight shakes in a way that only a soul shattering orgasm could do. You vaguely hear your own voice, a babbled string of ‘thank-yous’ and sobs, but it feels like someone else. All you know is warmth, and the deliciousness of earned pleasure.

When consciousness starts to creep back in, the first thing you feel is Yunho’s gentle hands on your cheeks. He’s murmuring something, but it takes your mind a second to process, and you blink your eyes open slowly to find his face.

“Hey,” He’s back to soft and warm, your tender lover, “oh, there you are,”

“Mm,” You manage.

He looks you over slowly, warm brown eyes flicking over your skin, “Does anything hurt, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, still boneless and trembling in the scratchy blankets.

“Hmm?” He nudges you, pushing for a verbal response.

“I’m okay,” You respond, but your voice is small.

Yunho, so attuned to you, looks back up and shifts up the bed to meet your eyes, “Feeling floaty?”

“Mm,” You nod, recognizing distantly that the intensity of your play tonight pushed you right into subspace.

“Ah,” He smiles warmly, “come here,”

He gathers you close, arms wrapping around you as he tucks you into his chest and pulls the plaid camp blanket up higher over both of your naked bodies. His skin feels so essential, a necessity like eating or breathing, and you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, stroking your back, “you’re safe, you’re safe with me,”

A heavy breath releases from your chest.

“That’s it,” He kisses your forehead, “breathe with me, relax with me,”

Your muscles release one by one.

“That was just a fantasy,” He soothes you, easing the knotted up feelings in your body with practiced words, “it was just pretend,”

You nod.

“Just pretend,” He murmurs, lips tender against your forehead, “none of that was real, nothing I said. I love you, and I will always keep you safe, sweetheart,”

Your fingers relax, and you realize how firmly you were gripping his arms.

“There you go,” He murmurs, “I’ve got you,”

“Yunho?” You manage, your body feeling heavy once again as you start to center.

He shifts, cupping your cheek as he leans back to get a good look at you, “Right here,”

“H-hey,” You give him a lazy smile.

He nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me where you are?”

“Basement at the party,” You answer.

“Good,” He nods, “now tell me who you’re with?”

“You, Yunho,” You reply, practiced now at the routine he uses to help ground you out of the scene and bring you back into reality.

“Good,” He continues, “tell me three things you can see,”

You glance around the room, “Old playstation, bicycle,” you look back to him, “your necklace,”

He smiles as you touch the silver chain around his neck, “Good,”

You stretch your stiff limbs in his arms and try to snuggle back into his hold but he’s not done yet, especially after a scene that new and that intense.

“Any pain?” His hands slide over your body.

“No,” You assure him, “a little sore, but I feel good,”

He nods, but keeps looking you over anyway. When he turns your hands in his and finds your scratched palms a little line forms between his brows, “What’s this?”

You look down at the red skin, a few shallow cuts here and there, “I fell,”

“Fell?” His brow goes high with alarm, “when?”

“When I was running, I took the stairs too fast,” You tell him honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt, I promise,”

His fingers trace over the broken skin and he nods, “You promised you’d call the scene if you got hurt,”

For how rough this man can be with you, for how many times he’s bruised you and made you bleed, he never fails to surprise you at just how tender and soft he is outside of the bedroom.

“Baby,” You close your fingers over his, “you promised you’d trust me to know my own limits, I’m not hurt, I got a little scrape,”

His lips close as he considers your words and then he nods, leaning in to kiss each of your palms warmly, “I want to disinfect these at home,”

“Okay,” You murmur.

“Anywhere else?”

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head.

“But sore?” He confirms.

“A bit,”

His fingers find your jaw, massaging the muscle there, “When we get home, we’ll run a warm bath. I’ll take care of all your aches, I know I was rough with you,”

You sigh pleasantly, relaxing into the warmth of his hand and he nods, dipping his face towards yours and capturing your mouth in a soft kiss.

“You did so perfect for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice threaded with emotion, “I’m so… is it too lame to say honored? I… you were so amazing, and you trusted me like that and I,”

“Yunho,” You smooth back his hair and pull him closer, “I’m alright,”

His eyes flick over your face, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You give him the clarity he needs to know he didn’t hurt you, “you made me feel very safe, even though I was kind of terrified,”

He stays quiet, like he’s gauging the honesty of your words.

“Even when I was scared,” You lean in, kissing him quickly, “I knew you wouldn’t take it too far, and you checked in with me. I’m okay, I liked it, I love you,”

“You didn’t push yourself too hard for me?” He always worries about that, the double edged sword of a submissive who’s desperate to please.

“No,” You smooth your hand over his cheek, “I liked it alot,”

He nods and snuggles you closer, his fingertips coasting up and down your back softly. He’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting you both come down as easy as you can with thrumming house music upstairs.

“You liked it?” He finally confirms, carding his fingers through your hair.

You nod, “A lot,”

“What I said,” He kisses the top of your head, “during, about you liking it, that was fantasy too, you know that right?”

You’re quiet, taking in his words.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He continues softly, “there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it, all of that was pretend, okay?”

“I know,” You kiss his chest, nodding against his shoulder.

“I love you,” He squeezes you, “you know that too, right?”

You smile, wiggling up in his arms to see his face, “I do,” you kiss him softly, “I love you too,”

He nods and sighs, “I lost my head a little at the end there,” he admits, “I didn’t communicate well when you needed it, I’m sorry about that.”

Your brows knit together in confusion.

“I should have given you permission sooner,” He explains, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I forgot myself in the scene, I didn’t mean to push you so hard.”

“Oh,” You smile, “Yunho, I’m alright,”

“I know you are,” He dips in for a kiss, “but I’m still sorry,”

“Thank you,” You murmur, pressing your lips back to his, staying warm and still and soft in this moment together, “I know you’ll always take care of me,”

He nods, his broad hand brushing down your hair.

“How was the party?” You nudge him a little.

He smiles, “Fine,” he shrugs, “I was too focused on looking for you, I think everyone thinks something’s up with me.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” You laugh.

“Mm,” He nods, “and now I disappeared and we made a mess of this basement,”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you cut my underwear off, how am I supposed to get out of here,”

“I brought backups,” He grins wide, proud of himself for thinking that far ahead.

“You’re a genius,”

“There is a back door out of the basement though, right?” He looks up around the room trying to find one.

“Yeah,” You reach out, pointing around the back corner, “why?”

“It’s extremely obvious that you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life,” He presses a quick kiss on your forehead and stretches next to you, so casual about the way he just rearranged your insides, “and I’m not so sure you’re going to walk straight,”

You laugh sharply and shake your head, “Take me home,”

“Scary movies on the couch?” He squeezes your thigh as he rolls away, searching for his clothes.

You shiver, “Maybe, that might be too close to home,”

Nudging your knee he smiles, “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just a movie.”

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