#if someone outside the US calls me a yank i will wear the name with pride

[contortionyx]

To me, anyone in the northeast of the US can be called a yank. A YankEE however is a fan of the baseball team.

yank poll incoming

Bonus points if you tag where you're from and your answer. thank you kisskiss

[tsukisrants]

The Help

pairing: choi san x afab! reader

word count: 11k

warnings: smut (i mean,,, it’s me), d/s undertones, reader is kind of a brat, brat tamer choi san (yes), unprotected sex, rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving), spit kink and play, spanking, praise, name calling, possessive sex, kind of a breeding kink?, creampie, past abusive relationship (so if that’s a trigger skip the first few paragraphs), reader is a badass (i love women), lots of teasing.

summary: you’re tired of your ex trying to control your life, and as you’re once again faced with him, you know you’ll have to rely on yourself to make it. but… things don’t go as planned, and for once, someone steps in, and helps you. instead of going home, you decide to give the stranger a chance at making your night memorable. and fuck, he does.

A part of you is scared. But more than fear, the emotion burning and growing in your chest is anger. Maybe even humiliation? So many feelings flicker incessantly through your body, and even when you try to reach out and grab hold of some, they mock you, swirling away, resuming their constant motion: their circus dance.

“Please, let me go,” you plead again. Because even though you’re angry, you’re trying to be clever. Trying to find a way out, trying to escape quickly and painlessly.

But he doesn’t seem to care. Jaewon grips your wrist with force, with arrogance. You’d like to say it’s something you’re not used to, but you’d be lying. Still, you swallow your tears. Even though too many have already fallen, and even though you wish you could push them back, you know it’s impossible.

“I told you to fucking listen to me!” he shouts. His eyes are bloodshot and god knows what else. His hair is disheveled, dark circles etched under his eyes. So far from the image you once had of him.

Jaewon was your boyfriend. He was, for a while. Nothing too serious, at least not for you. You ended things when he started becoming more aggressive, more inclined to control you. You ended things when you found pictures of other girls on his phone, and the undeniable proof that besides you, others had also warmed his bed.

He didn’t take it well. Constant messages, sometimes calls. He showed up under your apartment more than once, and now—now he waited for you outside the club you were heading to. He probably followed you from home or used whatever other insane method he thought of to keep tabs on you.

The fact is, you can’t do anything now. He’s gripping you tight, and he looks desperate. Nothing about this promises anything good.

People are ignoring it: some too afraid, others utterly indifferent. You’d like to blame them, but you don’t. Maybe you’ve always been used to indifference. It doesn’t surprise you at all. In fact, for you, it’s the norm. You’ve always had to take care of yourself. No one else ever did.

“I don’t want to! No… we’ve already said everything there was to say. We’re done, Jaewon. I’m done. Let me go and leave. Can’t you see you’re only making things worse?”

He doesn’t like you talking back. He doesn’t like you standing above him. And you are, fuck. You are, and pretty much anyone would be, compared to the scum you have in front of you. A small, petty, useless man. A coward.

“Y/n, watch your mouth, you hear me? Don’t piss me off more than you already have,” he growls, yanking you closer to him. With the boots you’re wearing, tripping is almost impossible. You hate being so close to him and try to push him away. But he takes advantage of it, and now he’s gripping both of your wrists, moving your body like it’s made of rags and forcing you to look him in the face.

“Look at how the fuck you’re dressed! Don’t you have a shred of respect for me? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

You’re exhausted. You want to scream, you want to shove him away and kick him until he feels the pain he’s causing you. And you hate it, hate that he’s trying to make you feel this way. You even hate that a tiny part of your brain is pushing you to feel guilty. But you don’t listen to it. You swallow your emotions and try to stay sharp because he deserves nothing. He doesn’t deserve your suffering, your reverence. He’s just a self-centered lunatic who wants something he knows he can’t have.

“I’ll dress however I want, I always have. I owe you nothing, Jaewon. And you’re hurting me, I told you. Go home before you do something you’ll regret.”

Despite everything, you can’t swallow down your own nature. As if some part of you still wants to protect him, too used to taking care of everyone and everything. But you’re at your limit. You just want some peace. You just want to enjoy your night. Better yet, your life.

“What’s this, are you threatening me?” he snaps back, a twisted laugh escaping from his lips bitten raw. He misunderstood because he always misunderstands everything—every word, every thought.

You don’t know how to get out of this. You don’t know what to do. It all keeps getting worse, second by second. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel small, crushed under the weight of something far too big. But you want to be strong. Really, you desperately want to be. But more than anything, you wish you didn’t have to be. You wish you could be small, fragile. But safe.

You open your mouth to respond, even though resignation is already growing within you.

Something — someone — interrupts you.

“She’s not threatening you. But I am. Get your hands off her, buddy.”

You’re confused. This… this shouldn’t be happening. It never has before. No one has ever tried to help you, and it feels so surreal. But when you raise your eyes, you realize you’re wrong.

Your first thought, absurdly, is that the guy — the man — who spoke is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. Black hair, feline and intense eyes, broad shoulders. Jaewon’s jaw clenches. He’s not used to being interrupted, either.

But the nameless man has a hand gripping his arm, and he seems to be holding tight. And yet, his face shows little emotion. A stern gaze, but one that seems to soften slightly when it lands on you.

“Who the fuck is this? Someone you’re screwing, Y/n?”

The coward doesn’t have the guts to talk directly to him, so he keeps trying to belittle you, who are gasping, confused and scared, panic slowly growing in your chest. “No. But I am someone who’s about to hurt you really bad if you don’t let her go. You’re a pathetic worm, and I crush worms like you, buddy.”

Jaewon hesitates, his grip on your wrists loosening just a fraction. He looks at the guy up and down, a flash of doubt crossing his eyes. But then, like the pathetic creature he is, he tries to recover by puffing out his chest and snarling, “Mind your own fucking business, buddy. This is between me and her. Isn’t it, Y/n?”

The man’s gaze turns icier, his hand still gripping Jaewon’s arm like a steel vice. His expression remains calm, unsettlingly so, like he’s not even remotely threatened by the man in front of him. If anything, he looks vaguely irritated. Especially due to the fact that Jaewon tried to use you as a support for his own fucking tantrum.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man begins, his voice cutting through the night like a beacon. It’s something tangible where there was only darkness before. Maybe even a shred of hope. Salvation. “I’ve been polite up until now. Leave her alone.”

Jaewon seems stuck. Confused, maybe. You know him well enough to tell he’s seething with rage far beyond what he’s showing. But like the coward he is, he only targets those who seem defenseless, weaker than him. Jaewon doesn’t fight battles he knows he can’t win. “Fine,” he growls. It’s almost animalistic. His hands release your wrists with the same violence he used to grab them. He shoves you away, and you stumble a bit.

He doesn’t let go out of remorse or a guilty conscience. He lets go because he’s a coward.

The man next to you takes a step forward, steadying you. But before he can move any further, you find yourself clutching at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to keep him from leaving you alone.

Jaewon stalks off, radiating fury.

“Don’t leave me alone,” you whisper. You’re shocked by your own words because you never ask for help. It’s just not you. But now? Now you feel drained, overwhelmed, lost in a whirlwind of emotions you can’t fully process. And you don’t want this guy — this stranger who actually dared to intervene — to end up getting hurt because of someone as worthless as Jaewon. It wouldn’t be fair.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine now,” the man reassures you, his voice softer this time, actually addressing you directly. His gaze is completely different now: gentle, comforting. Still feline, yes, but more like a cat’s rather than a fierce predator’s.

“My name’s San,” he murmurs, and there’s a hint of shyness there, like he’s not used to introducing himself under these kinds of circumstances.

“I’m Y/n. Thank you, San. I didn’t think anyone… that anyone would help. You didn’t have to, but thank you. Really.”

San shakes his head, a tiny, dismissive smile curving his lips. But there’s something sad beneath that smile, something that looks almost like frustration. “No one was doing anything. I couldn’t just stand there and watch,” he mutters, his eyes casting sharp, judgmental looks at the bystanders — those who chose to do nothing yet couldn’t resist gawking at the scene.

“I’m used to it, don’t worry,” you reply with a sad smile of your own. Your body feels sluggish now, adrenaline bleeding away and leaving you with a mess of feelings you can’t quite untangle.

“Doesn’t make it right,” he counters, and the firmness of his words feels like a reminder, one you almost needed to hear. He gives you a little space, stepping back just enough to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. And that’s when you realize your hands are still clutching his shirt. You pull away as if you’ve been burned, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You mumble some kind of apology, but he quickly brushes it off.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some water or something?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

You shake your head. The ghost of Jaewon’s touch still lingers on your skin. “I’m fine, really. I just… I just need a minute.”

San doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push. You’re grateful for that, and grateful that he stays nearby, radiating a sense of security that feels so strange and new. “Take all the time you need,” he says, his eyes darting around as if making sure Jaewon’s really gone.

As your breathing steadies, you notice your whole body is trembling. You were planning to drink yourself into a carefree night at the club, not get stranded in the cold, fighting off the ghost of someone you never wanted to see again. You rub your arms, trying to warm yourself. The thin blouse and mini skirt you’re wearing do nothing to protect you from the chill.

“I owe you. Really,” you murmur, hating how weak your voice sounds. San shakes his head, almost annoyed by the thought of you owing him anything.

“You don’t owe me a thing. That guy’s a piece of shit, and you shouldn’t have to deal with his crap. No one should. I just did what was right,” he explains, and even as he speaks, he’s already shrugging off his leather jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to him with an obsessive, almost painful elegance.

“Here, put this on,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders before you can even protest. Its weight is immediate and comforting, the warmth sinking into your skin and chasing away the last of your chills. It smells like him. Intense. Overwhelming. Alluring. And you hate that your first instinct is to bury your face in the collar and breathe him in like he’s the oxygen you’ve been starved of.

“Is that better?” he asks, his voice a little gentler now. And you can’t help but be thrown by how genuine he sounds, how every word feels like it’s meant just for you.

You nod, offering him a shy smile as you pull the jacket tighter around yourself. Your body’s finally starting to feel warm again. “Yeah, much better,” you reassure him, shrinking into the comfort of his jacket, trying to make yourself as small as possible within its safety.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" San asks, his gaze lingering on how your body all but vanishes within his jacket. His smile is soft, disarming, and you can’t help but notice how the delicate dimples decorating his face only enhance his allure. They’re a subtle charm, something that both fascinates and entices you in a way you can’t quite place.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to say yes. To go home, hide away, retreat to the safety of your four walls where everything is quiet and predictable. But you don’t want that. Not really. You refuse to hand Jaewon that satisfaction, to let him force you to abandon something you had planned for yourself. He's not worth it. And you've always promised yourself you wouldn’t sacrifice any part of who you are for anyone, especially not a man. And if that man is that sleazy idiot Jaewon, then your resolve is all the more unshakable.

So, you shake your head. And while your decision feels uncertain at first, the moment you take a long, grounding breath, you know you’re making the right choice.

“No,” you murmur, your shoulders tightening slightly before relaxing again. “I still want to drink and have fun. If I go home now, then he wins, right?”

Something flickers in San’s expression, a curious mixture of pride and admiration. His head bobs in an immediate nod, that dimple of his still very much present. “Exactly. Good. You shouldn’t let him think he has any power over you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, a trace of hesitation lacing your movements. San is gorgeous. One of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on, if not the most beautiful, period. Maybe it’s irrational, maybe it’s reckless, but who could blame you for trying to salvage something good out of an otherwise disastrous night?

“But if you want…” you begin, and his whole face seems to light up, feline eyes glittering with something rich and deliciously intense. “If you want, you could still keep me company? I was thinking of having a drink, clearing my head... But I don’t know if you had plans or needed to meet up with someone.”

San’s response is immediate, as if he’s been waiting to hear those words. His hand moves to brush back a rebellious lock of pitch-black hair that frames his face just so, making him look even more captivating. “Gladly. No, I... just some friends, but nothing important. I’ll send them a message. Mingi’s probably already out cold, anyway,” he explains with a casual shrug, as if you have any clue who the hell Mingi is.

But that’s not the point. The point is that San is here, offering his time and attention like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, tonight doesn’t have to end as badly as it started. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. His answer comes so easily, so naturally, like being here with you is exactly where he wants to be. And that thought alone makes your heart stutter a little.

“Okay,” you say, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I hope your friends don’t get too mad at you for ditching them.”

San’s laugh is low, rich, with an edge of something playful that tugs at your nerves. “If anything, they’ll be relieved. Especially if Mingi’s already passed out somewhere. He’s a lot to handle, believe me.”

You chuckle, the tension easing from your shoulders bit by bit. “Sounds like a wild group.”

“You have no idea.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting under the dim lights as he studies you. Not just looks at you, but really studies you, like you’re something worth figuring out. You don’t miss the way his eyes seem to flicker down to your exposed legs, nor the way his ears get red when he notices you caught him staring. “But right now, I’d much rather get to know you,” he adds, a boldness to his tone that you don’t know whether it’s genuine or fake.

You take a breath. The umpteenth one of the night. You smile, because even when courage feels distant, you force yourself to embody it. You force yourself to give everything you have, no matter the cost. Even when it feels like you have nothing left to give.

You take a step. Timid, maybe, but determined. The next one feels almost scorching. You reach out and take San’s hand. Your fingers slip between his, intertwining so naturally it’s like they were always meant to fit. San’s eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face as a gorgeous flush blooms along his cheeks. The sight leaves your own skin blazing, but even through the embarrassment, you push forward, daring to claim what you want.

Heat rushes through you, sweet sparks dancing across your skin—tiny, glowing constellations sparking to life wherever your bodies connect. You lift your gaze to his, and it’s like he’s already wrapping himself around you, his presence both sheltering and electric. That intoxicating sense of protection lingers, and you already feel yourself starting to get addicted to it.

Your lashes flutter, but your eyes remain locked on his, a magnetic pull neither of you seems willing to break. His breathing has quickened, his grip tightening around your hand like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“So, are you coming with me?” you whisper, your voice low and daring, trembling with all the possibilities hanging between you. His lips part, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that threatens to unravel you. But that’s fine. Because something about this moment feels real. Raw. Undeniably yours.

San licks his lips, and the he pulls you closer, his grip possessive and protective all at once. “Lead the way,” he murmurs, voice roughened by something you can’t quite name.

The club looms ahead, lights spilling out from the entrance, throbbing with bass-heavy music and the echo of laughter. You hesitate, but only for a moment, before tugging San forward, your fingers never breaking from his. As you step inside the club that was on other side of the street, the atmosphere swallows you both whole. You don’t usually go out clubbing, but when you do, you easily lose yourself to the feeling.

Neon lights slash through the darkness, painting everything in shades of electric blue and crimson. Bodies move and sway to the music’s hypnotic pulse, but it’s the warmth of San’s hand entwined with yours that makes your pulse stutter.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his voice low and tempting. “So, was this part of your plan? Dragging me in here just to keep me close?” The playful accusation sends heat spiraling through your chest. You meet his gaze, your smile taunting.

Despite the music, all you can hear it’s him.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t call it dragging if you’re the one holding on so tightly.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and smooth, his dimple flashing as he looks at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the room. “Touché. Guess I’m not letting go anytime soon, then.”

“Is that promise?” you answer, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your lips, his face following the way your lipstick stained lips shine under the lights of the club. “Maybe. Or a threat. It depends.”

You shake your head, but your answer gets lost when someone bumps against your shoulder as they pass by. San is quick: he tugs at your wrist, making you fall against his chest.

“Got you,” he says, looking proud of himself from doing so.

“Seems like it,” you answer, and he looks extremely pleased with the way you two seem to be playing the same game.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart is racing. He raises an eyebrow. “At what?”

“At making me forget about everything else,” you admit, softer than you intended.

San’s gaze softens, and his smile turns almost tender, though there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he replies. “Never said it was,” you say, your body starting to tremble with the way the music dances around you two.

“Drinks?” he asks, titling his head towards the bar and pointing at it with his chin. You nod immediately, and San takes the lead, making you follow him as he makes room for the both of you in the endless sea of bodies that fill the space around you guys.

You reach the counter, and San leans over the bar with confidence, catching the bartender’s attention with a wave and ordering something you vaguely recognize as potent and smooth. Strawberry flavored, for the both of you. You like it, that that’s what he would choose for himself. He does indeed own a sweet vibe that you can’t quite capture.

When the drinks arrive, he slides yours toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment—enough to make your breath hitch. He watches you intently as you take a sip, his own glass untouched.

“Good?” he asks, and instead of answering with words you decide to chug the drink down in one go, the alcohol immediately flooding your body and making your mind foggy enough to make the air thicken around you. “That’s my girl!” he says, laughing as he mirrors your gesture, a droplet of the drink spilling from his lips and leaving a sweet trace on his chin that he quickly dries with a flick of his thumb.

You’re momentarily stunned, your heart caught between beats. San doesn’t break eye contact, and suddenly the air between you feels charged, like a wire pulled too tight. Your instincts scream at you to look away, to break the tension before it swallows you whole—but you don’t. You can’t. You wouldn’t even dream of it.

“Let’s dance,” you say, the words slipping from your lips with more confidence than you feel. San’s smile blooms, wicked and beautiful, and before you can second-guess yourself, he’s leading you into the crowd, his fingers still interlaced with yours.

Once you reach the center of the floor, San doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist, fingers curling around you with a firmness that sends a fresh rush of heat through your skin. The music thrums low and sensual, and without needing any more invitation, you start to move.

At first, it’s just you finding your own rhythm, letting the beat guide your hips. But San matches you with ease, his body moving against yours with a grace that leaves you breathless. It’s like he’s made for this, the way his touch seems to melt into you, every subtle shift bringing you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

His body is a dream. And on top of that, he knows how to use it. Your brain really has a hard time processing all that it’s happening, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You keep moving, your bodies swaying in perfect sync, the music’s rhythm melting into the charged heat between you. San’s hands roam over your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every line, as if he’s known them all along. And you let him. You let him touch and explore, your defenses slipping away with each lingering brush of his fingers.

Your hands find their place behind his neck, your fingers pressing against the warm, feverish skin there. It feels like fire, a burn that leaves you craving more instead of pulling away.

Your fingertips glide through his hair, slow and testing, and you catch the way his eyes flutter shut the moment you touch him. His breath stumbles, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something wild unfurl in your chest.

Taking it as encouragement, you let your hands dive deeper into his hair, threading through the silky strands with a confidence you didn’t realize you had. The delicate texture brushes against your skin, soft but electric, feeding your courage. Then, with deliberate pressure, you tug at a few strands, savoring the sensation of his hair tightening against your grip.

The reaction is immediate. A deep, guttural sound vibrates from San’s chest, spilling into the air between you with a rawness that makes your own pulse stutter. His eyes snap open, dark and molten, searching yours.

But you don’t back down. You hold his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair, daring him to show you more of that unguarded desire simmering beneath the surface. You want him to break. You need him to.

“Was that on purpose, Y/n?” he rasps, his voice thick and unsteady, the sound of it rumbling from deep within his chest. His lips are so close to your ear that his breath fans over your skin, hot and tantalizing.

“I don’t know, was it?” you bite back, mischievous and sweet, teasing him. You love the way your name sounds as it leaves his mouth. He smirks, and you can’t help but do the same.

“Looks like I found myself a little brat,” he comments, clearly amused by your antics. “Think you can handle it?” you ask, and just to prove your point, you tug again, just a little harder, and the way his jaw clenches makes your head spin.

His eyes flash, that competitive spark flaring to life. “Oh, I know I can, little one. But now you’ve got me curious. Just how far are you planning to push me tonight? Just how much you think you can take?” As he talks, San’s hands never stray far from you, his touch alternating between gentle and possessive, like he’s trying to figure out exactly how much of you he can claim. Little does he know, he already has it all. But, to be honest, you like the idea of him working for it a little bit.

“Sannie,” you start, smiling at him and enjoying the way the nickname seems to get through his skin, “I can take it all. And more.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes closing for a second. You’re making him lose his composure, and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the way his eyes roam over your face, lingering on your lips, makes it clear he wouldn’t have you any other way. “I should’ve known you’d be trouble from the moment I saw you.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have. But it’s too late now,” you tease, your nails digging into the skin of his neck, probably leaving tiny red marks as you keep on touching him.

Before you can think better of it, your fingers trail down his neck, brushing against his collarbone before settling on his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath your touch, matching the wild rhythm of your own. “San…” His name falls from your lips like a plea, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Somehow, despite not even knowing you, San seems to know exactly what you need, like he’s reading you with a precision that leaves you breathless. Maybe it’s because it’s what he needs, too. You like to think so.

His hands tighten around your hips with a bruising force, and you gasp, the blend of pain and pleasure coiling hot and restless in your chest. His grip is possessive, commanding, and the way he handles your body leaves your legs trembling.

“I could make you say it out loud,” he whispers, his voice thick and dripping with wickedness. “Make you ask for it. Maybe even beg for what you want.” His face is so close to yours, his words brushing against your skin like a scorching caress. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your pulse a frantic beat under his ruthless attention.

“But maybe later, yeah? Right now, I think you deserve a little reward.”

And then he kisses you.

There’s nothing gentle about it: just pure, unfiltered hunger and greed crashing into you violently. His mouth claims yours, desperate and demanding, and it feels like everything suddenly clicks into place. His lips are rough and consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a skill that leaves you reeling. And you try, you really do, to seize control of the kiss, to meet his intensity with your own. But it’s useless. He overpowers you effortlessly, his dominance written in every movement, every searing touch.

He tastes like everything you’ve been craving and everything you’re afraid to lose yourself to. He tastes like danger. Like hope.

You claw at his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, but it only seems to encourage him. He loves how desperate you are. His grip on you tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin with a force that leaves you aching and dizzy.

“You’re trying so hard to fight it, aren’t you?” he taunts against your lips, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Pretending you’re not dying to give in. Pretending it doesn’t make you wet that I’m so much stronger than you. That I’m in control.”

His words sting, but you can’t deny the truth tangled within them. The way your body trembles under his touch, the way your pulse races at the sound of his voice, it all betrays you. Your own body.

“I’m not pretending anything,” you bite back, but even you can hear the waver in your voice. It doesn’t matter. Not really.

“No?” His lips trail along your jaw, leaving a trail of sinful kisses over your skin. “Good girls don’t lie.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a ragged groan from him. You want to claw back some control, to make him feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s stirring in you.

“Never said I was one” you manage to say, breath heavy and tone not convincing at all.

“Oh, princess.” His laughter is low, charged with an amusing darkness. “Then I’ll just have to turn you into one.” A promise, a threat. The middle point, the perfect balance, the unbreakable intertwining of the two. Your chest rises and falls quickly, each breath you take feels almost solid, tangible.

In the whole room, there’s only one thing: San. San. San.

“I’ll have fun watching you try, then,” you reply, your tongue darting out to wet your lips just a bit. San loves the way you challenge him; it’s more than obvious by now. His excitement is as palpable as yours, and in the surrealism of what’s unfolding between you two, everything feels perfectly right.

“Come home with me, then. So I can prove you wrong.” San’s words cut through everything. He looks at you with something you’re not sure you can read. His eyes are dark, determined, but you catch a hint of hesitation and sweetness. Yours probably look the same.

It’s not like his request surprises you all that much, and yet, you feel completely caught off guard.

San’s hands don’t leave you, their warmth keeping you anchored to reality. His grip is firm, certain.

“I’m never wrong,” you say to him. It’s not a yes, not yet. San waits, patiently. You love that he doesn’t push, not even a little. “But maybe you’ve earned a little sympathy from me, Sannie. So I’ll give you a chance.”

He smiles. The reaction is immediate. His face lights up, and a soft giggle escapes your chest, too.

“You should be grateful we’re in a public place and your skirt is short, or I would’ve already thrown you over my shoulder,” he explains. You rise onto your toes and, with all the naturalness in the world, press your lips to his for just an instant. He’s caught off guard but clearly pleased by your boldness.

“Already feeling jealous, San?”

He rolls his eyes. Bingo.

He leans in, just enough that his breath grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it to my place.”

Your laugh is soft, a little breathless. “And here I thought you had more self-control, San.”

“Self-control, y/n?” His smile is sharp, eyes darkening as they trace over you with an unapologetic hunger. “I have just enough to get us out of here without breaking all the rules. After that...” His gaze drifts down your body, then back to your eyes, voice low. “...I make no promises.”

You don’t bother hiding your smirk. “Then what are you waiting for, Sannie?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like he was waiting for you to say those exact words. His hand finds yours once again, grip firm and impatient as he leads you through the crowd, the thrum of music and conversation fading to nothing.

Outside, the air is cooler, but it does nothing to dampen the heat sparking off of San. His fingers are still tangled with yours, and when he looks at you, you swear the city lights reflect his grin, sharp and electric. The moon touches his face gently, kissing his beautiful honey skin. Unreal. That’s how you’d describe him.

Then… it’s all hurried. He calls for a taxi, and you guys fight yourselves to keep your hands in place, trying hardly not to make a mess in the backseat of the car as a complete stranger drives you home. It’s- comforting. He tells you a little about himself: he dances. Teaches a class to kids to earn some money between his jobs as a dancer. Tells you you probably have seen him in some music videos in the past. Promises he’ll sing for you one day.

One day. The promise of a tomorrow.

Once you reach his place, though, there’s no time left for pleasantries. He holds your hands as he guides you to his door, and once inside his apartment the small talk dies.

Flames arise, and you’re ready to run through hell with him. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, San’s hands are on you, pressing you back against the wall with a hunger that’s only grown since that first playful exchange.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he murmurs, voice thick and heavy. His eyes search yours, still checking, still giving you room to pull away. “Well,” you whisper, breathless and smiling. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

The jacket he landed you falls on the ground, and he mutters a curse under his breath as he looks at you.

His lips are on yours before you even finish the sentence, though, all heat and intensity, the kind that leaves you dizzy and clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is. So strong and perfectly built, his body is towering over yours, making you feel small and helpless in the most delicious way.

The kiss you share is ravenous, a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. His mouth claims yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His tongue and yours twist and tangle, battling for dominance, as his teeth nip at your swollen lips. The small, unbidden moans slipping from your mouth only spur him on, his own growls of pleasure vibrating against you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans against your lips, his voice thick and ragged. His breath fans over your skin, hot and impatient.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your thighs, lifting you from the ground like it’s nothing, pressing your body flush against his. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your hips grinding against his without thought or restraint. You can feel how hard he is, the strained bulge of his pants rubbing between your legs, igniting heat that leaves you trembling. Your skirt rides up, leaving you scandalously exposed to him, and you catch the wicked glint in his eyes as he notices.

“Impatient,” you murmur, but your voice is breathless, betraying your own eagerness. His mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave you shivering. His grip tightens, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs as he carries you with firm, determined strides. You cling to his shoulders, the world around you a blur of shadows and heat. The only thing that matters is him.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, his eyes never leaving you as he kicks it shut behind him. His bedroom is dim, but you barely register the surroundings. All you feel are his hands on your skin, his mouth teasing and tasting wherever he pleases.

“You have no idea,” he growls, his lips tracing along your jaw before his tongue flicks over your lower lip, drawing a shiver from you. “I don’t know how I stopped myself from lifting your skirt and fucking you on the dance floor in front of everyone.”

“You should have,” you moan, hands rubbing at his shoulders. “I would have let you.”

“You can’t just say shit like that, fuck,” he groans, his desperation palpable.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and filled with something almost primal. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You swallow, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as his mouth moves to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His teeth scrape over your pulse point, a wicked smirk playing at his lips when he feels the way your body arches into him.

“San…” his name falls from your lips, a needy plea. It only seems to drive him further. You’d say more, but the words die in your throat, leaving space only to desperate little sounds that would make you blush in any other occasion.

“Say it again,” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin with infuriating gentleness. “Let me hear you. Say my name.”

“San,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire, your nails digging into his shoulders as you press yourself even closer, arching your back to try and get some friction, your core pulsing and your panties getting wetter by the second.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s moving again, carrying you effortlessly until you reach the edge of his bed. You fall onto the mattress, and he’s on top of you in an instant, his weight pressing you down, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and drenched in heat. “Every time I looked at you tonight, all I could think about was this. You. Spread out beneath me, exactly where you belong.”

“Show me,” you whisper, hands moving to grab his shirt and pull at it, working with the fabric to ask him to take the useless piece of clothing off. “Show me what you wanted to do to me, Sannie. You promised. You said you’d make me good. Fucking do it already.”

It was the right thing to say. “Watch your mouth, brat,” he bites back, looking at you like he wants to devour you whole.

San finally takes his shirt off, and what you see almost takes your breath away.

He’s perfect, so much that looking at him is almost painful. His skin shines like honey, his muscles are defined and imposing, and his body honestly looks like a wet dream come true.

San licks his lips. His smirk makes your head spin. He grabs your legs, moving your body around like one would do with a doll. He takes your boots off, and as he does that he kisses your ankles, looking at you in the eyes and sending shivers through your whole body. Your boots are soon forgotten as they fall on the ground with a loud noise.

You play with the buttons of your blouse, teasing him. One. Then the other. You espose yourself to his hungry gaze, anticipation mounting into you and making your hands tremble.

When it finally falls open, San almost rips it off of you. “No bra?” he asks, hands moving from your sides up to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing, making you hiss in pain. “Dirty girl,” he comments, thumbs rubbing against your sensitive nipples.

You fight your own body, and force yourself to keep your eyes open as your hips move to meet his, your aching pussy begging for attention as you try and rub it against his clothed cock.

“Want it that bad?” he asks, pinching one of you nipples and making you almost cry out in pain. Tears pool at your eyes, and his hips are finally being pushed against your core, too. The length of his cock rubbing over your soaked panties.

You feel helpless, really. You want— you need him to touch you. You need to touch him. So your hands move frantically, trying to reach his pants and their button, your fingers rubbing against his bulge and making him hiss at the feeling. He lets go of your breasts, reaching for your wrists instead and stopping you from getting his pants off of him. “Good girls ask for permission,” he says.

Your eyes roll at the back of your head in frustration, and you try to escape his grip, but to no avail. He’s way stronger than you.

“Fuck, fuck, San, take them off. Please, wanna see you, wanna feel you,” you beg, way too impatient to get his cock inside of you to keep teasing him about it.

San smiles, “you can do better than that, can’t you? But this will have to do for now.”

You really wanna cuss him out, but you stop yourself when he starts to finally take those useless pants off, showing not only his bulge, but those sinful, strong legs of his. The sight is too much for you to take, so as you spread your legs wider, you decide to tease him some more.

You shift your hips, pulling up your skirt up until it’s resting all crumbled against your belly, exposing your wet panties to him. Your fingers start to rub against your own pussy with hunger, your clit begging to be touched and relieved.

San’s eyes go wide at the sight, and you watch as he grabs his own bulge in return, hips moving forward as he fucks into his own hand as he watches your pitiful attempts at pleasuring yourself.

“I’m so wet for you, Sannie,” you whisper, moans escaping your lips as you arch you back to get more friction against your cunt.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Fuck, look at that, Y/n… Pull those panties to the side. Show me that pretty little hole, yeah?”

“It’s all yours, Sannie,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you grab the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Air hits your core, and the cold makes you shiver all over. Your hole pulses with the need to be filled, and your lips are glistening with the thickness of your arousal.

San’s eyes burn your skin. He seems completely lost in the sight of your pussy exposed to him. Enough that impatient starts to show off on him, too. He pulls his boxers down, and reveals his cock to you. “Fuck,” you moan, cause you just can’t help yourself. It’s long. Thick, with veins running through the length. The tip is such a pretty shade of pink, shiny with droplets of his pleasure. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your mouth starts to feel empty, too.

What you’re feeling is so intense it’s overwhelming. It leaves you stunned, breathless, your body feverish and desperate for relief.

For a fleeting moment, you think of Jaewon and everyone who came before him—how utterly insignificant they seem now, more than ever. How San is beyond their reach, and maybe even beyond the rest of the world’s.

Standing naked before you, San looks like a dream. Even you can barely believe it, as if he’s nothing but a mirage. But he’s not, because his breath matches yours, its warmth colliding with your skin.

A delicious reminder that, tonight, the most beautiful man in the world is yours. And if you have any say in it, you’ll do everything to keep him close.

But what you don’t see is how San’s eyes drink you in, reverent and hungry all at once. To him, you are the very thing dreams are made of—something precious, fragile, yet burning with a fire that matches his own. San’s world narrows to the space between you, his thoughts muddled and clear all at once: he wants to be yours just as fiercely as you want him to be.

It’s your resolve that breaks first, and you find yourself taking your panties off, throwing them at his face. He laughs, and you do the same thing. But his eyes never cease to hide darkness.

His hand grabs the fabric, and you see him mouth at your panties, lips running through the wet cotton. It’s so fucking dirty, that you can’t help but raise on your hips and pull yourself up, your hands reaching for his neck.

You pull him down with you, making him fall on top of your body. You kiss him through your own fucking panties in what has to be the most desperate, nasty kiss of your own life.

Spit mixed with your own juices, the texture of it all fucked up and weird in a way that makes you even more desperate. San growls against your mouth, his hands going back to your breasts first, before one leaves to trace your body up to your neck. You freeze as the loudest moan of the night leaves your throat, and the panties finally fall on the bed, now forgotten.

“You like that?” he asks, testing the waters. “What do you think?” you reply, forcing yourself to be a brat just a little longer.

“I think you like it. I think you want me to be rough, and that’s why you keep being a brat. You want me to make it hurt, baby? You just had to fucking ask.”

And then- then his grip gets tighter. Just as he pushes down his hips, your pussy welcoming his hard cock. The tip slides easily against your abused clit, and as breathing becomes harder, you find yourself spreading your legs even wider than before. “Look at you,” he whispers, laughing softly. “So pathetic, huh? Cock makes you stupid, little one. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You want to deny, really. But I’d be useless. You both know it. So you do what you do best: you take. You take and moan and feel.

San seems pretty satisfied, and while he never lets go of the grip he has on your neck, his other hand reaches your face. “Open,” he orders, tapping on your chin. Your mouth falls open almost immediately. “Tongue out,” he adds. You obey.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you moan.

“If it’s too much- anything. If anything is too much, you tell me, okay?” Softness. His tone caressing you. You nod, you voice it out. “Yes,” you say. He nods, then he spits. He spits in your mouth, and you feel the thickness of it as the juice slides on your tongue.

“Make them wet,” he says. Then he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth. His skin is both soft and rough: hjs body must require hours in the gym, and you don’t have to wonder why his hands have that weight to them.

“You like it, don’t you? Having your little mouth full. I can see it. You’re humping me like a bitch in heat, princess.”

His fingers get more rough: he rubs them inside your mouth, pushes them down your throat and makes you choke a little, the passage tight from the grip he still has on your neck. “W-wish t’was your cock,” you manage to blurt out, words slurred as your mouth gets filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, you’d feel so good choking on it. A little cock sleeve for me, your head empty as you only have to fucking suck and get messy for me.”

You nod, moaning desperately. He chuckles, and then your mouth is empty. But- but then your pussy isn’t. He takes those wet, shiny fingers down, and pushes them between your legs. He finds your hole easily, and those two fingers are pushed inside your pussy without care. It drags a loud moan from you, and San starts to fuck you with them immediately, curling them up just the way you love, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

“So tight, fuck,” he groans, leaving your neck. He raises a little, cause he wants to fucking look at the ways your pussy swallows his fingers hungrily. They disappear inside of you and your walls clench over them, trying to get them as deep as possible.

“More, more, please,” you moan, your hands replacing his as you touch your breasts before his eyes. “Shit,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he groans, the slide of his fingers loud as squelching sounds come from your hungry core. You raise a little and look down, too, desperate enough to want to have the sight of his hand glistening with your wetness engraved into your mind forever.

Pleasure builds up from all the arousal you’ve felt during the night, and you almost feel like crying as San takes pity on you and decides to rub more constantly at your puffed clit, his thumb making circular movements to help you reach your climax.

“G-gonna… you’re gonna make me cum,” you groan, fighting your own body to keep your eyes open. You want to see: him, his body, his face. Everything. “Ask. Be good, Y/n. Ask for fucking permission, or else.”

It’s too much. His tone, his stern voice, the threat lingering behind his words. You can’t take it anymore, and your whole body starts to tense up as your legs being to tremble uncontrollably.

“Let me- let me, please. Sannie, m’gonna cum, let me, please, please, can I? I can’t- I’m going to…”

“Cum. Fucking cum over my fingers, princess. Be a good little slut and make a mess for me.”

That’s all you needed. You fall back onto the mattress, pitiful moans leaving your mouth as you hiccup through your own pleasure. San keeps fucking his fingers into you, your orgasm seeming to never end as you comply to his orders and make a huge mess of the sheets and of his fingers, wetness gushing out of your reddened pussy as you clench hardly over his hand, sucking in his fingers as they own you from the inside.

He guides you as you try and gather some control over yourself. Your hair is a mess, your skin flushed red and nipples so hard it hurts. A thin layer of sweat covers your skin, and you can see that the same thing goes for him.

He pats you, fingers leaving your body: he gives your overwhelmed pussy a few light slaps, a weak scream leaving your mouth as pleasure and pain seem to electrify you all of a sudden, making you take deep hurried breaths to keep yourself grounded. “Made me so proud,” he praises, and as he does that he brings his own hand to his face, tongue moving sinfully as he licks his fingers before your eyes, moaning as you juices invade and dominate his tastebuds. “Such a sweet pussy,” he comments, and something seems to flash before his eyes like a sudden realization.

He bends over, folding you in a half as he moves you around by the back of you thighs, face disappearing in between your legs as he attacks your cunt, licking at the skin to clean your own mess up.

You grab onto his hair, pulling at it in the way he so clearly likes, and the tip of his tongue fucks into you a few times, making your head spin.

“Gonna… Sannie, you’re gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that,” you warn him, legs closing around his head as you can’t help but ride his tongue which is now torturing your clit. You’re all puffy and wet, and San shows you no mercy, moaning loudly against your pussy. You see that he’s basically humping the bed under him, and the sight is so dirty that it brings you painfully close to the edge.

“Do it,” he groans, “give me another one, princess. Squirt your juices on my face, wanna taste you.”

How could you deny him? You scream his name: both because he loves it when you do it and because there’s nothing else your mind knows apart from that right now. Just: San. San. San. And his fucking magical tongue, apparently.

The second orgasm of the night is as powerful as the first, if not more due to the extreme overstimulation. Despite the pain, it’s still insane. Your body trembles all over, and your eyes roll at the back of your head until San slows down, lazily lapping at your lips and at your thighs, cleaning them up. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cum, wish I could stay trapped between your legs all fucking night.”

He keeps kissing your legs, allowing you some time to regain control over yourself. He bites, too. Sucks on the skin to leave what surely are gonna be pretty marks. He rubs his cheek over the inside of your thighs, and then he helps you out of your skirt, which was still all ruffled over your waist.

San looks almost possessed, chin wet with a mixture of spit and of your pleasure, a satisfied smile on his face that makes him look like the happiest man in the whole world.

“Kiss me, please,” you ask, eyes heavy as you make grabby hands at San, feeling vulnerable yet safe. He doesn’t make you wait, kissing you immediately. Your lips meet once again, and you don’t dwell too much on the reason why it feels so right to be kissing him, rather focusing on the way you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Please, Sannie,” you whisper against his lips, “Fuck me. Wanna get fucked so bad, please. Wanna make you feel good,” you add, moaning as you let out all the begging you had been keeping down.

“Precious, you’re so precious,” he grunts, licking inside your mouth as he takes your legs and forces them open. You lick your hand, spit covering your skin.

You’re touching his cock now, having it into your hand and tugging at it, hand sliding over his length and rubbing at the tip, making him moan and whimper. It’s a delicious sound.

“So big,” you comment, guiding San’s cock to your pussy. “Such a big cock, Sannie. Biggest cock i’ve ever had, baby. You’re gonna split me in a half. Gonna have to make it fit, Sa-“. He interrupts you, probably going crazy at the thought of any other man ever coming close to you.

He just— pushes inside. In one sinful stroke. No condom, just raw skin against raw skin, all thanks to you mentioning being on the pill on your taxi ride back home.

It’s insane, cause yours weren’t lies. He really has the biggest dick you’ve ever had, and it’s stretching you open beautifully. You feel it all the way inside your belly, and even to the point in which you could feel in your fucking throat.

“Take it,” he says, looking down at where your bodies meet, “take it all. Take my fucking cock, baby. Gonna be the last cock you ever fucking take. Gonna keep you, yeah? Gonna keep you all to myself.”

Should it scare you? You don’t know. But it doesn’t, cause that’s what you’re thinking too. You want no one else. After this, it has to be him. He has to be yours. You have to be his.

“Gonna- my cock. It’s my cock now, Sannie,” you reply, smiling happily as you get stretched over him, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside of your body you can feel it hit your fucking cervix. It’s so good, you already feel yourself getting dumb from it. “It’s mine, all mine. And m’yours. Fuck me like I’m yours, Sannie. Ruin me, hurt me, anything, please.”

He won, after all. He won and you’re happy he did, cause you wanted to lose to him ever since the start of the night.

“You’re mine. My pretty princess. My beautiful little slut. I found you, huh? Not gonna let you go.”

And now he’s fucking you. His cock slides in and out of your body, balls hitting you as he hurriedly moves inside of your throbbing cunt.

His forehead glistens with sweat, and you move your head to slide your tongue over the skin of his neck, the taste salty yet sweet. You suck on the skin, feeling something primal that shouts at you to mark him up. He must like it, cause he buries himself deeper inside of you as you lap and bite at his neck.

“Harder, please… fuck me harder,” you beg as your nails run through his back, leaving pretty red marks on his skin. “Yeah? Harder, baby?” he asks, smirk appearing in his face alongside his pretty dimple, feline eyes burning into your skin.

While you nod, he leaves. He leaves you empty and begging, and you feel yourself on the verge of tears as soon as he does. But he’s quick to take care of it, and he manhandles you around, moving you around until you’re face down ass up on the bed, all spread open for him as your pussy spasms with the need of being filled up again.

San spanks you a few times, ass moving with the force of his hits. You moan out each time, pushing back against him cause you seem to never have enough of it. Grabbing you by the hips, San finally sinks down back inside your cunt, balls hitting your clit now, adding yet another feeling to the overwhelming mixture of sensations you’re feeling now.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, and you bend your neck to be able to see the wicked expression he’s showing now. He grabs you by the hair and fucking yanks, making you cry out in pain as he practically bends you in a half, “you like it, doll? huh? pulling my hair at the club and thinking you could fucking get away with it?” he growls into your ear, tongue lapping at your earlobe and sucking it into his mouth.

“Say you’re sorry, whore. Say sorry for being a fucking brat, be a good girl.”

For a moment, everything spirals into madness: a fierce, unrelenting overload of emotions and sensations. Tears stream from your glossy, reddened eyes, your face a wreck of smudged makeup, ruined and raw. Your mouth hangs open, a thin trail of saliva connecting your parted lips to your chin. You are the very image of desperate slut.

And yet, it’s time to confess.So you nod, crying beautifully through the wreckage. “Sorry, sorry, San, I’m sorry,” you babble, a frantic litany of apologies spilling from your trembling lips, earning an amused grunt from him, who hasn’t stopped fucking you.

He’s rough with it, touching your body all over. Holding you up by the hair and making it hurt just like you asked, fucking his cock into you over and over again, the sound of it nasty and loud. He pushes you closer to your limit, stuffing your mouth full of his fingers and commenting on how debauched you look. “Filled up from both ends just like you deserve, baby. Happy? Yeah, look at that pretty smile of yours, princess. You just love getting stuffed, it’s so hot.” His words are filthy, humiliating, and they burn at the pit of your stomach, making your arousal grow bigger than your own self.

You can’t answer, cause your mouth is getting pulled open by his fingers. He’s fucking them inside, holding your mouth open and making you make a mess of yourself as spit falls from your lips and reaches your neck.

Right before it gets too much, he lets go, using the hand that was in your hair to push your face back into the mattress, pushing you down using his strength and making you feel extremely overpowered.

“Stay fucking there. You stay there and take it, you hear me? Take my cock, Y/n, you were made for it,” he orders, and you feel how he’s starting to lose control, too. His cock feels even bigger now, and as crazy as it sounds you can feel it pulse inside of you, rubbing against your abused walls.

He’s just using you at this point, using your body, your cunt— turning you into his personal flashlight as he chases his own release.

You want it so bad, and the thought of him finally dumping his load into you has you getting closer and closer to the third orgasm of the night. You’re drooling over yourself like a dog, moaning so loudly you’re probably gonna have do deal with a sore throat in the morning, but it feels so good that you don’t care at all.

San takes and takes. Gives and gives. Hurts you and destroys you and puts you back together all at once, owning your mind and body completely.

“I’m so close,” he warns, shoving himself inside of you without care, hands coming down to hit your ass, probably leaving red marks resembling his hands all over your skin. You nod, over and over again, begging him to give it to you.

“Cum inside, Sannie, inside of me please,” you start, and you get interrupted by him blurting out a “fuck,” so loud that it makes you smile with pride.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Want me to blow my load inside your pussy? Breed you full?” he asks, running his fingers and nails over your back, using your hips as leverage to fuck inside your cunt deeper, your walls convulsing over his cock as if begging to have it as deep as possible.

“Yes, please, want you to cum inside, want to be full of it, want your cum… i’ve been so good, Sannie, give me my reward, please,” you beg, crying freely and using your own hands to hold your cheeks open, moaning loudly as it only makes his cock slide deeper.

You don’t even need to touch yourself this time, because the thought of him filling you up would be enough on its own to make you cum.

You feel the orgasm approach and you surrender to it when he grits his teeth and blurts out a series of curses, calling you names and praising you all at once as his movements become more erratic and violent. You feel your stomach bulging with it, the tip of his cock poking at your belly from the inside, and your eyes roll back as he fucking spits on you- droplets of it hitting your ass.

“Here it comes,” he warns you, chest rising fast as his legs tremble. “Take my fucking load. Don’t fucking spill it, baby. All inside this pussy, I’m- I’m coming inside of you, pretty. Fuck!”

His last strokes are languid and dirty, deep and full of ownership. He shoves his dick as deep as possible inside of you, and your spasming pussy welcomes it and milks it. Your own juices gush out as you cum all over his dick, your orgasm strong and powerful, and he pumps his load so deep inside your cunt you can fill every drop of it as it paints your insides white. Thick and hot, his cum gets pumped inside of you, claiming your pussy and marking it up as his once and for all. Staining you, messing you up, breeding you full.

He stills, staying inside of you for a little longer, feeling every second of his orgasm as you clench over him, enhancing his pleasure.

Your breaths are both heavy and ragged, bodies hypersensitive and buzzing with lingering warmth. San’s body collapses against yours, but even then, he’s careful not to crush you under his weight. Despite his own exhaustion, he moves you across the bed with ridiculous ease, still making sure to handle you gently.

He holds you close like he’s afraid you might slip away, and, truthfully, you find yourself doing the same.

Eventually, he gets you both where he wants: him lying on his back, and you curled up against his chest, which is still heaving with every fierce breath. San’s fingers slide through your hair, playing absently with a few strands, while you leave tiny kisses along his chest, your cheek brushing against his skin.

“That was…” you start, biting your lip and blushing a little, “…incredible,” you both finish at the same time, laughing softly as you cling even tighter to each other.

You feel his hand trail down your back, fingertips tracing random patterns on your skin. He tilts your chin up with his other hand, smirking just enough to make your heart skip.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief. “I might just have to keep you all to myself from now on.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your cheeks burn, and he catches it immediately. His smirk softens into a fond smile as he pulls you even closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing beneath your touch. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you whisper, half-challenging, half-reassuring. A promise and a threat, both interlaced with hope.

“Oh, I know,” he replies, voice dropping just enough to make a shiver run through you. “You’re mine now. Not letting you go.”

He kisses the top of your head, then leans down to murmur against your ear, tone both teasing and affectionate. “Better get used to it, princess. You’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

notes: thank you for reading this! this is my first san fic… can you believe it? since he’s my bias and all. i hope you liked it, really. let me know in the comments your thoughts (the dirtier, the better). i hope you had fun! see you next time <3

[angelx]

Filing You Under Mine

cw: nsfw! pro hero!katsuki x fem!reader, corruption kink, dubcon, power imbalance, oral, fem receiving, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, use of "sir", reader is a secretary intern, degredation, praise, katsuki is mean, boss x secretary

You were just supposed to file reports.

That was it. Just sit pretty behind your little desk outside Pro Hero Dynamight’s office, organize his paperwork, and smile politely when he barked out your name. You were a temp—barely out of uni, fresh-faced and nervous in your pencil skirt and tights, always flinching when someone raised their voice too loud in the bullpen.

But Katsuki Bakugou noticed. Oh, he noticed everything.

The way your eyes widened when you looked up at him. The way you stumbled over your words when he told you to come inside and take dictation. The way you squeezed your thighs together when he stood too close and praised your work with a rare, gravelly “good girl.”

He didn’t even have to try—and you were already so easy to break.

“C’mere.”

You look up from your computer. “S-sir?”

He’s leaning against the doorframe to his office, still in his black compression shirt from patrol, towel slung around his neck, skin still flushed from the heat. He’s not even trying to hide the way his eyes trace the line of your legs. “Told you to come in. You deaf, sweetheart?”

Heart thudding, you shuffle into his office with your notepad clutched tight. He shuts the door behind you. Locks it.

“You ever been fucked in an office before?” he asks like it’s casual. Like he’s asking about the weather.

You freeze. “What?!”

Bakugou steps forward, eyes dark. Hungry. “You wear these skirts on purpose, huh? Wanna show off how innocent you are. Bet you’d soak through those panties if I just talked real dirty to you, yeah?”

Your knees practically buckle. “I—I don’t…”

“Oh, you do.” He grabs your wrist and yanks you forward until you’re nose-to-chest with him. You can smell his sweat. His cologne. His intent. “Bet you ain’t ever had someone make you cry just from their fingers.”

One hand slips under your skirt. Finds your heat. You gasp.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice low and brutal. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

You squirm. “Sir, we—we can’t—someone might—!”

“Lemme guess. Daddy raised you all polite? All perfect?” He chuckles against your neck as he pushes you back onto his desk. “Too bad. I’m not lettin’ you go until you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

He kisses you—hot, deep, filthy—and you moan right into it. His fingers push past the waistband of your panties, finding your clit like he’s memorized it already.

“You’re gonna cum for me right here, baby,” he growls into your ear. “Gonna show me how good it feels to ruin you.”

You’re not sure how you ended up flat on his desk, panties shoved to the side, tights rolled down just enough for his hot mouth to bury itself between your thighs like it was made to ruin you.

Actually—you do know. It started when he said, “Lemme taste it,” and you stupidly whimpered “okay.”

The man devours you.

His tongue flicks, circles, sucks, and teases, like he’s trying to memorize the exact way your breath catches and your thighs clamp around his head. And he’s got that cocky, gravelly growl in his throat every time you moan a little louder, like he knew you’d taste sweet and squirmy for him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters against your core, “you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby. You do this every time I call your name? Huh? Drip through your cute fuckin’ panties thinkin’ about how I might fuck you stupid?”

You cover your face with your hands, trembling. “I–I d-didn’t mean to—”

“Nah, you did,” he cuts in, grinning, licking up a stripe so slow it makes your toes curl. “You wanted me to see you. Sweet little intern, all shy and polite. So fuckin’ easy to break.”

Then he slides two thick fingers inside and you gasp—hips jerking, head dropping back with a cracked moan.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “Clenchin’ like that, already? Ain’t even fucked you yet.”

He starts fucking you with them—deep, slow, deliberate—while his mouth stays locked on your clit, tongue flicking with maddening skill. He’s got you on a wire, right on the edge of everything, and he knows it.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, curling his fingers just right. “Cum for me, baby. I’ll let you—just this once.”

Your body arches. He keeps going. You break.

It’s white-hot. Your thighs shake. He doesn’t stop.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he grins, pulling back with your slick on his mouth, “Knew you’d cum so goddamn pretty.”

You’re still catching your breath when he grabs your chin and kisses you—wet and deep, tongue sliding into your mouth, like he wants you to taste yourself.

Then he unbuckles his belt.

“You gonna be good for me now, sweetheart?” he says, voice low and ragged as he strokes his cock, eyes locked on you like a starved man. “Let me bend you over this fuckin’ desk and fuck you like I’ve been dreamin’ about since the day you walked in?”

You nod—weakly, hazy, already ruined—and whisper, “Yes, sir…”

His hand tightens on your hip.

“Oh, baby. Don’t say that unless you want me to make it stick.”

He turns you around, palms flat on the desk, back arched like it’s instinct. He lines himself up behind you and slides in, slow at first—thick, hot, stretching you out inch by devastating inch.

And holy shit—he’s big.

You gasp, nails curling into the desk. “K-Katsuki—!”

“Too much?” he pants, gripping your waist. “Fuck, you’re tight—shit—it’s like your pussy was fuckin’ made for me.”

You don’t answer—you can’t. He starts thrusting, slow and deep, cock dragging against your walls in the most ungodly rhythm.

Then he grabs your ponytail and yanks your head back just enough to whisper against your ear:

“Look.”

And there it is.

The floor-to-ceiling window. Glass. Exposed. Facing the skyline, twenty stories up—and anyone with binoculars and decent luck could see how perfect you look getting ruined by Pro Hero Dynamight.

“You’re mine now,” he growls, pounding into you harder, desk creaking under the force of it. “Mine to fuck, mine to tease, mine to fill up whenever I want. You get that?”

You’re crying—from pleasure. From the overwhelming filth of it. From the stretch and the dirty talk and the whimper in his voice when he moans, “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum—gonna cum inside this sweet, tight fuckin’ pussy and ruin you for anyone else.”

You gasp—choked, sharp—your hands scrambling for purchase on the desk as he thrusts in hard, one long stroke that knocks the air clean out of your lungs. Katsuki’s groan rips from his chest, ragged and full of possession, like he’s been waiting his whole damn life to be inside you like this.

You can’t speak—you’re too full, too stretched, too ruined. All you manage is a pathetic moan as he pulls back and slams into you again, rough and relentless, setting a punishing rhythm that makes your thighs shake with every snap of his hips.

“You wanted this,” he growls, teeth at your ear. “Didn’t you, baby? Wanted me to ruin you. Turn you into my little fuckin’ toy.”

You nod—desperate, barely holding yourself up, your mouth hanging open in breathless moans.

“Say it.”

“I—I wanted it,” you gasp. “Please, Katsuki—I wanted it so bad—!”

“That’s my girl.”

He shifts his angle and drives deeper, hitting that soft, devastating spot inside you that makes your legs buckle. Your nails scrape at the desk, your eyes roll back, and you sob out his name.

His hand snakes around your waist, fingers diving straight to your clit, rubbing quick, filthy circles that make your thighs tremble.

“Cum for me,” he commands. “Be a good girl and cream all over my fuckin’ cock.”

Your body breaks first.

You convulse with a cry, hips jerking, pleasure ripping through your core like a white-hot explosion. Your pussy clenches hard, fluttering wildly around him—and that’s all it takes.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna—”

Katsuki slams in one last time and cums deep, snarling your name like a curse and a prayer. His cock pulses inside you, spilling hot and thick, filling you until you’re overflowing, until it’s dripping out around him and down your thighs.

Neither of you moves for a moment. Just panting. Sweating. Still connected, still twitching, still drunk off the high.

Then he leans down, kisses the back of your neck, voice wrecked and hoarse:

“…you’re not goin’ back to internin’ after this, sweetheart. You’re mine now.”

When he pulls out, you’re dazed. Legs shaking. Slick and messy and dripping on the floor.

Katsuki just smirks, zips up, and leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Clock out early,” he says. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You blink at him, dumbly. “F-for what?”

He grabs your chin. “Dinner. Aftercare. And round two.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up 😭😭 i had this fic for a while sitting in my notes app...

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

EMERGENCY WRITING COMMISSION OPEN

[ilovemarvel97]

Girl!? Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x masc reader

Word Count: 3,370

Summary: Wanda knows Y/N is a girl now. But she’s not ready. Is she?

Warnings: Little Angst, Fluffy, little intimate moment.

Main Masterlist

Part 1

---

Wanda’s POV

After Wanda left she avoided Y/N at all costs.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between us grew.  

At first, Y/N still tried. She’d wave at me in the hallways, call my name when she saw me, wait outside my classroom like she always did. But every time, I turned away. I told myself it was for the best. That if I ignored the feelings, they would eventually go away.  

But they didn’t.  

Instead, they twisted inside me, growing heavier with every stolen glance, every moment I caught Y/N laughing with someone else, every time I saw her and felt the sharp sting of what I was losing.  

And then, one day, Y/N stopped trying.  

No more waiting outside my class. No more teasing smiles in the hallways. No more searching for me at lunch.  

It was as if she had accepted it—accepted that I didn’t want her.  

And maybe that should have made it easier.  

But it didn’t.  

Because now, instead of feeling overwhelmed by her presence, I felt the crushing weight of her absence.  

I hated it.  

I hated how empty the halls felt without her voice calling my name. I hated how I still looked for her even though I was the one who pushed her away. I hated the way my heart ached when I saw her joking around with someone else, acting like I had never mattered.  

But most of all, I hated myself for not being brave enough to hold on to what we had.  

Because the truth was, I missed her. I missed us.  

And I didn’t know if it was too late to get it back.

---

One weekend, Wanda was at Tony’s party. 

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, but all Wanda could focus on was her.  

The cheerleader.  

She was draped over Y/N, her manicured fingers trailing along her arm, the cheerleader’s laugh high-pitched and flirtatious. And Y/N—Y/N wasn’t even entertaining her, but that didn’t seem to matter. The girl was persistent, touching her, leaning in way too close, and Wanda’s patience was wearing thin.  

Her grip tightened around the red cup in her hand. She had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn’t care anymore. That Y/N moving on was what she wanted.  

But watching someone else touch her? Hearing someone else giggle at her jokes? Seeing Y/N give even the smallest smile in return?  

It made Wanda furious.  

Before she could think it through, she was moving.  

She shoved through the crowd, her heartbeat pounding louder than the music. Y/N barely had a second to react before Wanda was right there, stepping between them and the cheerleader.  

“Wanda?” Y/N blinked in surprise, but Wanda ignored her.  

She turned to the cheerleader with a tight, forced smile. “Oh, sorry” she said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “But you’re in my spot.”  

The girl’s brows furrowed. “Your spot?”  

Wanda didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, yanked Y/N forward, and crashed their lips together.  

The room blurred around them, the music fading into the background. Y/N tensed for a split second before melting into the kiss, her hands instinctively coming to rest on Wanda’s waist.  

Wanda didn’t know what she was doing—no, that was a lie. She *knew exactly* what she was doing. She was staking her claim, making it clear to everyone that Y/N was hers.  

When she finally pulled back, her chest was heaving, her lips tingling, and Y/N was staring at her with wide, stunned eyes.  

The cheerleader scoffed. “Seriously?”  

Wanda barely spared her a glance. “Yeah. Seriously.”  

The girl huffed and stormed off, but Wanda couldn’t care less.  

Because now, it was just her and Y/N.  

And the look on Y/N’s face—the mix of confusion, shock, and something else, something softer—made Wanda realize that maybe, just maybe… she wasn’t done with this after all.

Y/N blinked, still processing what had just happened.  

“Uh…” They ran a hand through their hair, looking utterly stunned. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what the hell was that?”  

Wanda crossed her arms, suddenly aware of what she had just done. Heat crept up her neck, but she refused to show it. Instead, she lifted her chin, feigning confidence. “That was me saving you.”  

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “Saving me? Wanda, I wasn’t in danger. The girl was annoying, sure, but I could’ve handled it.”  

Wanda clenched her jaw. “Yeah, well… you took too long.”  

Y/N narrowed their eyes, stepping closer. “Oh, I took too long? Or were you just jealous?”  

Wanda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Of her? Please.”  

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were a lie.  

Y/N tilted their head, studying her with that maddeningly knowing expression. “Right. So you just kiss people at random parties for fun now?”  

Wanda swallowed. She didn’t have an answer for that.  

Because the truth was, she hadn’t planned it. She had spent weeks pushing Y/N away, convincing herself that whatever feelings she had were nothing. That she could live without them.  

But the second she saw someone else trying to take her place, something in her snapped.  

Y/N took another step forward, and Wanda’s breath hitched. They were too close.  

“Tell me the truth,” Y/N said, voice softer now. “Why did you do it?”  

Wanda opened her mouth. Closed it. She wanted to lie, to brush it off, to act like it didn’t mean anything.  

But Y/N was looking at her with so much patience, so much hope.  

And suddenly, she was so tired of pretending.  

“I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I saw her touching you, and I hated it.”  

Y/N’s lips twitched, but they stayed silent, waiting.  

Wanda let out a breath. “I thought I could ignore it. Ignore you. But I can’t.” She swallowed hard, finally meeting Y/N’s eyes. “I don’t want to.”  

Something flickered across Y/N’s face—relief, maybe.  

Then, before Wanda could second-guess herself, Y/N’s hands were on her waist, pulling her in.  

“So don’t,” Y/N murmured.  

And this time, Y/N kissed her.

The moment Y/N’s lips met hers, Wanda felt everything she had been trying to suppress crash over her like a tidal wave.  

She wasn’t thinking anymore. She wasn’t worried about what this meant, about what anyone would say, about the weeks she had spent running away.  

All she knew was that kissing Y/N felt right.  

Her hands gripped their shirt, pulling them closer, and Y/N responded instantly, deepening the kiss with a quiet sigh against her lips. The party around them blurred into nothing—just heat, just the feeling of Y/N’s hands steady on her waist, just the way her heart pounded so hard she swore Y/N could feel it.  

Then someone whistled, and Wanda snapped back to reality.  

She pulled away, breathless, realizing that people were staring. A few partygoers were smirking, clearly entertained by the show.  

Her face burned.  

Y/N, on the other hand, just grinned. “You really don’t want to ignore me, huh?”  

Wanda scowled, shoving Y/N lightly. “Shut up.”  

But Y/N only laughed, their eyes twinkling with something so *stupidly* soft that Wanda felt her stomach flip.  

And suddenly, she wasn’t scared anymore.  

Because for the first time, she wasn’t running. She wasn’t hiding.  

She had chosen this.  

She had chosen Y/N.

---

The party continued around them, but for Wanda, everything else felt unimportant.  

She had just kissed Y/N. In front of everyone. And she didn’t regret it.  

But now that the moment was over, reality settled in.  

What did this mean? Where did they go from here?  

Y/N was watching her, still grinning like she had just won some sort of game. And maybe, in a way, she had.  

“You’re staring,” Y/N teased.  

Wanda rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’re annoying.”  

Y/N chuckled. “And yet, you kissed me.”  

Wanda felt her face heat up again. “Don’t let it get to your head.”  

“Oh, it’s already there.” Y/N smirked. “So, does this mean you’re finally done running?”  

Wanda hesitated. The past few weeks had been hell, pushing Y/N away, convincing herself she didn’t care—only to realize that she did.  

More than she wanted to admit.  

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve never—” She stopped herself, biting her lip. “I’ve never liked a girl before.”  

Y/N’s smirk softened into something gentler. “That’s okay,” they said, voice steady. “We don’t have to rush anything. But…” They took a step closer, their fingers brushing against Wanda’s hand. “Just tell me one thing.”  

Wanda glanced up.  

“Do you want this?” Y/N asked. “Me and you?”  

Wanda swallowed, her heart hammering.  

Then, finally, she nodded.  

“Yes.”  

Y/N’s smile widened, and Wanda swore she could feel the warmth of it settling into her chest.  

“Good,” Y/N murmured. “Because I want this too.”  

And just like that, Wanda felt like she could breathe again. Especially when Y/N’s were on hers again in the next second. 

---

The next few days felt different.  

Not in a bad way—just new.  

Y/N didn’t push, didn’t rush. She didn’t suddenly act like they were dating, but she also didn’t act like strangers anymore. Instead, Y/N met Wanda where she was, taking things slow.  

Y/N started waiting for her after class, casually leaning against the lockers with that same easy smile. She’d walk with Wanda to her next period, filling the space between them with light conversation and dumb jokes.  

And Wanda let her.  

She didn’t overthink it, didn’t let herself get caught up in what it meant. She just… let herself enjoy it.  

After school, Y/N started picking her up. Sometimes they’d grab coffee or ice cream, sometimes they’d just drive around, listening to music. Other times, they’d sit in Y/N’s car, parked somewhere quiet, talking about everything and nothing.  

It was easy.  

And for the first time in weeks, Wanda wasn’t scared.  

She was just happy.

Wanda was grabbing a book from her locker when she felt a familiar presence beside her. She turned her head slightly, already knowing who it was.  

Y/N stood there, shifting on her feet, hands tucked into her pockets. But something was different this time. She wasn’t wearing her usual teasing smirk or cracking some dumb joke.  

She looked… nervous.  

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”  

Y/N let out a breath, then nodded. “Yeah. Just—uh—been meaning to ask you something.”  

Wanda closed her locker, leaning against it. “Go on.”  

Y/N hesitated for a second, then rubbed the back of her neck, looking anywhere but at Wanda. “So, we’ve been hanging out a lot, right?”  

Wanda nodded slowly, curious.  

“And it’s been great…I mean, I love spending time with you. But I was thinking…” Y/N finally met her gaze, and Wanda noticed the slight pink dusting Y/N cheeks.  

“Would you wanna go on an actual date with me?”  

Wanda blinked.  

Not hanging out, not just getting food after school. An official date.  

Her heart did a weird little flip.  

Y/N quickly added, “Only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought—”  

“Yes.”  

Y/N stopped rambling. “Wait, really?”  

Wanda smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  

The relief that washed over Y/N was almost comical. She grinned, stuffing her hands back into her pockets. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Um—Friday night? I’ll pick you up?”  

Wanda chuckled. “Friday sounds good.”  

Y/N nodded, still grinning as she started to back away. “Alright, then. It’s a date.”  

Wanda watched Y/N walk off, shaking her head with a small smile.  

A real date.  

And for once, instead of fear, all she felt was excitement.

---

Friday night arrived faster than Wanda expected.  

She stood in front of her mirror, smoothing out her outfit for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn’t that she was nervous—okay, maybe she was a little nervous.  

This was different from all the times she and Y/N had hung out before. This was official. A real date.  

A knock on the front door pulled her out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag and made her way downstairs.  

When she opened the door, Y/N was standing there, dressed slightly nicer than usual but still effortlessly cool. They offered her a sheepish smile, holding out a single flower.  

“For you,” they said. “I thought about getting a whole bouquet, but I didn’t want to overdo it.”  

Wanda laughed softly, taking the flower. “It’s perfect.”  

Y/N’s grin widened. “Shall we?”  

---

Y/N drove them to the theater and once she parks the car she asks Wanda “too cliché?”

Wanda shakes her head with a small smile, “No! It’s fine. It’s nice”. 

The theater was dimly lit, the scent of buttered popcorn filling the air. Wanda and Y/N found their seats, drinks and snacks in hand.  

The movie was some action-packed blockbuster, but Wanda found herself more aware of Y/N than the explosions on screen.  

Halfway through, Y/N casually stretched her arm along the back of Wanda’s seat. It was such a cliché move that Wanda almost laughed—but she didn’t pull away.  

Instead, she leaned in just slightly, letting their shoulders brush.  

Y/N turned her head toward her, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, but she didn’t say anything. She just let the moment settle between them.  

After the movie, they found a small diner nearby, sliding into a booth across from each other. The place had a cozy, old-school vibe, with checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner.  

“Okay,” Y/N said, stirring their milkshake. “Honest thoughts on the movie?”  

Wanda smirked. “Over-the-top, ridiculous, and way too many explosions.”  

Y/N grinned. “So… you loved it?”  

She rolled her eyes, but the way Y/N was looking at her made her stomach flip.  

Conversation flowed easily between them, filled with teasing remarks and laughter. And as Wanda watched Y/N animatedly tell a story about something dumb they did as a kid, she realized something.  

She wasn’t nervous anymore.  

She was just happy.  

As the night went on, they eventually wandered outside, the cool air wrapping around them.  

Y/N walked beside her, hands in their pockets. “So, did I do okay for our first official date?”  

Wanda pretended to consider it, then smiled. “I think you did great.”  

Y/N exhaled dramatically. “Good. Because I was so close to panicking earlier.”  

Wanda laughed, and before she could overthink it, she reached for Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers.  

Y/N froze for half a second, then squeezed her hand gently.  

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The streetlights cast a soft glow around them, the world suddenly feeling quieter.  

Y/N hesitated, then, voice barely above a whisper, asked, “Can I kiss you?”  

Wanda’s heart pounded, but this time, she wasn’t scared.  

She nodded.  

Y/N leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t.  

And when their lips met, it was soft, warm, and everything Wanda hadn’t known she’d been waiting for.  

When they pulled away, Y/N chuckled lightly. “Yeah… definitely the best first date ever.”  

Wanda laughed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling.  

Because, for once, she finally let herself want this.  

And it felt right.

---

The first date had been perfect. The second one? Just as good.  

By the time their third date rolled around, Wanda wasn’t questioning things anymore. She wasn’t overthinking what it meant or trying to run from her feelings.  

She liked Y/N. That was undeniable.  

And Y/N? Well, they made it impossible not to fall for them.  

On the third date.

Y/N had planned a simple but sweet evening—taking Wanda to a small, scenic park with a picnic setup under the stars. A blanket, some snacks, and soft music playing from Y/N’s phone.  

Wanda sat beside Y/N, sipping on a soda, completely at ease.  

“This is nice,” she admitted, glancing at Y/N.  

Y/N smiled. “Yeah? I was hoping you’d like it.”  

Wanda shook her head, amused. “You’re really good at this dating thing.”  

Y/N laughed, but then her expression turned slightly more serious. “Speaking of…”  

She set her drink down, shifting to face Wanda fully. Wanda raised an eyebrow, sensing a shift in the air.  

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Y/N started. “About us.”  

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”  

Y/N nodded, suddenly looking a little nervous. “I really like you, Wanda. And I know we’ve been taking things slow, which I love. But…” She hesitated, then let out a breath. “I want to be more than just dating you. I want to be able to call you…mine…my girlfriend.”  

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat.  

Y/N quickly added, “Only if you’re ready! No pressure at all, I just—I needed to ask.”  

For a long moment, Wanda just stared at Y/N, her chest feeling impossibly full.  

Then, she smiled.  

“Y/N,” she said softly, reaching for Y/N’s hand. “I want that too.”  

Y/N blinked. “I know it’s too early-…what?”  

Wanda laughed. “I want that too. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine” Wanda caress Y/N cheek and said “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”  

The relief and joy on Y/N’s face were immediate. She grinned, closed the gap between them, kissing Wanda passionately.

“My girlfriend” Y/N whisper when the kiss ends. She brush their nose making Wanda smile wider. 

---

10 Years Later

Wanda was cooking breakfast. As she flipped the pancakes, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist. A familiar presence pressed against her back, kissing her neck and just behind her ear before whispering, “Good morning, my love.”

Wanda smiled and turned to see Y/N, still wearing a sleepy grin.

“Good morning, babe,” Wanda murmured, leaning up to kiss Y/N softly. The kiss deepened as Y/N pulled her closer, hands sliding down to give Wanda’s ass a playful squeeze, earning a soft gasp from her. But before anything could escalate, Wanda pressed a gentle hand to Y/N’s chest.

“Not here, babe,” she warned.

“It’s okay. We still have time,” Y/N replied, trailing kisses along Wanda’s neck.

“Y/N, we can’t…” Wanda sighed, half-heartedly trying to stop her.

Just then, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed down the stairs, followed by a chorus of “Mommy! Mama!”

Y/N groaned dramatically into Wanda’s neck, making her chuckle.

“I told you,” Wanda said with a smirk.

“When you told me you wanted kids, I didn’t realize they’d be such little cockblockers,” Y/N whined, making Wanda burst out laughing.

“Maybe tonight, babe,” Wanda said, kissing Y/N and patting her cheek just as the footsteps grew louder—and two little figures burst into the kitchen.

“Mommy! Mama!” the twin boys shouted in unison, their faces lit up with excitement.

“Oh my goodness! My little munchkins are already awake?” Y/N beamed, scooping both of them into her arms and covering their faces with kisses, making them giggle and squirm.

“Mama, stop!” Tommy laughed, trying to push Y/N’s face away.

Wanda watched the scene with a big smile on her face.

“Mommy, help!” Billy called out, reaching toward her.

Wanda tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I should help then,” she said, diving in to kiss them all over just like Y/N, making the boys burst into even louder laughter.

Their laughter filled the kitchen, echoing through the home like music. Y/N was giggling too, holding both boys tightly as they tried to escape the tickle attack from their moms. Pancakes were momentarily forgotten, but no one seemed to care.

Wanda stood there for a moment, taking it all in—her perfect little family, the warmth in the room, the love in her heart. She looked at Y/N, who was now kissing Tommy’s cheek again while Billy clung to her neck, and felt a deep ache of gratitude swell in her chest.

She was so glad she had found the courage to love Y/N. Even when it scared her. Even when she didn't know how the world—or her own heart—would react to falling in love with another girl. But she did. She chose love. And it brought her here.

To pancakes. To twin giggles. To warm arms around her waist every morning.

To home.

And Wanda had never been happier.

---

The End!

[omega-e123]

How would shadow react if you got injured on accident? Recently got injured and had to get stitches and I love your stories so I was wondering what he would do and how he would take care of them 😁

Shadow’s shoes were left unattended by the front door. What psychopath would wear shoes around the house and track dirt?

A short while ago, Shadow excused himself to go to the bathroom. Ever since you two met, you’ve always wanted to try them on. The golden opportunity has finally presented itself.

You plucked them from their spot and proceeded to put them on in the back yard. They were heavy and it’s no wonder why his kicks packed a punch even while not rocket boosted. It took a bit of conscious effort to lift your feet off the ground.

How did he manage to hover in place? On the outside and in, the shoes had a fairly simple and smooth design. No bottons, slides, nothing. Not that you’ve ever seen him do anything in particular to activate them.

Moving to one end of the yard, you break into a sprint. With a little speed it might turn on. It felt as if someone had duck taped 5 pound weights to your feet.

The back door opens with a call of your name. “What are you—,” Shadow was about to ask before being interrupted by a screech combined with rough tumbling into your patio table. In no time at all, bare feet patter against the warm concrete.

Some dirt mixed with blood cakes your palms and knees. With a loud guttural groan, you rolled yourself over to sit on your butt. In front of you, Shadow is knelt down on one knee. His brows knitted together in concern.

The voice that wanted to scold you for your clumsiness is shoved far into the back of his mind. Instead he tenderly takes your hands and brings it closer to his face, inspecting the damage.

A kiss is pressed to your knuckles. “Are you alright? What in the world were you doing?,” he asks, not a speck of anger laced in his words.

“I uhh.. wanted to try out your shoes? I don’t get it. How do they turn on? You usually just start running.

Your legs are next to be checked out. “They work by channeling chaos energy. That’s how I’m able to control the output… Can you stand? Careful not to hit your head.”

Shadow covers the edge of the table with one hand while the other helps you up. A sharp pain is sent to your hip as you rise eliciting a wince and a whine.

“Allow me to help clean your injuries. The last thing we want is to have them get infected.” An arm worms its way around your waist for support. Slow and steady he guides you to the restroom. Of course he’d notice you attempting to hide your limp. A sharp exhale leaves him.

After sitting you down on the toilet seat, he begins to clean the scrapes with a wet towel. Straight to work. Not a single word has been uttered since walking back inside the house. His lips pressed tight, you’re sure Shadow is clenching his jaw.

Guilt of worrying him and possibly damaging his shoes settle in. A mumbled, “I’m sorry” causes Shadow’s ear to flick.

Devoid of emotion he immediately replies, “Next time you want to use my stuff as playthings, ask first.”

His eyes are lasered in at the task at hand. Thankfully, once the blood has been cleaned up, your scrapes don’t look as bad. Nothing a giant bandage can’t fix.

With the final bandage literally slapped on the palm of your hand, he announces ‘done’. Shadow starts to pack up the medical supplies, well aware you’re pouting at him.

“That hurt!”

“Of course it did. That is what happens when you’re not careful,” he deadpans, knowing you had meant the little ‘slap’.

This guy! You’re already in pain and he adds on to it. “Shadow, you put it on wrong. Look, it’s crooked and peeking out.”

Before he puts the kit away, he pulls out one extra bandaid and slips it aside. “Did I?,” Shadow glances at it, “It looks fine to me.”

“No it’s not. Fix it!” You shove your poor aching hand into his face.

Shadow yanks it out of his face. “Alright. Fine.” The old bandage chucked into the trash and the new one replaces its spot with less roughness. He holds your wrist in place while he presses his lips to the bandage. “Is that better?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. I just want to make sure: does anywhere else hurt?”

“Well, I think I busted up my lips earlier too.”

A chuckle escapes him. Smiling, shaking his head, Shadow replies, “I was hoping you would address your limp…” His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking your bottom lip. “But I don’t mind taking care of this first.”

[the-kr8tor]

👀🤣 may I request a Christmas fic where one/both the twins see R kissing Santa Claus (but it’s actually Hobie dressed as him) and they start an all out war against Santa? Can’t stop laughing my ass off from this idea

- 😅 (@hyperfix-wip )

Hehehe thank you for the cutest prompt!! I've always wanted to write this trope 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU, cw food mentions, fluff!

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Billie wakes up with a start, heart pounding in her ears from the sudden wake up call. “What—?!” Her mouth is covered by a familiar hand, silencing her yell. “Mmhm?!” Eyes wide, she hones in on her twin’s face in the dark of their shared room. Save for the light flooding inside from the cracked open door, and their Spider-Man night light, it's pitch black.

“It's me!” Ramona whisper yells, front tooth still missing after she lost it in the playground. “Someone's downstairs. I think it's him!” Her eyes shine with excitement, curls bobbing up and down as she tries to contain her giddiness.

Billie yanks her sister's hand away, frowning at her from the sudden intrusion. “I was having a good dream, Mon.” Her look reminds Mona of her dad's exact expression when he has to mow the lawn again.

Mona ignores her sister's annoyance, “didn't you hear what I said? Santa's ‘ere! At our house!” She whisper yells again, this time loud enough for whoever's downstairs to pause their movements. Her eyes widened, hands covering her mouth to tamp down her excitement. “We should stay quiet—”

“Santa's ‘ere!” Billie is quieted once again by Mona's hands.

After waiting for a minute, the girls slowly and silently go outside of their room, matching holiday socks softly walking across the polished floorboards. Their pajamas are also on theme, with Mona opting for a pink sugar plum fairy matching set, and Billie wearing the classic Santa Clause set. Both that you've lovingly made for them. They're clearly excited, especially when it comes to the big bearded man in red. Billie more especially, after you and Hobie brought them to a local mall to see Santa and for them to give them their wishlist, she's been raving about wanting to stay up to catch him in the act. But after watching home alone and having a belly full of warm milk, she went out like a light. Mona on the other hand wants to see him eat the cookies you two prepared for Santa. It's her favourite, chocolate chips with marshmallows. She's hoping that the big man would like it, especially that she gave him the batch from her personal stash.

As they walk out of the hallway and into the floors of the second floor landing, they start to crawl once they see shadows dance along the walls of the living room. The tree that the four of you lovingly put up and decorated are twinkling with the holiday lights, reds, greens and yellows blinking in and out of the room.

“Do you think they'll like it?” They hear your familiar voice, whispering downstairs.

The girls make it to the stairs that overlook the living room, they make themselves smaller by lying prone on the cold floor, tiny hands grasping at the bannisters. Their eyes widen at the sight of who you are talking to.

Right next to you is the man of the hour himself, dressed in red with a giant sack of presents right next to him. He's taller than they've expected, and slimmer. Maybe Santa's cutting back on the cookies.

Billie grabs Mona's shoulder, shaking her excitedly. They wordlessly communicate through looks, based on their happy expressions, they feel like the luckiest kids in the world. They continue to watch Santa work his magic as he places wrapped presents underneath the tree with their names written on them.

“I know they'll love ‘em. ‘sides, Mona's been askin’ for it since July.” Santa replies to you, brown eyes shining in the string lights. His eyes seem to smile at you sitting in the corner of the room, hand occupied with a warm cup of eggnog. The bottom half of Santa's face is obscured by his big white beard, but he's clearly smiling softly at you. “And Bee always wanted that moon lamp ever since she saw Gwen's.”

Beaming at jolly Nick, you leave your cup on the coffee table to walk over to him. “I know, but what if they suddenly don't want those anymore.”

Santa stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you closer as he abandons the sack of presents on the floor. “Love,” love? The girls look at eachother with furrowed brows. Only their dad calls you that, and maybe occasionally that one shop owner downtown that you always buy fabrics from. “Y’know the girls would still be happy even if we gave them a potato each.”

You come to his side without saying anything about the close proximity to the actual Santa. The girls narrow their eyes at Santa's glove hand splayed across the small of your back, thumb rubbing gently across your soft pajama shirt. Only their dad gets to hold you like that.

Chuckling, you move to half hug him, arm wrapped around his back while you place your chin atop the soft red jacket. “Why a potato?”

“Because they go wild for chips.” He looks at you through gentle eyes, nudging his forehead on top of your own, the faux fur of his hat is soft against your skin.

“That's true, maybe we should've gotten them a whole sack of potatoes instead.” Your grin has the girls worried, especially when you move closer to him that the girls would know that it would have their dad burst into tears if they ever saw the scene in front of him.

“That's why ‘m santa, lovie.”

“Mm-hmm,” now you fully embrace him. The girls share a heavy look. “Why are you in full get up again? They won't be able to see you in this, not while they're snoring away all the cookies they had.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “what if they wake up, it'll be a nice memory for ‘em.” His arm squeezes you, hand dangerously close to your behind. The twins are both pissed, standing up from their place atop the stairs. “Or, ‘m all dressed up for you, love.” Santa winks at you, and you giggle in his arms. “Give big red a kiss, yeah?” As he leans in, the twins run downstairs swiftly, yelling and screaming at him to let their mum go.

“What— girls!” You move away, arms trying to block their attacks from hitting Santa.

“Not our mum!” Billie makes it to him first, clinging herself on his leg, trying to bite him through his red pants.

“We trusted you, Santa!” Mona leaps to punch at his stomach, earning a pained groan from the bearded man.

“Mona, no!” You grab her by the armpits as she continues to flail around, trying to get another hit. Good thing you’ve gotten to her before she aimed at his crotch. “Baby, no, that's—!” You contemplate telling them the truth, but Hobie's subtle head shake has you clamping down and embracing Mona.

“Ow, fuc–fudge!” Hobie hops around the room, trying to wiggle free of Billie, who's still clutching at his leg. “Billie, stop!” The one time that his spidey senses failed him.

“I don't care if ‘m on the naughty list! You tried to kiss our mum!” She chomps down on his leg, and he yelps when her baby teeth sink into the fabric and into his leg.

Hobie has no choice but to grab Billie the same way you did with Mona. He holds her in front of him, an arm's length away, still trying to take a chunk out of him. He feels like he ruined the magic of Santa for them. Not to mention the song.

“Stop–!” Hobie holds out his hand to her to tell her that he means no harm, but she tries to bite at his finger. “Billie—!”

“Daddy!” Ramona screams out, voice echoing and rumbling the house. “Daddy, there's an– an impruder!”

You would've chuckled at her fumbled pronunciation of intruder and told her the right way to say it, but when she's on the verge of tears; the both of them are, you have to think of a solution.

“Daddy!” Billie joins in, now fully sobbing. “H–He kissed mummy!”

“I haven't! Not yet!” Hobie tries to defend himself, or Santa for that matter. But it makes the whole thing so much worse when Billie wiggles herself out of his grasp to run towards yours and Hobie's bedroom while crying for him. “Shi—!”

You meet with his eyes while embracing a crying Mona. Mouthing a ‘Go!’ He immediately knows what you're up to. Your synergy levels with him are off the charts.

He leaves through the window, snow crunching underneath him and almost freezing him in the spot. He slowly rips off the Santa outfit one by one whilst he makes his way towards the back of the house. Shedding the beard and tossing it haphazardly in the backyard, he crawls on the wall, finally making it to the bedroom window just as when Billie opens the door with a loud creak.

Feigning naiveté, he acts shocked at her weeping as he opens his arms to her. “What happened?” She sobs on his sleep shirt, drenching it with tears. As Hobie pats her back, he realises that he's still wearing the gloves which he promptly throws away and under the bed before she could see it. “C’mon, mac, tell dad.” He cups her wet cheeks, trying to calm his little girl down.

“I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus!”

Hearing Mona's cry in the doorway with you carrying her, he knows that you two have a long night ahead of you.

—

“Are you sure you want to change pajamas, Billie? You said it's your favourite. The red suits you—” You try to placate her with a plate of chocolate pancakes.

“Yes.” She says so surely with her arms crossed over her chest, still fuming. “I hate Santa.”

Hobie's sitting right next to Mona, hand rubbing along her back whilst she stares angrily at the empty plate of cookies she left for Santa sitting on the counter. “Me too.” She huffs, stabbing her pancakes with a fork.

You share a look with Hobie, hoping that he has any idea how to calm them down. Hugging Billie seems to tamp down her anger, but she still looks at you with furrowed brows after you've apologized profusely.

“Why did you kiss, Santa?” She asked a few hours ago, stomping her little foot down on your bedroom floor, while her sister followed her lead.

“I didn't!” You stared at Hobie right next to you on the bed, looking like he's about to burst into laughter but is keeping it in. “And I wasn't gonna!”

After that whole ordeal, they seem to simmer down to a silent anger that still reverberates through the house. Maybe opening the presents earlier would make them forget it and make them smile.

“We should make signs, Bee! Like what dad makes so Santa knows not to come back ‘ere!” Mona lights up, you finally got a smile out of her.

“That's brilliant!” Hobie plays along, and Billie agrees with rapid nodding that you had to stop with your hand on her forehead before she breaks something. “I'll get my supplies, you two go finish your pancakes, yeah?” Just as he says it, they scarf down the pancakes, prompting Hobie to grab your hand and speed walk away from the kitchen.

Once the two of you are out of earshot and their sights, he corners you against a wall, hands cradling your cheeks, and sighing as he relaxes atop you.

You laugh against his hair, pressing lazy kisses on his hairline. “Don't forget to grab the outfit outside, Hobie. I made that to tailor you and you only.”

He lifts his head up from your chest, cheeks puffed out from sleepiness. Blowing out air, you giggle at him as he flutters your lashes. “I know, love.” His eyes roam all over your face, looking at every curve and dip until he stops at your lips. “I still haven't gotten my answer.”

“Or what? You'll put me on the naughty list?”

Hobie leans closer, lips brushing along your waiting lips. “Lovie, you're on my list every year.”

“I hope I'm the only one on it.” You say, wordlessly inviting him for a kiss by pecking his jaw softly.

“You and you only.” With a chuckle atop your lips, he kisses you under the mistletoe he subtly put up with the sole purpose of kissing you underneath it.

[faghubby]

Bear

THIS STORY IS SEVERAL FANS IDEAS WRAPPED INTO ONE STORY.

"Hey come here" a big burly man called after me as I exited the building. I looked at him but headed for my car. He quickly covered the distance between us. Grabbing my arm he spun me around.

"You were just upstairs with Connie" he told me.

"So" I said smartly. Even though this man towered over me.

"She is my sister" he told me.

"OH pleasure to me meet you,Eli" I said extending my hand.

"Don't give me that shit I know what kind of Sissies my sister likes" he said and yanked the back of the pink thong Connie had made me wear up giving me a massive wedgie. I was so scared, of him but also that someone might see that I almost peed myself. He pushed me into a near by alley.

"Please, I have a little money", I fumbled and pulled out my wallet.

"You should have a purse" he told me knocking my waller out of my hand he pushed me against the wall.

"Faggots are supposed to be good at sucking cock" he said unbuckling his pants. My God he was serious! "Or maybe I should just tell your wife you wear her panties and meet my sister on your lunch break" he said. Taking my phone of my belt clip.

"Okay, anything. But I never done this before." I knelt down and reached into his pants. I was shaking, I felt cold even on this warm summer day. I felt his cock, Jesus! Was that all him. I pulled out his cock. It was a thick fat cock his mushroom head already purple.

I could smell his musk and sweat. As he grabbed it and smacked his cock across my face.

"Let go bitch ain't got all day. I took the tip In my mouth the taste of sweat and piss. But he pushed it in more I gagged and coughed.

"Better get that mouth back non there" he warned. I went back to sucking on the head as I jerked him off. Without warning he shot his load into my mouth. I pulled away and the second shot hot me in the eye. The third all over my shirt. The rest seemed to miss me and hit the ground. He handed me back my phone, I had sucked off another man. I thought. I couldnt say inhad not fantasies about it. But innmy fantasies. He was a hot stud, and there was always a woman there. This was dirty, degrading, disgusting. I wanted to shower with bleach. I picked up my wallet.

"My name is Jake but you can call me Daddy" he told me. He then showed me pics of me sucking his cock. "You're mine now" he smiled and walked away. I needed to get back to work I was late. I couldnt go like this. I took off my shirt and threw it away after using it to wipe off my face. I stopped at a store and bought a new dress shirt. At the office I went to the bathroom and realized I had dry cum in my hair. I tried to tell my supervisor that I had an emergency and had to go. She didn't believe me.

"Eli, you got an hour left at this point, since you took a two hour lunch" she said annoyed. I went back to my desk defeated. As I sat down my phone dings. I pick it up to see a text from DADDY. there is a pic of his dick as his profile.

"I know you're dreaming when you can suck my cock again. I just thought I tell you. Your wife is hot" he sent a pic of of social media or my phone of Gail is a bikini on our vacation. "Does she know she married a fag?" I blocked him. He just sent a message on a different number.

"Maybe I should send this Pic to everyone in your contact list?" There I was on my knees with cum all over my face.

"Now unblock me and stop being such a little cunt" he texted. He would text me multiple times a day. He seemed to know my life. My friends, family, all about work. He used this to have me send him pics of myself dressed in my wife's panties, but he didn't stop there soon he wanted me fully dressed. I had to answer no matter when he texted. He had already released a pic on a website for gay men. But had blurred my face thankfully. I was in bed one night when he texted.

"Come outside" it was 1am. He was here! I had not seen him since that day two weeks ago. I got up and went outside he was sitting in a car in front of my house.

"Get in" he commanded I quickly got in hoping no one saw me, his cock was already out.

"Well it ain't going to suck itself" he told me. "Or should I gomknock on your door and get Gail to do it?" He said I leaned over and took him in my mouth. It was different this time, he smelled good. He must of showered because he didn't taste like sweat. His hand ran down my back and under my shorts.

"Where are your panties bitch?" He asked I didn't stop sucking his cock. "You are going to have to learn some things. Next time you will be smooth. I don't want to see a hair anywhere on your body. Your ass, your legs, even your pits will be smother then a new born" he told me. "I am also going to be around alit more. Seems like leaving you alone makes you think you don't belong to me" he told me then pushed my head down, I gagged as he shot his load in my mouth.

"Clean thar mess up" he told me shoving my face back into his crotch. I licked his thick bush sucking all of his cum up.

An hour had passed by the time I returned to my bed.

"Everything okay?" Gail asked as I got back in bed.

"Fine, go back to sleep". But I was rock hard in my shorts. I snuggled up to her.

"Um, what's this" Gail reached back and pulled out my dick without a word she stroked me. Not even facing me. I couldn't remember the last time we had had sex. Weeks ago I thought as I came all over her ass.

"Now get to sleep" she mumbled. I woke in the morning to pics of me sucking Daddy's cock in his car.

"Be around later cunt" he wrote. I decided to work from home today. Gail left for work. I couldn't shave. How would I explain that to Gail.

"So working from home today" i got a text from Daddy. "Good I want to see pics of you all smooth and dressed up by 4. Or I going to visit Gail at her office" he sent a pic of the building she worked at. I did some work then googled best way to shave body hair. I ran a hot bath and used Gail's razors to shave. It took two tubs of water. And had to shower after to rinse away any stray hair. I loved how it felt everytime I moved the motion seemed to electrify my skin. I got dressed in one of Gail's dresses. And sent Daddy a pic.

Ten minutes later I heard the doorbell. I panicked then I heard Daddy's deep voice call out as he came in.

"Where you at Faggot?" He called. I appeared at the top of the stairs. I wore Gail's dress. It was tight on me and barely covered my ass. When I saw Daddy I got excited. I don't know why, I had paid Connie to make me wear panties and degrade me. But this was different I needed Daddy, I hated him. But needed him. I didn't find him attractive. Not sure many woman would either. He was a big man, with a bit of a pot belly. A shaggy beard, and unkempt hair. But he carried himself with competent confidence. Daddy climbed the stairs two at a time. He grabbed me and kissed me. I felt wierd but my lips parted and his tounge danced in my mouth. His hand grasped my hard cock.

"My little faggot is happy to see me?" He smiled. Pulling my dress up so it bunched around my waist.

"Please no" I whispered his hands grabbed my ass.

"It's time you learned to be a proper bitch" he told me. He picked me up and carried me into my bedroom. He threw me on the bed but before i could get away he manhandled me. Flipping me over he shoved my head down leaving my ass up in the air. He tore Gail's panties off of me. And smeared some type of lube on my ass. He must of bought it with him. Then I felt his cock push against my ass.

"Daddy please, I don't" but as I said it his cock pushed in. Pain shot thru me as my ass adjusted to being invaded. He waited only a moment before he worked more of his cock inside me. My phone was ringing I was supposed to be working. Daddy didn't care and started to fuck me. Slow at first then speeding up. He pounded away on my ass before he stiffened and filled my ass with his seed. He pulled out and my ass as felt empty, and sore. He got dressed as I laid on the bed.

"Now I don't like you getting excited" he told me fippimg me over he sat on me his ass pointing towards my face. He fiddled with so,thing cold around my dick. Then got up I looked down he had locked me in a steel chastity cage.

"I can't! Gail!" I told him. "Please" he just laughed and left me sitting there panicking. My phone rang again bringing me back to reality I rushed downstairs. I still wore Gail's dress. Daddy was gone. I tried to get the cage off and to my surprise with a little discomfort I pulled it off. I ran upstairs and showered. And got dressed in my clothes. My ass was so sore.

Gail came home as usual I was still working making up for a day of dressing up and getting fucked. I must of subconsciously been more attentive to Gail that night because right after dinner she took me to bed. I tried to make an excuse. But as soon as she removed my shirt she stopped.

"I like it" she told me and kissed me. She then reached inside my shorts and grabbed my dick. "Where is it?" She stopped suddenly.

"What?" I said surprised

"He locked you up, I saw the pics" she told me pushing me back.

"What? You knew?" I said without even thinking..

"From day one, you charged that whore on the credit card" Gail scolded.

"Gail I" I started. "Where is it?" She asked holding out her hand. I opened my drawer and gave ot to her.

"I guess it's to small" she frowned. She picked up her phone and called someone.

"He pulled it off" she said. Whoever was on the other side said something that made her smile.

"Get dressed, yes in panties" she told me. I put on panties, some shorts and a tee shirt with sandals. Gail drove me across town to a tattoo parlor. As I walked in I saw Daddy tattooing someone.

"That chair" he pointed Gail had me sit. When Daddy finished he came over to me. "Pants off" he told me. I was shocked to see Gail follow his instructions as well. She also removed her panties. So I removed mine. I noticed a tattoo on Gail's ass. It read married slut. I was stunned but then Daddy put restrains on my arms.

"We are going to give you a prince Albert so the garage can't be pulled off" he informed me. I wanted to complain but he walked over to Gail and shoved his fingers into her pussy. Then he numbed my dick and drove a needle thru. He reinstall the cage then put in the prince Albert piecing locking the cage on permanently. He wasn't done I was still bound to the chair as he bent Gail over and drove his cock into her. He fucked her. Long and hard as she was bent over top of me. The numbing agent had worn off and my dick now hurt as he pumped his seed inside Gail. He then shoved his dick in my mouth making me clean it.

"Your Daddy's little faggot now" Gail told me. As she pulled her panties back on. I had no idea how long they had known each other. Was this all just revenge or had I been set up from the start.

Gail took charge after that. She threatened to expose me to my deeply religious family. I was subject to not only wear panties but also bras and often stockings under my boy clothes. Often making me dress fully as a woman. She bought me makeup and hair styles. Along with nail care. I never saw Daddy and Gail together again.

Although Daddy would often spend the night in my bed. I craved him now. I would beg to suck his cock. Or plead with him to fuck me. I refused him nothing. Even when he had me service his friends. I have a tattoo now that says Daddy's faggot on my ass. I never saw Gail naked again. We lived like roommates. Acting as a loving couple for family functions.

Soon that will end as well. Daddy wants me to get breasts implants. Gail thinks it's a great idea.

[callboxkat]

One of those Yule Log videos, but make it Infinitesimal

I'm a little late, since this idea came to me courtesy of some Yule Log videos that we played in the background on Christmas Eve. I recommend one called Puppies Crash Christmas on Hulu. 10/10.

Writing Masterpost

I would make this for real if I had 1: the time 2: my stylus (I'm visiting family and left it behind, smh) and 3: any animation skills to speak of. Alas, I lack all three.

But! I'm still sharing the idea with you all. Enjoy!

...

Roman and Logan live in an apartment without a real fireplace, so this is a little different than the usual Yule Log video. Instead of watching a roaring fire, the camera view centers on a laptop sitting open on a table. On it, a fullscreen video of a campfire plays.

Above, stockings are hung up on the wall, each already filled. Three of them are full size: a red-and-gold one embroidered with the name Roman, a stylish blue one embroidered with the name Logan, and a black one with REMUS crudely hand-stitched in an alarming shade of neon green. (Remus originally brought in an actual knee-high, black-and-green-striped sock, yanked right off his foot, but this was immediately shot down by all other parties).

The remaining three stockings are of the miniature kind: one purple, one sky blue, and one green. The letters V, P, and E are hand-sewn on each one, respectively.

These stockings all hang below a shelf, which is adorned with LED candles, a small statue of Santa Claus in a space ship, a toy Dalek in a Santa hat, and various Disney snow globes. The whole setup is framed by a large garland, which is interwoven with Christmas lights that twinkle in a rainbow of colors.

As the video begins, voices can be heard in the background. They are accompanied by footsteps as their owners walk around out of view.

0:00 "It isn't even a real fire."

"It's festive, Logan!"

"The combustion of fuel to create heat, carbon dioxide, nitrogen, water vapor, and oxygen is festive?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

Logan sighs. "I suppose I can admit that lit fireplaces are an image that Christmas conjures. But, again, we do not posess a fireplace."

"Hence the video."

"Roman, that video is of a campfire."

"Fire is fire."

The voices and footsteps pause for a beat.

"....Why does it have to stay on when we aren't here? This seems like a waste of electricity, especially given your insistence upon the purchase of gifts for the holiday."

"What if Pat stops by? Or Virge, or Emile? It's for them!"

"I am unsure what desire they would have for--"

"Do you want them to have a bad Christmas?"

"I don't see how--"

"Do you?"

"I'm impartial to Christmas, as you know."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"...No."

"Great! Then it stays."

Another pause.

"Why does it have to be my laptop?"

"Because yours has a bigger screen. Ooh! There's a last-minute Christmas present idea for you!"

"My laptop?"

"No, a new one for me."

"I am not purchasing you a laptop. Yours functions just fine."

"Fine. Oh, wait, did you plug it in?"

"Naturally. When have I ever neglected to plug in my laptop?"

(Please note, dear reader/would-be viewer: the laptop is not plugged in)

0:05 The footsteps retreat. We hear the jangle of keys, then the door closing and locking. Flames continue to flicker on the laptop screen. We can hear them crackle and pop.

0:06 A car honks outside.

0:07 We hear footsteps and laughter in the hall, which quickly move on.

0:08: The seam in the wallpaper just above the shelf, visible under the garland and lights, silently opens. 5-inch-tall Virgil pokes his head out, then steps onto the shelf and beckons to someone behind him. He walks using a pair of forearm crutches.

Emile emerges a second later. He carries a fishing hook and rope and wears a hand-sewn backpack secured with a button.

The pair look around, before Emile secures his hook on the garland above the shelf. He carefully rappels down to the first of the miniature stockings, sky blue, and starts pulling out candies, stashing them in his backpack. Virgil leans over the edge of the shelf and watches, occasionally pointing or gesturing to his brother.

With the stocking visibly more empty, Emile climbs back up on the rope to the shelf. He slides off the backpack, which Virgil carries back the way they came, out of sight. He returns with an empty backpack.

Emile takes it and once again rappels down, this time moving to the purple miniature stocking.

0:12 As Virgil and Emile collect candy from the stockings, Patton arrives. He pushes a present the size of a ring box in front of him. It's wrapped in red paper, with green ribbon. He waves to Virgil, then leaves.

0:13 One of the Christmas lights goes out, not far from the doorway into the wall.

0:15 Emile finishes taking candy out of the last miniature stocking. He and Virgil leave with the candy. The three stockings are about half as full as before.

0:20 Patton returns, pushing another present ahead of himself. This one is a black box, with a too-large blue bow on top.

0:24 Virgil and Emile return with the third present. This one isn't in a box. Bafflingly, it's a medicine bottle, with a too-large green bow on the cap. Virgil uses one crutch and pulls on a string tied around the bottle. Emile pushes. As we watch, Virgil trips, and Emile accidentally tips the bottle, nearly knocking it over completely. The cap comes off, which Virgil quickly grabs. A piece of candy shaped like an eyeball tumbles out. As Emile rights the bottle, we watch the candy bounce off the laptop keyboard (causing the volume of the video to rise by 1), then hear it hit the floor, bounce, and roll away.

(It's old Halloween candy. They're expired. Remus will love it)

They position the gifts on the shelf, then whisper an inaudible conversation. Emile goes to make sure the cap is tight on the medicine bottle this time.

Virgil notices the Christmas light that has gone out. He looks for a moment, then smacks it with his crutch. The light comes back on. He and Emile leave.

The digital flames crackle and pop.

0:35 Patton reappears at the bottom of our view, carrying a bag on his back. A candy wrapper pokes out of the top. He climbs up the ladder attached to the table and sits down beside the laptop and its campfire video. He pulls out the candy and starts to unwrap it.

0:37 Virgil and Emile arrive. Virgil has both crutches now, and Emile carries a larger bag of candy on his back. They climb up the ladder to join Patton. They eat the loot from their stockings in the light of the "fire".

0:40 A notification pops up in the lower right-hand side of the laptop screen: Battery Saver Mode Engaged. The littles don't notice.

0:50 The littles finish their candy, climb back down the ladder, and leave.

0:55 Another notification pops up on the laptop: Warning! Low Battery.

1:00 The laptop dies, and its screen goes dark. A moment later, so does the video.

...

Thanks for reading! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy New Year!

[vampirelover890]

The Blue Knight (2/?)

Deep within the recesses of the Ynsdryth Capital lived a weapon. That's all they were considered, at least. A person sat behind those empty eyes, forgotten by the world, labeled only by her misdeeds. A knock came from her cell door, calm and steady. The door opened, and from the light she'd been so exiled from for ages, extended a hand of blue steel.

The prisoner reached back, grasping firmly the harsh metal, allowing herself to be yanked into the underarm of a large knight. Despite the gentleness of the knock, what was outside her prison door seemed hectic. The knight which she'd trusted her life to was barreling through the grown men and women who were to stop her. Finally, they'd turned a corner and ran up a flight of stairs into the blinding sun.

The knight set down it's spoils, as the blue encasing slid away from it's head, as if it were melting. The prisoner finally got a look at her savior or perhaps her captor. In front of her stood tall a pale elf-like humanoid, with long black hair and yellow eyes. It spoke softly.

"You are the Heathen, yes?"

The prisoner nodded.

"I am Mirage, born of abominations, and for war; cursed to forever wear the metal forged within the flame of Sky; and you?"

Mirage got her good look at the Heathen. They were a white and red Dragon-Blood, only coming up to about her own shoulder, and wore not but tattered clothes and a piece of jewelry around their neck. While looking at their neck, Mirage noticed what she perhaps should have when she first set the Heathen down. There was a large, see-through hole in the middle of her throat. Looking up, Mirage also noticed that their mouth was sewn shut.

"Why don't we leave town and take a walk through the nearby woods. I'd love to get to know you."

The Heathen didn't have much say in the matter, and so they followed the large, blue knight through the back alleys of the town she'd been locked in for years on end.

Mirage had shrunken down to about the Heathen's height, as they both walked peacefully amongst the shade of the trees. You'd barely be able to tell that they were the most dangerous weapons of the Great War, and had both recently participated in a jail break. Mirage stopped at a rock, and found a reasonably long stick. She tossed it to the Heathen.

"Alrighty, 'The Heathen,' I figure since you've got a bit of something going on... y'know... here," said Mirage, gesturing to her own throat, "you can write in the dirt instead. Let start with something simple. I'm not gonna call you 'The Heathen' all day; you have a different name?"

The Heathen took the stick thrust upon themself, and wrote out the word "Heather" in the dirt.

"Heath- sorry, you're Heather the Heathen?"

Heather wrote out the words, "Guards call me," before her original message. Tapping at it a couple of times, to make clear to Mirage, she got the message.

"Ok, I'm sorry Heather. Next question, how old are you?"

Heather wrote within the dirt, "Was 20 when locked away"

"That makes you near 70 today. About my age. Heather, I was one of the Queen's weapons, too. That's why I got you out of there. She's gone now. We're gonna be alright."

Heather heard how Mirage talked to her, and quickly wrote, "Not child. They treat me like child too long."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. Heather, why did they lock you away?"

Heather wrote one word. "Gone." She pointed to the hole in their throat.

"Someone took your throat? Did you breathe fire?"

Heather shook her head and began writing. 10 minutes later, Heather's tale was scribbled upon the dirt. It read, "When I was born, I didn't worship the water god. I had no mom or dad to teach me why they did. They called me a heathen. No one taught me to speak either. One day, I tried to apologise for being different. I walked into the water god's church, made my way up to the stand, closed my eyes, and said, 'I'm sorry.' When I opened my eyes, the church and the people were gone. I sat in a crater where it used to be. Then the Queen came. She took me in and raised me. She would take me to the enemies forts and towns, where I would act innocent, and then I'd sing. I was the banshee, the siren, the Heathen. Then one day, a lady came up to me, and she punched me in the face, and with one hand held my mouth open as she sliced out my tounge, then held my mouth shut with one hand as she sewed my lips together forever. Finally, she clawed out my larynx with her bare hands. The Queen had no use for me, and so she locked me up. Here I sit now, 50 yrs later."

"Holy shit, Heather. That's a lot. Y'know what, I came to grab you because I knew we'd be able to bond over something like shared grief about the Queen, but I've decided. We're going to go find your tongue and throat, and we'll take em back and bring sweet music to everyone who tries to stop us."

Heather stood up and nodded, conviction in her eyes, determined to take back what rightfully belonged to her.

"Do you know the name of the woman who took your voice?"

Heather grabbed her stick and scribbled upon the rich forest slil they stood on, the name, "Rene Cathbriggs."

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Bully x Reader x Yan!Freak Pt 2

"Boys Night Plus One."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior, cum, masturbation, male and female genitalia.

Part 1 here

(AN: This one is for you, anon who sent me a bullet-point list of some ideas for Ahmed and Patrick which were better than anything I could have come up with. I love you.)

You groan, struggling to yank off the cotton top you had taken to wearing for PE class. You had been sick for a week or so, and in order to stay up on your grades you had been doing classwork after school. Today, you are making up some time for gym class using the school's exercise facilities. Once you finally get it off, you unlock your locker and put your gym clothes inside, reapplying your deodorant and putting on your school shirt. Just as you shut your locker, you hear the door of the girl's locker room flap shut, and you perk up at the sound. That's odd, after a few days of working out after school, you've never run into anyone else using the facilities.

"Hello?" You call out, peering around the row of lockers. Suddenly, a fist slams into the locker behind you, making you shriek. You whip around, to see Patrick, the schools most notorious bully laughing his ass off at how spooked you got. "Patrick!" You yell, smacking him lightly. "Ooh, feelin' fiery, huh?" He takes a breath, calming himself after laughing so hard. "What's got you so pissed off?" You roll your eyes.

"You scared me, and you're in the girls locker room!" He fakes shock, and looks around. "Really, the girls locker room? Huh, wonder how I wound up here..." He muses, playfully leaning up against the lockers. "If it was the boys locker room, why would I be here?" You ask. He shrugs. "I don't know, maybe you were tryna' sneak a peek at some dudes after football practice." He grins, leaning over you a little more. "Or maybe you wanted one of them to sneak a peek at you." You blush, and push him away. "Go away, Patrick, there's no reason for you to be here right now." You try to quickly gather your things, and make your way to the door.

"Woah, woah, hey, where ya' going? I'm just checking on you. You haven't been to class lately, I was getting worried." He uses your moment of surprise to grip your wrist and gently pull you back over. "I was sick, just needed some time away from class. Why does that matter to you?" You ask, confused. He's always enjoyed tormenting you, and you would think you were special if he didn't also torment everyone else. Of course, Patrick knows where you've been, because he's had Ahmed posted outside your bedroom for the duration of your absence, both to get photos and make sure you aren't hanging out with anybody else. He shrugs again. "I missed seeing you in these." He reaches into your gym bag, gripping one of the pairs of gym shorts and pulling them out. "Y'know, I don't think these follow the dress code..." Admittedly, you needed to get some new shorts. These ones were small, but you just hadn't gotten around to buying new ones. "Gym class is already fuckin' boring, especially when I can't see your sweet little ass bent over, trying to do toe-touches or yoga or whatever the fuck we're supposed to in that sweaty shit-hole."

You only blush and grab the shorts from him, stuffing them back into your bag. "Well, I'm sure you managed fine without me. There's plenty of girls to perv on that aren't me." You whimper. Patrick chuckles, and shakes is head. "Yeah, but I don't want any of them." He pauses, then clicks his tongue. "That reminds me though, I did make a friend while you were gone. I had a lot of free time since you weren't around to play with." You glance up at him. "Another member of your gang?" You ask. The last thing this school needs is even more assholes hanging out with Patrick. "Nope. It's someone I knew before you left, but I've made amends with them. Patched things up, self-improved." He brags. He looks down at you smugly. "You should be proud of me, I'm a changed man."

"What do you mean?" You aren't sure what previous acquaintance he's referring to. Due to Patrick's widespread terror, it could be pretty much anyone. "You know that new kid, Ahmed?" Your mouth opens in shock. You had heard things about the new boy, with dark hair and wide eyes. You had noticed him a few times in English class. He was always quiet, only occasionally speaking when he was being picked on by the other kids, quietly protesting the abuse. You had traded poetry a few times for an assignment. He seemed very creative. You weren't really sure why the other kids picked on him so much, but you suspected it was because Ahmed was Patrick's new favorite. You had heard of the things he'd done to Ahmed, robbing him, beating him, stealing his classwork. You didn't do anything, how could you? Patrick hated when people stood up to him, and you didn't want his attention on you anymore than it was.

"You're... friends with him now." Patrick nods. "That's cruel, Patrick. You can't do all that stuff to somebody, then force them to play friends with you. It's not right!" You exclaim, boldly defying him for a moment. He only exhales lightly, and puts his hands up in surrender. "You got it all wrong, baby. We are friends, me and him. We've made amends. I told you, I'm changing. I'm a reformed juvenile." He looks up to see if you're buying it. He pouts when he notices you still seem skeptical. "Alright, I guess I'm not 'reformed', exactly, but me and him really are friends now." You only nod, hoping he will drop it and go away. This reaction makes him scoff. "You still don't believe me? Fine, I'll tell you what. I'm going over to see Ahmed at his house tonight, to hang out. Why don't you come with me?" He offers.

You shake your head no quickly. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Patrick." You exclaim. "Well, if you do go, and see me and him are friends, you'll know I'm not such a bad guy, and you might like my new friend. If you don't go though..." He chuckles lowly. "Me and this guy may not be friends... and by not going, your risking this kid getting beat up in his own home. Do you want that on your conscience?" You bite your lip, but shake your head. "No, you don't. I could handle that, but you couldn't, pretty thing. So come on, grab your shit and head over there with me, alright?" You make no movements, and Patrick groans, grabbing your gym-bag. "Fine, since I told you I'm changing, and I'm a gentleman, I'll carry your stuff." His free hand grabs your wrist. You both walk out of the school doors towards the bus stop. As you stand waiting for the bus, he leans in, his lips almost brushing your ear. "We're taking the city bus, and it's late enough that it's gonna be crowded." You nod, not sure where he's going with this. "Lots of hard working people want a seat, and we should give it to them. Being good members of the community and all that shit." He sighs. "So whether or not there's a free seat for you, I expect that ass on my lap for the whole ride, you feel me?" You blush, and look at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, leaning back from your ear. "Gotta save some room for everyone else. Besides, I'm plenty comfortable."

Ahmed is sitting on his bed, foot bouncing at a pace so rapidly it practically shakes his whole scrawny form. He stares at the clock, counting the seconds until Patrick shows up. He promised, promised he'd have a way of getting you here. After weeks and weeks of photographing you from a distance, Patrick promised he would finally get to be near you, talk with you. Ahmed wasn't exactly sure how Patrick was going to accomplish this, but he knew given his reputation it would be easier for Patrick to get a hold of you than him. He just hoped whatever Patrick did, it wouldn't be as severe as what he endured before Patrick and him entered a truce. He didn't want you in his house for the first time, scared and unsure why you were brought there. No! He wanted his new house guest to be comfortable. His room was dark, with books, figures, and posters strewn about. He did his best to make it homey though. He opened the curtains, cleaned out any trash, (hid his camera and photo collection). He was sure Patrick was going to laugh at him for all this, seeing as Patrick had seen the state his room was in before. Ahmed shakes his head. He wasn't worried about Patrick right now. No, he was ready to see you, talk with you. Maybe... maybe even get to touch you.

The door creaks, and Ahmed hears footsteps approaching. Heavy boots, followed by the light patter of smaller feet. He bites his lip to the point it almost breaks skin. Patrick had done it. You were waiting just outside his room.

He hops back onto his bed, trying to look as casual as possible as the blonde menace he now called a friend traipsed in, with you behind him. "Ahmed... looks like you cleaned up a little in here. Huh." Patrick looks around, hands in his pockets as he leans against Ahmed's bed frame. "Ahmed, I believe you know my new friend." Patrick motions at you. Ahmed nods quickly. "Uh, yeah. We have an English class together." He says. "It's nice to actually meet you Ahmed, you and Patrick are-" You sigh. "Friends?" Ahmed nods. "Yeah, we actually have a lot in common..." He chuckles, shrugging. "Crazy, huh?" He coughs awkwardly. You nod, still not fully convinced.

"See, baby? I told ya' there's nothing shifty going on here! Me and Ahmed are just best buds." Patrick flops onto Ahmed's bed, bouncing the boy up a little as he wraps an arm around him, his grip rough on Ahmed's shoulder. 'Best buds' wasn't really a term Ahmed would use, especially considering two days ago Patrick was pounding Ahmed into this very bed, making the scrawny outcast cry and beg for his cock to go just a little deeper, just a little faster to give him that relief. Of course, Patrick was a jerk, and didn't let him reach that peak for at least three hours into the session, when Ahmed's parents came home. Patrick enjoyed making the boy finally cum on his cock, while trying to muffle his cries knowing his parents were just downstairs.

"So, w-would you like to watch a movie, or play a game? I've got Mario Kart, and Mortal Kombat-" Ahmed lists off a few more games, hoping something would catch your attention and endear him to you. You smile awkwardly, but shake your head. You hadn't really planned on staying, considering you were so sure that Patrick was just tormenting this poor boy. "I actually should get going, it's a Friday night, I don't want to intrude on your boys time." You move to grab your gym stuff, and Ahmed's face falls. He looks at Patrick, glancing at you and silently begging Patrick to do something. Anything, just to keep you here longer. "Calm down, I'll fuckin' handle it." Patrick whispers, before running a hand through his hair and turning back to you. "C'mon, baby! We don't mind you hanging out. Besides, Ahmed's had kind of a rough time in our school. I'm the only friend he's got." Ahmed blushes, not realizing the strategy was to make him look like a pathetic loser. "Patrick-" Patrick shoves his shoulder and continues. "Don't you wanna help him make at least one more friend?" You hesitate at the door, before sighing. It certainly isn't healthy for someones only friend to be Patrick, so you nod. "Fine, I'll stay..."

Several hours go by, and after two movies, four rounds of Mario Kart, and one two-liter of Sprite later, you are on the verge of passing out. You aren't really sure what happens in the next few minutes, but all you know is you are now laying in Ahmed's bed, with Patrick to your right and Ahmed squished on your other side, between you and the wall. Patrick fell asleep first, oddly enough. For a guy with so much energy, he gets sleepy quick. Now it's just you and Ahmed.

"Sorry about this, I didn't realize it was so late..." Ahmed apologizes. He isn't sorry. He imagined hundreds of ways this evening could go, but none of them ended with you pressed up against him, in his bed. God, you were getting your scent all over his sheets and his t-shirt. "M' never gonna wash these sheets again." He mumbles to himself. "Mm- what?" You ask groggily, making him jolt and blush. "Nothing, sorry." You go back to trying to sleep, and eventually pass out.

Ahmed tries to sleep as well, but just as he closes his eyes, he feels a weight on top of him. He gasps, and opens his eyes to see Patrick on top of him. "Come on, freak. We've got work to do." He sits back on the boys lap, allowing him to sit up. "Wha- I thought you were asleep." Patrick scoffs, and shakes his head. "Nah, just knew she wouldn't want to fall asleep around big bad me if she thought I was awake. But, I am. Now go find your camera." Ahmed looks confused, making Patrick roll his eyes. "Come on, you didn't think we were just gonna have a sleepover, did you? Tell secrets and make friendship bracelets like a fuckin' girl scout troop? We have a chance to get some close-up shots we could never get otherwise right now. Maybe even get a feel of her, now hurry up." The plan now confirmed, Ahmed scrambles as quietly as he can off the bed, practically throwing himself onto the floor as he blindly feels around under his bed for the camera. He knocks some stuff around, making Patrick his. "Shut the fuck up!" He whispers harshly. "M' sorry! It's dark." Ahmed whines. Finally, his fingers close around cold metal the camera, and he climbs back onto the bed beside Patrick.

"I'm ready. Just tell me when to snap a picture, and I'll do it." Patrick nods. "Heh, I've always wanted to see what's under this shirt." Patrick carefully slides the thin cotton up, not removing it from you but placing it just under your chin, exposing your breasts to the two boys. "Why doesn't she have a bra?" Ahmed asks. "She was coming back from the gym, already took off her sports bra, I guess. It's in her back over there, if you wanna smell it or some shit." Ahmed blushes. "S-smell it?" He stammers. "I don't know, you're the freak here. I'm just guessing that's something you're into." He isn't wrong.

"God, she's got a nice little pair, huh?" Patrick motions for Ahmed to snap a few photos. "Get one of my hands on em' too." Patrick's large hands cup your breasts, his thumb barely brushing past the nipple. Once Ahmed get's the photos, Patrick begins to gently rub his thumb and fore-finger over the nipples, watching as the delicate buds harden. "Fuck, I always like them better when there hard n' shit. Seeing them poke through t-shirts. I caught her out in the cold once, took everything in me to not make her pop em' out right there in the alley behind the school." Patrick smiles and the memory. Ahmed squirms, causing his friend to take notice.

"Gimme your camera." Patrick orders. "Wha- no! This, this camera is everything to me!" Patrick just groans at the boys pleading. "I'm not gonna' break it, freak. Just giving you a chance to free up your hands so you can play with her tits too." Ahmed looks between Patrick and your breasts, which are now peaking in arousal at Patrick's teasing. He sighs. "Okay, fine." Patrick takes the camera, and Ahmed places two hands on your breasts, squeezing ever so gently. "Wow, they're really soft, except for her nipples, I guess..." Patrick restrains himself from laughing so loud he'll wake you up. "God, you are such a fuckin' virgin. Do something photo-worthy, for fucks sake." Patrick eggs Ahmed on, and in a moment of boldness, the boy places a kiss on your collarbone, before slowly trailing his way down to your left breast. After a bit of careful kissing and teasing, his chapped lips find your nipple, latching gently.

"Shit... there you go." Ahmed is so lost in the taste of your soft skin that he doesn't register the camera flashing a few times as Patrick snaps some pictures. What he does hear however, is the soft, wanton moan that escapes your lips. He pulls back, eyes wide as he looks at Patrick. Patrick seems just as shocked, but this is quickly replaced with a toothy grin. "C'mon, clearly your making her feel good. Grab at her shorts, I wanna see if she's wet from us just playing with her girls." Patrick insists, and Ahmed obliges. Trembling fingers pull at your shorts, slowly inching them down your relaxed thighs. "Hurry up-' "I'm trying! It's hard when she's asleep, not exactly cooperating." Ahmed eventually gets the thin shorts down your legs, just above your knees in case they need to move them back up in a hurry. To his delight, he managed to hook your underwear down with them, leaving your soft mound exposed to the two boys.

Ahmed's nimble fingers move to spread your lips, the strings of slick breaking apart as he parts them, coating his fingers. He almost finishes right there, seeing the light of the camera as Patrick snaps a picture reflect off of your slick, letting them know just how soaked you are. "Fuckin' soaked... just from a bit of teasing." Patrick groans, making sure to get a picture of both your holes and Ahmed's fingers parting the folds around them. "Is that not normal?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, some people are more sensitive than others, I guess. Especially when they haven't been touched." Ahmed's eyes light up at that, and he whips his head towards Patrick.

"You- you think there's a chance she hasn't... y'know..." Ahmed trails off. "We're literally taking nudes of her cunt right now, just say 'had sex', 'fucked', anything. Jesus." The weaker boy shrinks into himself at the blonde's words. "I mean, it's possible. I've never heard of any guy doin' her, and I've never seen her with another guy around school." Patrick continues. "Isn't that your fault?" Ahmed asks, making his new friend chuckle. "Maybe. You're the one who's been outside her window for the past month, ever seen a guy over?" Ahmed shakes his head no. "Then maybe she's just been waiting for the right guy to come and show her a good time." Patrick moves a little closer to Ahmed, pressing himself against the boy's back. For the first time, Ahmed isn't bothered by Patrick towering over his smaller frame. "Well, right guys, y'know." Ahmed doesn't respond, his mind filling with ideas of what might happen, that night when him and Patrick finally get to be your firsts.

Would you be scared? He'd comfort you as best he could, but Patrick wouldn't be much help with that, (though he knows Patrick can be gentle when he really wants something.) Ever the anxious mess, he can't even focus on his fantasies without worrying. He needed to get condoms, and were you on birth control? Patrick should definitely get tested first, who knows what he's got going on. If Patrick takes you first, what should he do? He's content to sit in the corner and play with himself, but he know's Patrick would only make fun of him for 'not getting any'. A final thought strikes him. Would he be jealous? Would you like Patrick better? You've known him longer, and he's definitely more popular. He's pretty, whereas Ahmed is skinny and feral-looking. He's drawn out of his panic by the sound of a zipper.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout, 'Mhed?" Patrick asks. He can tell when his little freak-friend is spiraling. "You wanna touch her, huh?" Ahmed nods. He can feel the rough, calloused hands of Patrick palming his cock through his boxers. He shudders. "So much. I want... god, can I take her first?" Ahmed begs, gasping as Patrick pulls down his waistband, letting his cock stick out. Patrick gently rubs his thumb on Ahmed's tip, collecting a bead of pre-cum. "Maybe. You still' passing science?" Ahmed furrows his brow at the odd question. Why was Patrick asking about classes while he jerks him off over your sleeping form. "Yeah, I'm doing p-pretty well in all my classes..." He replies. He tosses his head back into Patrick's shoulder as the strong delinquent begins to stroke his length with quick, tight strokes. Patrick's free arm wraps around Ahmed's stomach, pinning the boy's back to his broad chest. "Gimme your notes for all your classes then. If you're good for me, n' keep proving you're worth something-" Another harsh stroke. Ahmed is on the verge. "Then maybe I'll let you be the one to break in her sweet little hole." Ropes of white, hot cum spill from Ahmed's cock as he cries out, before quickly biting his lip to try and silence himself. If you woke up now, there would be no way him and Patrick could make an excuse to get out of this. Just the thought of being your first leaves Ahmed so emotional that as his cock twitches in pleasure, he can feel himself tearing up.

"Are you fucking crying?" Patrick presses his lips to Ahmed's cheek, getting a taste. "You get jerked off one time thinking about our pretty girl and you fuckin' cry. Maybe you aren't ready to be her first." Ahmed gags, and turns around. He moves his arms, frantically whispering, begging. "No, no! I won't cry then, I'll be good. I'll make her feel good, please. I- I've gotta be her first, you don't-" Patrick shushes him. "You've got a long way to go. I think you and I will have to practice some more, making sure you last longer than you did just now." Patrick leans to the side, taking in the sight of your nude torso now decorated with Ahmed's cum. He grins. "Alright, here's the deal. You take some photos real quick, make sure we can see the pretty paint-job you gave her." Ahmed blushes as Patrick stands. "Where are you going?"

"Gotta go get some wipes, and I gotta be quick about it."

[blueicequeen19]

went on a spree of a nine hour drive of reading just your blogs. what about dark!rafe x dark!jj x bestfriend kook!fem reader. where she’s best friends with rafe, jj hates her with a passion after she rejected him two years ago. she’s a virgin and one night where she’s home after the hurricane rafe is over to keep her company & jj was hired to clean up the mess. when he catches sight of rafe and reader laughing and being lovey towards one another he snaps. he waits until she’s alone and takes her (just teasing. he hasn’t actually taken her virginity yet). rafe comes & watches, calling her all kind of degrading names. both take her, you can decide who takes her actual virginity and who takes her anal virginity. (CNC , fingering, oral (m & f receiving) , cockwarming (in her throat), spanking, and degrading.)

You flatter me ❤️ thank you! I hope I do your dream justice 😏

Lead You On

Trigger Warning: NON-CON, CNC, MMF, swords crossing - read with caution!

It’s been a few days since the latest hurricane and clean up crews are still all over the property. Needing some fresh air and sunshine, I grab my sketch pad and pencils before heading outside to sit next to pool. This area has already been cleaned up and the pool is back to its beautiful clear blue color.

Movement further in the yard draws my attention to someone wearing a neon yellow shirt, indicating he is part of the storm clean up crew. I can’t help the way my body immediately heats in the cool spring air as I check out his body from behind. The muscles in his back bulged with each movement as he dragged tree limbs to a large pile to be hauled off.

It’s not until he turns around and I tear my eyes away from his massive biceps that I realize who I’ve been gawking at. His blonde locks are concealed by his ball cap and I almost feel sick realizing what I’d done.

It’s JJ. JJ Maybank.

The ruthless, impulsive, greedy Pogue who is known for having sticky fingers when it comes to valuables. I make a mental note to not let him inside the house. He eyes me with the same level of disgust I feel for him now that I can see his face. A face that is still handsome but no less belonging to a Pogue. I turn away, crossing my legs and letting my mind tell me what to draw.

I get lost in my sketch after turning on pandora, settling on some 90s pop to try and tune everything else out. I jump when my phone is suddenly snatched up off the table and JJ stands there fuming.

“If I’m going to be here all day cleaning up your fucking yard, I’m not going to do it listening to your shitty taste in music.” He silences my phone before tossing it into the yard.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I jump to my feet but he shakes his head with a snarl, turning away from me as I hear the back door shut. I turn to see Rafe walk over like he owns the place, casting a shitty look JJ’s way as he sits down at the table.

“What was that about?” Rafe asks, turning my sketch pad to examine my work. I march over to the yard and snatch up my phone, looking eyes with JJ as I sit back down next to Rafe.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” I grumble, yanking my sketch book away from Rafe and shutting it. I hated when people looked at my work.

“I think he’s got a thing for you.” Rafe shrugs, scrolling through his phone. My mind flashes back two years ago when I went to my first party and JJ was there. He was sweet and funny whereas I was awkward and shy. He’d been my first kiss and when he’d slipped his hand down my shorts, I’d panicked. I pushed him away and he’d been a dick ever since.

“He’s a Pogue.” I murmured in disgust. Rafe chuckled, meeting my eyes in agreement.

“Pogues know how to fuck. I’ve been around a few Pogue girls before.” Rafe shrugs and I bust out laughing at how vulgar he is.

“Jesus Rafe.” I mumble, glancing over to see JJ glaring at us like we were the ones who didn’t belong.

“Come on, Y/N. Live a little. Do you want to die a virgin?” Rafe smirks, wiggling his brows at me.

“No but I want to lose it to someone who’s not JJ Maybank.” I counter but Rafe only laughs with a shake of his head. Like he had more to say but he kept his mouth shut.

A few hours go by and Rafe leaves, leaving me alone with the angry Pogue. Part of me wanted to demand to know what his problem was. We didn’t even hardly know each other but he was shitty towards me every chance he got. I felt like he was one of those people that wore a mask. He had everyone fooled into thinking he was this great, charming guy when really, he was just as fucked up as everyone else.

The yard was starting to come back together and I could see the sweat dripping down JJ’s face. Part of me wanted to offer him a bottle of water. The other part hoped he’d die of a heat stroke. The nicer part of me wins and I go inside to the fridge. I shut the fridge and bite back a scream, finding JJ standing there angry as ever. He grabs me by the throat, slamming me into the counter and slapping the bottle out of my hands.

“You stupid little cunt.” JJ grabs the front of my dress and rips it down the middle. I push him but he spins me around, bending me over the island. I look up to see Rafe walk in. I thought he’d left?

He takes in my tattered clothes but doesn’t say anything. Just leans against the fridge like I’m not being assaulted.

“Her parents are gone for the day.” Rafe says to JJ, dread creeping in. Rafe played me. I throw my elbow back, connecting with something of JJ’s. He howls in pain and I know I’ve drawn blood but Rafe jumps in, grabbing my arms and holding me in place stretched over the counter.

“Fucking bitch.” I hear JJ groan as I kick and thrash. Rafe quickly removes his belt, JJ helping him secure my hands behind my back. Then JJ removes the rest of my clothes as I fight to calm my racing heart.

“What the fuck is going on?” I spat, tensing when I feel JJ’s fingers slide between my legs. I can’t help but moan when he finds my clit, forcing my legs open wider as he trades his fingers for his tongue.

“I owe JJ money so I agreed to help him teach you a lesson.” Rafe says casually, forcing two of his fingers in my mouth before I can argue. What the fuck did that mean? Teach me a lesson?

“Someone has to knock you off your high horse.” Rafe smirks, forcing his fingers down my throat until I gag then withdrawing just a enough so I don’t vomit. His thumb presses down under my tongue when I have the idea to bite his fingers off and it immobilizes me. Like a damn dog.

“She tastes like heaven.” I hear JJ groan between my thighs, one of his fingers slipping inside me. I whine around Rafe’s hold, my body growing hotter than I’d ever felt before.

“Not stuck up bitch?” Rafe chuckles, earning a glare from me. JJ laughs too, his fingers pumping inside me harder until I feel like I’m going to explode. I can’t stop the choked moans that leave my mouth, the tears running down my face and all the while I’m thinking.. more.. please.. I need more.

I flinch when JJ’s bare body comes down on mine, his mouth finding every inch of my skin and he turns my face from Rafe, capturing my lips in a hard kiss. He bites my lips hard enough to draw blood and I cry out, spotting what’s leftover of his bloody nose.

“Aren’t you going to beg?” JJ asks, reaching between us and I suddenly feel his dick pressing against my opening.

“For what?” I growl, spitting my blood in his face but he only smiles, not even blinking.

“For me to stop.” JJ presses inside me and I bite back a scream as I feel like I’m split in two. The pain is excruciating as he breaks my virgin walls.

He doesn’t waste anytime slamming inside me as Rafe jerks my chin up, pressing his dick to my lips.

“You bite me and it goes in your ass.” Rafe warns before shoving in past my teeth. I gag as he forces his way down my throat, holding me there as JJ takes what he wants. I can’t help it. I feel myself reach my high over and over again. I can’t stop cumming. I can’t control how wet I am. And I can’t get over the feeling of being absolutely used like I’m not but a set of holes. My body loves it. While the rest of me hates myself.

Droll is dripping down my chin and the corners of my mouth as Rafe forces me to warm his cock, the counter top digging into my hips with every hard thrust from JJ as he fucked me like a man possessed. Like he’d die if he didn’t.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, JJ stills with a loud moan making me involuntarily clench around him because it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. Both boys pull out at the same time and I sob for the terrible ache of being.. empty.

“Let me go.” I whisper, unable to pull myself off the counter.

“I have an idea.” Rafe says, rubbing my cheeks like he’s trying to take the soreness out. I can’t see JJ but I assume he agrees because they both maneuver me on top of the counter, securing my legs against my chest using smooth rope. Where did that even come from?

I was bent in half like a pretzel, giving them access to everything they wanted. I’m turned on my side and brought to the edge of the counter. I look up to see JJ and he wipes my hair off my face, plucking my sore lip with his thumb as he smiles down at me like a hungry animal. I feel his cock press against me again then he’s slipping inside. I moan loudly, the angle felt weird but it was still amazing. A soreness I’d never experienced before plagued my whole body.

“Don’t tense up.” JJ says and I look up at him in confusion. I suddenly feel something probing my.. other hole and I quickly try to move away as Rafe slaps my ass with a laugh. I hear Rafe spit, lubing me up.

“Come on, it’ll feel good. Eventually.” Rafe presses inside me, knocking the wind from my lungs as they both fill me completely. God, it burns. I thought I was being split open before but now.. even my stomach hurt.

“I-It.. JJ.. please.” I can’t form a single sentence as they start to move, one in and one out, setting a quick rhythm that wrecks me so hard I swear my soul leaves my body. They take turns slapping my ass as they use me like a sex toy, pounding into me without remorse, overwhelming me with pleasure until tears stream down my face.

“Fuck, she feels so good. I’m gonna cum.” Rafe chants, their motions quickening as they chased their highs. My body had turned to mush. I could no longer tell where I ended and they began as I fought to keep my eyes open. Rafe groans as he cums, slipping from my ass a moment later and JJ quickly follows.

“Such a nasty little slut. Letting us fuck all your holes. I’d think you were lying about being a virgin if I hadn’t seen you bleed.” JJ sneers, pulling free of me as Rafe unties me. I groan as the feeling quickly returns to my limbs. I think they’re done but Rafe rolls me onto my back, burying his face in my pussy, lapping up the cum that drips from me.

“No, no, Rafe. Please.” I cry, trying to fist his hair but he quickly secured my wrists in one of his hands. I lift my head off the counter when I see JJ move behind Rafe, thrusting his dick into Rafe’s ass with no warning. Rafe moans loudly into my flesh and I choke on a sob. I’d never seen two guys fuck before - even if my only experience was porn but it was hot. Seeing an alpha male like Rafe let JJ use him in such an animalistic way.

“You like this? Like watching me fuck his ass?” JJ growls, pushing Rafe’s head harder into my pussy. “You tell anybody and I’ll make you regret it.” JJ snarls, his movements growing harder as Rafe grew louder. I dropped back down on the counter as another powerful orgasm hit me like a freight train.

“Jerk your cock. I know you can cum again.” I hear JJ say and Rafe answers with a moan. I try to scoot away but Rafe doesn’t let me. JJ moans loudly, releasing inside of Rafe and quickly pulling away. Rafe straightens, jerking his cock hard and fast until it shoots out all over my stomach. My eyes fall closed just as JJ fists Rafe’s hair and brings him in for a hard kiss as my world turns black.

My eyes slowly open as I try to find my bearings. My body felt like it’d been hit by a bus as I try to wake myself up. Where was I? This wasn’t my bed? Movement to my left has me glancing over, finding Rafe face down in the bed as JJ hovers over him, slamming into his ass over and over again.

“There she is.” JJ grunts and Rafe shoots his hand out, grabbing my breast harshly as he pants. I can’t help the wave of need that washes over me as I watch them. I watch them until they’re both cumming, my body feeling like a live wire as arousal pools between my thighs.

JJ slips off Rafe, allowing Rafe to scoot over to me and kiss me passionately, his lips much softer than JJ’s. My toes curl as his hand slips between my thighs.

“Careful. We might start to think you want this.” Rafe says against my sore lips, toying with my clit. I feel my legs being spread then a mouth closes around my clit, sucking harshly as Rafe swallows my sounds. I turn away from him as I try to catch my breath meanwhile JJ is fucking me with his tongue.

“Rafe.. I thought we were friends.” I murmur, my body ready to explode as JJ tastes me so expertly. Rafe smiles, running his hands up and down my body and pinching my nipples.

“We are friends. Best friends, actually. Why do you think I’m taking such good care of you?” Rafe jerks my head back to kiss me again as JJ slips two fingers inside my abused hole. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to claim your virginity, would you?” I can’t answer as JJ curls his fingers, forcing an orgasm from me so rapidly.

“It’s funny, really. JJ has been pining after you for years. Meanwhile all you did was lead him on, never giving him the time of day.” JJ suddenly flips me over onto my stomach, pressing his cock against my other hole without warning. It slips in and I cry out into the blanket as Rafe tries to soothe me with gentle touches.

“I never led him on.” I bite out, the sound of JJ’s pleasured grunts having me close again already.

“Yea? You didn’t kiss him, making him think you wanted him just to turn around and kick him to the curb? You didn’t use your friendship with me to try and make him jealous? You didn’t give him fuck-me eyes every time you saw him? I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Rafe taunts, forcing his hand between me and the bed to stroke my clit. I bite back a scream as I cum violently, JJ’s skin slapping against mine faster and harder.

I’m suddenly flipped over and JJ shoots white hot cum all over my stomach, his face scrunched in a snarl as he looks at me, jerking his cock hard, getting every last drop. Rafe runs his hand through JJ’s spunk, rubbing it into my skin like lotion all the way up to my neck.

“So that’s what your problem is? Your ego couldn’t handle rejection?” I spat at JJ, slapping him in the chest as he stays straddling my waist.

“I had that first taste of you after you pushed my hand away and I’ve been obsessed since. Even after you treated me like garbage.” JJ growls, leaning down so we’re almost nose to nose. I felt like I was being cornered by two hungry lions. There was no escape.

“And now that I’ve had you, I’m never letting you go.”

Tag list: @lovedetlost @hoebx @strokesofstokes @alizabethcs @carnisidi @famousdestinygarden @i-always-come-back-xoxo @pankowforlife @my-baexht-ls @onmykneesforrafe @slutforsmutsstuff @bethoconnor @hellosexxxysalvatore @mrsjakeseresin @belcalis9503 @maybanks-luver @i-always-come-back-xoxo @adventuresinobx @hopebaker @drewbooooo @itsmytimetoodream @houseofperfecttaste @harlowsgirl @wh0reforstefansalvatore @urmommas Let me know if I missed anyone! 💕

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[tamakishoochie]

Mina’s Body

18+

MDNI

CW: NSFW, Gore (eventual smut in part 2)

Word Count: 1112

Based off of Jennifer’s Body, this is a Succubus!Mina x Reader fic

“Hey, braceface!”

Mina called out as she approached you with her posse right behind her. Looking up from the book you were reading, you push your glasses back up on your nose with a small, shy smile.

You roll your eyes at the nickname, though.

“The braces are coming off next week, so you won’t get to call me that anymore, dweeb.” You responded as she giggled at your comeback.

“What’s up?” You set your book aside to give Mina your undivided attention.

If you were to shout to the world telling everyone that Mina Ashido was your best friend, no one would believe you. The two of you were very close ever since you were little girls, but she grew up to be the college campus favorite.

Everyone loved her.

And You?

Well, you were just a common outsider, a geek as some would put it but Mina NEVER treated you differently and that's probably why you developed a crush some time ago.

You just never told her because you didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

“Me and the gang are gonna kick it at a bar later, you wanna tag along?” Mina asked while looking down at you as collective groans could be heard from behind her.

She was quick to give her little group an icy death glare before flipping her pink braids out of the way and shoving her hands into the pockets of her tracksuit jacket, eagerly waiting for your response.

“Uh–yeah, sure. I'm free tonight.” You trailed off in your reply, mesmerized by Mina’s beauty. Any other day she would go all out with makeup, but today she went with a simple, natural look.

Lips lined and glossed over, mink lashes, a waist chain that spelled out her name, and an all-pink matching tracksuit that mostly likely read ‘Juicy’ on the back of her pants.

She was perfect and you knew you needed to be chastized for idolizing her so much.

Mina’s eyes lit up from your answer and a smile spread across her brown face, revealing the tooth gems decorated on her canines.

She holds her hand out to you and helps you to your feet before yanking you closer to her with a hand placed on your lower back. You feel your brown cheeks heating up.

“See you there~..”

A little while later, you find yourself in your dorm room contemplating on which outfit you should wear tonight. Nothing too bland and nothing that would make you stand out more than Mina.

You didn’t enjoy a lot of attention on you anyway.

After a few minutes of trying to figure out what to put on, you finally end up wearing a simple black jacket with a white tee underneath and a pair of leggings that make your butt look good.

Since Mina was all about tits, she’d most likely wear something that would reveal a lot of cleavage in hopes to get free drinks from the bartender.

Grabbing your sling purse and keys, you make your way through the door, locking it behind you.

Mina had previously sent the location of the bar to your phone and DAMN was it a long walk! If you knew it’d take this long you would’ve called an Uber.

Not only that, but the stupid GPS on your phone was really shitty.

“I should’ve said no..” you sucked your teeth, stopping in front of an alleyway to call Mina. To your surprise, it went straight to voicemail which was strange because that girl was always on her phone.

“Oh come on, Mina..” You dial her number three more times before finally giving up. Kirishima was a friend of both you and Mina, so you decide to call him instead.

After a few rings, he finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kiri! Um, this is y/n. Can you tell Mina I got lost on my way to the bar. I’m at-”

He interrupts you,

“Mina left like an hour ago, y/n.”

Confused, you asked him why but he couldn’t give you a straight answer.

“I don’t know. She had a few drinks with us before leaving with some guy. Sorry.”

Sighing, you tell him that it was alright and that you’d see him in class tomorrow before hanging up.

Who the hell invites someone to hang out then bails before the guest even gets there?

Mumbling underneath your breath, you pull your hood up on your head as the air gets cooler. It was already dark and you didn’t want to stay out here any longer.

You dial Mina’s number again, hoping she’d pick up this time, but stop once you hear wet and weird squelching noises coming from behind you. You turn around to face the dark alleyway and listen closely to make sure it wasn’t your imagination.

The unfamiliar slurping sounds made a shiver run up and down your spine. Things were starting to get eerie and you didn’t like it.

You didn’t know why, but your legs made you move closer to the sound.

You squint your eyes to try and see better since there wasn’t much of a light source anywhere besides the dim light poles that were further down the street.

With a trembling hand, you switch on the flashlight from your phone and shine the light on whatever it was that was making those god

awful noises.

You wish you hadn’t because what you saw horrified ou.

It was Mina, but her back was facing you and it looked like she was eating something, which explained the noise. You were about to say something until you felt your stomach drop from what you assumed she was snacking on.

There, on the ground in front of her, was a dead man with half of his face eaten. One of his eyeballs was missing and the other was hanging out of its socket.

His lifeless body shook and jolted from how violently Mina ripped pieces of his flesh from his corpse that was surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

“M….M-M-Mina…? W-what...?”

Your body froze after she slowly turned to you. It was Mina alright, but her mouth…

The sides of her mouth were ripped open and she had long, sharp teeth that were covered in blood. The entire front part of her outfit was drenched in blood and the whites of her eyes were pitch black.

She looked demonic

“Y/n..?”

You shriek in terror at the sight, dropping your phone and turning on your heel before booking it right back to your dorm room. You didn’t know WHAT you saw, but you weren’t gonna stay and ask questions.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hey!! I love your writing. Can you do a Yandere! Ranboo, Tommy , and tubbo. where they are all in love with the reader and they kidnapped her to ‘keep her safe’ and the reader doesn’t know at first, then she slow realized they are obsessed with her. she like them back but she also want to live her life, so she tries to make agreement? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.

The Ranboo gif is just beautiful and I love it. Lemme see what I can do for ya! I wrote a bullet point Platonic fic if that's fine? I'm still worried about writing the minors in romantic relationships, even if it's the characters.

Sorry, it took so long... My burnout got really bad and I refused to even write basic stuff. But I'm back now! Well. Mostly.

Safe Behind Glass (Yandere!Plat!C!Bench Trio x GN!Reader)

You were a little groggier than normal when you awoke, but it was nothing to alarm you immediately.

Just simply brushing it off as you weren't feeling the best that day, you rolled over to fall back to sleep, but quickly noticed something wrong.

It didn't feel... Right?

The blankets... The mattress... The pillow... They weren't yours...

You peeled your eyes open and your expression went blank with fear.

The room was beautiful mind you.

But it wasn't yours either.

You were laying on a fluffy (f/c) canopy bed, surrounded by quartz walls that were dimly lit soul lanterns that prevented you from being completely swallowed by darkness.

Slowly dragging yourself off the bed, you heard a metal 'clunk' that hit the cold quartz flooring below you.

Turning your head to face downwards, you saw that a decently thick metal chain was cuffed to your ankle.

Somehow, your panic became worse as you immediately grabbed onto it and started to yank on the solid metal, but it refused to budge.

You had no idea how many minutes or hours you spent in that room. Reaching at the iron door desperately, yanking at the chain around your ankle that kept you from reaching the exit, searching the blue lanterns for anything...

But then, the white metallic door slowly swung open, revealing Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy.

You weren't that close to them, save for a couple interactions here and there, but hey, they came to save you! That didn't matter in the slightest!

You almost cried upon seeing them and moved to walk over, but the chain stopped you from reaching them, and you noticed that they weren't moving to help you.

"You're awake!" Tubbo chirped softly, his tan goat ears wiggling with joy, "I'm glad the potion didn't stick for too long... You could've wound up starving if you stayed asleep."

Horror slowly began to set into your heart as Ranboo nodded and walked over to the dark oak table in the corner of the room and set down a basket of food.

"Ran...Boo...?" You whispered, watching as the monochrome male turned and curiously tilted his head in your direction, "Why... Am I here?"

Instead, Tommy stepped in front of you with a bright cheesy smile, the same one that resembled when he would find a new disc or start a new adventure, "For your safety, (N/n)!"

"Safety?" You choked out softly, Ranboo quickly guiding you to sit in the oak chair, "But... I'm one of the richest people on the server... I have god armour... Nothing could kill m-"

"Techno and Dream can." Tubbo interrupted sharply, halting you mid-sentence.

Right... That masked man... Or whatever he was... He was extremely dangerous, as well as Techno. They could likely pierce your netherite chest plate without even flinching at the number of thorns you had enchanted.

"We don't want anyone to bring you any harm... There's no problem with that, right, (Y/n)?" Ranboo smiled, flashing his sharpened teeth unthreateningly.

No... You wanted to say, but you wanted freedom! You wanted to expand your house to the size of a mansion! You wanted to bicker with Quackity about the stupidest of things! You wanted to get building advice from Phil!

Not be locked away because your safety was a tiny bit compromised!

"Tommy... Tubbo... Ranboo... Please, I'm not going to just stay locked away because I-"

"You'll see things our way soon... Eat up, get your rest." Tubbo smiled and gave you a hug, ignoring how you froze suddenly, before turning and skipping out of the room with the taller two following behind him.

Despite... How screwed up the three were with their methods of making you be their friend, it was working...

They were actually incredibly friendly and funny. It made life in capture bearable! Even though you were incredibly snappy and cruel to them in the beginning, they never held it against you.

Although... Despite their kindness and your quickly blooming friendship, you still had a craving to go outside. Even if what the three told you about everyone forgetting you existed was true.

"You look sad, (N/n)..." Tubbo murmured softly, watching you stare off into the blank quartz wall, "Are you okay?"

Tommy straightened up from his handmade scribble of a map, turning his head towards you in confusion. Ranboo stopped writing mid-word likely and looked in your direction as well.

They never liked it when you were upset.

You pursed your lips silently for a moment, clearly unsettling the males around you, "I just... Haven't been feeling too great... Both mentally and physically I mean... I need sunlight..."

"Yeah... I was reading about that earlier..." Ranboo hummed softly, adjusting his crown as he looked up at the ceiling, "But the issue is..."

"My safety... Yes, I know. What if, I wear my full netherite armour and keep a totem AND a Rapple on me? And also not leave your sides?" You bargained nervously.

That hadn't worked before. But then again, You weren't as close to them before...

The silence that fell upon the room was unsettling and caused your heart to race quickly. If they didn't like what you said, you would be alone for a few straight days... You didn't like it...

"Okay."

What.

That worked?

You just had to ask?!

You watched as Tubbo stood up and pulled the small ender chest from his pocket and set it on the ground, causing it to grow to normal size.

Standing aside, he made a gesture for you to open it and get your stuff.

Hesitantly, You walked over and kneeled down in front of the ender chest. Looking to Tubbo and the others for confirmation, you slowly opened it once they nodded.

Carefully, you began pulling out your armour but paused seeing the lack of golden apples and totems.

Right... Before you had gotten kidnapped by the group, you had used a totem when you fell into the L'Manhole where L'Manberg once was.

That what caused them to kidnap you...

"I-I used... My totem... And Fundy stole my Rapple..." You murmured hesitantly, feeling ready to cry.

Your only chance to escape and you couldn't grab it...

"Hey! Hey! Don't cry! Here!" Ranboo eagerly held the two golden items out towards you at the first sight of tears gathering under your eyes.

"What...?"

"(Y/n)! We want you to be happy! If being outside, even with god armour, rapples and totems, makes you happy, then damn well we're bringing you outside!" Tommy grinned.

After a few tears and lots of hugs, Tubbo helped you hop into your armour while Ranboo unlocked the chain cuff from around your ankle. Tommy had left, leaving the door open for once, going to scout the area for any dangerous mobs.

"Ready?" Ranboo smiled, linking one of his arms with yours, the one that you held the totem in to be more specific. Tubbo happily linked his arm with the other one.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as they began to walk you out the door, Ranboo had to duck down a lot, before leading you to the quartz stairway.

Once up the stairs, Tubbo pressed in a code to the iron door and it slid open quickly, causing you to flinch and pinch your eyes shut at the bright painful light of the sun.

It took about twenty minutes of trying to adjust to the sunlight with the two males encouraging you before you were able to look around.

It was everything you had missed...

The sunlight...

The trees...

God, it was perfect...

Tommy eventually came out of the tree line and sat down beside you as you took it all in...

Months, you were down there. And sure, they gave you plenty of decorations to prevent you from experiencing sensory deprivation, nothing could ever compare to the beauty of the outside world.

A voice cut through the air -calling for someone or something named Fran?- and you almost didn't recognize it. But then the owner came out of the trees, almost a similar direction that Tommy came from earlier.

Sam? He looked so... Different now...

The creeper hybrid slowly lowered his gas mask to show his mouth dropped in shock, "(Y/n)...? You're alive...?"

Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were freaking out, trying to bring you back into the bunker, as they called it, but you weren't budging. You hadn't seen another being in ages... And while you did platonically love the three boys, you enjoyed hearing a new voice.

"You... Remember me? But... Tubbo you said-" You frowned at the goat hybrid as they stopped suddenly, realizing that you weren't moving.

"You three... Kept them locked away... For almost an entire year?" Sam's voice was getting a little bit scary now, but it wasn't directed at you, instead, at your best friends...

"Sam! It was to protect them! Please!" Ranboo tried, but he wasn't making it better.

"You made Quackity believe they ran away... Made Philza wake up every morning and walk through the SMP for any signs of them... Gave Puffy false information on where you have last seen them... lied to everyone... Only to be the reason that they were gone." Sam growled out, gripping his trident, "Then you proceeded to make them think we all forgot about them..."

"S-Sam... You've got this all wrong big man..." Tubbo tried next...

The warden wasn't listening as he pointed his trident at them, his communicator in his other hand next to his mouth, then he started speaking, causing his voice to come out of Ranboo's, Tubbo's and Tommy's pockets. He was speaking on the public channel.

"Tommy Innit, Tubbo Underscore, Ranboo Beloved... You are being placed in the prison, Pandora's Vault, for keeping (Y/n) (L/n) imprisoned in a bunker and lying about their whereabouts."

It felt like someone splashed you with cold water...

[mandos-sluts]

The Visit

This is Part One of a three-part series

The Visit Part Two

The Visit Part Three

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, dubious consent, fingering, dirty talk, mentions of sex work

Summary: You are Luke Skywalker’s Padawan, training directly under him at his Jedi Academy. Din Djarin is staying at the compound for a few days to visit Grogu.

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!! Also we love feedback <3

“What does he look like?”

“He’s a Mandalorian. Big silver shiny armor. Can’t miss him.”

*************************************

Boy was he right. You spot Din as soon as you step into the cantina. He’s standing at the bar, leaning over it slightly. His visor catches your eye from across the room, and he stares at you for a while, looking you up and down, before turning his head back to the bar. He’s never seen someone so beautiful in this parsec before.

Your Master, Luke Skywalker, told you to meet Din at the cantina and escort him to the Jedi Academy. Luke had similarly informed Din that he was sending his Padawan to rendezvous.

You know all about Din Djarin. You know his whole deal with Grogu and the Darksaber, and his run-ins with the Empire and the Guild. The story of his miraculous rescue of Grogu made its way around the school after Luke brought the child back to the Academy.

The cantina that you’re at is located in the town that lies right outside the Jedi Academy compound. It’s a place that many students go to blow off steam and hang out.

You find yourself surprisingly nervous as you walk up to the tall intimating Mandalorian. “Excuse me.” You say.

“Not interested.” He says shortly without even looking at you.

”What?” You asked, confused.

“I said I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in what?”

”Your services.”

”My services?” You don’t understand. Is he wanting to travel to the grounds by himself? That’s not an option....he wouldn’t be permitted on the estate without an escort. Didn’t Luke tell him of this arrangement?

Din exhales, clearly annoyed, and finally turns to look at you. “Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m not looking for a whore.”

You stand there, completely dumbfounded, your mouth slightly open from shock. A whore? What the fuck?!!

In his defense, you are wearing a rather skimpy-looking outfit. You have on what is essentially a tennis skirt and a bandeau; it’s the hot season on the planet. Even so, this guy is an asshole.

You take a breath and put a fake smile on your face. “My apologies….Din Djarin.” You say in a suggestive manner. Turning around to leave, Din whips around and grabs your upper arm tightly, yanking you closer to him.

“How do you know that name?” Din loudly whispers in a demanding, low voice.

You’re not stupid, you know that his name is known only by a few. “My industry has very skilled people.” You respond, hoping he will get the hint that you are in fact not a sex worker, but actually the person he’s supposed be meeting.

”Are you telling me your brothel somehow got a hold of my name?” Din is pretty pissed. Is this what he gets from doing dealings with Jedi? His name gets leaked to brothels?

You let out a sigh as your eyes roll. You snatch your arm out of his grasp and move swiftly out the door into the street. What a jerk. This guy can find his own way to the compound.

Din tries to follow you, needing to know how a random whore got his name, but the streets are pretty crowded.

”Oh, Mr. Djarin!” Din hears someone say. He looks over his shoulder and sees Luke Skywalker approaching him.

“H-hi, Master Skywalker.” Din says, deciding to give up on his pursuit of you, after all, that’s not the reason he’s here.

“I’m surprised to see you here, did my Padawan not pick you up?” Luke asks.

“No. He never showed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Let me take you to the Jedi Temple.”

************************************* You hear your Master’s voice and footsteps nearing the empty lounge you’re sitting in. It’s a pretty big, dark lit room. There’s a conference table on one end, and an arrangement of couches and chairs spread across the place. It’s always empty, and you often use the area to meditate or exercise or just hang out. You pretend to look busy, eager for what’s about to occur.

“It is strange that my Padawan did not show up to greet you.” You hear Luke say behind the wall. He pokes his head around the door. “Ah, here she is.” He says walking into the lounge.

She? Din walks a few feet behind Luke. He turns the corner and walks through the door, freezing in his footsteps as soon as he lays eyes on you. There you are, the woman who approached him at the cantina….Luke’s Padawan.

You stare into his visor with a smug half smile on your face and slowly rise from your seat. You’re reveling in how taken aback he clearly is.

“Y/n, this is Din Djarin. I thought we discussed that you’d meet him at the cantina and escort him to the Academy? He says you didn’t show.” Luke says innocently as he stands between you and Din.

“Oh. I did go to the cantina. I guess I missed you.” You say slowly with your eyes locked on his helmet. “My apologies, Din Djarin.”

Din clears his throat. “Um n-no worries at all.” He chokes out. Shit! Din can’t believe he called you a whore. How did he not see the laser sword on your hip?

“Alright, well I’m gonna get to my meeting. Y/n, show Din around, alright?” Luke says.

“Of course Master.” You say with a slight bow of your head. You plant your gaze back on Din’s helmet as it rotates to watch Luke exit.

He slowly turns his look back to you, staring at him confidently with your hands on your hips.

“I’m sorry.” He says flatly through his modulator.

“For being such an asshole?” You say tilting your head.

“Yes. And assuming you were a prostitute.”

“There’s nothing wrong with sex workers. I’m not offended that you mistook me for one.” You say. But….why does it kind of turn you on that he thought you were a whore? Ugh and why does it turn you on that he is such a jerk??

There’s an awkward pause as you both stand there examining each other.

“So, you’re also a…Pawa-don?” Din asks, trying to fill the quiet. He has never been uncomfortable with silence before, in fact, he more often than not preferred it. But right now for some reason he feels different.

“Padawan.” You correct him. “And yes.”

“So are you doing the same training as the kid?” He further probes.

“Kind of. Grogu is more in the elementary stages of training. His focus is mainly on developing and fine-tuning his sensation with the Force. Most of my training nowadays centers around my lightsaber mastery and combat.” You inform him.

“Hm. Wonder when you’ll be good enough to battle me.” Din says casually as he takes a breath.

“What?” You ask.

“I said I wonder when you’ll be good enough in combat to put up a fight against me.”

Is he serious? Is he trying to provoke you? Even after the predicament he just found himself in with you? “Ha….um….I was good enough to fight you years ago.” You declare

Din looks at you for a moment. “I’m a Mandalorian.” He says simply.

“.....”

“The Mandalorian who wields the Darksaber. So you’re either overestimating your own ability or underestimating mine.”

You take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. “I know most people think that Mandalorians are the greatest warriors in the galaxy, but that’s because they don’t know of the Jedi Order. My connection with the force gives me strength that you will never know, that you will never be able to comprehend.”

Din takes a step closer to you. “That may be, but I have decades of combat experience that is simply unmatched by you, not to mention the most imperishable armour in the galaxy.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you would like to duel.” You say as you remove your saber from its holster and activate its blade. It’s a light lavender color, thin and sleek.

“That’s cute.” Din says. “Just a reminder, little girl. You were given that light saber. I won mine in battle.” He proclaims as he detaches his saber from his belt. *see gif*

“I made it. But fair point. Now enough talk, Mandalorian, are you ready to duel or what?” You say as you get into a battle stance.

Din holds his hand out. “If, by some miracle, you do happen to overpower me, don’t touch the saber. Bo-Katan is already mad enough that I have it, I can’t imagine what she’d do if a non-Mandalorian gets their hands on it again.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m well aware of the bizarre way that the ruler of Mandalore is chosen.”

“Alright then, princess, I won’t hold back.”

You feel heat rush through your core at those words. Princess. He won’t hold back. Uggh... focus! This guy has been demeaning you since the moment you met him, show him how powerful you are!

*************************************

You and Din battle for a good seven minutes, the two of you are pretty evenly matched, neither one of you gains the upper hand for very long. Just as you’re feeling your strength falter, you’re able to knock his saber out of his hands, and you push him onto the ground. Din tries to get up and reach for his saber but you plant yourself on top of him, straddling him. He looks up at you in defeat.

He takes a deep breath as you stare down at him. That’s when you notice the tent in his pants. You’re sitting on his legs so that his bulge is right above your crotch.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins from your victory and a smile stretches across your face. “I have another quality that puts me at an advantage that I forgot to mention: your attraction to me and your primal desire to fuck me.” You say as you slowly place your hand on top of his clothed erection. You lean down and bring your face close to his helmet. “I bet your face is just bright red underneath this helmet of yours. Not only did you lose the battle, but your urges got the best of you.” You say in a condescending tone.

Din stares up at you, his chest moving up and down as he breathes.

“That’s where you and I differ.” You say. “A real warrior has self-control and self-restraint.”

Din moves his hands to your thighs and runs them up to your hips. “Who said I was trying to restrain myself?” He says in a raspy voice.

You’re a little caught off guard. You were teasing him, and this was not the reaction you were expecting. You thought he’d be embarrassed, you thought he’d want to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

“Face it.” You say after a pause. “You can’t repress your arousal, and your lack of self-control is a disadvantage to you.”

Din’s hands are still on your hips, and he pulls you up his body ever so slightly. “So since you have such great self-control, your panties wouldn’t happen to be wet right now, would they?” He inquires in a low, sultry voice.

You’re taken aback at his shameless words. “O-of course not.” You stutter as your confidence recedes.

“Let me see.” He demands flatly.

“What?” Did you hear him right? Your heart beat is pounding, you can’t tell if he’s joking around with you or not like you were doing with him.

“I said let me see.” Din says moving his gloved hands to the bottom of your skirt. “C’mon, pull this short little skirt up just a tad more and show me that your panties are dry.”

“N-no I–”

“Fine.” Din cuts you off. “I’ll do it myself.” He says as he removes one of his gloves. He then moves his bare hand under your skirt up to your pussy, easily pushing the thin panties you're wearing aside and planting two fingers inside your sopping wet folds.

You jerk at the contact of his soft skin on your sensitive pussy. “Din!” You exclaim. You grab his hand, but don’t move it.

Din chuckles. “Looks like you don’t have as much self-discipline as you claim.” He brings his other hand and cups your cheek. “Awwww, your face is just bright red right now.” Din mocks.

“W-whatever, you still lost.” You say out as you’re overcome with humiliation.

“Mmmmm. Congratulations.” Din says lazily as he removes his hand from your cunt and grabs your hips once again. “So, y/n. You showed me how Jedi fight. Let me show you how Mandalorians fuck.” He says as he pulls your hips and grinds you against his bulge.

Your panties are still pulled aside and the friction of his clothed erection against your clit makes you whimper.

“You– you wanna fuck me?” You ask hesitantly.

“Ha. Of course I wanna fuck you. Look at you.” He says as he lifts you off of him to stand up. Standing tall, he towers over you and brings his non-gloved hand to your chin, pulling it up gently to meet his gaze.

The unexpected and prompt shift in the power dynamic has you all turned around. Just moments ago, your confidence was through the roof. You were giddy claiming your victory against him, making fun of him for getting a boner during a duel. But the tone between the two of you has completely changed. He has you weak and timid, he’s looking down at your wide doe eyes as if you’re his prey.

“Come on, little Padawan. Practicing self-control is great, but let me show you what it’s like to lose all control over yourself.” Mando says as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. “Cuz I would just love to tie you up and have my way with you.” He mutters. Dins hands slide down to your butt as he gropes your flesh, pulling you flat against him. “Let down your guard for just a moment and let me show you how rewarding it can be.” Din slips his bare hand back under your skirt to find your cunt even wetter than before. You let out a whimper and bat your eyes at him.

He starts slowly circling your clit, and moves his other hand up to caress your cheek softly. “Come on.” He whispers in your ear. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

High-pitched breaths are escaping your lips as he gently runs his thumb up and down your cheek bone.

“Can– can you not–” you breathe, sliding your hands up his chest.

“What. What is it?”

You pause for a moment. “Can you not be so gentle with me?” You say with slight embarrassment.

Din scoffs, “Oh baby girl, you’re gonna regret saying that.” He says as he grabs a fist full of your hair and roughly pulls your head back, exposing your delicate neck to him.

This harsh action sends shocks to your pussy. “Didn’t you say something about tying me up?” You purr with a slight smile, looking up into his visor.

“So I was right about you being a filthy fuckin whore.” Din spits as he shoves a finger inside of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit.

“Y-yeah, but only for you.” You whine as your eyes fall closed and high-pitched moans begin escaping your lips.

“Ohh that’s right baby.” Din praises. He’s so turned on by the way you’re speaking and responding to his touch, and he loves the impact he has on you. How you so quickly went from a confident fighter when he lost to you, to a shy little girl when he started teasing you, to a dirty slut once he got his hands in your panties.

He starts pumping his finger faster and you can hear the lewd noises your obscenely wet pussy is making. Your mouth opens even more with your moans becoming more pronounced and your back arches. You’re standing pressed flat up against him, he’s basically holding you up on your toes with one arm as his other hand drives into your cunt.

You can feel your orgasm just beginning to climb when you suddenly hear a beep on your watch’s intercom. It jolts you back to reality.

“Y/n, are you at the lounge? I’m heading back there now.” Your Master says through the intercom.

“Shit.” You say as you push Din’s chest, pulling yourself off of him. “I should have shown you to your accommodation by now.” You say as you frantically start looking around your feet for your saber. By the time you grab it and look up for Din, he has already made his way out the back exit.

You attach your saber to your hip as you try to steady your breathing, disoriented from the abrupt conclusion of whatever it was you were doing with Din. You hear Luke’s footsteps approaching as you quickly try to put your panties back in place, growling at how soaked they are. You’re praying that your Master doesn’t notice the wetness that has been smudged on your inner thighs.

*************************************

You cannot believe what you did with Din. No one has ever done anything like that to you before. You get hit on all the time— you’re gorgeous— but you are almost never interested enough to give them the time of day. But Din? He had his fingers in your pussy after knowing you for ten minutes. How did he do that!?

It’s the early evening. You lie in your bed visualizing the events over and over again, heat pooling in your core as you replay the dirty things he said to you.

While it fuels your arousal, you also feel uneasy about the interaction. He left so quickly, and he left without saying a word to you, almost like nothing had happened. You hope that Din doesn’t think less of you, that he doesn’t think you’re some hussy who is easily persuaded into letting guys she just met finger fuck her.

You are pulled away from your anxious thoughts when you hear your intercom going off. It’s your friends talking about what they’re doing tonight. You don’t really care to pay attention, but you sit straight up in your bed when you hear something about that “Mandalorian who’s visiting the Academy,” and how he’s “at the cantina in town.”

You jump out of bed and without even thinking, you grab a sweater and head toward the parlor.

Your heart is beating on the chilly walk there. You hope he’s surprised to see you, you hope he’s excited to see you. You’re gonna act casual, yeah, like you didn’t even know he was there. No big deal! You’re just going to the cantina to hang with your friends. And then you see eachother, and bing bang boom, you guys are back in your room fucking while he calls you his little slut. Yes. This is gonna go great.

It’s a Friday night and the cantina is bustling. People are dancing, drinking, and gambling. It’s so loud that you can barely hear yourself think. As you make your way through the rowdy crowd, you spot Din’s helmet over the hordes of people. He is sitting in a somewhat secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant.

You proceed a few steps forward, lightly pushing people to get through the crowd, and then, your heart drops. He’s not sitting alone. There’s a girl, a woman, a sex worker, wrapped in his arm.

You stand there for a moment as everything goes quiet, you stare at Din and the beautiful woman in a tight short dress sitting beside him. She’s talking to him, saying things into the side of his helmet as he sits there looking forward with his arm casually draped around her, man spreading and all.

Din’s head turns and that’s when he notices you, standing there among the crowd of people in that same short high waisted skirt and a cropped sweater of the same color.

You feel something fall deep in your chest as you realize that he sees you. You blink a few times as the rest of your senses come back, humiliation and embarrassment overcoming you as you quickly turn around and stumble out of the bar.

You make your way into the dark street and take a few deep breaths before running back to the Academy. You're fighting off tears as you feel the cold air pinching every bit of your exposed skin.

You can’t believe that you let yourself become smitten by someone who was such an asshole. He mistook you for a whore, he insulted your combat skills, he pressed you to let him fuck you! You should have expected this.

A tear rolls down your cheek. Why did you think he liked you? He didn’t. He didn’t like you. And he didn’t want to fuck you, he just wanted to fuck someone, and you were the closest one to him. You let him use you. He must do this kind of shit all the time with women, you were nothing special.

You get back to your room and bury yourself under your covers, wanting to escape so badly from this reality.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Visit Part Two

The Visit Part Three

*************************************

Masterlist

*************************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75 @tacticalsparkles @kenoobiwan @shark-s @theamuz @blackrose8425 @beskarboobs @beskarboobs @smutslutz @princess-djarinn @spideysimpossiblegirl @riot-rotten

[crysalita]

Brahms the Boy

Brahms Heelshire x reader

Word Count: 3097

Warnings: Violence, Death, Cole

When I was asked to accompany Greta with her new babysitting job, the last thing I expected was to find a doll that we would be looking after.

I didn’t dare question why we had to look after a porcelain doll because I felt it would be rude to ask, and besides, this just makes everything easier for us.

The house was lovely, slightly creepy, but lovely none of the less. It was a big house for an elderly couple and sometimes I felt so alone, minus the constant feeling of someone watching me.

Every now and then I would here creaks in the walls, but I would brush them off being the fact that the house was quite old.

We were given a set of rules that we were to follow, most of them were okay. I didn’t know how I felt about rule number 4 and rule number 10, never cover Brahms’ face and kiss goodnight.

After finding out that Brahms was capable of moving on his own, I was beginning to be more cautious on the things I did, always keeping an eye out.

*

“Tell Greta to think about us getting back together.” Cole pleads. I was pulled aside so Cole could convince me to talk to Greta about their, long gone, relationship. “I love her, I really do.”

“She doesn’t want to be with you. She’s moved on.” I reply calmly. I noticed that the more I denied his pleas, the more he was getting angry.

I wince as he grabs a hold of my arm and pulls me close. “You better hope that she wants to get back with me, because if not, she’ll be saying good-bye to you too.” He threatens.

He lets go of my arm and allows me to walk away.

Greta was standing outside of the room, holding onto Brahms. “He wants to talk with you.” I mumbled. I covered my arm behind my back before reaching for Brahms.

I hold onto Brahms tightly as I wait for Greta and Cole to finish their conversation. “Why can’t he just leave her alone.” I whisper to Brahms. “I just wish he would leave.”

Cole was never a personal favourite, for obvious reasons, but I never had the heart to tell Greta all the horrible things he would say to me. She always seemed so in love, and I didn’t want to ruin that for her.

I walk up the stairs and into Brahms room where I lay him down on his bed. I do the usual routine where I tuck Brahms into his bed and left with a goodnight kiss before I walked back to my own room and went to bed.

*

I was awoken when I heard calls from downstairs, I instantly shot out of bed and ran down. “Greta!” Greta was ahead of me as she entered the room that Cole was staying in. “Get in here.” Cole grabs Greta by the arm and pulls her into the room, me following behind her. “What is this?” We were met with the words ‘get out’ written in, what I could only assume, was blood. “Was this you?”

“I didn’t do that.” My eyes land on Brahms sitting in a chair, directly underneath the message.

“Brahms.” I mutter. I rush over to Brahms where I pick him up and keep him close to me, making sure Cole can’t get to him.

“The doll wrote this? How do we know it wasn’t your psycho bitch friend?” Cole points a finger at me as he scowls. This doesn’t work in his favour as Greta comes over to me and stands beside me. “Ok, fine. It wasn’t either of you. It was the doll.”

With each word, Cole takes a step forward until he’s directly in front of us. “Give me the doll.” I shake my head at his demand and the second he takes another step, I take off running out of the room, tugging Greta to follow along.

“It was me; I swear. Just don’t touch Brahms.”

My lack of direction caused me to end up cornering us in a room as Cole blocked the door. “Give me the doll!” He launches himself forward and grabs Brahms by the legs, shoving me backwards to I hit Greta.

I fall to the ground from the shove, and Malcolm comes running in. “Hey! Get your things and get out of here!” He shouts at Cole.

With the help of Greta, I am able to get back onto my feet and my eyes lock onto Brahms who was being swung around carelessly by Cole. “You know, everyone just seems to be in a big hurry for me to leave. Maybe-” He turns to Malcolm. “Maybe you left that message for me. Huh? Or are you gonna say it was the doll too?”

“Just put Brahms down and we can talk about this.” I attempt to get Cole to leave Brahms alone, but it’s no use.

“Cole, you don’t understand-”

“No, I think I understand exactly what’s going on here. What’s so special about this doll?”

As I go to take a step towards Cole and reach for Brahms, Cole raises Brahms up and swings him back down, causing the doll to hit the edge of a chair and shatter into pieces. The ashes from the doll fly up and I am left in shock. “Brahms.” I mumble.

Suddenly, from inside the walls, we could hear the sound of movement. There were creaks and bangs as well as the lights beginning to flicker. “We need to leave.”

It was as if someone was walking through the walls as everything stopped when it reached a mirror. Cole approaches the mirror and puts his ear to it, in order to hear what’s inside. “We should really go.” Malcolm places a hand on both Greta and me.

“There’s something-” The glass smashes in Cole’s face as he is sent flying back, hitting the ground right in front of us, but that wasn’t what I was focused on.

I was focused on the figure that stood behind the mirror. “Y/n?” My eyes widen as I hear my name being called. “Y/n? Are you okay?” A hand comes out from the mirror followed by the person behind it.

The man hidden behind a mask comes out from the mirror and stands to his full height, towering over Cole who was on the floor in front of him. “Is that-” I begin, but I am cut off by Malcolm.

“It’s Brahms.”

“It can’t be.”

Malcolm runs forward to block Brahms from getting to Cole, but he shoved a way and instead takes a hit to the side of the head with a broken stick of wood.

The man then turns his attention back to Cole and gets on top of him. “Brahms!” I try to stop Brahms from hitting Cole, but once again I find myself on the floor. “Brahms, stop it!” I cry.

Brahms then proceeds to pick up a broken piece from the doll and stabs it straight into Cole’s neck. Blood spills out from the wound and my ears are filled with a chocking sound from Cole.

I stare in shock at the sight in front of me. “Y/n!” My head snaps towards where Greta was standing as she calls me over. This gains Brahms’ attention as he wraps his arms around me and holds me back.

“No!’ I hear his childlike voice whimper. A bit of me broke when I heard him say that, but he also just killed a man right in front of me. "Please, no.”

“Brahms, let her go!” Brahms’ arms tighten around me as he pulls me close.

Brahms’ turn us around and walks us towards the open spot in the wall.

I hear the sound of someone getting hit and then Brahms’ arms loosen around me, and I yanked out of his grip.

Greta holds on as we run up the stairs and into her room that she was staying in. By now I was breathing heavily, whether it was from the amount of running I have done today, or because of how terrified I am, I wasn’t too sure.

Malcolm frantically runs around the room as he looks for a way of escaping. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt us.” The door handle then begins to rattle as Brahms tries to get in.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he just killed Cole.” Greta replies. The rattling stops and we start hearing the creaking from inside the wall. “The closet!” Greta runs over to the door and slams it shut. I assist Greta in holding the door shut as Malcolm looks around the room.

A plank from the door is smashed in and Brahms’ arm comes through, grabbing a hold of me again. My hand reaches up to release myself from the hold, and as my hand connects with Brahms, I feel him go tense.

The door opens and Brahms is met with a hit in the face, or mask, from Malcolm who was holding a telephone.

We are, once again, running out of the room and heading into another. “Look.” I point over to the hole in the wall. “We can go through there.” I take the lead as we run through the inside of the wall.

We dodge past pipes and chunks in of the wall that is sticking out.

We find ourselves in a whole new room that looks to be where Brahms has been staying. It was messy and the room smelt foul.

I recognise some things in the room that were once mine, for example, bits of jewellery, notes, and even some clothes. “Y/n, over here.” Greta was standing by a bed, and it was then that I saw the makeshift doll that was wearing a dress of mine that I had lost. The had been decorated with all things that I had lost over the time that I was staying here, and I didn’t miss the magazines and tissues that were scrunched up around the doll.

Beside the bed, and on the nightstand, was a piece of paper. On the paper had the words 'I love you Y/n.’ I didn’t know how to feel about that. Whether I should be flattered, or absolutely mortified at how creepy this all was.

“We will not be back, the girl is yours now, to love and keep.” Greta was reading another piece of paper that she had found. “They were never coming back. He’s been living in the walls this whole time, watching us, or more Y/n. They knew.” Malcolm comes down and guides us to the exit.

I take one last look back at the room before I leave.

We climb down the ladder and quietly make our way out, the only source of light being from the gaps between the wooden planks.

We are stopped when the wall comes caving in and Brahms falls down on top of Malcolm. Brahms is kicked in the face causing him to fall backwards, this way we could drag Malcolm up to his feet.

I feel an ounce of excitement when we end up finding a door that would take us outside, but I also felt sad. I didn’t want to leave this house; I grew attached in such little amount of time.

“It’s locked.” Greta shoves herself into the door in order to open it, but I am too distracted by what is about to come.

Malcolm shoves past me and is tackled to the ground by Brahms.

Fists are swung left to right, but in the end Brahms is the one that comes out on top as he smashes Malcolm’s head into the ground.

“Y/n!” The child voice breaks through. “Y/n!” Brahms’ head turns towards me as I watch his eyes behind the mask. They light up when we make eye contact, something that made me melt inside. “I’ll be good, I promise.” He peers through the pipes.

I look back at Greta who was still desperately trying to make an escape. “Please, Y/n. Don’t leave me.” Brahms begs. Greta shakes her head at me, and I send her a small smile.

“Go, I’ll stay.”

“What? Y/n, no!” I keep my eyes locked with her, but I don’t bother saying anything. “Okay but be safe.” Greta gets the door unlocked and runs out.

I turn back to Brahms who held his hand out towards me. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” He says innocently. I hesitantly place my hand in his and he gently helps me out.

My eyes stray everywhere else but Brahms and Malcolm, who I wasn’t even sure if he was alive at this point. “Thank you, Y/n. You’re the only person that wouldn’t leave me.” Brahms speaks.

I didn’t know if he’s child voice made the situation better or worse, when he spoke, I felt as if he wouldn’t hurt me, or anyone for that matter, but by the two bodies lying on the ground, I knew that I was far from right.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” I remember all the times where I had whispered to the doll Brahms, that I would never leave him alone. “But it’s bedtime, and you know the rules.” His shoulders drop as he nods his head.

Brahms guides me through the confined space in the walls and even helps me step over bits that are sticking out of the floor. “I love you, Y/n. You will never leave me.” Brahms whispers. I silently nod along in agreement and then we are finally out of the small gap and are in Brahms’ room.

I walk over to the bed and lift the covers. “Lay down.” I order. He follows along with what I say and keeps his arms tucked underneath the blanket. Behind the mask, his eyes follow my every movement. “Good boy Brahms, now go to sleep.”

“Kiss?” He mumbles.

I debate on whether I should actually do what he says, but since he was following the rules, the most I could do was follow them too, even if he didn’t necessarily deserve it.

I slowly lean down until I am right above Brahms’, his eyes were piercing through me. I place a gentle kiss right beside the lips of his mask before I pull away, only to be stopped when Brahms’ sits up.

He doesn’t say anything, but instead releases his arms out from underneath the covers and pulls me back down to him in an awkward kiss.

The porcelain lips were cold against my own, and I was unsure of what to do.

I place my hands on Brahms’ shoulders and push him down. “Go to sleep Brahms.” I smile. I watch as his eyes close and then I walk out of the room, flicking the light off along the way.

I walk back downstairs to see Greta walking back in. “Y/n!” She runs towards me and pulls me in for a hug. “You’re okay.” She checks over my body.

“I’m fine but listen. I’m gonna stay.” I tell Greta. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at me with confusion.

“No, Y/n. You’ll-”

“Get Malcolm and leave. I’ll be okay, I promise.” Her eyes held a sense of sadness in them as they glossed over with tears. “He won’t hurt me; he just wants someone to stay with him. I’ll call you often, don’t worry about me, and don’t go to the police about this, please.” I explain.

It took Greta some time, but she eventually ended up giving in. “Okay, I won’t go to the police, but as soon as I feel that something has happened, I will be storming up that footpath, with murder on my mind, you hear me?” I nod my head at her threat.

“Let’s go get Malcolm, and check if he’s fine, I’m not even sure if he’s alive.” I lead Greta up to the room that I knew would lead us down to Malcolm, the only problem is that that was the same room that Brahms was in. I peak my head in the room to see that he was now sitting up right, staring over at us.

As soon as he sees Greta he stands up and reaches for a weapon. “Wait, Brahms!” I run forward and stop him from grabbing something. “She’s going to get Malcolm and then she’s going to leave.” Brahms eyes Greta with a look of anger. “They won’t bother us any longer.” His eyes snap down to mine and then he nods his head, pointing over at the trap door that leads us to the wall. “I will stay, I promise.” Brahms gets back into his bed, and I take Greta with me through the walls.

When we stumble across Malcolm, he was just waking up as he rubs the back of his head. “Malcolm!” Greta greets Malcolm with a hug as she checks his wounds.

“Are you girls alright? Where’s Brahms?”

“We’re fine, but Y/n, she’s going to stay here, with Brahms.” Greta tells Malcolm. He looks over at me like I was some crazy girl, which I couldn’t blame him for.

“Are you out of your mind? He’ll hurt you.”

“Then I’ll be the only one to blame. Look, I don’t want to leave him alone again, he doesn’t have his parents anymore. He needs someone.”

“That’s not your job to keep him company, he is a sick person who needs help-” I interrupt Malcolm before he can continue with his insults.

“I want to stay, Malcolm, and that’s that. Leave while you still have a chance.” The door to the outside was still left wide open from when Greta had run through, leaving them with the perfect opportunity to make their escape. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Greta.”

“Yeah, if you’re still alive.” Malcolm mumbles. He crawls out the door leaving myself and Greta alone.

“Be safe Y/n, please.” We exchange a hug before she takes off behind Malcolm and I shut the door, letting out a sigh as I do so.

I take my time walking back and when I finally reach Brahms’ room, he was standing up and waiting. “You took too long, I got scared.” He whimpers.

Brahms’ fiddles with his hands as he stands across the room from me. “How about you sleep in my bed tonight?” I’m not sure why I decided to say that, but the look in Brahms’ eyes was enough to make me not regret the offer.

He was happy, so, so was I.