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the-californicationist · 3 months ago

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The Window (6 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06 // Ch 07

AO3 Link

TW: lactation kink

The house is lonely without your boys, especially when your breasts are so full and achy. If only there was someone home to help you…

You settled into the house almost too quickly. You each had your own space, but the main bedroom was where you all spent most of your time. The bedroom was huge — one of the reasons John had picked this house — and the en suite bathroom could more than accommodate all five of you, if need be. But, when the boys were away, the sprawling, expansive house was… lonely.

They tried to leave you in shifts, but it wasn’t like they were logging hours at a normal job; it was war. War didn’t have a schedule. So, you padded around the house, trying to play some music or keep the television on, but it wasn’t the same. It was just you and… who?

You’d asked the doctor not to tell you the sex of your baby at your ultrasound appointment, and none of the potential fathers had been around to go with you. So, you were in the dark. You’d thought about names, and Johnny had offered a good many family names to keep you busy for a while. But, even though you had plenty to think about and plenty to do – you were still working remote on recon and data tracking – it was just an empty sort of existence.

To make matters worse, you’d hit a bit of a snare. Right at the sixteen week mark, you’d started leaking more than just a little milk. You’d woken up to a wet, messy situation, and you quickly scheduled an appointment. The doctor had taken some time to assure you all was well, but then, not even a week later, you had swollen, painful blockages and you were back in his office, waiting for more news.

“Looks like you just have tiny ducts,” he shrugged, looking at your scans. His hands were dry but chilly as he peeked under your hospital robe to examine your sore nipples, “You may need to express them. I know it may put you at risk of an early labor, but we can monitor you in the meantime. Try to only pump when absolutely necessary.”

So, you’d followed his orders. Once every few days, you pumped out the heavy, engorged globes that used to be B-cups, watching as your nipples filled jar after jar. There was no use in freezing it this early, so down the drain it went.

Now, at week twenty something, you were a walking milk nightmare. You’d never done so many loads of laundry in your life. The embarrassing thing about it though was that you liked it. Just the thought of attaching the plastic suction cup onto your breast was enough to make you slick between your legs, and the act itself was frequently pleasurable enough to send you over a climactic edge. To say that your nipples were sensitive was an understatement. But still, you tried to only do it when need be. You didn’t want to make a mistake.

When the boys came home, you filled them in on all the updates. Johnny was a little sad he’d missed the ultrasound, but it just added fuel to his fire of picking out names. He seemed even more interested in the pain-relieving, pleasure-inducing qualities of your breast pump, though. At dinner, you caught him staring down your shirt more than once when you tried to speak with him, and when you lay together on the couch, his hand was always massaging your swollen flesh, all under the guise of keeping you from getting another painful duct.

But, you knew the truth. His cock had never been so hard as when you started to leak through your top and had to go change, rushing to wash and find your nipple pads. Johnny stalked you into the large bedroom, thumb crooked in the waistband of his pants,

“You alright, bonnie? Need me to help you?”

“No, yeah. I’m okay. Just… dealing with the dairy farm over here,” you said, exasperated.

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, watching you pull out the tubes and machine with all of its parts and cords. His hand fell to your thigh, squeezing you gently,

“Think I could do it instead?”

“You…” You turned to face him, hands still tangled in the pump, making sure you heard him correctly, “You want to try it?”

Johnny adjusted himself in his jeans, his eyes pinned to your cleavage, unable to look away even for decorum’s sake,

“Aye, lass. More than anythin’.”

“Um, sure. I think it’s fine. It all gets thrown out anyway. I’ll get you a towel,” you moved to get up, your belly now at a round enough size to be a hindrance, but he stopped you, pulling you back down roughly.

“Hey —” You protested, but he interrupted you.

“Sit down,” his voice was gravelly and heavily accented, almost like when he was drunk, “Let me…”

“Johnny, wait,” you tried to twist away from his grip, but he was too strong, “It’ll be such a mess. They’re so full right now. Just wait for me to—”

His eyes shot up to yours, pinning you in place, his full lips set in a hungry snarl,

“I dinnae need a towel, bonnie. I’m gonna taste you, messy or not.”

He let his vow sink in, and you could feel yourself melting, literally and figuratively, at his words. You didn’t fight him as he began to kiss you, smearing his mouth all over you, doing his best to shove down your tank top, stuffing the neckline under your tits, fumbling around the back to unhook the clasp of your bra.

“Johnny,” you breathed, your voice giving away the wet rush that was flooding straight to your core, “The laundry…”

“Fuck the laundry. I need to drain you fuckin’ dry. Right now.”

Your whole body responded to that comment. Your skin flushed hot and your sore nipples hardened, eager to experience the way his mouth would feel as he drank from you. You weren’t even sure if he’d know how to draw out your milk.

All of your concerns were cast aside as he settled you in his lap, pulling off your clothes like a much-desired present, tossing your clothes aside like wrapping paper to get to the good part. He fumbled with his jeans, freeing his thick, curved cock from his pants, pumping it roughly to spread his precome over the heavy head.

You helped him, angling your body over his dick and lowering yourself down onto him, as carefully as you could, spearing your pussy with his rod, inch by trembling inch, listening to him try to catch his breath. Once you reached the middle, at the deepest part of his curve, you struggled to fit him the rest of the way in, grinding forward and back, looking for that sweet spot.

Then, impatient and hungry, he finished the job, pulling you down by your hips and forcing himself the rest of the way. It made you cry out from the shock of it. It wasn’t necessarily painful, but his roughness was a stark change from how he had been treating you. When he knew about the baby, he spent a lot of time preparing you, using his mouth to lap at your pussy and prying you apart with his fingers. Always gentle and mindful of your comfort. But, not now. Now, he had his sights set on devouring you in the literal sense of the word.

“Johnny…” You gasped, rocking against his shape tentatively.

“C’mere, lass,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice sharp and commanding.

His eyes were fixated on your dark, round nipples, and as you rode him, grinding yourself down onto his lap, he latched onto your left breast, taking the meat of your peak all the way into his mouth. Then, he began to suck.

You thought it would be gentle and sensual, expecting it to be largely for his pleasure and not effective enough to get the thick, creamy milk out of your poor swollen ducts, but you were wrong. Johnny began to suck and swallow, suck and swallow, suck and swallow; a terrifying, rhythmic feeding, drinking from you like his life depended on it. You peered down at him as he delivered this unknown pleasure to you.

Johnny’s eyes were fluttering closed, the whites of them rolling back into his head, and he began to let out these long, deep, guttural moans. You could feel the relief in your breast the moment he began, and with each suck, you could tell that his mouth was filling with squirt after squirt of warm, sweet milk.

Your hips humped against him involuntarily at this point, too horny to think straight, and you realized that your right nipple had begun to let down, full as it was. You tried to catch it from dripping onto him, swiping away the white rivulets with your palm, but he caught you, realizing you were trying to take what was his.

He moved his mouth from your left nipple to your right, letting his score drip down his chin and neck, caring nothing for the mess. Then, he latched onto your right nipple just as he had the left, sucking and swallowing until his cock throbbed inside of you.

You cradled his head as he drank from you, using his neck and shoulders to keep you steady as you rode him, feeling him suckle against you over and over, your hot milk filling his belly.

“Havin’ fun without us, Johnny?” Price’s voice rumbled from the doorway, startling you. You tried to turn around, but Johnny had you in a vice grip, and all you could do was ride and whimper from his fucking and his feeding.

“John…” You moaned, and he stepped around to sit next to his sergeant on the bed, smiling at the two of you, admiring the mess you were making.

“Can I try, love?” Price asked, leaning forward to drink from you without waiting for your permission.

All you could do was moan, high and helpless, your pussy so wet that it was practically gushing over Johnny’s thick cock. As soon as you felt John’s mouth on you, suckling from you just as intently as Soap’s, you started to come. You felt yourself clenching around your hungry lover, flooding him with your orgasm, wrecked by their insistent mouths.

“Tha’s it, bonnie,” Johnny pulled away, white streams of cream falling from his lips, looking like he was drunk, “Come for me.”

Price was greedier than Soap, even though you weren’t sure how that could be possible, and he used his strong hand to knead and squeeze your tits, forcing your body to drop even more milk for him to drink. His mustache tickled your sensitive flesh, and you couldn’t see it but you could hear the twisting, slapping wetness of him jerking his fat cock as he drank from you.

“Fuck, she tastes so good, hm?” Prince crooned.

“Hngh, Johnny… I can’t…” You whined, feeling yourself start to become overstimulated, “I can’t…”

“You can, lass. And you fuckin’ will,” Johnny grabbed your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks, forcing you to kiss him. You could taste your own milk on his tongue. It was warm and a little sugary, like the dregs of a bowl of cereal, thick and creamy.

He released your jaw and went back to work, suckling from you with a relentless vacuum, making your head spin. You didn’t know how you were able to make so much milk, but it seemed endless. You were hypnotized by the way his throat bulged as he swallowed gulp after gulp of your body’s gift, sucking you down.

Price seemed just as hungry, and you saw how, from the corners of his mouth, tiny droplets of milk would escape and wet his beard, the white cream staining his dark hair. He teased you with his hand, leaving his cock to fend for itself as he smeared his precome all over your asshole. Then, as you rode Soap back and forth, thrusting against him with abandon, John put his finger against your puckered hole and let you push yourself onto it. As you canted your hips back, your hole would let your captain’s huge fingertip slide inside it. As you thrust forward, you would pull away, losing the feeling of fullness that he was giving you.

It was agony. You wanted him to fuck you on his hand, or to take you with his cock — as painful as it may be without prep — anything to make you feel filled up. But he didn’t; he kept his finger right where he wanted it, letting you fuck yourself with just the tip until you felt stinging tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Please, John… please…” You barely had any words left, but he knew what you wanted.

He met your eyes with his own as he took a particularly long suck from your sore breast, making you watch as he coaxed your nectar into his mouth. Then, he pulled away with a swift pop, licking across your swollen nipple to soothe the pain he had caused. He smiled at you, patronizingly, teasing you still with his finger,

“Does our girl need me to fuck her tight little arse?”

You nodded, barely able to keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by the pleasure,

“Yes, please… I need it. Need to come again. Please…”

“Fuck, bonnie. If you come again, you’ll take me with you,” Soap murmured, unwilling to take his mouth away from your tits too far, talking with his mouth half-full.

Price bent his head, returning to his rough suckling, filling his cheeks with more of your milk. But, this time, as you thrust yourself against Johnny, you felt two, curled fingers shove themselves deep inside of your asshole. Your whole body convulsed, your pussy clenching and gushing with wetness, twisting its muscles around Soap’s dick, trying to get him to fill you with his load. Your legs shuddered, unable to keep from shaking as you rode him, feeling numb as the tantalizing sensation of your stretched holes washed over you.

John fucked you without mercy, pulling his fingers all the way out and stuffing them all the way back into your ass everytime you thrust forward and back. You were screaming, and your poor, well-used cunt was pumping itself against Soap’s rod, making heinous slick noises as you rode him. Beyond any sort of politeness or gentility, your men were noisy in their feasting as well, slurping and sucking loudly, grunting every time you clenched yourself around them.

When Price added a third finger, you came again, your pussy quickly running out of room to accommodate them both. Soap’s hot seed burst inside of you just as he’d promised, burning your core and painting your walls with his come.

“Oh, fuck! Johnny, fill me up. Fill me…” You slurred, letting your head hang back limply, basking in the feeling of his orgasm.

Price took the opportunity to haul you off of Johnny’s lap and onto his own, replacing the emptiness in your pussy with his fat cock, sliding through his sergeant’s come and keeping his fingers in your ass as you rode him.

Even though he was spent, Johnny didn’t let up on his feeding. He’d ripped a page out of Price’s playbook and was massaging your breast with both hands, squeezing out every last drop from your body. When he finally stopped suckling from your bruised nipple, he licked you, over and over, running the warm flat of his tongue across your nipple to swipe up any stray drops, chasing your peaks as you bounced on your captain’s dick.

Price squeezed your tits in his hands, letting the one that was still full squirt all over his mouth and nose, covering himself in your cream. When he noticed Soap’s desperation, he switched positions. The sergeant fell onto his back, resting against the mattress, and the captain threw you on all fours, letting your tits dangle over Johnny’s open mouth. Then, he climbed up behind you, feeding himself back into your pussy.

As Price fucked himself into you, your breasts swayed back and forth, your nipples rubbing across Soap’s mouth as he moved from one to the other. You felt him latch onto the left one, drinking from you in thirsty slurping gulps, his puckered lips pressing onto your flesh with as much suction as he could muster. Meanwhile, your stretched cunt was being stuffed with Price’s shaft, his head invading your deepest parts, filling up your hole over and over and over.

Finally, when you were out of milk and practically sobbing from the brain-breaking orgasms you’d been given, he pulled out, flipping you onto your back and laying you right beside Soap, aiming his load at your bruised tits. His teeth were clenched as he grunted out his climax, painting long, white ropes of come all over your nipples.

You looked down, unable to tell what was his and what was yours, your breasts messy and covered in cream of all kinds. John’s hands came down and rubbed his spend all over your nipples, smearing it around them like a salve. Johnny leaned over you, licking up Price’s come just as greedily as he had your milk, latching and suckling from you over and over, even if you were empty, like a greedy puppy.

Exhausted, and with a belly full of breast milk, Price crashed to the mattress beside you and Soap.

Standing in the doorway, Gaz and Ghost looked down at you with smug, satisfied expressions, and Garrick chuckled,

“Better recover quick, babes. Got me workin’ up an appetite.”

#call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #john soap mactavish #john price smut #soap smut #soap x you #sharing is caring #cod #sharing couple #fun for 3 #poly tf141 #cod mw2 #poly 141 #the window by the californicationist #the window

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murdrdocs · 5 months ago

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every passing moment

description. sitting in the front seat of patrick zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. it's impossible to pretend you didn't come for this.

includes. SMUT 18+, car sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p n v, lots of denial from reader, some manhandling, sort of mean patrick, also mean reader, hooking up w a friends ex (but consensually!), takes place in the 2000s

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: cannot be bothered to edit sawrryy. based on a req i got forever ago. art creds unknown. title from so into you by tamia

“You can stop pretending.”

You pause your insistent flipping through radio stations to glare in Patrick’s direction. His eyes are straight ahead, staring at the red streetlight through the rain still pattering down onto the windshield. You narrow your eyes in distaste, trying not to notice the way the light illuminates the shape of his face.

“Pretending?”

Patrick shrugs, glancing at you for a moment before the light is green and he’s facing the road again.

“Yeah. Pretending that you’re not into me.” He says it with such assurance as if his statement is a fact of matter and not just an arrogant assumption.

You scoff and decide on a station playing the final bits of a Katy Perry song. Maybe you would have been able to distinguish the song if it weren’t for the volume of the blood pumping through your body. You’ve been attempting to ignore it the entire time, ever since you and Patrick dropped Art off at a friend's place.

But there was something about being alone with Patrick and sitting in the front of his car. It affects you. When you were sitting in the back of the car and looking out of the window, you weren’t focused on anything other than how long it would take to get back to your dorm. Patrick and Art were as they usually were—Patrick and Art, extensions of the other. They joked, laughed, and included you for a bit before Patrick wrongfully proclaimed that you were asleep. You were in your world and they were in theirs. But now you’re part of Patrick’s world, forced to listen to him scoff at the song playing and click to another station. Forced to kick away an empty Monster can that rolls back and hits the toe of your sneakers. Forced to smell his cologne, previously too strong but now worn off to a more pleasant intensity, carry towards your nose with the cold AC.

Before, you were able to pretend that you didn’t want Patrick. Now, you’re right next to him, bumping your elbow with his as they both rest on the center console. Mumbling the same lyrics—although Patrick gets the words slightly wrong—to the same song. There is a certain harmony that exists in this space, shining a light on your true desires, the ones you pushed down with eye rolls and groans whenever Art insinuated that you had feelings for his best friend. The desires you pushed away even whenever Tashi exclaimed that what she and Patrick had was nothing but a thing that they had, and you were free to swoop in if you pleased.

Now, sitting in the front seat of Patrick Zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. It’s impossible to pretend like you didn’t come dressed for this.

Your meticulously crafted outfit screams in your face. Your best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged your ass just right and had gotten you laid twice this semester already. A tiny enough top to warrant attention without being obvious that that’s what you wanted—it ended right above your navel and was thin enough for your tits, unrestrained by a bra, to press against the fabric. In certain lighting, like the lighting coming from the stoplight, for example, you could see your nipples poking through.

When you glance over at Patrick again, you catch him glancing down at your tits. You scoff like it’s not what you wanted, but you cross your arms under your bust and enhance the pair anyway.

The car ride is going fine. Patrick’s chosen station plays hit after hit to fill the silence as he steadily heads toward your dorm. You’re only a few minutes away, no more than 7 if the stoplights weren’t taking too long, and then Patrick pulls into a gas station.

You look over at him, your eyes squinted and your eyebrows furrowed.

“What’re you doing?”

He puts the car in park next to a pump. “Getting gas,” he tells you factually as if you’re the outrageous one.

He closes the door before you can argue with him but you reach over and press the button to roll down the window before the battery completely turns off.

“My dorm is literally right down the street. You couldn’t wait?” You hiss at him through the open window, watching him insert his card and put his PIN in. Unsurprisingly, his PIN is his birth year.

“It’s easier this way,” he takes his card out of the reader and opens the tank. “Otherwise I would’ve had to double back. Too much work. Waste of gas.”

You huff and fall back into your seat, just a tad bit upset that Patrick would’ve had the perfect view of your tits if he looked away from the dirtied gas pump for just a second.

You sit for a moment, tapping your finger against the plastic door handle. You pull a stick of gum out of your purse.

“Pass me one,” Patrick demands, doesn’t ask.

You make a point of smacking on your piece as you tell him, “It’s the last one.”

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls the corner of his lips into his cheek and glances back at the screen steadily counting up.

He looks back at you. His eyes scan your frame and you can’t help but feel a little satisfied.

“You look really pretty right now.” He tells you. His compliment should flatter you, and it mostly does, but he gave you those eyes. The ones you’ve seen him throw at multiple women, hoping it would get him what he wants.

You’re sure that you and him currently share the same wants, but you want him to be a little shameless about it. For the sake of your pride, you can’t give it away this easily. So you retort.

“Oh my God, Patrick. Fuck off!” Petulantly, you cross your arms over your chest and focus your attention on the mostly empty building in front of you.

“I’m serious.” And he sounds serious. He sounds earnest. It’s the softest you’ve ever heard Patrick speak and you don’t know if he’s doing it to get in your pants, or if he has no ulterior motives.

You don’t know which one you prefer more.

You don’t know how to respond. Silence seems to be the best answer for you.

It’s not satisfactory for Patrick. “This is usually the part where you’ll accept my compliment. Maybe give one back.”

“That would be the part if I were another one of your conquests. Which I’m not.”

“You wouldn’t be another one of my conquests.”

“You tell everyone that? Or just girls that you think ‘look really pretty’.”

“Alright, whatever. Will thinking that you’re another one of my conquests help you? Would it take some pressure away from all of this?” He gestures wildly between the two of you. The tank reaches its limit behind him and he places the nozzle back in its home.

He’s back in the car with the engine turned on and his seatbelt on when you respond.

“It doesn’t matter, Patrick. Because I’m not sleeping with you.”

He laughs. The sound is irritating. It makes your nostrils flare and your skin burn.

“What’s funny? I didn’t think someone finally not wanting you would be so entertaining.”

“Oh, people don’t want me all the time. You’re just not one of them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look,” he puts the car into drive and starts off towards your dorm. “I know you wanna sleep with me. It’s fine if you don’t admit it to me, maybe even yourself, but it’s obvious. You’re just too egotistical. You think you’re superior to me because—what? You chose a ‘real job’ over tennis? That doesn’t make you superior, it makes you scared. And that’s okay. You’re scared of your own potential and you’re scared of how bad you want me. That’s fine,” he spits your name out with a natural ease that used to flatter you. Now it pisses you off. “Just don’t walk around like that’s not the truth.”

You have the urge to tell him to pull the car over. You have the urge to spew out every nasty insult you’ve ever thought about him, some of them even Tashi’s own t words that she’d shared with you after the breakup. But you’re only a block away from your dorm and you refuse to waste your energy on Patrick. That and you know if you try, your voice will crack and you’ll embarrass yourself.

Instead, you turn the radio up and sit with your anger until Patrick pulls up to your dorm.

Your seatbelt clicks to free you, the door is unlocked, opened, and closed, and you’re turned to face the entrance when the sound of the window unrolling stops you.

“Call me when you’re done lying to yourself.”

He doesn’t leave until you’re inside the building.

Even then, he isn’t gone for long.

You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for the familiar ding! so you can crawl upstairs to your room, call Tashi, and tell her about this horrible night.

But you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied. You knew the night couldn’t end like this.

So just when the elevator reaches you and opens its doors, you have your phone pressed to your ear and Patrick’s number ringing.

He picks up on the second ring and he just laughs. Big and boisterous like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

You huff, considering hanging up and going upstairs. But you shift your stance and the seam of your jeans presses right into the center of your cunt and you know you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Don’t be an ass. Just come back.”

When you walk out the door, he’s back in the same spot.

The car door is opened, the yellow light turning on and illuminating Patrick’s sick fucking smirk, and you don’t say anything as you sit in the passenger seat. You don’t bother clicking your seatbelt on.

“Why don’t we just go upstairs?” he suggests.

“I’m not checking you in.” I don’t want proof of this ever happening, is what you don’t say to him. Even without the fine print being verbalized, Patrick knows what you mean.

He hums, a sound that infuriates you just as much as his laugh, but then he puts the car into gear and starts off towards wherever he’s taking you.

You end up in the parking lot behind one of the science buildings. It’s empty, completely desolate besides a half-drunken bottle of blue Gatorade and a campus security pole that shines a deep blue. The light isn’t bright enough to penetrate the foggy windows of Patrick’s Honda, but the streetlights that keep the parking lot lit are.

The white light sits along Patrick’s cheekbones. It’s flat against the straight line of his nose. It’s barely there, right along his prominent cupid bow.

You can’t help but sit and admire his face. You can’t help but admire the way sweat has started to coat his hairline, threatening to drip down over his thick eyebrows and fall onto his cheek. You can feel your own sweat coming through your pores, but you can’t feel that more than you can feel Patrick’s fingers fucking up into you, two thick digits plunging into your walls over and over again.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing it, following up on the encouragement from both Tashi and Art. You’re finally giving in to all of those dreams that you pushed out of your mind as soon as you could, or those brief pictures of Patrick’s face in your head whenever you were trying to picture your latest celebrity crush instead.

Now, Patrick is all you see.

When you’re verbally asking him to use his mouth on you, you only see Patrick’s smirk. It’s real and raw and right in front of you. And you can’t stop staring.

Even when he contorts his large body to bring his face right between your legs, and you can only really see from the tip of his nose up, you don’t stop staring. When the pleasure mounts and climbs up your spine, you don’t stop staring, even when your eyes beg to flutter closed just to focus on the pleasure.

You’re zoned out and you know it. You’re staring at Patrick’s eyes, even when he’s watching your cunt and you can only see his eyelids. Your own eyes have glazed over from refusing to blink, and when you do blink—an action that’s pulled from you when Patrick flicks his tongue over your clit just right—a twin set of tears glide down your cheeks.

It’s then that Patrick decides to look at you again and you can feel his smile.

Thinner than usual and more pursed as it’s the position of his lips, but the expression is pressed right up against you and you can feel it so intimately. It’s really a shame that the thing you hate most is the thing that gets you right to the edge.

Patrick baring his teeth and gently nipping on your clit as he twists his fingers inside of you is the thing that makes you throw your hand out to grip the back of the passenger seat, your back arching as your mouth throws out moans that you don’t mean to be as loud as they are.

And Patrick just helps you ride through it. Even when you hook your legs around his head and twist your fingers into his hair, keeping his face dangerously close to your cunt, he helps you out. He’s more generous than you would’ve thought, and you don’t want to think about how many orgasms Patrick Zweig would be willing to give you before asking for one of his own. So you don’t.

Instead, you think about the way you’re grinding your cunt against Patrick’s face. As soon as you realize you’re doing it, you stop. You unhook your legs and let his hair go and when he comes up for air, you refuse to meet his eye.

After all of that staring, you suddenly are completely uninterested in Patrick’s blue eyes, including the little speck of blood-orange he has in them.

Patrick snickers and with him being this close to you, you can smell yourself on his breath. Why does that make you want to kiss him more?

“Come on. After I just made you cum you won’t even look at me?”

You reach above you to click the car light on and immediate regret finds you. Because now that there’s a substantial amount of light in the car, you can see the way Patrick’s clean-shaven chin, plump lips, and perky nose shine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where all of the shimmer has come from, especially not when the evidence is still smeared all over your pussy and inner thighs.

You dart your eyes to the side, looking at Patrick’s floor in search of the firetruck red pair of panties you were wearing. You look, and look, pushing away bottles and plastic bags and a pair of sneakers, and when you don’t find them, you huff and try to reach around Patrick to grab your jeans that have landed on the center console.

He bends out of the way, letting you grab the jeans, waiting for your next move.

“You can take me back to my dorm now.”

He hesitates. He doesn’t say anything. And then, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asks it as if he knows the answer.

You know the answer. Still, you look at him, feigning unimpressed with your jeans hanging limply in your hands. You should put them back on. You’ve got what you came here for, a really good orgasm, and now it’s time you start working on the paper you’ve been putting off. A paper you absolutely despised. A paper that you would do anything to escape, or at least put off a bit.

Anything including letting Patrick Zweig fuck you.

Yeah, that’s not the only reason why you let Patrick fuck you. You’ve wanted him for a while and you’ve been fairly obvious about it. The classic childhood approach to your attraction wasn’t fooling anyone. Masking your attraction with annoyance didn’t do anything but make you want him more.

In the end, it wasn’t effective, as it still brought you here:

On your hands and knees in the back of Patrick’s car, letting him defile you from the back, remaining completely uncaring of the heat and the volume of your moans.

You’ll admit, this isn’t how you imagined fucking Patrick. You imagined it being somewhere more appropriate, for starters. In a bed or on a couch perhaps. But everything else about it, you’ve imagined.

The way he fucks you, rough and without abandon, is how you imagined it. The way he just takes and takes is how you imagined it. Late at night when you would slip your hands between your thighs, hoping to provide even a bit of reprieve, you imagined it like this.

You imagined his grunts right in your ear. You imagined the feeling of his balls slapping against your cunt. You imagined the feeling of his hands on your hips. But now you don’t have to imagine, it’s all real.

“Good?” Patrick asks from behind you.

Your lips move on their own accord. “‘s so good. Just like I imagined.”

You regret the admission as soon as it’s in the stiff air. You regret even thinking about it whenever Patrick snickers, curt and confident.

“Just like you imagined, huh? Knew you—fuck, you feel good—I knew you wanted me.”

His words are redundant at this point. It’s obvious that you’ve wanted Patrick the entire time. Now, he just wants to rub it in your face. He’s treating you like a pet, a big hand on the back of your head and rubbing your face in the mess you’ve made. Quite literally, as he palms the back of your head and pushes your face down into the seat at one point, smearing your nose in the sweat and arousal left over from your first orgasm.

But he’s not reprimanding you. He’s encouraging you.

He’s hooking a hand over your shoulder and pulling you back onto each of his thrusts. He’s hunching over your body as best as he can in the tight space and resting his head against your spine.

When you feel a glob of drool meets the center of your back, it suddenly occurs to you that Patrick has wanted this as much as you have. He’s been chasing after you the entire time, apparently, if you could trust the words of Art and Tashi.

You tune in, allowing yourself to hear him, to be with him in this brief moment. You’re made aware of his groans, how deep and throaty they are, how sincere they are. You notice how the drag of his cock out of you is slower than the push back in. It’s almost as if he’s savoring the time that he’s in you, prolonging it as long as possible. Yet, he slides out nearly all the way, only stopping when his mushroom tip is settled within you, your cunt clasped around it like a vice. And then he glides back in, swift and gentle.

Over and over again. And no matter how much he’s trying to prolong it, no matter how much he’s trying to prevent the inevitable, it approaches steadily. You’re close before you notice it, hands gripping the door handle and the leather seats.

You don’t warn him. If you feared he was going to stop or change something, maybe you would have told him that you were close. But Patrick isn’t one to change something that’s working well so you really had nothing to worry about.

Soon enough, when your orgasm is at its peak and you’re letting noise after noise spill past your lips, Patrick joins you. His forehead resting against your shoulder, his hips sloppily knocking into yours.

It’s harmonious. Possibly the most (willingly) in tune you and Patrick Zweig have ever been. Likely the most willingly in tune the two of you will ever be.

When it’s over, it’s over. There’s no more harmony. You nudge yourself back, getting Patrick off of you. You abandon the search for your panties and just settle with slipping your jeans back on, doing the same for your bra and shirt. You climb into the front seat, leaving Patrick in the back to catch his breath and redress.

He leaves the car to walk around to the driver's side and you use that one moment where he isn’t there to ask yourself what the fuck?

The drive back is silent. No music, no conversation, just the sound of rubber against asphalt. Patrick asks you one thing.

“Do you wanna go anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.”

And then you’re back at your dorm. You take a moment, mulling over your possibilities. You could have Patrick park in a visitor's spot, come up to your dorm, and spend time with you. You could resort back to your usual banter, maybe throw in an insult that doesn’t have to do with the way he defiled you just a few minutes ago (because there really isn’t anything negative you could say about that).

Instead, you open the door and step out.

“Thanks,” is all you tell him.

When you get upstairs, you consider the possibility of telling Tashi or Art. Instead, you take a shower and go to sleep.

#patricksworld!#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #celeste writes challengers

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writeroutoftime · 6 months ago

Text

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind.

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind.

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble.

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately."

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master.

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn.

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?"

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure.

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend.

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump.

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before."

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare.

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group.

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love."

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel."

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in.

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days.

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room.

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss."

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death.

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games.

"What?"

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence.

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you."

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation.

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us."

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him?

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love."

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment.

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting."

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?"

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out."

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back.

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected.

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside."

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded.

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life.

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes.

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came.

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss."

Again, no response.

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses.

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up.

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room.

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand.

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel.

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled.

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you."

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe.

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research."

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words.

"Y-you heard all that?"

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes.

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate."

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more.

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family.

"It worked!"

"You're awake."

"The two of you are mates?!"

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after.

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Note

Lips anon! Imagine Miguel having a nightmare about some other man putting his hands on his wife. He wakes up pissed and takes it out on her. Growling that she's his and that no one else will have her. Rough, possessive fucking. But the wife doesn't mind because he's hitting all the good spots lol (good ol' doggy style and mating press 🤭)

👀👀👀. FILTHYNESS UNDER CUT.

P. d. About time they got some 😂

Your moans just turned erratic, needy and begging. He could only watch. What was happening?

Your breath hitched and he knew. He knew how your breathings turned when you were about to come undone.

No. Another breathless whimper

No. NO.

Someone was fucking his wife and it wasn't him. Rage boiled inside, nostrils flaring when you came undone. Just when he was about to see who provoked such things on you, he jolted awake. Fist clenching the sheets, cock painfully hard between his legs and sweat covering his chest, a wet stain on his shirt.

A bad dream.

He had seen how other men stared at you, how they gawked at you back at the pool. There wasn't time to show you were only his. The idea of someone else having you? No.

It revolted his stomach in utter rage. He couldn't. No. He stood and removed his shirt, to then lock your room. You were on your side of the bed, sleeping. You'd never leave him, thats for sure.

A little moan.

He growled and he approached. Who was making your moan like that? He wasn't a possessive man, until he fucked two babies into you and gave him the best time of his life so far.

Carefully he pulled the sheets off your body, you stirred and smiled lazily

"Go back to sleep. I wanna cuddle you." You mumbled and patted the space next to him.

"Can't sleep." He grumbled and took a hold of your ankle and pulled you down the bed. A little surprised squeal left your lips. Heart pounding in your chest as he slid nonchalantly a hand inside your pants, fingers dexterously parting and exploring your folds. You were soaked.

"Heard you moan. Who was it?"

"W-What?"

"Who had you moaning like that? "

He was out of himself, you couldn't help but giggle at his question. Something that stopped when he pulled your pants down, nearly tearing them in the process. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his eye contact.

"N-None but you I swear!" Trouble was a little word to actually describe what you had gotten into. Your eyes drifted to his groin and widened in alarm at his girth. He was big, but seeing it, outlined, constricted in his pants made you catch your breath. He leaned closer, his grip on your ankles tightening slightly.

"Liar." He mumbled and flipped you over. Red eyes glinting with such hunger it made your skin shiver as he spanked you so hard it stung. Handprint drawn in your right butt cheek. He melded you like a rag doll. Ass up high, chest flat on the mattress, legs separated by his frame. You clenched the sheets in anticipation.

"No sabes el coraje que me da cuando otros pendejos te desean" (You don't know how angry I get when other fuckers want you.)

He pumped a couple of times his girth and slid it in one go into your snug and squelching cunt. You whimpered at the fullness of your womb. He propped a leg on the bed, his foot supporting on the mattress as he still towered over you, holding you in place by your hips as his other foot remained on the floor for leverage.

"-Gimiendo mientras otro te toca" (Moaning as someone else touches you.)

He wasn't nice to your soaked hole. Your knuckles went white at the sheer force you held on the sheets. Chin rubbing furiously, up and down the sheets. You could only hear the loud and wet incessant slappings of your flesh being mercilessly punished for a crime you certainly hadn't committed.

He pounded into you with abandonment, his lips moved but you were too cock drunk to actually try and understand, all you knew is that he was pissed.

"Mi... Mig-" You bit the sheets, drowning a high pitched wail that rasped in your throat. His large hand pushed your head further in the mattress, making you arch your spine in a perfect angle to bully his cock into you.

"F-Fuck" your hands flailed to try and get a a hold of his leg. Your whole body lurched forward at every rough, and pitiless thrust.

`Oh my god' you mouthed, unable to voice the searing pleasure to bit harder every time he rammed into that spot only his cock could, ass bounced deliciously against him, he could see your slick coating and soaking his manhood. Pussy clenching so tightly around him, melded to his size, a perfect pussy sleeve for him.

Your eyes rolled back as pleasure drowned you.

You growled as your body went taut, coming all over him.

"Think I'm done with you? Oh no, no. No te la vas a acabar conmigo, chiquita" (A threat done) He growled into your ear

He flipped you over again, you sobbed as he folded you in half and pulled you closer to his groin. Your tiny frame embraced by both his arms, locking your trembling legs in his forearms, your knees at every side of his neck. His cock stretched you impossibly deep.

Whining, you wrapped your weak arms around his neck. Angry eyes locked with your pleading ones.

A silent fuck me.

A wicked smirk appeared on his lips, his fangs baring. A thrust. Your air was knocked out of you as he pushed in.

His mouth assaulted yours. Teeth pulling and fangs prickling at your bottom lip, tugging. He stared at you with a malicious smirk. Proud of your tousled looks. Your nails dragged on his back, scratching, encouraging him to move his hips.

All you could see and feel was him. Your mouth gaped open as his arms cradled you tighter and just when you though he couldn't be rougher, his cock proved you wrong.

"¿Crees que otro cabrón te va hacer sentir como yo? No." (You think another son of a bitch will make you feel like I do?)

Your whole body shook underneath him, your toes curled at every plunge he did. You felt dizzy. His body heat had drenched you sweat, your lungs demanded for air, air that he kept knocking out of your ribcage. It was maddening, the way he clung to you was possessive, his moan ands growls turned almost animalistic, his fangs sunk into your neck and for a second you were sure that you had said Hi to God himself as your orgasm crashed hard.

Your body convulsed, as ragged pants fanned the crook of his neck. He loved when he painted your walls white as your insides smooched him.

"Eres mía" (You're mine)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #💋 anon #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #t writes✨#Had to breathe between paragraphs

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1-49 · 11 days ago

Text

bare sugars

╰► that’s my baby, that’s my sugar, i don’t need no honey on the side . . . that’s unconditiona-nal.

pairing: f!reader × jaehyun ⁝ tags: motel. lotta tension. jae likes to show skin lol. history i allude to but never explain sry. short scenario inspired by this teaser photo. diabetes keep away 5k

It ’s a place in between places, on the outskirts of some sunbaked desert town. What began as a hopeful promise, somewhere in the chaos of the last seven days , has faded into obscurity.

When this road trip kicked off, the entire crew was pumped on the : ‘No one’s getting ditched; everyone ’s got to be part of ─── no matter how intense the next adventure gets.’ Yet, here you are , left behind with the one person you were hoping to dodge.

A velvety green sofa sets the scene & the honey glow of golden hour falls on wood - panelled walls ─── Lying on his back , Jaehyun rocks yet another one of his 250+ crumpled print tees, retro lettering in: ‘The Grateful Dead.’ Its fabric hiked up , intentionally or not , giving his casual style a little extra edge.

─── This specific old shade of blue denim jeans, those grey Calvins, the belt that struggles to keep the outfit together ... His belly that just kind of vacuums in whenever it wants ... A plush land really ... The faux freckles on his cheeks which mimic sunflower seeds, and his hair that shines like a field of gold ...

A babe , though the design guilt he wears in his dark eyes remains as you capture yet another moment with your camera.

The two shy cuties in his cheeks and his keys lying abandoned on the pink carpet. His languid binks & perpetually movey lips. His Converse’s loose laces.. The unhurried. The lazy. The slow...

It’s all captured on film & as you pull the camera away from your face, he still keeps an eye on you, not necessarily looking for a reaction but...

Well, you better... drop that feedback, or things might...

take a turn for the worse...

And—

And they do... with him tucking his hand under his head & his shirt riding up thoughtlessly even more...

And it’s bad. It’s—It’s like he’s in charge of how you feel and is directing the scene. Like as if he’s your television & there’s no turning him off.

This almost ever so present paradoxical quality to him—a blend of approachability and impenetrability that’s hard to elaborate. Or his lazy attractiveness which simply defies logic: for he’s simultaneously doing nothing and everything, drawing you in completely without lifting a finger.

Or... how these are just a few of the countless reasons why you’ve never asked him to bring you the horizon, or, hell, dared to dream about having him.

Of how the four walls and the door close on you and how looking at him strikes you with a funny fear, making you want to melt deep into the contents of the floor.

Oh, to fuck with that...

Gently, you adjust the fine black lace along the hem of your brown silk dress; draw in the fluffy cardigan tighter around you; and to escape the perfect features of his perfect face, you walk up to the window.

Yet, no matter how hard you search for a way out, the four walls of this claustrophobic room offer little in the way of escape. You’re fucking stuck... Counting your fingers anew whenever gets nothing done, and flipping through the channels on the tiny TV does nothing to clear the monotony. The minutes drag on endlessly, and no matter how many board games you play or photos you take, the clock seems to mock you. Each moment drags as if the world has hit the pause button, leaving you with him in this quiet space.

“Uuggh, coome oooon!” You stomp your feet, looking out the window. “The losers promised they’d be back by six!”

Jaehyun blows a bubble that bursts with a loud snap, grinning at you. “Ummm—You realize promises aren’t really being kept here anymore, right?”

Yeah, right... Fuck promises! You told yourself you wouldn’t get attached to him but look at you now...

Rolling your eyes, you glance out the window again, right as he asks,

“Why? Are you hungry?”

And sure, they were supposed to be the ones bringing the food, but it seems their adventure has taken a detour into yet another town at the end of the world; said, ‘This is what happens when you skip out—So, you two sort it out.’

“Some sweets would be nice. But no, um,” you tensely pull at your cardigan’s sleeves, clenching the ends in your fists. “Are they okay? I’m a little nervous.”

Though all he does is just casually burst another ridiculous bubble...“I’m sure they’re fine.”

Right… So next you’re left to watch him scrape bits of pink gum from his lips, and before you know it, a wave of irritation pulls you back to his side.

You’re barely balanced on the edge of the sofa, aiding in his clumsy efforts. Your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, and the air around him gets to your head just instantly, thick with the sugary scent of the sticky residue that you find yourself obliged to help remove... It’s so sugary that it borders on being revolting! Or perhaps it’s your sweet tooth that’s igniting this feeling?

Silly, cause you feed into this quirky theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum, and now that notion takes on a funny twist, well... considering the butterflies dancing in your stomach.

As you pull your fingers away from his lips, a rush of blood roars in his ears and he quickly adds, “Might have something in my bag, let me see.”

And totally! The bag that somehow collected a ton of pendants during this road trip does sit by the sofa, and with Jaehyun lounging back, stretching his arms overhead to grab it, his shirt gets pulled up even higher, & just like that, it becomes the cause for another thing you wish you never said.

Definitely not the sight you were hoping for... The tee hiked up, way above his ribs, exposing a good portion of his slim waist as he giggles, showing off that boyish grin while rummaging through the bag behind... still looking at you.

The eye contact ****

The fcking gum that just so erratically becomes his plaything, getting relentlessly crushed beneath the pressure of his teeth, repeatedly transforming into a sticky mass that fills his mouth, stressing the rugged contours of his strong jawline...

His fucking belly...

The happy trail...

Godsent personal hell!

Your heart is thumping away in your chest and your ribs aren’t exactly doing much to protect it. The stressed thing seems ready to pop like one of his balloons and leave you in an ever-sticker mess...

“Mmmmm...” he hums, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling a handful of candies from the bag behind him. “Let’s see what we have.”

Placing each treat onto his stomach as if the world were about to erupt in a frenzy of sugar-fueled chaos, Jaehyun carefully begins to arrange each piece, making sure they’re spaced out just right and sorted into rational portions in case such an outbreak actually happens. In no time, a vibrant array of treats sprawls across him and his funky-ridden shirt, everything from lollipops, chewy gums, gummy bears, and sour candies, to little chocolates.

Imagine a carnival! The flashy colors are super distracting, and those chocolate bars are practically begging you to grab them. Still, you can’t help but tease him a bit to annoy him, specially since you’ve been going back & forth for the past three days.

“Really,” you pout cynically, “You took this many?? You’re such a…”

With a burst of laughter that is hearty & sweet, Jaehyun sends the poor candies resting on the very sides of his waist to tumble down onto the sofa as if that earthquake had REALLY made its presence felt.

“Mmmmm- Why would I want to spend money on fancy treats? Besides...” He spaces out for a bit... then remarks with a smirk, “My theory is basically sweets are sweets.”

And he tightens his lips to seem all serious, but honestly, it just makes everything worse. The dude doesn’t even lift a finger to be funny; it’s like humour just radically appears around him, and the stuff he comes up with...

Poof! A total goof or a creative thinker? It really just comes down to your mood at the time.

You grimace once more, shaking your head at him, and subtly shift your weight to your legs rather than sitting on the sofa, your body ready to leap away at the slightest hint of contact.

With an adorable, surprised expression his eyes grow round as he stares at you, “What!?” His brows shoot up too in effort to justify himself.

“That piñata was there for everyone to go wild and, umm- grab whatever they could!” Lifting his hands defensively, he pouts, “Not my fault!”

Aaaand that fucking shirt of his?

Isss at it againnnn!@#£%^*

Your mind is reeling as the candy mountain spills over in a fun avalanche.

No, because why go through all that trouble to arrange them perfectly just to wreck it himself!?

Yeah,

anyway, you find nothing to match that, indeed it was up to anyone to snatch whatever they wanted, it just looks like he had deeper pockets than the rest of you idiots to stash all that stuff, that’s all there is to it. So you give in to the urge to ‘screw it,’ let out another eye roll, and grab a tiny bag of gummy bears.

As if he’s achieved something, Jaehyun’s hands find their way back beneath his head, and the flirtatious smile continues in his eyes. He just basks in the moment until your frustration—the sting of yet another cheeky defeat—causes you to fumble to open the bag and so all the gummy bears go flying everywhere.

Add chaos?

Check!

Is he into it?

Also, check.

The pack is but what that piñata was a few days ago, bleeding in beautiful colors and gushing all things sweet.

“Ugghhh!!” Tossing your head back, you groan dramatically.

And understandably so!!! While Jaehyun?

He beams as he sticks his tongue in his cheek, and snatches the empty bag from your hands. He casually spits his spent pink gum inside it, takes a pair of gummies from his abs, and gently runs them against his lips before sliding them in...

And t

And it’s so fucking frustrating that this guy has no clue about the importance of breaking eye contact! You’re always left searching for a word that’s stronger than ‘insufferable,’ but really, the dude just constantly goes all out with everything. Legit!

It drives you crazy. He—

Munching on them playfully, Jaehyun thinks for a moment, swallows, & then quirks an eyebrow, smirking,

“Wanna hear what the gummies just whispered into my mouth?”

What the gummies have what??

You shake your head at his nonsense but arch a brow back. Because if you had to be honest, those jelly babies aren’t the only thing looking to spill some secrets in his mouth... So, yeah, you’re JUST listening! As a matter of fact, you’re all tuned in to catch what absurdity he’s about to dish out next.

Pushing his lips together, a bratty shape that just begs to be kissed, he sits with his answer. There’s something very precious and terribly frustrating about how he keeps his responses close like they’re the best puns ever. Then he eventually smiles, “Thank you for releasing us.”

........ Woaah, they’ve at least been honest with him! Which is... cool...

Cool! Great! Awesome! You next!

“Mmm-hmm,” for dummies, some skeptical eyes and a cynical head nod are all you have...

When the magnitude of his languid x menacing should be studied!!!

Really, a quirky cotton candy man! A sugar. A delicate toxic substance.

Like, fuck! He—He’s just- unbeatable.

That’s an overwhelming amount of power for him to have... Like, that’s too much hot... Too much sweet… It’s no good…

Like-

Like the doses got all jacked up when he was made... Accidentally spilled too much of each, and now he’s just a walking health risk.

Catch it!

The disease spreads just like it always has—quickly and definitely. This earthtone babe just knows exactly how to get under your skin.

So hard to resist... So hard to not take a bite...

It’s just how it goes, you know?

Things...

Eyes...

Fingers...

& before you realise it, your fingertips glide past his jeans, over to his skin, igniting a rush of sensations with each line you draw across his abs.

Inevitably, the air gets charged with an energy... that’s not innocent. You feel the sparks. Not the good kind of sparks, but the sinful ones... The—

It’s like a dream at first, experiencing the thrill of someone yearning for your touch so badly.

Jae is every bit as tough as he looks, but the moment your fingers brush against him, that narrative shifts entirely. It feels like he’s been craving your touch, and those days without it have been an unbearable! fucking! stretch!

Gentle, sensual skin, a supremely royal shade of luxury milk. Everything that’s connected with a beautiful sweet, sweet & touching is associated with him.

He’s just spot on! And your stomach is growling. And you’re looking for a bite to eat...

In fact, you’re so down bad, your sweet tooth’s at an all-time high; honestly, you’d probably go as far as to start licking him right now.

In a straight line? Curved? In any manner that sparks your creativity? Anything real—

...The hot transference from his skin onto your hand? The way he teases his lip!?? The way he shyly and discreetly raises his hips against your touch as if silently pleading for

Thisss baddieee!!

Reading into all these crazy action bits has you all jittery that you completely jump when his hand lands on your bare thigh, right at the lace border.

nononono-

With a gulp, you instantly! rise from the couch. How—Just why did you end up falling back so e

Fast, desperation kicks in- just- again like those moments ago... and you’re back to pacing this same motel room, seeking an escape from him. Except every aspect now feels as if it’s been cranked up to ten times the difficulty.

The reddish-brown timber panels on the walls give off tough prison steel, and the pink carpet feels all squishy and weird under your bare feet right when you need a stable solid... All while Jaehyun is- just- there... planted in place, now seated, legs all spread, on the green sofa. There’s really nothing you can do but hope he stays right where he is.

But! once something’s set in motion, it stays in motion. Like a wildfire racing thru dry lands, fierce and unstoppable. And you just happened to let a match slip past your fingers a heartbeat ago, screwing everything up...

Naturally, he gets up. Also, that belt of his really accomplishes nothing... it’s just there to be there, so he’s just got to pull up his baggy jeans himself before he can even take a step forward.

& what his rising does is kick off a frantic chase as you two whirl around the room in a relentless spiral, & he’s hot on your tail... The very thought of him catching up on you sends dopamine through your veins, making your pulse quicken.

Plus that stunning smile? Plus his unconditional happiness? Well, both make him even more irresistible but both also complicate things for you. The excitement mounts as he approaches in the chase, each heartbeat making the thrill even stronger; that once he abruptly stops, the sprinting exertion takes its toll.

His breath comes in heavier gasps, his cheeks are flushed with a pinch of peach, and his bangs are a tousled mess, dancing around him like dandelion fluff does in the wind. Just a pure, natural and effortless elegance. He’s so incredibly attractive it almost hurts to look at him.

The tension though peaks as his words build to a sharp climax of a fact.

“You-um- You’ve been avoiding me this whole trip.”

...That sinking feeling in your heart like a rock just hit it? Yeah...

Yeah, you wish that voice of his didn’t resonate through your very being, scraping against every nerve ending, but that’s what it always does. It freezes you in place, making you overwhelmed and powerless.

It’s kind of wild how bringing up a heavy topic during a playful moment can make it feel that much more sincere. With so many choices, he went right for the thing that drives him crazy, and that should show you what’s on his mind... at least-

But, you-you

Instinctively, you pull the same fuzzy cardigan around you, clinging to it as though it were a barrier against him, and softly slide your hand from your sleeve, unveiling a lollipop—the only item you managed to pocket earlier.

And this should sweep everything away, right?

“Mhmmmm,” Jaehyun hums, back on trend —

acting like he didn’t just mention something that could spark a whole conversation...

— though this time he picks up the bat resting by the bedstand which at the beginning of the week tore through that heart piñata...

And currently, with the sun set, the moon in the sky, and the desert sky glowing a delicate lilac blue, his eyes narrow and his sly grin comes in the same old style as he twists the knob of the yellow lamp, teasing, “So... a thief, huh?”

...It’s as if he’s putting you in the spotlight, pointing out your crime, and calling you out for being a naughty girl.

& sure, he’s got you in that tight spot he wants you in, okay? But you still tilt your head and nibble on your lip, still going at it, “Maaybee.”

& as you start to walk backwards, everything is still beside your breath and the gentle thud of the bat as he taps it against different surfaces. Only muted noise of what seems to be Spanish drifts in from the neighboring room, but neither of you pays it much mind.

His hands fist around the bat tightly, consumed with angry adrenaline, & veins bulge along his smooth skin, sending filthy pulses up his arms.

It’s a sight that attracts goosebumps all along & across your skin, igniting a warmth that curls from your legs to your belly. The same very electrifying rush of adrenaline wraps around you as if he’s pulling you into the grip of that wooden bat...

Hiss, twist, loosen, and turn, just like how his hands manipulate that wood...

And you know... it doesn’t take much to find yourself backed up against that mahogany wall.

At once, ‘trapped’ takes on an even greater weight than what it meant before. You feel twisted and turned in advance, completely taken apart by the sheer passion in his deep brown eyes.

Jaehyun lifts a brow. He’s all about this vibe. That big toothy smile of his. The way he’s locked in on you. The ‘Just a couple of steps away, baby.’

Uh-huh, but what about that horrible, horrible crave you’ve told yourself you CAN’T have!??

The itch sits on your tongue, fruity in flavour—perhaps strawberry or raspberry—you aren’t sure. A tang that lingers in your memory, the same as of candy gum that had been in the air around him earlier and one which grew bolder with each step he took toward you. This sickness makes you wish that your tongue is already wrapped in his, tightening for a deeper inspection.

Yikes! Please, let’s just avoid that!

To drive away the feeling, you look down to your toes in the cotton carpet, shift your weight, and then peel away the wrapper of the lemon lolly, seeking a bitter flavor to replace the trace of his scent.

Then eventually, accept the proximity between you two as it is - as you let your back land against the wall, hoping the tension will melt away.

Feeling the lolly along your lips, you grimace at the acid but take it...

And as you look down, even in your peripheral view, it’s clear that Jaehyun is still watching you, & you realize he’s focused on your mouth. & after giving the lollipop a couple of spins on your tongue, you proudly look up, thinking you’re good and that you’ve totally neutralized the crave for him...

Because the suddenly too sure of itself face?

Your neck, your collars, the hard candy prodding at your cheek?

The sleek brown silk and the intricate black lace trim which ascends higher on your thigh as you shift your weight to one leg, elegantly placing the other in front as you find your stance? And then the glossy black polish on your toenails as you draw them from a point in the carpet, just barely hovering above it, & in a straight line with him... As in ???

Yeah, absolutely not; that’s far from a quiet invite...

No! You’re totally not just ‘asking for it.’

On the spur, the dynamics shift... As you let the lemon hang in your mouth, Jaehyun abruptly brings his bat up & uses it to delicately move a piece of your hair aside, and then the very tip of the bat makes a gentle tap at the heart of your collars.

Your breath catches in your throat, a fragile spectacle he zeroes in on as your cords constrict, and then, with knitted brows you swallow in the sour juice of the sucker.

Really!?? What more does he want of your sorry soul when you’re just trying to get through each breath?

But no! You certainly didn’t ask for it… Just remember he’s not one to give up when told to quit. So, either pack your things or choose a better design, Sugar.

Though that’s the very thing... You can’t deny the magnetic pull of Jaehyun’s game...

Sure, you’re feeling the heat from your toes to the top of your head, but let’s keep things in check, yeah?

Feeling the groove, as you pull out the lollipop to give your lips a little lick, your eyes wander down to what could be seen as a ‘dangerous tool’, and you smirk.

Jaehyun sucks in on his lip, very slowly, very cheekily. The guy’s clearly amused with you.

“Are you seriously just going to keep looking at me like that?” you ask eventually, taking a moment before adding, “I’m not a fan of it.”

“Mmmmm,” he gives his hundredth low hum, tilting his back head just so, & flexing that tight jawline that always seems to be up for something... something explicit and offensive.

However you pout and slide the lollipop right back in your mouth.

“Tasty?”

...You had to know that was coming, right? And so, as the duel continues, you shrug, allowing a slight grimace to escape your lips, piquing his curiosity about the taste he’s missing out on.

& it runs like a charm.

As Jaehyun lets his eyelids droop in the slowest blink imaginable, &, in his infamous deep voice, says, “I waaanna taste.”

Nuh-uh, even if you tried to reject, it wouldn’t make a difference since he’s right in your face; his mouth hanging agape, eager for absolutely, really absolutely! anything you might have to offer... Cause, there’s always room for a shift in sentiments, wouldn’t you agree?

Though the ‘weapon’ somewhat still stays pointed at you...

Take notes!

For sure! But being the fantastic person you are you tap into your generous spirit & pull out the candy with a satisfying pop while Jaehyun stares at you, mischief even spilling out of his open mouth.

With only inches between you, you gently slide the bad sugar in, pushing it along his tongue and unconditionally savoring the moment and the view.

His slightly downturned, sultry eyes as you still hold onto the other end of the white plastic, & he keeps sucking on the lemon in his mouth.

Those damn sunken cheeks of his. The tiny scratch on his nose from a few days ago which has mostly healed, but you can still see it.

The dense, dark brows in disagreement with his bleached hair with a still lingering odor of ammonium hydroxide... Really, a look born from a reckless bet on a chaotic road trip—a decision that seemed utterly foolish but now is somehow working in his favor...

In a way, it’s even funny how the flashy hair is soooo out there… but it’s there, being just one aspect of him. Still, you have to admit its impact is real. A gutsy choice that jazzes him up a notch. This new arc he’s projecting, where it seems, he’s flirting a bit more with his impulsive side? Yeah...

Somewhere between handsome and creamy tabby cat... He’s just bursting with the most obnoxious playfulness, and he’s paired with a smile that raises up his dimples.

The way he’s making you curious and wild >>> He’s so sexy, it’s unmatched...

And you understand the gravity of wanting such a fine man! The—

(!) The despite knowing, yet failing... or at least in what you think you know and what you think is better.

You’re completely focused on his lips, and in an instant, reality just seems to melt away like it’s under a spell.

Tis a state... A mood! The ninth cloud where you can’t feel the air or the ground... All there is is his insane eyes scrutinizing your reaction to what he does to the lolly, and it’s honestly the worst kind of pressure.

Finished savouring, Jaehyun’s tongue casually circles his sensuous lips, collecting all possible leftover like he’s just finished you in style.

“Ummm…” Scrunching his nose at the flirty, piquant taste, he takes a step back. Mulls over the candy choice; pushes his cooked bangs; and hesitates before he says, “Nah, this isn’t the one... I-um... I bet there’s something better out there... It’s likeee” suppresses smile in advance of saying it, “It’s just on the tip of my tongue.” His brows flatten too, mans serious! “Help me think?”

OH, Sir!

A treat that can out-beat this bittersweet taste? A goodie that packs an even bigger surprise?

Your always rambling mind goes thoughtless, & that burning need to press on drops off like a light switch. The coming panic. Your gotcha moment. You go quiet. It hits you that this is the first time your playful teasing has backfired and that maybe you can’t be bailed out of what’s to come.

Worse, as it’s one of those silences that just hangs in the air, making things feel more tense. Your self-imposed rules about ‘what you think you know’ and ‘what’s better’ dissolved, leaving you fully present and stimulated.

& Jaehyun digs right in, spreading the cavity...

He lifts the bat again, its tip gently pressing into your belly, and it’s like you can almost feel his warmth seep through it, then past the fragile silken fabric to your skin.

You get so hot. This bizarre ripple from your legs to your tummy as you tightrope between pleasure and unease, joy and hesitation... It’s like you two are finally on the same wavelength, knowing what the other is about to say before the words even come out.

A delicate crease develops between his bushy brows which deepens as he tenderly whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Jae- don’t.” you murmur, your lips curving into a sorrowful pout as you gently shake your head ‘no.’

Needless to say, something nuanced only you and him know...

The result of everything that’s happened...

The ‘this whole trip has messed up the trajectory of our friendship.’

The reason why he chose to hang back today...

The tactics which kicked in since everyone piled into that Jeep truck this morning & sped away.

The from ‘getting schooled’ in all the board games to the countless Polaroids he let you snap of him, to that little “I’m sorry” hand peck he gave you that had you making the death stare, and the “Don’t ever try to do that again!”

The rude ‘skin-feeding’ masked behind the pretense of a ‘generous’ food provider.

And how you slipped past every move, pushed back, and resisted until he has put you up against this wall... and now ‘the-no-escape’.

Still and all- your pushback’s like a sport. Be afraid of what follows...

For Jaehyun gnaws into the very walls of your sensitivity as if sensuality were his chosen medium. Each deliberate motion of the bat becomes a brushstroke in the masterpiece of your downfall...

He glides it along the contours of your waist, teasingly skimming over your curves, trails it down your legs and inners, and even lifts the hem of your dress just enough to make your skin hurt in anticipation.

Then, it finds its way to your stomach yet again, as if to indicate something deep & unexpressed, before tracing a direct path up your sternum, sweeping along your collarbone until he’s made your cardigan slip down your arm, taking the delicate strap of your dress with it...

So much of ‘Jae, don’t,’ huh? Oh, sweetheart…

Certainly, the last thing you hope he avoids is the very thing Jaehyun does...

Trailing the bat along your jawline, ultimately he rests it under your chin... Something something about a ‘clear display of dominance.’ His insane eyes about render you completely motionless as he insists on glancing between your eyes and your lips the way one searches a dictionary for definitions. Again and Again... And then gravity happens...

In an instant, the bat slips from his grasp and tumbles to the floor, making you flinch as his lips finally find their way to your bare shoulder, where seems like he’s achieved something.

Oh, the bite-

An insidious heat stroke as you moan the most promiscuous hiss there is.

“Jaee, we shou—”

“Baby-”

Vibrationssssssssss...

It comes out even more whiny as he gets all of that word muffled against your neck. It roughly cuts into your focus, seeps into your ears, and goes straight to the wrong place.

The very last thing you feel yourself do is slide left against the wall, scraping for any last escape routes, but he just moves in sync with you.

Up to the moment he—

The sound of yearning?

Jaehyun’s palms slamming into the hardwood, spreading out like wings on either side of you, creating a cage of flesh. Brushing off the idea of consent, his hot body presses against yours.

With his hands up, that whimsical teddy bear tee yet again peels from his jeans. It constricts around his arm sleeves, flexing the impressive curve of his biceps. His veins, too, scrumptiously pushed in motivation: ‘All mine! You can’t outrun this, baby. I’m keeping you right where I want you.’

Really, the rest it’s all in your perception—either a trap or a safe spot.

A little motel inside a world of sand... you’ve never felt smaller than you do now with him towering over you—not literally, size in drive and ambition.

You watch yourself fade&wilt in his unsettlingly lazy eyes like Valentine’s flower petals from their vase falling onto the white desk dirtied with graphite from pencil shavings and candy wrappers.

It’s so desertly calm, that your nails accidentally strike a chord in tune as your hands casually fall past his belt buckle...

A beautiful melody that makes his dimples grow deeper, though he still tilts his head, frowning adorably as he perpetually continues to figure things out just for the sake of figuring things out...

Yeah?

Cos, what is the motive here? As your hands do settle gently at the hem of his jeans, fingers teasingly dipping into the softness of his navel?

Hook + Pull = Gravity.

Oh, man, do you make him feel insane things? Cause you’ve been on your guard for the whole day, some goals are hard!

Are you coming ahead of all his sneaky schemes? Are you a baddie too?

Cause now you’re just holding up a higher card like you’ve been doing in every game today. Maybe you... are... on top of your game... The candy of victory is better when it’s hard...

Gravity... Your lips inch closer.

Your slightly parted lips & that parched swallow might just give Blondie a hint of how desperately you want him to melt on your tongue. And you’re over worrying about it. You even yank at his necklace.

The way his hair falls over your lashes creates a delightful distraction as your noses nearly collide. And the best you can pretend in this intimacy is filthy, “I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“Ummmmm...”

On brand! Disturbingly sexy hum that flows like honey—a sugary glaze, coating your lips in a deliciously gooey way. You’re hit with the sting & the toxin even before Jaehyun has a chance to consider kissing you or taking any steps. He smiles, he’s just that awful...

“You will.”

Alas,

the abrupt grating noise of tires screeching to a stop cuts through the dull ambience outside. A lively group seems to spill out of the truck, loud and as if they’ve just been recharged. A voice you both instantly recognize calls out, saturated with sarcasm and clearly wanting to grab ‘someone’s’ ears.

“Greeat! We’ve just rolled into ‘Losers Place!’”

What a Dullass Bullshit Scenario... for Losers.

Jaehyun scoffs lightly, giving a flimsy half-eye roll, his lips pursed in a way that shows just how unimpressed he is with the moment... Inexplicable urgency drives his body into yours one last time, likely a final act of connection.

He hadn’t even had the chance to pin your hands above your head or hold your jaw in a way that would leave you feeling completely—

There was no pulling of hair, nor did you wrap your arms around his neck to-to—

Nor did your tongue map out the crossroads on his stomach...

Or—

Clear anger paints your temple, too, each line bearing frustration... Just there’s something about keeping it a secret that bodies the danger factor, making everything feel so much more smoky and intense.

& you pout as much, nudging your nose against his as to where you feel all deprived but electrified by simply- just- doing that, softly whispering against his lips, breath all drenched,

“Do you think they know?”

Girlie, Fuck! Do you know what you do to him?

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soapyghostie · 8 months ago

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I love all these slasher posts✨ especially the Sawyer brothers ones ❤ can you do one where when sleeping on their bed their S/O literally falls off in the middle of their sleep and what their reactions will be?😭 idk why i feel like that would be hilarious <3

Here’s the request I promised y’all earlier. Another one that’s been in my inbox for months. Enjoy!

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is a heavy sleeper: working all those long hard hours in that Texas heat results in extreme exhaustion for him by the end of the day. Once Bubba is asleep, he initially doesn’t even notice when you, unknowingly due to you also being asleep, roll off the bed onto the floor.

When he eventually wakes up and feels that your side of the bed is empty, Bubba panics through squeals of distress, thinking something terrible has happened to you. He’ll scramble out of bed to end up finding you fast asleep on the floor. This makes Bubba feel so much better, knowing you're okay. However, sleeping on the floor just won’t due and he must get you back on the comfy bed so you can get more comfortable rest.

Bubba bends down to pick your sleeping form off of the floor and back onto the bed. Then he rearranges the bed around you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between the both of you (just in case he accidentally pumps you off), fashioning a makeshift barrier of pillows to prevent you from rolling off. Bubba will also wrap your sleeping form in one of his homemade blankets he crafted in his freetime when doing one of his “hobbies.”

When he’s satisfied with tucking you back in, Bubba will crawl back into bed and drape an arm around your figure to secure you from rolling off the bed again. From that night forward, Bubba will train himself to become a light sleeper, allowing him to become subconsciously aware of your movements to prevent you from falling off the bed again.

Nubbins Sawyer

Nubbins would initially sleep through your unfortunate sequence of events of you falling off the bed until he hears a loud thump. He’ll wake up to the sound, sitting up abruptly, blinking in confusion before realizing you're nowhere on the bed anymore and breaking into a mischievous grin.

Nubbins will pull out his camera and start taking pictures of your limp sleeping form twisted in the weirdest and uncomfortable sleeping possible you’d ever see. Once he had his fun, he’ll shake you awake as hard as he can, ending with you probably getting angry at him and chewing him out for waking you up. When you realize you are laying on the floor, Nubbins will most likely start teasing you with playful remarks, joking about your “gravity-defying escape” from the bed.

However, underneath the playful banter, Nubbins is genuinely worried about you, checking to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself on the way down to the floor. He’ll even offer to help you get back onto the bed. Nubbins will also use this opportunity to recount some bizarre bedtime stories of his brothers to lighten up the mood, helping you forget the initial embarrassment of your fall. His laughter will echo through the room as he regales you with tales of sleepwalking or bed-flipping mishaps from his experiences.

Once you're all tucked in, Nubbins will settle back into bed, cuddling up to you with a twinkle in his eye and that goofy grin he always has, ready to take more peculiar adventures with you tomorrow.

ChopTop Sawyer

ChopTop jolts awake to the sound of your body hitting the floor almost immediately, his wild hair standing on head as he assesses the situation. When he realizes you fell off the bed, rather than showing immediate concern, ChopTop will burst into a fit of laughter, finding the situation highly amusing and entertaining.

You’ll wake up to him right next to you poking you. Once ChopTop notices that you're awake, he’ll start teasing the hell out of you, making crude dark and twisted jokes. He’s trying to push you over the edge to try and get a reaction out of you. It’s like him encouraging you to punch him at this point: I wouldn’t blame you if you did though.

Deep down, he would be worried about you. ChopTop checks you for any bruises or injuries while making more jokes showing both concern and amusement. He’s really trying to hide that softer side of himself that he has for you. He needs to be manly and not all soft and mushy like a little girl. God Damnit (Y/N)!

Once he knows you're alright and don’t have any sort of injury, ChopTop will go back to his normal self and brush off any sort of concern he had for you. He’ll even suggest turning the accident into a funny story, weaving a narrative about the legendary “bed diver” in his signature storytelling style. His laughter lingers in the air as he gently helps you back up into the bed. Is that a hint of nervousness that I hear in that laugh ChopTop? As you both settle back down, he will continue to try and entertain you with bizarre anecdotes and offbeat humor as he wraps a protective arm around you as you fall soundly to sleep. wink

#slashers #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer #nubbins sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer #sophi ghostie writes

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 10 months ago

Note

ok im listening to a spencer reid playlist and "marry me" by bruno mars came on and all i can imagine is its like a week or so after spencer had proposed, and he comes home to reader dancing/singing to the song while cleaning or baking. i would love to see this as a fic 🥺

Sneak Peek

Summary: Spencer comes home from a case to find his new fiancée, Reader, in rare form.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, kinda sunshine/grump

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Here ya go, babes 🩵

Finally, Spencer thinks when he sees his front door. For work, hours on the jet to and from Quantico don’t take as much of a toll on him as one would expect. Passing the hours with debriefs, cards, reading, and sleeping is something he’s grown accustomed to for years at the B.A.U.

This week, however, was different. Before this last-minute case in Cheyenne, Spencer popped the question to you (with the team’s help with set-up and delivery). Of course you said yes. He barely had time to fish the ring from his blazer pocket before you burst out with your answer. But you barely got to enjoy the first 24 hours of being engaged before the team was called to Wyoming the next morning.

But now, it’s Saturday, so that means you’re home. He can already hear music on the other side of the door when he twists his key. Quite an upbeat tune, unusual for your typical taste. While he sticks to classical composers, normally you’re drawn to calm acoustic songs with minimal production. But what he hears when he opens the door is pure pop.

He couldn’t help but smile as he stepped into the apartment, as the familiar scent of home hit him with the smell of something in the oven. You never cook. And you never bake. But Spencer knows what fresh cookies smell like. He followed the sources, rounding the wall that divided the entryway from the kitchen. And there was when his heart skipped a beat. You were there, in a dress, dancing and singing along with the lively tune, completely immersed in a housewife experience of your own making.

This is nothing but out of character for you. You and Spencer regularly put work first before anything. It is expected in your fields that you prioritize work over each other at times. So your wardrobe was mostly pantsuits and black pumps. Prentiss often gave you suggestions on where to shop for your go-to outfits. Which is why Spencer was so stunned to find you in a dress, flowing around your calves as you twirled on the tile floor. Your hair swayed with every movement, and the joy in your eyes was infectious. The room seemed to come alive with the energy you were exuding.

He drank it in, marveling at the happiness radiating from his fiancée. He didn’t think simply clearing his throat would be noticeable. But it was. And suddenly, your batter-doused whisk/makeshift microphone became your weapon of choice. “Spencer!” You exclaimed.

Spencer put his hands up in immediate surrender, his heart momentarily pounding for a different reason. “Woah, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

Your footing in the small space caused you to lose the rhythm of the music as you stumbled. Your socks gave you little friction, but Spencer was quick to save you from mild embarrassment. Granted, his degrees and experience in profiling didn’t exactly prepare him for impromptu dance saves, but he caught you with surprising grace.

“Careful there,” he teased, still holding onto you. “The team will have some choice words with me if they find bruises on you, no matter where they came from.”

You scoffed. “Wow, bruises. So romantic. What a way to greet your future wife.”

Spencer shrugged before lifting you back to your feet, making sure your feet were stable before letting his hands slide from your shoulders. They glided down to your palms as he extended your arms out. “Well, I can certainly say your greeting exceeds mine by miles.” He looks up and down at your dress; a plain green that hugged you at the waist. “I didn’t know you owned any dresses.”

“Hm.” You said. Your hands rolled with his, urging your fingers to link. “I managed to slip something past the genius in this house. Guess you’re not as observant as I thought.”

Spencer’s brows rose as his jaw dropped, instantly ready to roll with this. Sarcasm was something he had to pick up quickly with you, as it’s your default tone. And you have yet to stray after three years. “I’m observant.” The shock translates through his response.

“Clearly not as much as you like to think.” You untangle one of your hands from his and it creeps to cup his cheek, rough with little stubble. “Barely a week of being engaged and you’re already slipping.” You click your tongue as you shake your head.

“I’m very observant. I notice a lot, thank you.” He pulls you close. His now free hand snaking around your waist, just letting your noses brush. He notices how your mouth opens slightly, expecting a kiss as your exhale grazes his upper lip. He was planning to kiss you then and there, and whatever happened next, he was more than happy with.

But you called him out. So now he has to prove you wrong.

“You didn’t sweep up all the flour off the floor.”

Your eyes were half-open, one of the most vulnerable looks he gets to see. But it fizzles as the information clicks in your head. “What?”

“Your socks.” He gestures down to them.

And you look. Black socks were definitely not the wisest choice.

“How many times did you screw up the cookies?” He asked.

“I didn’t screw them up… too much.”

Spencer’s brow quirked.

“Just more flour than the recipe called for. But only because the bag was so difficult to open.”

So, you spilled it. But he kept that part quiet, as you were already turning pink. “How much salt did you use?” He asks instead. Because he’s not above being too gracious.

“Not much.” You bit your lips closed. “Just the standard amount.”

“The standard amount? Did you throw some over your shoulder for luck?” He brushes some grains he spots sticking to your collarbone.

You were still pink, and Spencer could feel the heat rise off your skin. “We… may need to get more sugar from the store.”

“What did you—”

“Not important. The cookies will be ready in three minutes. So, do you want cookies or not?”

“Hm,” He says, eyes glued to your shoulder again. “So if this is sugar…” And he leans down to kiss your shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin as it scales across the center of your clavicle. His lips brush them before leading up to your neck.

“This is the greeting I expected.” You say.

“Oh, really?” He follows the pulse point that he’s learned makes your knees equivalent to jelly. When he kisses there, but doesn’t let his teeth scrape the delicate skin just yet. He closes his eyes, to get lost in the moment, in you, a bit faster. The excuse of sugar on your skin has long been exhausted, but you indulged regardless, indisputable by the small sounds that escape you as he kisses more. The arm that holds your waist braces to take on your weight when he nips.

And down you go. But he catches you. Once again

“Does my future wife expect more?”

You say nothing. You swallow dryly, but Spencer understands that as a yes from you. He keeps you both still. Nipping again while his other hand takes free range around your dress. It makes you mewl, and he’s close to hoisting you to bed.

“The cookies—” You remind him. “Can’t let them burn. The timer says—mm—two minutes.”

“I have plenty to keep me occupied for two minutes.”

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mrsmikaelsxn · 2 years ago

Text

Broom Cupboard Activities

masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x female reader

warnings: smut, fluff, cursing

summary: you and theo abandon a slytherin party and sneak into a nearby broom cupboard, a makeout session leads to more ;) - requested by anon

a/n: thank you for this request, i love writing for theo sm, i hope you enjoy xx!

song: sex, drugs, etc. - beach weather

You and Theodore were dancing together at another Slytherin party. They had just won a Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

You had on a tight, short silk dark green dress. Theo had worn a black suit and a green tie to match you.

The music was loud and you had to ask Theo to repeat what he said, since you could hardly hear.

"Want to sneak away, love?"

"Of course," you smile at him. He takes your hand in his and you squeeze past all of the students in the common room.

You guys finally make it past everyone and speed walk in the corridor, giggling like little children.

Theo spots a broom cupboard and pulls you in with him.

The doors shut behind him and he pushes you against them.

"I love you," he whispers and connects his soft lips to yours.

One hand of his is on the door, next to your head, the other he uses to wrap around your waist and pull you towards him.

His tongue slides against your lip and you open your mouth for him.

You bring your arms up onto his shoulders and run your fingers through his soft and fluffy hair.

"I love you too," you pull back to whisper before connect your mouths again. You feel him smile into the kiss, bringing a smile onto yours as well.

He groans when you tug on the ends of his hair. You push him back and move him so that he is now pushed against the wall.

You two had limited space because of the size of the cupboard, and you couldn't see much since it was so dark.

You start kissing his neck and jaw. Continuing your kisses, you take off the top of his suit, followed by his shirt.

You suck on his neck and collar, leaving hickeys to form.

His breathing picks up as you trail your kisses down his chest, running your fingers along his toned stomach.

You drop to your knees, and Theo looks down at you. He mutters a spell to make the floor feel softer for your knees. You smile up at him in thanks and start to undo his belt.

You get it off and pull his trousers down. You start palming him and he lets out a low groan as hit eyes flutter shut. You grin seeing how hard he is.

"Please, my love"

You then slide his boxers down, and take him in your hand. You slowly start pumping him and he releases a moan.

"Shh, love, you don't want us do get caught do you?"

He shakes his head and bits his lip to conceal any noises threatening to leave him. You whisper a silencing spell while hes distracted by your hand just in case.

"Fuck, sweetheart, I n-need your m-mouth"

You nod your head and kiss his tip and his head drops back onto the wall.

You lick him a few times, just to tease him.

"Darling, please," he begs.

"Okay," you whisper.

You take him in your mouth. Perks of having no gag reflex. He accidentally lets a loud moan slip. He prays to Merlin there isn't anyone by, still unbeknownst to the fact that you silenced the cupboard.

He brings his hands to your hair as you bob your head, sucking him off. You pull back and blow on his hard cock, he shudders and whimpers when you swirl your tongue on is tip.

You take him back in your mouth and run your fingers up and down his thigh.

"Oh my fuck, you look so pretty like this," he groans.

He bites so hard on his lips as you work your talented, talented mouth.

"Shit, I-I'm going t-to c-cum," he whimpers.

You don't stop, only here and there for about two seconds so you can breathe.

"Ah, shit, darling, I-I"m cu-" he start but a moan is released from him as he releases in your mouth.

He watches as you swallow all of it, his breathe are ragged and you lick his tip, cleaning any cum left on him.

You stand up and lip your lips, he almost moans at the sight.

He brings his hand to your neck and pulls you into a sweet kiss as a way of thanking you without speaking words.

"Your mouth does wonders," he grins breathlessly.

"Why thank you, Mr. Nott"

"I'll pay you back for that later," he winks.

"I'll hold you to that," you kiss his cheek.

He puts his clothes back on and you say a spell to make yourselves look like you both haven't done anything.

"You know, I used a silencing spell," you inform him, stepping out of the closet.

He grabs your hand and follows you.

"You cruel, cruel woman"

You laugh and drag him back to the party.

Once you successfully make your way back in, you see Blaise walk up to the two of you.

"You guys are disgusting," he fake throws up and points his finger back and forth between the two of you.

"Oh shove off, mate," Theo smacks his head.

He shakes his head and holds up his hand as he walks away.

"So, dance with me again?"

You smile and take his hand that he held out to you. He brings you back to where people were dancing and you too let loose as you just enjoy each other's presence.

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

The idea of losing you

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, Mentions of suicide, Violence, Blood.

The mission had been intense, with bullets whizzing past and adrenaline pumping through your veins. You and Ghost were working together, taking down enemy operators one by one. Amid the chaos, you called out for Luna, your loyal German Shepherd, who had just finished killing an enemy operator attempting to flank your position.

With a simple command, you beckoned her over, and she trotted to your side, her ears perked up and her gaze locked onto you, awaiting your next orders. Ghost was at your side, urgently calling for reinforcements as you watched from a distance. The tension in the air was thick as you both knew that this mission was far from over.

The faint sound of approaching aircraft grew louder, and you looked up to see an ominous sight—a squadron of fighter jets streaking across the sky. Then, it happened in a heartbeat. The building where your brother was located, the very same building you had just passed moments ago, was engulfed in a fiery explosion.

Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror, the world around you muted by the deafening roar of the explosion.

Your heart shattered as the realization hit you like a tidal wave. Your brother, who had always been there for you, your rock in the tumultuous sea of your life, was now gone. The airstrike had claimed him, ending his life instantly. Beside you, Luna whined, as if echoing your grief. She felt it too; she sensed his presence vanish, and in her own way, she mourned the loss.

For a brief, agonizing moment, the mission, the gunfire, the chaos around you all faded into the background.

Ghost's firm grip on your shoulder pulls you back from the brink. He turns you to face him, and his eyes convey a stern determination. He knows you're hurting, but he also knows that there's a mission to complete. In that silent exchange, Ghost encourages you to hold on, to push through the pain. The mission is still in motion, and you can't afford to lose yourself to grief, not now, not here. With a deep breath, you muster the strength to nod, acknowledging Ghost's unspoken command.

In the days that followed your brother's funeral, your life had taken a downward spiral. Grief had consumed you, making it difficult to eat or sleep. You had distanced yourself from the team, retreating into solitude as you grappled with the loss that weighed heavily on your heart. Your teammates understood, giving you the space and time you needed to process your pain.

Through those dark days, Luna never left your side, her presence was the only thing that seemed to tether you to reality. She stayed by your side, a silent companion that understood your pain better than anyone else. On one sleepless night, you took Luna for a walk. The night air was cool against your cheeks, carrying a faint scent of pine and earth. Luna trotted beside you, her warm presence a comforting reminder of the life that still existed, despite the overwhelming grief that clouded your heart.

As you wandered deeper into the quiet night, you stumbled upon Ghost. He sat on a bench with a cigarette in hand. His gaze was fixed on the mountains in the distance. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, the soft ember glowing in the dark. You approached him, Luna at your side.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, your voice a fragile whisper in the stillness of the night.

He glanced over at you, his eyes reflecting the dim moonlight. "Be my guest," he replied, his tone a mix of weariness and understanding. You took a seat beside him, the night air cool against your skin, and for a moment, you both sat in silence, staring at the mountains in the distance.

The weight of the world seemed to press down on your shoulders, but here, with Ghost beside you and Luna at your feet, you found a moment of respite from the relentless storm that had become your life. Finally, Ghost broke the silence, his voice tinged with concern that he couldn't conceal.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes shifting to study your face in the faint moonlight.

Ghost wasn't one to readily express his feelings, but his worry had been gnawing at him ever since you started pulling away from the team. He would never admit it to you, but your absence had left a void, and he missed the sound of your voice, the liveliness you brought to the group. Your presence had, in its own way, always been a comfort to him, a reminder of life beyond the shadows of his past.

You grounded him in a way he couldn't quite explain.

You took a deep breath, you decided to be honest with him. "To tell you the truth, I thought about ending it. Several times actually, with one quick bullet to the head. But I realised I couldnt give up, Luna needs me." You softly patted the top of her head and smile as she looks up to you. Ghosts eyes never left you, his gaze scanning over your features, lingering when he noticed the deep bags under your eyes.

"My brother gave her to me after our parents died. She’s all I have left of him. She was just a puppy when she was thrown into this hellish world of war. I can’t leave her behind. Im trying to pull myself together for her sake. Shes the only reason I havent given up."

Ghost listened, his gaze never wavering from you. He saw the pain in your eyes, the weight you carried, and he didn't know what to say. But when you looked at him, he met your gaze with sincerity. Breaking the silence, he spoke gently, his voice a calming presence in the still night.

"You're not alone in this, Y/n. The team, we're all worried about you. We care about you, and we're here for you whenever you need it."

Ghost's gaze remained on yours, his eyes reflecting the concern and genuine care he felt. "Don't push us away, we care about you more than you might realize."

Don’t push me away… I care about you more than you realize…

Words he would never dare speak to you.

"Thank you, Ghost" Your smile, though faint, warmed his heart.

The horizon began to shift, the first soft rays of the rising sun peeking over the distant mountains. Together, you and Ghost sat in the comfortable silence of the early morning, Luna at your feet, as you watched the sun rise.

A couple days after your talk with Ghost you were thrown into another mission. You were meant to infiltrate a building, and the team had split up to cover more ground. Luna was at your side as you cautiously opened a door, not anticipating the nightmare that awaited on the other side. In a fraction of a second, the situation went from under control to utter chaos. Luna leaped into action, her training taking over as she swiftly neutralized the enemy in front of you. But you failed to realize that it wasn't just one target; there was a group of them inside.

Two of them emerged from behind the door, pinning you to the floor before you could react. You struggled against their weight, your heart pounding in your chest as the situation escalated. Panic surged through you as you saw one of them raise their weapon, aiming it at Luna. The deafening gunshot pierced the air, and you watched in horror as Luna was struck, the bullet tearing through her leg. She cried out in pain, collapsing to the floor beside you, her once vibrant eyes now filled with agony. You screamed out as two men began kicking her.

"Please stop. Please dont do this!"

You were mere inches away, your arm slipped from the mens hold on you. You outstretched your hand, fingers trembling as you desperately tried to reach her, to offer any comfort you could. But they were quick to grab your arm, pinning your hands behind your back. All you could do was watch helplessly as she lay there, her gaze locked with yours, a silent plea in her eyes. The pain and guilt gnawed at your insides, the anguish of being so close yet utterly powerless to save her.

"Luna please get up."

You watched as one of the men took the pistol from his holster aiming it at her head.

"Im begging you shes all I have left please dont do this. Please just let her go."

Luna who had been looking at you the entire time lets out a low whine. All you can do is look at her.

"I'm so sorry" was all you can say before the deafening gunshot pierced the air.

The rest of your team burst into the room, and in a flurry of gunfire, they took down the enemy operatives. Ghost hurried to your side, but the tears continued to fall silently as you stared at Luna's lifeless body. Ghost positioned himself in front of you to shield you from the lifeless form her. Gently, he lifted you, cradling you in his arms, and carried you away from the room, heading towards the medevac.

Ghost had been there for you every day, his presence unwavering after the loss of your brother and your Luna. He remembered the words that had echoed in his mind, how Luna had been the last thing keeping you from ending your own life, and that thought scared him to the core. He couldn't bear the idea of losing you.

So, he checked on you constantly.

He would bring you tea at random times of the day, ask you to training sessions , and do anything he could to prevent you from being alone for extended periods. You looked okay, you had accepted every cup he brought thanking him with a small smile, joined him for training sessions, watched movies with him and the team in the rec room. He knew you were faking it, putting on a facade to shield him and the team from your pain.

Then, one day, you finally told him that you were okay.

"I'm okay, Ghost. I'm trying my best to pull myself together. It's just... a lot, you know?"

Ghost nodded, "I know," he replied, his voice gentle. "And I'm here for you, always. Dont forget that."

Ghost, ever the soldier, wanted to believe you. He wanted to believe that you were strong enough to overcome the grief and trauma that had engulfed you. But deep down, he had a nagging feeling that you were still hurting, that you weren't as okay as you claimed to be. He knew that healing from such profound loss took time, and he wished he could do more to help you through it.

You guys had just finished watching a movie in the rec room, the two of you were walking back to your rooms. His room was right next to yours, he stopped in front of his door. The nagging feeling in his heart was screaming out to him to not leave you alone. His mind flashed back to you laughing at the movie with Soap. You had made a joke that Soap thought was hilarious.

He thought that maybe you were trying your best to be okay. So he turned saying goodnight to you before stepping into his room and closing the door. He couldnt fall asleep, he had been tossing and turning for an hour. His mind wouldnt let him rest, he was worried about you. Something had kept screaming out at him to knock on your door and check on you and so he threw the covers off himself.

He opened his door and walked over to yours, he raised his fist to knock on your door when he flinched.

The sound of a gunshot made him flinch.

"Y/n?!" he tried opening the door but of course it was locked. He started to ram his shoulder against it until he finally broke through. He saw you laying on your bed, your eyes were open.

They were far away.

In your hand was a gun.

And you lay in a growing pool of your blood.

Ghosts breathing was labored as he looked at your eyes, you had been crying in your last moments. If only he had come sooner, if only he had listened to the gut feeling that screamed out at him the second he left your side. His eyes went to the small piece of paper in your hand, he carefully grabbed it, slowly opening it. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes read over the letters.

Im sorry Simon.

You noticed how hard he had been trying. Your conversations with him were always one sided before your brother and Luna's death. He was always the one listening, he never bothered to start conversations, never bothered to make plans, never offered you tea, never went to the movie nights.

He had tried his damn hardest to make sure you would be okay but it still wasnt enough.

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controld3vil · 7 months ago

Text

two psychopaths

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic), austin butler x actor!reader (can be read as ambiguous/platonic/romantic, WHATEVER YOU GUYS PREFER)

synopsis: requested by this ask and this!

alt: regardless of you two playing psychopaths, in reality, you were the sweetest human beings ever.

notes: i applaud austin butler for his performance omg!! dually noted that the reader has hair that is long enough to be put into a ponytail (they are showing off a cute hair tie they got). NO BETE READ i apologize !!

You should have expected something. If not for your past antics, there would be no reason for them to be here. It was touching really, playing against your own tactics.

Without delay, in the morning, you were going to buy breakfast. When you decided and reluctantly remembered your cast members were going to have an interview around the same area. The building was close by, a block from the café shop. And so you rushed across the street, with a butter croissant in one hand, and a hot drink in another.

"Boo!" As you had snuck behind, grabbing both of their shoulders together in a tight squeeze. You could feel Timothee Chalamet's body jump while Austin Butler feeling startled, and involuntarily jerked back to swat your hand.

"Hey!"

"Oh my gosh, you scared me!"

"That was the point!" Your snickering was quickly joined by the film crew behind the scenes. It was all caught on camera and gave a great spook for everyone on set. You could still feel your heartbeat pumping as you tightened your grip on both of their shoulders.

"They really got you two!" The host of Comicbook.com and interviewer Brandon Davis exclaimed, covering his mouth with his fist. You were glad he and the rest of the crew obligated you to sneak in, a few minutes before their interview. Your eyes followed behind the movie poster to the corner, where you had laid your breakfast. Making sure nothing slipped or stomped on.

"Now we're really gonna get you next time!" Timothee's voice brought your attention back to him. Your grip never leaves his side, as he holds onto it as if threatening you.

"I'd like to see you two try," Nodding as you sneered. To add more to the competition, you gave a shaky handshake without breaking eye contact.

On the other hand, Austin could only lean back in his chair with an amused grin. "I thought you also had an interview today?" Tapping your hand on his shoulder, casually not minding your invasion of his personal space.

Your attention shifts, and you smile sweetly. "Mine is after lunch so I still got time." Lowering your tone, playfully mimicking Austin's voice. "I'll see you guys later though, enjoy your interview!"

As you release your grip to pat their heads, Timothee swerves to wave goodbye. Almost hitting himself in the face with your hand. "Alright- whoa see ya!". In an instant, Austin gives you a look before patting his seatmate on the back.

You grabbed your belongings, then thanked everyone walking out. Brandon Davis looked even more ecstatic now, knowing the actor's moods were lifted, looking a lot happier and pumped.

"Well what a great start to our interview huh?"

"Hm?"

"Oh yeah, the best!"

In turn, a couple hours after, you and Josh Brolin had been seated for the start of your interview. It was arranged by Maude Garrett, with whom you had talks with Jessica Ferguson before. Meeting her again was a pleasant encounter. You had a fantastic time with her last time and believed it would be no different with Brolin by your side.

"Hey!" She squeals out your name, hands in the air. "I'm so happy to see you again!"

"I came back just for you," Clutching her hand, you wave it back and forth. You were gleaming with joy as you seated yourself next to Brolin, who gave you a confused smile.

"You two know each other?"

"Oh no no-"

"I did an interview with her and Jessica," you clarified before glancing at Maude, "She's really nice!"

"So that's why you wanted to come along?" Josh exasperates a sarcastic groan. "Do you not want to do interviews with me?"

The humorous banter does not diminish throughout the interview. No, having worked with Josh Brolin through Dune, you were always attentive to his words. You can tell how passionate he is to be a part of Dune. The way he's communicated with Villeneuve and the producers, made you appreciate him more. Even before the interview had started, Brolin had brought up a book he had been working on with Greig Frazer of the photography of Dune.

You knew it was a fun project for him and he even gifted you one of the first few copies before release.

"Do you think Duncan Idaho is going to be a big part of Part 3?" Brolin and Garrett were having a conversation about potential possibilities for the Dune universe. As it was a well-known fact for book readers, more complex characters and plotlines divert after the first novel.

While you sat patiently, only ever observant of of their interaction. "I mean, I love-"

Suddenly there were screams. Boom! Your eyes lit up as if a sudden alarm had gone off. It was then two bodies came crashing towards you to notice what was happening. The two young male actors hurdled over you and Josh Brolin in a frenzy, surrounding you all in a big bear hug. You could decipher your mentor's frightful yet affectionate grin.

"Oh my gosh!" You almost shrieked, hand instinctively placing over your heart in reassurance. Timothee stood by Brolin's side, shaking him side by side. While Austin held onto yours, having the time of his life at your expression. You could tell already that cameras were caught yours and Brolin's slow-mo reaction.

"What's going on?!"

Mumbles of excitement were scattered on the scene. You could not stop smiling, as you placed your hand on top of Austin's, looking at him in pure defeat and fondness. As if saying, you got me.

"Thank you, god!" Josh happily cries out, bowing his head pure of joy.

Eventually, the Elvis actor lets go and formally greets the interviewer, shaking her hand. "Hi, I'm Maude! Nice to meet you!"

"Is this the interviewer you were talking to me about?" Austin looks at you, questionably. "The one asking about the popcorn bucket?"

You nod, enthusiastically. "She is! Maude, I was raving about you!"

"Awh!" The blonde female places a hand over her heart, warmly. She pouts lovingly at your comment. "How sweet of you!"

On the other side, Timothee grins back at Brolin before saying his hellos to you. "Hey, how are you?"

"I literally saw you hours ago!" You pointed your index finger directly at him, scoldingly. However, in return, the French actor laughs, and before hearing Austin turning to Brolin.

"We got the books."

"We got them and you got to sign it." Timothee states, placing both his hands on Brolin.

"Ok!" Suddenly the shot pans to you, having your mouth wide open.

"We'll bring em'- Give me a little- give me a little personal message-"

"I love you guys!" The older actor bellows, opening his arms for all of you three to join in one last hug. Seconds after, Brolin pats his French costar adorably on the back as a farewell. "I love you! Get outta here!"

The camera pans to Timothee moving towards your seat. As you discreetly mumble, making puppy dog eyes. "I get to sign too, right?!" He only chuckles before softly punching your shoulder as a gesture of approval.

"We got you good this time!" The French costar makes finger guns, playfully shooting at you in victory. You couldn't help but blow a raspberry in denial.

"I didn't know you guys were gonna do it today!"

"That was the whole point!" Austin chastely pats the back of your seat, gliding his hand to connect with yours to shake.

Sometime after your encounter, you and Austin managed to meet again in Los Angeles. It was when the Associated Press wanted to have you two for an interview with their AP film writer, Lindsey Bahr, to speak on topics that would pertain to both of your characters. You, coming back from the first film, with a new profound experience. Upon his introduction, Austin's character, Feyd-Rautha, is portrayed as a calculating and highly skilled warrior in Harkonnen's fashionable way.

You couldn't wait, as you sped into the boardroom where the interview was taking place. Lindsey Bahr beside the camera, was casually chatting with Austin as the rest of the crew prepared for the shoot.

The two of you gave each other a quick hug before taking your seats to get comfortable.

"Oh look what I got from New York!" Your head spins clockwise to show the back of your head, only to confuse Austin and the rest of the crew profoundly. This was a small snippet the Associated Press wanted to keep in the interview. They believed it was a great preview promoter to display your and Austin's relationship with each other.

"What is it? What are you showing us?" The blonde-brunette male puts forward, as the camera zooms in on him inspecting you dumbfounded. It pans to you grabbing your hair tie before turning back to face the audience.

Your hair once slicked by its restraint is now free and lies on your shoulders. It doesn't fall evenly on you though, but almost awkwardly due to the gel in your locks.

"Look at this!" You show it to the camera with a hand holding the item. And another, palm up to allow better focus. It was a character plush hair tie. One of a loveable cookie with one eyebrow raised. It even had one big tooth sticking out. "Isn't it cute?"

"It's adorable!" Linsey says with a smile. Your grin was contagious as she admired your high enthusiasm for the small accessory. "Where did you find it in New York?"

"In a BTS store," you pierced your lips together, thumbs smoothing over the face of the plushie. "I was looking for a gift for my cousin. And then I saw a bunch of displays of these!"

"I like his little expression," Austin perks up, arms relaxing on the armrest. Though his posture was leaning to look at the cute ornament in your hands. "He looks questionable intrigued."

"He is," You agree, locking eyes with him. "He kind of looks like me, yeah?"

Your costar charmingly laughs, as you lift the cookie next to your face. You did your best to mimic its expression, trying not to break. "He kind of does actually," Before leaning to push away some strands of your hair behind your shoulder.

And the interview commenced smoothly. It did not feel one-sided or exclusive from one person. You and Austin were able to enjoy yourselves, talking and reliving the moments you had onscreen. You barely had any scenes together, in fact, both of your characters were across planets from each other by the time the climax of the film began. Though it had mostly focused on Paul's and Feyd's rivalry for the throne even then. Little was known about your characters together despite having fair similarities in combat, and personality.

Then there was a question that came up from Bahr, asking if you all, specifically the younger casts spent time together after filming or stayed in your hotel rooms.

Austin decided to step in and respond. "I mean we had some dinners- when we got hungry."

"I'd say both. I mean it was rare for the five of us to be together because of our production schedules." You say, scratching your arm upwards. Out of your peripherals, you could see Austin nod in correspondence. "Otherwise, most people were really beaten up. I mean- I think me, Florence, Timothee, Zendaya, and Austin are the tamest bunch you know? Dinner was the latest school night we had."

"Right, we'd be so tired," Your male costar snickers, covering his smile with his hand.

Then it was like a light bulb flashes above your head when your eyes flash in revelation. "We did like to go shopping a lot together."

"Really? How was that like?"

"A lot of hours, that's for sure." Austin crosses his arms, exhaling a long groan. Only for you to have a guilty pout, shyly backing up in your chair. Even you did not deny his claims. "I mean- with them, all of the bags get piled onto me."

"I try to spend less every time I go shopping with him," You wave your arms defensively. With an amused smile, the Elvis actor could only want to listen to more, back fully leaning on his chair. "Though me and Zendaya love to go shopping all the time."

"It must've been a hectic shopping spree!"

"The most hectic," Your costar spouts a satirical groan as you dismissively smile and shake your head.

And most of all, you were fortunate enough to be invited to Graham Norton's show alongside Josh Brolin and Austin Butler. Coincidently other stars such as Olivia Coleman and Jodie Foster were present which made you more instantly excited. It was a row stacked with amazing actors and actresses. Even you, who have been considered in a few films were more than ecstatic to meet every one of them.

It took some time into the interview when Norton brought up Dune. As he went down the line of people, Austin was the last person on the couch yet to be asked a question. You were sitting beside Josh and Jodie Foster, whom you eagerly met backstage only minutes prior when you all went onstage. It was all nerve-wracking from the start. However, the longer you sat and talked, the more comfortable you became with the people you so charismatically looked up upon.

"Now Austin," Graham raises his hand as he directs everyone's attention to the TV screen, "Now what the fuck happened to you?" Then a still image of him in all costume as Feyd Rautha appears. Leading the audience to laugh and even a few chuckles from the couch. Graham's straightforwardness too caught you offhand as you cough not so subtly in the background.

Waves of ohs and awes rippled from person to person.

"Did you- did you know- yes that's Austin!"

"By the way- that's how I met him the first time because everyone said if you met Austin- Oh you're gonna love Austin," Brolin starts, one arm leaning against the back of the couch. "And then finally, I knocked on his trailer door- and I opened the door to this pasty bald emaciated thing." More laughter erupts as you sweetly grin at the faint memory of their meeting.

"But you didn't shave your head?"

"I was- I was going straight to another film and uh- called The Bike Riders with Tom Hardy and Jeff Nickels who was directing," Austin explains the director specifically asked him not to shave his head. As it would be difficult to grow back quickly and transition from Dune. "So the wonderful hair and makeup team did that to me." As he points back to the picture of him and Lea Seydoux.

"Wow!"

"That's a bald wig!"

"Yeah isn't it incredible?" The Elvis actor gleams back at Olivia and then to you. You give him a wider grin, cocking your head sideways until the attention is drawn back to Graham.

"And also, it's not just- it doesn't- where does it start?"

"It attaches where my eyelids are," He points and the rest of the actresses could only stare in astonishment.

"Whoa, you didn't have to shave your eyebrows either."

"That's- wow!"

"But it's incredibly meticulous if they're a millimeter off, you can't open one eye and uhm- so yeah they were incredible." He explains, pointing closely to his eyelids to make a better visualization of how detailed his look was for the crew. Truly it was an astonishing character design, and to have Austin fill in those shoes was a great casting choice. You couldn't think of anyone else to play Feyd.

"Was it like an hour?" Jodie brings up, having one hand on her chin innocently.

"It was three hours." Disappointed grunts and groans came from the two women beside you. It was as if the moment he mentioned how long it took, all the enthusiasm to try bald wigs was out of the table. It was hilarious, both Olivia and Foster looking back and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Seated next to them, you followed along, shaking your head so slightly, staring at them as if saying, really?!

"Shave my head!" Graham shouts and yelps agreeing to his holler followed the room. Seconds after the noise disperse, the host turns his eyes on you. He brings your attention, saying your name in confidence. "And uh- here's the thing, you had the complete opposite! People have said that you had to grow out your hair- either or have extensions to have longer hair."

"Absolutely the complete opposite for me," You cheerily perk up, saluting your drink to Norton. The audience snickers, followed by Brolin bursting out in a howl. "But- yes I would say I had to grow out my hair for this film. To the point where I had many intricate braids in my hair."

"It must've been so nice," Josh chides, almost too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms and you give him a look of caution, playfully so.

"Yeah luckily you didn't have to deal with all of my mess," Austin motions to his hair, and immediately you let out a whistle. Again the back of the crowd responds well to your banter. Everything went so smoothly whenever you were with your cast mates. You were the most comfortable with them.

"Very very true!" Norton points his flashcards to you, "Would you have shaved your head if you- two had switched roles?"

"Honestly why not," Shrugging, you could hear some murmurs of surprise and intrigue. "I feel like I would be very comfortable with the bald wig too. But I mean if I cut all of my hair, I wouldn't have to grow them out anymore."

There was a semblance of mutuality while some still expressed their preferences (Olivia and Jane). Though what was most prominent to you was Broliin balling his eyes out. While Austin looks at you in pure confusion and stupefaction.

"All that to not grow out your hair?!" Josh exclaims, and the shot perfectly catches him clenching his chest from how much he was cackling at your odd comment.

"I mean that's one way to do it," Austin had a much slower reaction as it seemed at that moment made you break. Only to have you glance down at your shoes because of how much you wanted to laugh uncontrollably.

"I think it'd be cool no?" You try to say, slowly breaking into laughter. The rest of the crowd cooed at how you were with your costars. You always manage to include them in every conversation, showing how much care you had with everyone you had worked with. "I feel like the material of the bald wig would be super cool to touch."

"It's- it's a latex-"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Graham hushes, one hand shielding his mouth even though everyone can hear what he is saying. A huge wave of roars and screams echoed. And all you could do was cover your face and hide behind Brolin.

Yet the most unforgettable moment that would define your relationship with Austin is not even with the two of you present. In fact, it was in an interview with him,with Timothee and Zendaya. During that time, you were paired with someone else. But it was a small mention of Austin's first days of filming for Dune that kept viewers occupied.

"When you- fitting in with you know, coming into this group," It takes a few glances for Austin to look at his costars. "What did that feel like to you?"

Austin locks eyes with Zendaya then Timothee, "You both were so kind and welcoming and- uhm-"

"And we bullied him for the first week," The mixed actress casually mentions, as it can be heard off camera, sounds of agreement. "No, I'm kidding!"

"We had to break him in," The French actor nods, playing along to their scheme.

"Yeah, exactly exactly," The brunette actor goes even further with it, "Hazing rituals."

Zendaya raises her finger. She refers to you with such warmth. "It was more than hazing rituals. I mean- actually, they were doing crazy dance moves and-"

"They're just full of sunshine," Austin beans ear to ear, eyes only evident of fondness. "Super warm and welcoming."

Timothee cocks his head slightly to the side. "Welcome to Arrakis!"

322 notes · View notes

ameliaenya707 · 5 months ago

Note

Wait wait, maybe of its not to much trouble~

You could do period sex with keigo? 😏

I love you annon ♥

Lemme bust this out rq

I had so much fun writting this actually

☆ Messy ☆

You found yourself laying on the couch, stuck in the fetal postion wincing it pain with ever sharp shoot of agony in your abdomen. Keigo had gone to work already, so you were all alone whimpering in pain as the news played in the background. Although you'd never admit it to yourself - much less him - you found yourself missing him, the warmth of his body and his touch. And in times like these when your damn uterus was tearing itself up you missed him the most. You could only see him on the news, him hanging around at the end result of a villain attack, holding some girl to his chest to comfort her. A slight tinge of jealousy filled your mind. Why did he kidnap you and go through all this shit if he was going to let dumb fangirls be all up on him?!

It all hit you too fast and a sharp ache spread down to your thighs. Tears brimming your eyes and you hopelessly clung onto the plush pillow, nails digging into the fabric as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain. Suddenly you felt something tickling the exposed skin of your neck, then your cheek. You reluctently opened your eyes to be met with the crimsion of Keigo's feather tickiling you. You almost entirely forgot about the necklace he made for you with his feather, adorning your neck. He could hear you through them, track your heart rate ect ect. He must have picked up on your agony.

You couldn't help but let out a giggle at how the feather zipped around, rubbing against your cheek. You take it gently in your hand, tracing your finger down its spine.

You glanced back at the TV, the news had changed to some disaster in Kamino ward but to your relief Keigo was no where to be seen on the sight. But your breath hitched when you heard the familiar jingle of keys. Something that used to be horrifying. The sound of the front door creaking open and the sight of Keigo when you peeked over the couch cushion.

"Dove, you should have told me and I would have stayed home with you," you frown when you hear him sigh, watching silently as he takes off his coat and discards his visor onto the coffee table. Now standing in front of you. Pretty amber eyes staring down at you, a twing of concern clouding them.

"M' sorry...it didn't hurt bad this morning...and I didn't wanna take you away from your work..." you mumble, averting your gaze from his.

Please no punishment.

You aren't sure you're in the mental space for the cage right now.

"I'm not mad baby, just worried. C'mon baby," he coos, sitting down next to you on the couch and patting his knee. Inviting you to sit on his lap. You hesitant before shifting to sit on his lap, your back against his chest.

You stiffle a giggle when his blonde hair tickles your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You gasp when you feel his fingers hooking under the band of your panties.

"No! It's gross, I'm all bloody and it's gonna stain th-" you stop abruptly when his hand slaps over your mouth, silencing any further protests. You whine as his hand snakes down further, jolting when he gives a small pinch to your clit.

"Just lemme make you feel better baby, promise it'll be fast dove." He mumbles, honeyed words seeping through your weak mental. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. The pads of his fingers parting your folds and his thick finger sliding into you. Eyes squeezing shut the only way you could deal with the intrusion, your cunt clenching down on his finger as tears brimmed your eyes. He let you adjust to it, your breath calmed, the feeling still foreign but now distracting you from any previous cramps.

"One more, yeah? Think you can handle it baby? I know you can, you always do, such a good girl..." Keigo chuckles lowly, shoving another finger inside of you, pumping them in and out at a resonable pace. His thumb moving to rub against your clit. The feeling of his fingers numbing everything, the feeling of blood gushing out starting to feel hazy, your head lolling to the side and resting back against his shoulder as your eyes rolled back.

"K-kei please! Gonna cum please lemme cum!" You plead, knowing better now than to cum without his permission. Maybe today he'd take mercy on you and let you the first time you ask.

"Go ahead pretty girl, go and cum on my fingers." He nips at the flesh of your neck. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin and spilling out of your cunt drowning every throught out as your cunt clenches down on his fingers, the cord in your abdomen snapping and the waves of your orgasm washing over you.

You thought maybe he'd be nice but he pulls his fingers out of you, holding them infront of your face. Scarlet red mixed with slick dripping down his digits. He chuckles as your face burns with shame.

"Look what a mess you made baby,"

189 notes · View notes

captainmalewriter · 4 months ago

Text

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!”

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso.

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug.

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?”

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond.

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside.

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him.

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on.

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all!

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes.

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes.

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop��! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation.

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package.

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head.

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs.

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again.

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls.

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter.

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

Thank you for supporting!!

#male takeover #male identity theft #male body theft #male bodysuit #bodysuit transformation #musk #muscular #dad possession #commission story #commission

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