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farmers market
Pairing: Harry Styles x pregnant!reader
Summary: Harry takes his pregnant girlfriend to the farmers market :)
Word count: 1k+
Warnings: fluff
A/N:
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
Saturday mornings had become your favorite part of the week, especially now that you were six months pregnant. There was something about the air in the fall that made everything feel crisp, fresh, and alive. You breathed it in deeply as you and Harry approached the farmer’s market entrance, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees and creating a beautiful radiance on everything. The sounds of the bustling crowd, the chatter of vendors, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze all added to the charm. For you, this was the perfect way to spend the morning—slowly strolling through the stalls, picking out fresh produce, and taking in the delicious aromas that surrounded you.
Harry, on the other hand, loved watching you. There was a joy in your eyes every time you came across something that caught your attention—whether it was a basket of perfectly ripe peaches or a bouquet of wildflowers. He found himself smiling more, simply watching you enjoy the little things. Though his schedule was often packed with work, he didn’t mind these outings. In fact, he insisted on them.
"I can't believe you actually woke up early for this," you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as the two of you made your way through the market entrance.
Harry adjusted his sunglasses, his hand still wrapped around yours. He squeezed it gently before responding, "Hey, I have my priorities straight. You, our little one, and fresh strawberries."
You grinned at him. "I knew you were just here for the food."
"And the company," he corrected, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing your skin. "You sure you're up for this? We could’ve just ordered everything online."
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Harry, I’m pregnant, not fragile. I’m not going to break. Besides, I want to pick things out myself. You know how picky I get when it comes to cravings."
He chuckled, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, guiding you as you walked. "Yeah, I remember. The great pickle debacle of last month."
You groaned, covering your face with your hand in embarrassment. "Don’t remind me. I still feel bad for that poor store clerk."
"He survived," Harry teased, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you reached the first stall. "And now we have a whole shelf stocked with pickles at home. We're prepared for the next craving, love."
As you approached the stall, a burst of color filled your vision. Strawberries. Plump and bright, their sweetness practically radiated from the basket. You couldn’t help yourself. A soft gasp left your lips as you reached for a carton. "Oh my gosh, look at these strawberries! I need them."
The vendor, an older man with a wide grin and a straw hat, chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Good choice, dear. These are the sweetest berries you’ll find this season, grown just down the road."
Harry smiled at the vendor, then at you. "Perfect. We’ll take a few cartons, please."
The man winked at you as he handed over the strawberries. "Craving strawberries, huh? Must mean you’re having a sweet little one."
You laughed, resting your hand on your bump. "Seems like it."
Harry watched you carefully, his hand brushing yours as you inspected the fruit, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know, love, if you keep eating them like this, our little one is going to come out looking like a strawberry."
You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Should be no problem for you, since you only sing about fruit and... other things."
Harry’s face broke into laughter, shaking his head as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. "Alright, fair point. Guess we’re a perfect match then."
As you both moved down the market path, you spotted a stall selling honey, its glass jars glistening in the sunlight. Your eyes lit up, and without missing a beat, you tugged Harry toward it. "Ooh, fresh honey!"
The elderly woman behind the stand greeted you with a warm smile. "Well hello, dear! Looking for something sweet today?"
Harry wrapped his arm around you protectively, as if to shield you from the bustling crowd around you. He glanced down at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "She’s been craving everything sweet since she got pregnant," he said, his voice soft, his gaze lingering on you.
The vendor’s smile widened. "Ah, a little one on the way! Congratulations, dear. I’ve got just the thing for you—this wildflower honey. It’s perfect with tea or drizzled over yogurt."
You took one of the jars into your hands, turning it over in your palms as you inspected it. "We’ll take two jars, please," you said with a smile. You could already imagine the honey paired with some of the fruit you had bought.
Harry leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "At this rate, we’ll have an entire pantry of honey, jams, and fruit."
You nudged him with your elbow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Says the guy who could probably live off protein shakes and fruit."
He grinned down at you, leaning his head against yours for a brief moment. "Hey, fruit’s good for you. And clearly, our little one agrees."
As the two of you continued down the market lane, Harry remained ever the protector, placing a hand gently on your lower back whenever the crowd got too dense or people brushed by too closely. He made sure to stay close, watching you like a hawk as you darted from one stall to another, carefully selecting items that would satisfy your cravings. His protective nature seemed to grow stronger with each passing day, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love in your chest every time he touched you.
You stopped in front of a stall selling freshly baked bread. You picked up a warm loaf, its crust golden and inviting, and breathed in deeply. "Look at this bread, H!" you said, holding it up to him. "It smells amazing."
The baker, a jovial man with flour-dusted hands, beamed at you. "Fresh from the oven this morning, love. It’s a market favorite!"
Harry inhaled the rich aroma of the bread and nodded. "Alright, we’ll take two. One for you, and one for the baby."
You giggled, shaking your head at him. "You’re going to use the baby excuse for everything now, aren’t you?"
He shot you a mischievous grin. "Absolutely."
Next, you came across a stand selling handmade baby clothes. Harry’s eyes softened the moment he saw a tiny knitted sweater. His hand lingered over the soft material before he held it up to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at this. Think our little one would like it?"
An elderly woman behind the stand smiled warmly at the two of you. "Oh, that one’s made from the softest wool, dear. Perfect for a little bundle of joy."
You felt your heart swell in your chest as you looked at Harry. Your voice wavered slightly. "I think they’d look adorable in it."
Harry’s fingers gently traced the top of your arm, sending a warm shiver through you. "We’re really doing this, huh?" His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb across the back of your hand. "Baby, family, all of it."
You smiled, your heart full of emotion. Resting your hand over his, you looked up at him with a soft, affectionate smile. "Yeah, we are."
As the morning wore on, your bags filled with fresh produce, honey, flowers, and baby clothes, Harry remained a constant presence at your side, his protectiveness never wavering. He kissed your forehead whenever you stopped to look at something, always keeping a careful eye on you as the crowds grew thicker.
You were about to make your way to the car when Harry glanced at the overflowing bags in his hands, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Think we went a little overboard?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "No such thing when it comes to fresh fruit."
He raised an eyebrow at you. "You and your fruit obsession. I’m telling you, if this baby’s first word is 'peach,' I’m blaming you."
You shot back with a laugh. "Alright, but if their first word is 'kiwi,' or ‘watermelon’ or ‘cherry’ then I’m blaming you!"
Harry pulled you closer, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Alright, love. Truce. Let's go home and make something delicious with all this."
And as the two of you walked back to the car, the morning sun warm on your skin, you knew that these were the moments that would stay with you forever—simple, quiet, full of love and anticipation.
#fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x pregnant!reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles blurbs#harry styles fic rec#fic rec
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hi, one of my favorite writers!
i never noticed your requests were open, so is it okay if you write about wanda x fem!reader where they have been in a relationship for almost 6 years, the longest in their friend group, their friends assume the worst because they love eachother like bestfriends. what i mean is that when their friends see them sleeping together, they both face the other way. or when they watch a movie, their isn’t much snuggling. but when they’re actually alone, they feel more comfortable with eachother, that their friends walk in on them being clingy to eachother. being a lowkey couple isn’t so bad compared to what their friends think type of trope!
thank you for your time, and i love your works. xo !
BEHIND CLOSE DOORS
pairing: wanda maximoff x reader
summary: after nearly six years together, your relationship with wanda is the longest-lasting one in your friend group. but to everyone else, you two don’t look like the typical couple. you don’t snuggle at movie nights, you sleep facing opposite directions at group sleepovers, and your friends quietly assume your spark is gone. little do they know, you and wanda are simply a lowkey couple—comfortable and deeply in love when the world isn’t looking. but when your friends accidentally stumble upon one of your private, clingy moments, they realize just how wrong they’ve been.
a/n: i had this request in my inbox for a long time and only noticed it these days. sorry for the delay and i hope you like it.
word count: 1,1k
warnings: fluff <3
“You and Wanda are basically like an old married couple,” Kate teased, nudging you with her elbow as you all sat around the coffee table for game night.
“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you replied, raising a brow as you stacked your deck for Uno.
“No! Not bad, just…” Kate trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words.
“Predictable,” Yelena finished bluntly, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“I mean, you don’t even sit next to each other during movie nights,” Natasha chimed in, smirking from her spot on the couch.
Wanda, who was sitting across from you, laughed lightly. “So? We’ve been together for six years. We don’t have to be glued to each other.”
“Yeah, but where’s the passion?” Kate asked, gesturing dramatically. “The fire? The hand-holding and constant cuddling?”
“We’re not 16,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wanda.
Your friends dropped the topic after that, but you could still see the curious glances they exchanged. You and Wanda didn’t fit their idea of what a couple should look like, but you didn’t really care. You and Wanda were fine just the way you were.
Living together for the past three years had only made your relationship stronger. You and Wanda had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that worked perfectly for both of you.
Your mornings started with quiet moments—Wanda making coffee while you scrambled eggs, sharing small smiles across the kitchen. Evenings were spent unwinding on the couch, reading, or binge-watching whatever show caught your attention that week.
You didn’t feel the need to be overly affectionate in public or around your friends because your bond didn’t rely on outward displays. It was in the little things: Wanda setting aside the last slice of pizza for you, or you remembering to buy her favorite tea when the supply at home ran low.
But your friends didn’t see those moments. They only saw the surface.
The first time your friends openly voiced their concerns, it was at Natasha’s apartment after a late-night movie marathon.
“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yelena started, her tone making it clear she was about to say something controversial.
“Here we go,” Wanda muttered under her breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.
“It’s just… are you two, like, okay?” Yelena asked hesitantly.
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been together for so long, but you don’t act like it,” Kate interjected. “You’re more like… roommates or best friends.”
Wanda exchanged a look with you, her lips twitching in amusement. “Just because we don’t make out in front of you doesn’t mean we’re not fine.”
“Exactly,” you added. “We’re just not into PDA. That’s all.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two even hold hands.”
At that, you and Wanda burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys are ridiculous.”
But the concern on their faces didn’t fade.
Later that night, back at your apartment, you and Wanda finally addressed the conversation.
“Do you think they really believe we don’t love each other?” you asked, pulling on a sweatshirt as you got ready for bed.
Wanda was already under the covers, scrolling through her phone. “Probably. But who cares? We know the truth.”
You climbed into bed beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of funny.”
“They think we’re boring,” Wanda said with a dramatic sigh, wrapping an arm around you.
You laughed. “If only they knew.”
Because behind closed doors, you and Wanda were anything but boring. You loved snuggling up during quiet afternoons, Wanda’s fingers tracing patterns on your arm as you watched TV. You teased each other endlessly, sharing inside jokes that no one else would understand.
And when it came to physical affection, it wasn’t something you felt the need to flaunt. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was in every kiss goodnight, every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you” before falling asleep.
\*/
The incident happened a week later. Your friends had come over to your apartment to hang out, and you had no idea they were still around when you wandered into the kitchen to find Wanda.
She was standing by the counter, scrolling through her phone, when you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.
“Hi,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
Wanda smiled, setting her phone down to place her hands over yours. “Hi.”
“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your chin on her shoulder.
“You were in the living room five minutes ago,” Wanda teased, turning her head to kiss your cheek.
“Still missed you,” you said with a grin.
The sound of a dramatic gasp made both of you freeze. You turned to see Kate, Yelena, and Natasha standing in the doorway, their jaws practically on the floor.
“Oh. My. God,” Kate said, pointing a finger at you two. “You do like each other!”
Yelena burst out laughing. “This is amazing. I feel like I’ve just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.”
Natasha smirked. “So much for ‘just best friends.’”
Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Get over it, guys.”
But your friends didn’t let it go. For the rest of the night, they wouldn’t stop teasing you about how “different” you were when no one was watching.
After that, your friends seemed to accept that your relationship didn’t need to look like anyone else’s. They stopped questioning why you and Wanda weren’t overly affectionate in public, and they stopped assuming the worst.
And while you still preferred to keep most of your relationship private, you didn’t mind letting a little bit of your affection show.
“See?” Wanda said one day, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked into Joe’s Bar. “A little PDA won’t kill us.”
You grinned, squeezing her hand. “It’ll definitely keep them off our backs.”
From then on, your friends never doubted the love between you and Wanda again. Because whether you were holding hands in public or sharing quiet moments at home, your connection was undeniable.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen x you#wanda maximoff#elizabeth olsen#mcu
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Hold Me Down
Rafe Cameron x gf!reader
Summary: Rafe overstimulates you for the first time. That’s it.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v, creampie, squirting, choking, headlock, Rafe is mean as always, mean!dom rafe if you squint, porn without plot
WC: 2k
A/N: I HAVE RETURNED🗣️🗣️ I really missed rafe. I have a couple requests and some works in the making but they’re plot heavy so they’re taking me a while, in the mean time here’s this to satiate my horniness (and yours)
Tagging my rafe babes @hauntedfawnn @rafescorpsebride
You really should have known better. Perhaps your most perverted fantasies should have stayed, just that--fantasies. Because in practice? Not quite as practical. Especially not with the boyfriend you had. You knew Rafe was holding back for your sake, you had only been dating a month, afterall. But the freak in you wanted more, you wanted him to take you and use you in any way he desired. He wanted to ruin you. And boy, were you in for a fucking ride. The look of pure malice and excitement in Rafe’s eyes should have been your warning, but your insatiable need for him was stronger than your judgment.
“Ah—! Rafe!” You were a fucking mess, eyeliner and mascara stained your cheeks, your pretty lipstick was long gone, tears of pleasure stained your pretty face as you writhed on Rafe’s bed. His tongue was going to be the end of you. He had already made you come once and you were so close to your second. You were already crying and pleading with him to let you take a break. He ignored you, his eyes shooting you a glare as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. And you couldn’t go anywhere, not with the way he was holding down your thighs on the mattress. “Please!”
You didn’t know what you were begging for. Mercy? Sweet release? Maybe both? You were absolutely delirious, incoherent, all you could focus on was the delicious drag of his tongue as he rubbed circles on your clit with his thumb. It was so overwhelming, how he wouldn’t let up. Rafe all but made out with your pussy, moaning and groaning at the intoxicating taste of you. He loved the idea of making you delirious, making you beg on the verge of tears, it made him incredibly hard.
With a handful of your ass, Rafe used his tight grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue slipping in and out of your hole in a way that had you seeing white. Rafe knew you were done for when you tried to drag yourself up the bed, away from his demanding mouth, your back lifting off the mattress as you turned into a sobbing mess.
You whined as you weakly grabbed at his grown out hair and attempted to pull him off you. Rafe didn’t care if you couldn’t take it, this is what you asked for. He dragged his tongue over your swollen clit and you nearly screamed.
“Rafe please. I mean it.” You choked out, digging your nails into his scalp. The burning sensation of your nails only riled him up more. He was determined to fuck you until you cried. And he hadn't done that quite yet.
“What? What are you crying about?” He mocked you with a laugh as he half-assed wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled up your body, propping himself up on one of his forearms. The sight of you so desperate and pathetic when he hadn't even fucked you made his cock twitch. “You asked for it, did you not? You wanted to act like a whore, now you can get fucked like one, hm?”
He grabbed your jaw and forced your head up to meet his eager mouth. The taste of you still on his tongue made you moan against his lips. His mouth was so demanding, the kiss messy and sloppy, like him. When he pulled back, he grabbed your legs and folded them until your knees were touching your chest and your dripping cunt was on full display for him. He prided himself on his work, the way he left you so wet and ready for him, it rushed blood to his face and bumped adrenaline through his veins. You didn’t protest, and simply braced for what was about to come your way.
The stinging feeling of his cock was always such an indescribable feeling. He always sank so deep, it made you dizzy. Rafe didn’t waste any time, he drilled into you like he didn't care about the integrity of your body. You slid up and down the mattress with each drag of his cock, and to say that you were a sobbing mess was an understatement.
“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty like this.” His lips were parted, his baby blues swallowing you whole as he watched your eyes roll into your head. He breathed out a laugh, leaning down to grip the headboard, nearly folding you in half. As if he wasn’t deep enough. The way you cried at the feeling of his cock stretching you like this made him delirious. “Look at you, taking my dick like it was made for you.”
He planted his other hand beside your head, groaning in delight at the feeling of your pretty nails dragging down his back, surely to leave angry marks he would admire later. You were holding on for dear life, unable to do anything but just take his cock as he split you open. You didn’t know what you loved more, the feeling of him damn near bruising your cervix, or the way he would do absolutely anything to have you like this.
“Please Rafe! Feels so good—Ah!” You whined as he gripped your throat. You swore you saw God right then and there. You didn’t know what this strange and tingly feeling deep inside you was. You had never felt like this before. And with him hitting places so deep inside you, you didn't even know existed, you were scared of what your body was going to do. “R-Rafe, wait. Wait please, I don’t—Oh, my—”
Rafe squeezed your throat tighter, his cock bruising that one spot over and over until you saw white, gushing all over him. You were shaking and sobbing incoherent words Rafe couldn’t understand as your juices coated both of your thighs and dripped onto the sheets underneath you. Shocked, Rafe looked down to where his cock was slipping in and out of your dripping hole with even more ease, and he laughed in disbelief.
“Ohh fuck, yeah. Squirt all over my cock just like that, fuck.” Rafe wasn’t one to spill himself this quickly, but that alone made him almost lose it. He grabbed your hair, forcing you to look down, though your vision was still blurry, you could clearly see it. “Look at that, doll. Look at the fuckin’ mess you made.”
You couldn’t even form a thought, let alone speak. There wasn’t a single thought in your pretty head. Shocks of electricity still coursing through your body as he never stopped fucking you, driving you to the point of overstimulation. But just like that, he grabbed your arms and flipped you on your back, leaving you breathless and empty. You gasped for breath as you planted your face on the pillow. You were praying for just five minutes to recompose yourself. But you prayers were crudely denied as Rafe grabbed a hold of your hips, unceremoniously dragging you down to meet his hips. You whined.
“No, please Rafe! I can’t!” You cried as you desperately tried to run away from him. He scoffed, reaching to grab your hair and forced you down on the bed.
“Nah, don't give me that shit. Don’t fuckin’ run away. You wanted me to use you, right? You wanted to be my little fuck doll, hm?” He rasped into your ear, using your hair to press you down on your cheek instead so you could speak, but all you could let out was a whine. “You know what you have to say if you want it to stop.”
He gave you the choice. You could use your safeword, and you knew he wouldn't be mad if you did. But you would be mad at yourself if you used it. You wanted him to push you to your limits, send you to a completely different universe then bring you back. You truly didn't want to stop. Not really. You simply shook your head as you lifted your ass up for him. The sound that left his chest then was damn near animalistic.
“Fuckin’ knew it. You love takin’ my cock, don’t you doll?” A low moan left the back of his throat, using your hair as leverage as he slammed back into you, wasting no time in resuming his punishing thrusts. You were sobbing into the sheets in no time, soft cries of his name being the only thing you could say.
“Yes, yes, yes!” You chanted as you took his cock like that was all you were meant to do in this world. It was bruising, and agonizing his grip, and each delicious drag. It was so overwhelming and you loved it at the same time.
You couldn't say you were shocked at the fact that eventually your entire body was flat on the bed and his chest was pressed against your back, holding you down perfectly to feel each and every one of his erratic thrusts. He held your face down by your hair, muffling your pathetic cries as he used you like you were nothing more than just an outlet for his pleasure.
“Please Rafe. It hurts.” You choked out, gasping for air when you managed to turn your head to the side. It hurt, but in the best way possible. He was just so big, you could never get used to the sting of his cock. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. Rafe heard you, barely, but he heard you, and he scoffed, forcing your head back to look at him.
“Cry for it, then.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he threw his arm around your neck, putting you in a headlock. He damn near caged you in with his big fucking body as he fucked you to tears. Your sobs filled the room as he drilled into you, his grunts of pleasure filling your ear. “Just give me one more, c’mon doll, I know you want to gush all over my dick.”
It took maybe two, or three more drags of his cock to have you seeing stars. It wasn’t as intense as earlier, but you were a sobbing and shaking mess nonetheless when you came all over his cock again. Tears ran down your face again and you clawed your pretty manicured nails into his arm as you damn near spasmed into his grip.
“Fuck, baby, just like that.” He grunted into your neck as he rutted his hips against your ass, chasing his own release. He dug his teeth into your plush skin as he held you in place, forcing you to take his harsh thrusts. “Gonna fill you up. You want it, don’t you doll?”
“Mhm! Want it so bad Rafey.” You choked out, mouth falling open in delight as he filled you up, not stopping until his come leaked out of your abused hole.
When Rafe unwrapped his arm from you, you immediately fell face first on one of Rafe’s pillows with exhaustion. You felt him shuffling around for a minute until he flopped down next to you. You lifted your head up to find him with his eyes closed and one arm behind his head. His face was flushed red and his short strands stuck up like he had just his hand through them. Your boyfriend was actually the hottest man on earth and you didn’t care if your body fell victim to his intensity and stamina. You slowly shifted so that you were laying your head on his bicep and he happily threw his arm over your back.
“What do you want to eat? You feeling Italian or burgers?” Rafe asked you quietly, the tips of his fingers running up and down your back softly.
“Italian.”
“Knew it. Gonna run you a bath so you can get all prettied up for me. So I can do this all over again after dinner, ‘kay?” That sounded like a perfect Saturday night to you.
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe x you#rafe x reader#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#rafe Cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks
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The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb
Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence
CALEB'S POV
The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.
The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.
He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.
She had been… different.
No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.
But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.
Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.
It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.
Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.
“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”
She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.
He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.
The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.
He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”
Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”
Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.
So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.
“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”
Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.
She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.
As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.
“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”
Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.
He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had carved a place for herself in Linkon.
“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”
She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.
Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.
“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”
He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.
But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.
And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.
Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.
She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.
And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.
And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.
Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.
YOUR POV
Lately, you’d noticed something strange.
The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.
Fear.
It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.
But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.
And then there were the... incidents.
The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.
But then it happened again.
And again.
Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.
The pattern was impossible to ignore.
The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.
Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.
“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.
“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”
You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.
And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.
It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.
It felt... nice.
You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.
You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...
One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.
“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”
You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”
There was a long pause.
“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”
You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.
“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”
But it didn’t. Not entirely.
Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.
So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.
Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.
The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.
“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”
His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”
The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.
You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.
A muffled grunt. A crash.
And then—a sickening crunch.
You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.
What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.
Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.
Not yet.
“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”
Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.
“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”
Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.
“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.
The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.
And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.
The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.
He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”
Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.
“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”
“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”
His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”
“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just��”
“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”
You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.
“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”
You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.
He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”
You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.
His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”
You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.
Not really.
You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.
But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.
“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.
Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.
Caleb would never hurt you.
As long as you stayed.
He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.
You were his, and he was yours.
At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.
And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.
And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.
AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!
Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom
#love and deepspace#lads#lads drabble#l&ds#oneshotswithlina#lads oneshot#love and deep space#caleb fanfic#caleb lads#lads caleb#love and deepspace caleb#caleb love and deepspace#caleb angst#caleb oneshot#love and deepspace angst#Yizhou#caleb x reader#caleb x you#yandere caleb#lnds caleb#caleb#lnds
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PUNISHMENT - HYUNJU
pairing: professor!hyunju x ftm!reader
synopsis: Math isn't the only thing that's hard.
content warnings: 18+, teacher x student, blowjob, pre-transition hyunju, face fucking, slight choking, facial
word count: 1.4k
The lecture hall was eerily quiet as the last of your classmates filed out, their chatter fading into the hallway. You stayed behind, clutching your bag strap tightly, watching as Professor Hyunju erased the board with calm, methodical strokes. The squeak of the chalk against the surface was still fresh in your ears, the sound mixing with the rapid beat of your heart.
You’d known this conversation was coming. Her sharp eyes had been following you all semester, and not just in the way that professors check in on their struggling students. There was something in her gaze—something that made your stomach flip, even as you avoided eye contact. You couldn’t decide if it was intimidation, curiosity, or something darker that kept your nerves on edge every time she called your name in class.
“Wait here,” she had said earlier, her tone even but leaving no room for argument. It wasn’t a request.
Now, you stood awkwardly by the door, your feet refusing to move any closer. She hadn’t said much else, letting the silence grow heavy as she finished erasing the board and organized her papers into a neat stack. The tension was suffocating, the space between you filled with all the words you were too afraid to say.
Finally, she turned to face you, leaning casually against her desk, arms crossed over her chest. Her sharp, fitted blazer and pencil skirt made her look more like a corporate CEO than a college professor. Her presence was commanding, the kind that drew your eyes even when you didn’t want to look.
“Close the door,” she said simply, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, the click of the door shutting making you flinch. When you turned back to her, her gaze was fixed on you—steady, unwavering, and entirely unreadable.
“You know why you’re here,” she said, her tone calm but tinged with disappointment.
You swallowed hard, nodding. “I’m failing.”
“Failing doesn’t begin to cover it,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re barely scraping by, and if this keeps up, you won’t pass my class—or this semester.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, even though you already knew the truth. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“I… I’m trying,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you?” she asked, her sharp tone cutting through your feeble excuse. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”
You flinched, your gaze dropping to the floor. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been trying, but between juggling other classes, working part-time, and dealing with the weight of everything else in your life, something had to give. Unfortunately, it had been this class—and she wasn’t letting you forget it.
Her heels clicked softly as she stepped closer, the sound echoing in the empty room. You froze as the scent of her faint perfume wafted toward you, a subtle mix of floral and spice that made your head spin.
“You’re capable of so much more,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “But you’re not putting in the effort. That’s not just disappointing—it’s unacceptable.”
The way she said it, her words laced with both criticism and something almost… personal, made your throat tighten. You hated how small you felt under her gaze, like you were back in high school, getting scolded by a teacher. But this wasn’t high school, and she wasn’t just any teacher.
Hyunju had a presence that couldn’t be ignored, a charisma that made her stand out even in a room full of people. It was more than her looks—though you’d be lying if you said her sharp features, immaculate style, and piercing eyes didn’t make your chest tighten every time you saw her. It was the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence that demanded respect and made you want to prove yourself to her, even if you weren’t sure why.
And now, standing here alone with her, that presence was overwhelming. It pressed against you, making the room feel smaller, making it impossible to think straight.
“Do you want to fix this?” she asked, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.
You nodded quickly, desperate to end the suffocating silence. “Yes. I do. I’ll do better, I promise.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it wasn’t comforting. If anything, it made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your knees weaken under the weight of her attention.
“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’d hate to think you were wasting my time.”
Her words lingered, heavy with something unspoken, as the air between you grew charged. You couldn’t look away from her, even as every instinct screamed at you to run. This wasn’t just a lecture anymore—it was something far more dangerous.
She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. The scent of her perfume—something subtle but intoxicating—filled the air, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“You don’t take yourself seriously,” she continued, her voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing tone. “And that makes me wonder… should I take you seriously?”
Your eyes snapped up to meet hers, your heart racing at the implication in her words. There was something in her gaze now, something darker, something… playful.
“I-I’m trying,” you stammered, your words faltering under her piercing stare.
“Are you?” she asked, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been waiting for someone to put you in your place.”
Her words hung in the air, charged and heavy, and you felt your knees weaken. She took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from her.
“Do you want me to put you in your place?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes boring into yours.
Your breath hitched, and before you could think, you nodded.
That was all she needed. Her hand shot out, gripping your chin firmly but not painfully, tilting your face up to hers. “Good,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over your lips. “Then pay attention.”
Her lips crashed against yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. Her kiss was fierce, commanding, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. You melted against her, your bag slipping from your shoulder as your hands found her waist.
She didn’t pull away, deepening the kiss instead, her other hand threading through your hair and tugging just enough to make you gasp. The sound seemed to please her because she smirked against your lips before pulling back, her eyes blazing with satisfaction.
“You do want your grades to improve, yes?”, she daunted, her gaze never leaving yours.
“Yes professor,” you mumbled, eyes staring up into her own.
Wordlessly, she pulled up her skirt and slid down her panties to reveal her aching cock. You marveled at the sight before she gently pushed you onto your knees.
With a look of understanding, you took her length in your hands, slowly pumping it up and down before giving kitty licks to the angry red tip.
You slowly wrapped your lips around the head, before trying to take her whole. Your hand fondled over the parts that your mouth couldn’t reach, while your other hand went to the hem of your waistband, sliding through your boxers to reach your leaking cunt.
As you took her deeper in your throat, you rubbed circles over your clit frantically, trying to bring a release to you both.
When you finally managed to swallow her whole, she let out a breathy moan before grabbing you hair and moving your head back and forth herself.
“Breathe through your nose m’love, that’s it…”she cooed, gazing lovingly at your watering eyes.
Soon, she felt herself at the brink of a climax, so she released the grip on your hair, only for her to come undone all over your face, strings of pearly white essence sticking to you. Your ministrations over your clit had worked, making you arch your back as you came with a loud groan, staining your boxers.
The professor gently but firmly held your chin, forcing you to face her.
“Maybe now you’ll start listening,” she teased, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You’ll do better, won’t you?”
You nodded breathlessly, the words catching in your throat.
“Good,” she said, stepping back but not before trailing her fingers along your jawline. “Because if you don’t, we’ll have to do this again. And next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”
© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.
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Hii!:D Can you write about timid fem!reader x Namgyu nsfw? Like reader has a hand kink and she keeps staring at Namgyu’s hands. And once the lights out, Namgyu decides to confront reader.
Sorry if this is maybe a bit confusing this is my first time requesting😞🫶🏻 Btw I rlly love your fics💕
his hands are so hot holy lord 🤤 i would kfc on those thangs finger licking good fr he keeps us filled up here, dis to all the hand lovers MEOW
nam-gyu x timid!reader smut !! <3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, spoilers, dubcon, humiliation, fingering
つ。☆ imagine.. when you first met him at the games, (ignoring the deaths & violence in the background), you shamelessly keep staring at his veiny hands!! like oh lord !! the rings in his pointer and middle finger weren't helping either, as well as that stylistic choice of a black wristband, it only added to the appeal. this is what kept you going, to be honest, even if nam-gyu wasn't necessarily the good guy inside the games, you'd only vote 'O' to be with him longer! he notices this, of course, and takes advantage every time! getting closer to you, his hand slightly patting your head to "calm" you down, and when he sees you not having any energy to eat, he'd ask for it, but if you KINDLY reject him, he scoffs, "do you want me to feed it to you then?", ... "if you're not gonna eat, i'll force the food inside you.", "you'd want my fingers shoved up that mouth of yours, right?" hoo.. boy...
you were so... weird. he thinks. because he's absolutely aware of your obsession with his hands, and he decides to test the waters! well, not test, he fully dives in.
you were the only team member that remained with him, thanos died, se-mi died, and min-su was too scared to face him. he told you he'd have a meeting during lights out, opting you to come to his bed. nam-gyu's really shocked at your "loyalty" for him, but still punishes you for it!
nsfw below -> !! (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)
... he kept his promise of shoving down his fingers down your throat, his pointer and middle finger, inches deep inside, making you gag. this was to shut you up, there was a metallic taste, due to the ring he was wearing. "i know you've been wanting this, so don't scream." he whispers, his other arm forcing your legs to open wide, "if i hear you, even a little bit, i'll kill you, got it?" he's so strict, it's fucking you up, mentally. but you nod, and it painfully adds up to his ego, making him think: so you DID want this? you were now voluntarily at his mercy?? well he might've forgotten his blatant death threats but still...
he'd remove the two fingers inside your mouth, giving you a firm look, you better not make a noise! pushing your pants off your legs, seeing the wet gray patch in the middle of your panties. "jeez. you're even wet." he says, dissaprovingly staring. he places his whole hand to rub the apex of your thighs, he could only watch you arch your back and watch your hand fly to your mouth so you wouldn't make any noise, as ordered. he then leaves two fingers to be placed on your clothed clit. "here, hm?" you nod frantically, wishing he'd apply more friction to the bud, he'd playfully scoff, simply ignoring your clit as he moves the two fingers down your clothed hole. the way it got wetter was so mesmerizing for him! ".. didn't even know girls like you existed."
"freak. you should be ashamed of yourself." he'd now slip your panties to your ankles, making you fully bare for him, it was so embarassing for you :(, it was like he was judging your pussy, he'd take another second to look at it, before harshly slapping your cunny with his heavy hand, it hurt so bad!! you'd yelp from the pain, making him slap it again as punishment, "damn it, quiet." your clit was twitching as a reaction huhu...
he'd take another second to stare, seeing your pussy clench onto nothing! in that moment, he almost felt bad, since he's so humiliated for you! leaving no warning, he'd shove his middle and pointer finger inside, it stings. he knows it stings, he just doesn't care. he'd spread his fingers slightly, making a 'scissor' hand sign inside, he could see the insides of your cunt in full view now.
it takes no time for him to run out of patience. quickly setting a fast pace with his fingers, relentlessly pumping in and out of you. he slips it out, just to shove it right back in without any interval, making you gush all over the mattress, for sure he's gonna punish you for that later.
when he pushes your thighs to your chest to get a more deeper angle, his fingers were now hitting your g-spot! he'd even curl his fingers at the right moment. you'd let out a small noise from the feeling, none of your exes ever got to make you feel like that. your other hand that wasn't holding your mouth shut was lightly hitting his side, signaling him, you couldn't take it anymore, it was all too fast and you might've even--! oh. you'd embarrassingly squirt all over his hands, arms, and jacket. "filthy fucking cunt, did i tell you to cum?" you whined, "i'm s.. s-sorry-!" he only tsks. "fuck. disgusting. clean that up, quick."
how were you gonna clean it up? by your mouth, he'd make you lick all your cum and juices that coated his hands and arms, you were still shaken up from your orgasm, but this made it ten times worse, you felt like a dog :(.
holy shit Man journalism is not for the weak im too busy and for WHat , ANYWAys here guys, just gonna start it off, expect more posts from sat to sun, hopefully i'd be free in the weekdays too :< . namgyu thanos threesome next, as usual!
#squid game 2#squid game#nam-gyu#player 124#squid game x reader#squid game season 2#squid game smut#nam gyu#namgyu#nam-gyu smut#nam-gyu x reader#nam gyu x reader#nam gyu smut
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— “You haven’t changed”
( pairing) - nerd!Heeseung x f!r 3kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of sexual themes/mean heeseung [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷
Authors notes, for some reason its not letting me link this post to the actual request, so hopefully whoever requested this sees it
🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle
You and Your boyfriend both shared a mutual agreement that your relationship was strictly for show, or at least that was the terms you had given him. After the two of you had been caught cozying up to one another, at one of Jake's parties. Since then people had started putting the two of you with one another and you had simply accepted it. Jay was tired of the swarm of girls that’d surrounded him when he arrived on campus and you didn’t care for any of the guys there because all of them acted the same. Obviously Jay knew what he had been getting himself into with making you his girlfriend though, after all you were one of the most sought out girls in the university's freshman class.
Not to mention you were the dean's daughter, which meant everyone would either suck up to you or go through him thinking it’d get them into your mothers good graces. Though little did they know you yourself were slipping through the cracks of your mothers sincerity. Your grades were slipping bringing you from rank 1 to rank 2 of top scoring students on campus. Number one being Yang Jungwon and Number two being Lee Heeseung, a man you had known all too well since middle school. He was a friend of your eldest brother, the two of them having been friends so long tbz you couldn’t remember a time where Heeseung wasn’t at your house, sat on the couch playing video games with your brother. All you knew wanted him was that the boy owned more keyboards than he knew people, and the only reason you had known that was because you once heard him and your brother talking about it in discord.
That's all there ever did though, and you found him and your brother to be agonizingly boring. All they had ever done was play games, snack on junk food and waste away in their parents' attic playing d&d or reading old comics. Of course your mother loved Heeseung, damn near treated him like her son right along with you and your brother, and yet it didn’t make you any more interested in him than you had once been as kids.
Finally making it back to your apartment after having gotten chewed out by your mom and sat through an agonizing number of classes you were relieved to finally have some peace. Though your temporary serenity was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door forcing you up from the couch and having you stride over to the door. The scowl on your face had immediately changed to a smile as you found your brother on the other side.
“Anton!?” His arms wrap around you catching you in a tight embrace as you leapt into his arms, not having seen him in almost a year since he had chosen to travel instead of going to college.
“You haven’t grown at all.”
“Don’t start, look at you all grown up. What are you doing here?!” Your little brother had in fact grown up, ditching his glasses, old plaid button ups and bowl cut he’d always rocked when the two of you were younger. He looked like a man now, and he had grown tall enough to surpass you in height, meaning you no longer had anything to tease him about.
“I talked to mom and she said you lived here, I was hoping..to crash her for a few days?”
“Anton seriously…why can’t you just go to mom and dads?” You groan knowing that if he stayed here your peace would fly out the window.
“You know how that goes everytime, I’m tired of arguing with them over my life plans.”
“Are they really still on your ass about not going to college?”
“Mom and dad, what do you think?” You sigh as he places you back onto your feet.
“Please?” Rolling your eyes at his sad attempt to sway you , you slide over letting him inside.
“Penthouse suite, you always were a spoiled princess.”
“For your information, I’m paying myself..well our parents are helping but I wouldn’t have felt alright with them paying it all.”
“Yeah you’re crazy I'd have let them pay it all.” He says flopping down onto the couch.
“So how long do you plan on staying exactly?”
“Four days tops, then I’ll be on the move again.”
“Are you still in that band?”
“Yup, we’re on break at the moment.”
“Mm you always did love music, though you were too busy hanging out with Heeseung and Sohee.”
“Oh right Heeseung, you two go to the same university right?”
“How do you know?” You snorted, making your brother roll his eyes in response.
“‘Mom how else?”
“I don’t know ive never seen him on campus, I only know he goes there because mom is always talking about him and you, and he passed me in the ranks for the top scholars.”
“You? A top scholar?” At your brother's reaction you grabbed the nearest thing to you, chucking it at his head.
“Okay okay, no more water bottles, I was only joking.”
Your phone rings interrupting your chat with your brother, slipping your hand into your pocket you pull out your phone and step away from the living room to answer the call.
“Yes Jay.”
“Well hell to you too sweetheart.”
“Jay I don’t have time for this, is this about something important or should I just hang up.”
“Won’t take up too much of your time sweetheart don’t worry, so the party at Jakes was canceled, his parents came home early from their trip, so we were all wondering, maybe we could move it to your place? It's been a while since you’ve thrown one.”
“Jay my brother is here. I can't just throw a party when he just got here.”
“You’re having a party?” Antons ears perk up at the mention of a party and he pushes himself up off the couch before making his way over to her.
“I wouldn’t mind a party” your eyes widen at your brother's sudden approval and you hear Jay chuckle on the other line.
“So is that a yes?”
__________
That was exactly how you ended up here, a house full of random strangers from camps you’d known absolutely nothing about because they had been friends of Jays rather than your own. You sat comfortably in Jay's lap, minding your business while he and his friends talked. Only getting up when you felt like you needed to throw back another drink to cure your boredom. Now you love a good party, but after the day you had you’d simply expected to just lie in bed and rest. As you had been making your way out of the kitchen you heard the faint sound of the doorbell making you audibly sigh as you sat your cup down and sauntered over to the door.
Pulling it open you were surprised to see none other than Lee Heeseung. By the looks of it he hasn't changed one bit, other than the fact that he had grown into his looks he still had dressed exactly the same as he did in high school.
“Heeseung?” You couldn’t hold back the shocked laugh that spilled from your lips.
Lee Heeseung? At a party?
“Yo Heeseung.” Heeseungs gaze shifted from you to your brother who had now been approaching the door with a goofy smile on his face.
“You actually came.” Your gaze shifts between Heeseung and your brother and you couldn’t help but laugh as you step aside and go back to your drink while the two talk
Maybe they hadn’t changed and both of them were just as nerdy and goofy as they had been when there were kids.
The rest of the night had gone by agonizingly slow for you, at some point the party began to die down and everyone had left, the only one staying behind being Heeseung so that he and your brother could catch up.
The two of them sat in the living room while you yourself sat on the kitchen counter stuffing your face with popcorn to cure your drunken dazed hunger.
“You haven’t changed one bit.” You let it slip past your lips in a drunken ramble, having thought it was something you said in your head rather than aloud.
“Did you say something yn?” Your brother asks, forcing Heeseung to turn his head and look at you as well
“Heeseung, he changed at all.” You respond still stuffing your mouth with popcorn
“You grew up a little, but Heeseung still looks the same, remember keely would call him the little nerdboy, and you geek charming.” You say with a small chuckle reliving the memory.
“Yeah, how much did you drink tonight exactly?” You roll her eyes in response.
“Enough to make me feel nice, not enough to make me drunk dad.” You respond sarcastically, making your brighter roll his eyes.
“Did you bring the game?” You could hear Anton ask, his and Heeseungs voices growing fainter and fainter as you made your way up the staircase and to your bedroom.
You had a peaceful shower, those heaven spent thirty minutes having sobered you up just enough. You had been getting ready to lay in bed when a knock at the door interrupted you mid climb. Letting out a frustrated groan you shuffled over to the door, feeling slightly annoyed that once again your peace had been interrupted. Yet you were surprised to see Heeseung on the other side.
“Heeseung?” For a moment he just stood there, his eyes scanning you before his arms snaked around your waist and he pushed you back into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Heeseung what”
“You’re so annoying, even after a year you’re still this annoying?”
“What-“
“You haven’t changed one bit, Jesus, you just don’t know when to stop talking.” He backs you against the door pressing your back directly into the knob making your face twist in discomfort.
“Heeseung, I was only joking.”
“Don’t care, you’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, you’d always have something to say about me, your brother too but I’m not so much interested in anything you’ve said about him.”
“You need to be humbled.” Before you had even had any time to register what was going on he shoves his hand into your shirt. His fingers tracing over your skin making goosebumps rise on your skin. His fingers squeeze your hips in a manner that forces you to stay pressed against him. His fingers slowly trailing down to your exposed thighs just below your shirt making you suck in a breath.
The side of his lips curled into a smirk as he heard a desperate whine that spilled past your plump lips, so quiet he’d damn near miss it if the room wasn’t so silent. The moment you opened your mouth to speak the sound of a slap rang throughout the room followed by a whine from you. Him having slapped your thigh to keep you quiet, focusing amusement in the way you used the back of your hand to try and suppress the noises that spilled past your lips.
“You’ve talked enough tonight.” His fingers immediately met your clit, pushing past your folds and slipping them right inside you with ease.
“Only sound I want to hear from you is your desperate little moans.” His thumb pressed against your clit as he started slowly, thrusting his fingers deep into you like he has done with you thousands of times.
“But A-Anton.” You force yourself to breathe out between ragged breaths, the way Heeseung continuously abuses your clit without letting up, making you squirm against the door.
“Went out to get snacks, told him I'd stay behind and look after you since you drank so much.” He responds by watching the way your face contorts between a look of pleasure and one of confliction.
Without hesitation he slipped in two more fingers, taking the time to stretch your walls and feel you out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. The way you whine for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down. His fingers thrust further into your cunt with every loud cry that left your mouth. He could tell you were getting annoyed with his sudden change in pace, he didn’t care though he thought it was what you deserved
“Heeseung” A chuckle spilled from his lips at how desperate you sounded.
“Hm? What is it baby hm? Too fast for you, should I slow it down some more?” He teases, slowing down the curling and thrusting of his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.
“Look at you whining like a desperate little doll for some little nerdboy when you’ve got a boyfriend.” His eyes shoot to the mirror near your bedside and he forces you to stare straight ahead into it, giving you a perfect view of just how pathetic you looked, whining and whimpering while his fingers that were buried deep inside of you.
Finally forcing his fingers from your now dripping cunt he lifts you up throwing you onto your bed you had been coming into his mere moments ago. Face down ass up, with your hands pressed into your back, he has you completely vulnerable.
“Look at you, aren’t even trying not to give in, it's pathetic honestly. Is Jay not giving you what you need?” His hands traced your curves until his finger hooked within your panties, pulling them to the side.
“Fuck you’re already a mess” it took him less than a minute to shove his pants and boxers to the floor, the view of you making him all the more eager to take you right then and there. Something he had thought about time and time again since high school.
Your eyes rolled back immediately as Heeseung wasted absolutely no time and pushed himself inside of you until he fully bottomed out. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach. He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.
“Taking me so well baby.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pulled your ass up against him. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt from him stretching you out, if any had gone away. It was quite easy for him to get into the rythym of fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars. He rolled his eyes and there was a hint of annoyance in his tone as he watched you force your face into the mattress trying to keep quiet.
Grabbing a fist full of your hair he forces your head back and presses you flat against his chest.
“Don’t try to be quiet now.” Your nails dug so deep into his thighs that you nearly drew blood. He watched the view from the mirror, watching the way strings of saliva dripped down your chin from the way your mouth hung open spilling pornographic moans.
“Look at you getting fucked by a nerd like me.” He immediately leans down to place kisses on your neck, your nipple between his fingers while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the feeling of his fingers against your breasts to every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push. Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.
“Such a pretty little thing gonna cum all over my cock.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for all of them to see, to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. As you were finally able to pry your eyes open you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. The sight of his hands wrapped around your waist holding you close to him as you came completely undone. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he watched you try and conceal your dazed condition.
“Yn? Did Heeseung leave?” Heesung couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard the sound of your brother calling him from the hall.
“Go ahead sweetheart, answer him.” He found it absolutely amusing, the very person you’d always tease and talk about as a kid had been fucking to into your matress making you a complete mess.
“U-um He- had to step o-out for a moment.”
“Did he say where he was going?” You mentally cursed and bit down on your lip to choke back a moan when Heeseungs fingers met your clit.
“A-An errand or something.”
“Errand? O..kay.”
When you finally heard him move away from the door and you weren’t even able to let out a sigh of relief. Your legs shook violently as Heeseung thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock and he wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way you clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill into you.
Slipping his head into the crook of your neck he sucks harshly, leaving evidence that you were now tainted by him.
“Mmm now you have to go down there and keep him distracted so I can make it look like I left.”
“What? You expect me to go down there after this?”
“You want your brother to know you fucked one of his friends?”
“Fuck i like you better when you just sat in the room and played video games all day.”
#enha#enhypen#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#enha smut#enhypen smut#enha hard thoughts#enha hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen oneshots#enha oneshot#enha fanfiction#enhypen fanfiction#heeseung hard hours#enha heeseung#enhypen heeseung#heeseung x reader#heeseung fanfic#heeseung smut#lee heeseung#heeseung#enha fanfic#enhypen fanfic#enha fics#enhypen fics#enha ff#enhypen ff
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Tumblr disappeared the request (I'm going to tear my hair out) but this is a silly little thawing out drabble! Read the series here
request: okay thawing out scenario!! only if you want to but something with talks of their relationship on social media? not smau but either an interview or them reading tweets or theories people are cooking up and laughing about it??
cw: modern au, some allusion to non-hetero relationships not being the default
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words
“They’ve caught on!”
Sirius wastes no time with a greeting as he marches into Remus’ flat. Neither you nor Remus do more than look up from where you’re sitting together on his bed; you’re both used enough to this sort of behavior to defer overreaction.
“Also,” he goes on in the same tone of urgency, “it’s fucking freezing out there. Scoot.”
“Hi.” You laugh as Sirius takes off his shoes and crawls onto the bed with you, immediately tucking his feet under your bum. Remus is grateful his own arse is too bony to be selected for this purpose (much), but you bear it complaisantly. “What have they caught onto?”
Remus loves how comfortable you both are here. His flat has become the unofficial rendezvous point for the three of you, despite having no furniture yet other than a large bed and an armchair one of his neighbors was trying to throw out when he moved in. He presumes this is only because it’s situated nearly equidistant to your apartment and Sirius’, but it makes things marvelously easy for him; most mornings after practice you all simply come here, and Remus doesn’t ever need to go far looking for love when it’s always knocking at his door.
“They know about me and Remus,” Sirius says, tapping at his phone.
Remus feels his brows furrow. “Who knows?”
“The press!”
You lean over to look at his screen, and a snort escapes you. “The press. Tabloids are not the press.”
“They have a picture of us at the grocery, someone must have taken it very sneakily.” Sirius is positively glowing as he delivers news of his stalker victim-hood. “We’re holding hands and everything, it’s very scandalous. I have to say, I’m a bit impressed with how progressive they are to discover us before one of us and y/n,” he scrolls downward, “though there are a few comments about you stealing me away from her…”
Remus can’t help a small smile. Sirius is so clearly delighted with his new celebrity status, he’s unlikely to shake the swagger from his step for the rest of the week.
“Unfortunately, they aren’t quite that progressive,” he says. “I saw a photo of y/n and I last week.”
“What?”
Sirius’ head whips up so fast Remus worries for his neck. If he thinks for a moment to look to you to laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend with him, Remus is mistaken; you turn to him with a similar expression, shock mingled with dismay.
“What?” you ask. “Why didn’t you say?”
“Yeah! Why didn’t you?” Sirius agrees fervently.
Remus shrugs. “I didn’t think any of us would care.” That’s a lie; he knew Sirius would care, but he would care too much, and at ten in the evening when Remus saw the photo he simply didn’t fancy the prospect of staying up all night.
“I want to see.” You’re pulling out your phone now, too, looking up your names online. “What were we doing? Did I look okay?”
Sirius scoffs. “Gorgeous, don’t make me laugh.”
Remus hums his agreement, wrapping an arm around your neck and kissing your head.
“Now that I’m looking…” Sirius continues scrolling. “There are people talking about your pictures in the comments, too. Some people say you’re keeping Remus from me.”
Remus muses aloud, “I wonder how long it will take for someone to actually consider that none of us is keeping any of us from anyone.”
Sirius’ eyes flash. “Care to make a bet?”
“No,” you mumble reflexively, still hunting down your paparazzi photo. Remus, however, is considering it. “It could be argued that I’m keeping both of you away from the general population, anyway.”
“Awe,” Sirius coos. He dips his head to mush a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Though your expression doesn’t change as you stare at your phone, Remus is willing to bet that your skin has warmed a few degrees. “Thanks, baby.”
“Oh god.” Remus can tell the moment you find the photo, because your tapping stops all at once, brows stitching together in distress. “Why would they catch us then, of all times?”
“Let me see.” Sirius practically clambers into your lap, despite the fact that he could easily have looked from his spot beside you, to view your screen.
“I look like death.” Sirius usually monopolizes the drama department in your relationship, but you sound properly horrified. “Is that what I really how my posture is?”
“I didn’t think it was that bad a photo,” says Remus. He leans over to see. “Dove, you look fine.” Behind your back, a skinny finger snakes around to jab Remus’ side. “You look lovely, you always do.”
The photo was taken at your usual coffee shop, likely in the early hours before practice. Ordinarily the three of you would go together, but Remus remembers this particular morning because it was only you two. Sirius had come down with a nasty cold, and you had asked Remus to come to the rink with you anyway to oversee some of your moves for the new routine you were working on. He’d known as soon as he’d seen you that Sirius’ illness had passed on to you; his bright-eyed early riser was droopy and out of it, your smile appearing only at intervals and seemingly with some effort. Remus had played along with your usual morning routine until the warm drinks were in your hands, and then he’d shepherded you back to your apartment and to bed.
“My dark circles are so bad I look like a cartoon skull.” You press the pads of your fingers underneath your eyes concernedly.
“They weren’t that bad,” Remus assures you, rubbing your shoulder. “And I’ve only seen your posture look like that when you’re sick and it’s four in the morning. Don’t worry over it.”
“I think you look cute.” Sirius smiles at the picture. It’s the soft, unaffected kind that makes Remus’ heart thump painfully. “You two do look very couple-y, though, I can see how they drew conclusions.”
“Wonder why,” Remus mutters.
“So, a wager? I say a month until they put it together.”
“A month?” No way is anyone going to guess polyamory in a month; not when they’re just starting to fight about who’s stealing who from whom. “Sure, I’ll take that.”
“He’ll only stack the odds by being obvious in public,” you say, finally putting down your phone with a slight sulk. “I, for one, don’t fancy being kissed with ulterior motive.”
Sirius snuggles up to you, cooing. “I would never kiss you with ulterior motive, my love.”
“Forget it, then,” Remus says hastily.
“No, no, wait. What if I promised not to stack the odds?”
You look at Sirius, interested. “That would mean no public displays of affection until the bet was finished,” you say, slowly.
Sirius’ mouth pinches with displeasure, but he says, “Fine. Two weeks.”
“You think you can make it two weeks, Pads?” Remus teases.
“I’ll have you know I can exercise extraordinary restraint, when I want to. Shake on it.”
“Alright, I’ll take your money.”
#poly!wolfstar olympic au#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x fem!reader#poly!wolfstar x y/n#poly!wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar x self insert#poly!wolfstar fanfiction#poly!wolfstar fanfic#poly!wolfstar fic#poly!wolfstar series#poly!wolfstar enemies to lovers#poly!wolfstar fluff#poly!wolfstar imagine#poly!wolfstar scenario#poly!wolfstar drabble#poly!wolfstar blurb#poly!wolfstar oneshot#poly!wolfstar one shot#remus lupin x sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x sirius black x reader#wolfstar x reader#sirius black#remus lupin#figure skater!sirius#figure skater!reader#coach!remus#poly wolfstar
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𝐄𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
summary : you know better than to talk to other guys.
tw : dubcon [consent isn’t clearly voiced, but reader has mixed emotions] rough sex, jealousy, yandere themes, toxic behaviors, hate fucking, no protection, creampie, possessive Thanos
words : 4.9k
notes : NOT PROOF READ (we die like men). sorry this took so long,,,,, what’s up with me liking bathroom sex? Anyways, the anon who sent in this request- holy fuck. I just want to say that I didn’t really care for Thanos at first but after watching edits of him and rewatching the season, I fell madly in love with him. So. I thank the anon who sent in this request !
It was a massacre, the last game.
The stench of body odor and copper lingers within the white-brick walled room. The sterile lights practically assault your brain after the game you just played.
The air always felt eerily lighter after a game, like fate had granted mercy, allowing you to survive one more day. Your body’s still lively, already sore from being pulled and grabbed in different directions in Mingle. The adrenaline pumps fiercely, nausea pills within your gut and it doesn’t feel like it’ll die down soon. The guards had handed out food once the headcount was confirmed, but you simply don’t have the appetite. You mindlessly pick at your food, pushing it around the plastic tupperware as you mull over the same new dilemma of your current life. Of how everytime that damned glass pig falls from the ceiling, when the lights dim and the pot glows, lightening up the faces below, more and more money dumps into the pot.
The money of lives lost.
It was strange, how after every game, most of the people are ill with fear, at least the ones who weren’t sadists. Their eyes sunken and glossy, their bodies stiff, their clothes splattered in the blood of the poor victim next to them. They all witnessed atrocities that would haunt them for the rest of their lives, but that all seemed to wash away when money came into play. It all washed away knowing that you were chosen to live another day.
When it comes time for the vote, it’s like most of them want to take luck on a joyride, forgetting that they could possibly be next. All you have to do is believe you’ll be lucky the next and the next right? Just one more, right? Fuck the person beside you.
As long as it wasn’t you, right?
Despite pressing “X” game after game, you take a chance on hope, you pray that humanity hasn’t lost what little morality they have left, or whatever god or gods haven’t abandoned humanity.
You aren’t a monster. Money is the reason why you opted to play childhood games for money, but you didn’t want it like this. You fear every time that gun goes off, sometimes anticipating it before it happens, knowing someone had messed up and would pay for their life. A small drop in the bucket. Once, the shooters were so close to you that the sound of the gunshots one after the other ricocheted through your ear drums. Blood splattered your face, warm and reeking of copper after the men in the six legged race beside you spent their last moments on earth begging for their life. Thanos couldn’t have picked a better spot to sit and watch, and you spent hours scrubbing your skin raw to get the blood off in the bathroom sink.
You didn’t feel clean after.
“Min-su, you need to eat.” You mumble, weird how tight your face feels right now. Moving your own lips feels like a chore. You scan the crowd of people mingling quietly as they eat. How absolutely absurd that they can even stomach eating right now.
The baby-faced man just hums in response. It’s hard to believe he’s 27 with the way he acts, let alone his looks.
“I’m not really hungry either.” You shrug. Turning to him, Min-su’s attention is elsewhere. Empty eyes stare off into a group of people on the other side of the room, but you can tell he’s not really looking at them. He’s on a different planet, seeing through the wall, staring through a state of nothingness.
Dissociating from reality gets you far here when there’s downtime.
“But you have to at least hydrate. Today was a lot.” You offer him your bottled water, still unopened since his was already empty, forgotten at his feet. You couldn’t stomach liquids either, might as well give it away.
“Min-su.” You say louder, your cheekbones ache, your eyes sting.
“Y-yeah?”
“Drink.” Despite your skin protesting, you smile. His youthful face is still pristine, and you can’t believe it. Even yourself, slipping and sliding, running through pools of red after the last game, can feel the crust of dried blood on your chin, the dampness of it seeping through your clothes.
Thankfully, he takes your offer, immediately opening it to slug it down. It’s probably the most normal you’ve seen him.
Satisfied, you playfully shove his knee.
“Next vote, we’ll all say ‘no more.’” You reassure him. ”Then we can all go home and eat a real meal. Wouldn’t that be nice?” With the little time you’ve been here, food seemed to dwindle less and less each serving.
His puppy-like eyes light up just a little, a small curve of his lips gives you hope that someone is still behind those eyes.
“Yeah, that would be nice.”
”Maybe we can go to this new restaurant they just opened in my neighborhood. I heard they have the best bibimbap, I just haven’t had the time to go.” Or the money.
“You’d like to go with me?”
And for some reason, that pinched your heart. You don’t know anything about the kid, hell, he could be in crippling debt from shady shit, but you can’t help but want to reach out a hand to him. Clearly, he’s an adult, but you don’t think he could make his own decision even if his life depended on it. That’s why-
“Hey!”
That’s why he’s a sheep, following a man like Thanos because he can’t just say no.
“I said hey! You goin’ fucking deaf?” Without turning, you already know that voice, those steps.
”I thought you were my brother, man. The hell you doing talkin’ to my girl?” Thanos’s voice towers over you from behind. Taking a deep breath to close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere but here.
Min-su's eyes grow wide, his mouth opens to speak, but he freezes.
Fingers flip your hair for attention, but you remain facing Min-su.
“You trying to fuck with me? Over here smiling and shit.” Thanos takes a seat on the steps beside you, fingers twirling your hair. “You won’t win her over like that, my boy. Takes a real man to handle this one.” You cringe, you always did when he spewed his bullshit.
“What’s so funny, huh?” He tests.
Min-su’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.
From your peripheral, Thanos’s face is close to yours, watching every muscle. His head cocks to the side, lips forming a pout and subtly nods his head up and down.
He’s high. It wasn’t even a week and you can tell his antics. He must have taken a pill of god-knows-what from his necklace.
For some unknown and unsolicited reason to you, Thanos has sunken his claws into you day one.
You were in line, waiting to take your picture when a guy vaguely familiar to you was suddenly surrounded by what looked like fans. Number 230. Girls fawned over him, guys wanting to chop up a conversation - a rapper, one reminds you. Now how the fuck does a famous rapper get into a place like this? He must have spent every ‘earning’ dollar on foreign cars, drugs, girls… Money can’t buy intelligence.
He had locked eyes with you after being scolded by the pink guard, and before he entered the stairwell, he gestured a heart with his hands.
He seemed like a normal, cocky guy with little quirks at first. Never being one to enter the scene of his caliber, you figured it was normal the way he carried himself. Never did you think he’d actually take a liking to you to the point of being a nuisance. You’ve come to find out that he was a sociopath and terrifying during the games. One pop of those pills and he’d cause chaos purposefully. To your shock, the purple haired man who gave you a heart just 10 minutes ago, pushed 3 innocent people during red light green light and smiled when they were shot. Skipping around, twirling and dancing while others ran for their life to cross that finish line.
After the first game, he approached with confidence, spitting out a freestyle about how he fancies you. Confessing empty feelings towards you and sitting uncomfortably close during the first dinner. You didn’t pay much attention to him, but it didn’t phase him. You were already locked in, forced to participate in these games with him as an ally.
No matter how much you pull away, how much you ignore, his leg will always touch yours, his fingers will always thread through your hair, his eyes will always find yours, always watching and waiting. He never missed a moment to compliment you, to touch you gently, even when you haven’t showered in days. For why, you didn’t know. Night one, he had even threatened someone to take the bed next to yours.
You were pulled into the next game with him, and thankfully you were good at ddakji, giving your team a jumpstart with time. And to your surprise of his coordination, he was good at jegi. With Mingle, Thanos kept a bruising grip on your forearm, keeping you close, not more than a hair's length from him. Even when the game called for 2 people, he’d abandoned his friend to pull you in a room.
“Just one more game, yeah? I want to see you join the O gang.” He said sweetly, pressing the pad of his fingers into the palm of your hand. “You’re not trying to leave me, are you? After this we can leave here together.” Whether he meant it or not, you could care less. You wanted to leave. Leave him and these games behind. To hell with the money at this point.
And when you pressed that “X”, keeping your badge of hope, you could feel the daggers from across the room. He was furious. Surprisingly, he didn’t voice it, because after all was said and done, the majority ruled in favor of continuing the games, breaking your heart into little itty bitty shards of glass. Your fire had faded, your faith had been shattered, but Thanos didn’t care. He was so happy that he picked you up and spun you around, rambling about how he has more time with you now.
“My boy, I asked what’s so fucking funny? Hello?” Thanos waves his hand obnoxiously between the two of you.
“Would you just leave it? We were just-“
Thanos’s eyes find the two empty water bottles beside the man in front of you. Putting two and two together, he snaps. Thanos lunges forward, threatening to grab Min-su by the collar, but he stops before he does.
”Did you give your shit to him? What, didn’t want to ask me if I needed it first?” Towering over the two of you, the purple haired man taps his chest, swaying over his feet.
“Babygirl,” his voice drawls, “why you gotta do me like that?”
It’s been too long of a day, your body aches, your head pounds at the inside of your skull… you’re done with this. Standing up, you give a reassuring smile to Min-su before stepping down the stairs to head to the bathroom.
To your relief, Thanos doesn’t follow. While everyone left around you crawls up to their bed, the announcement blares on the overhead speakers in that unnatural feminine voice, “LIGHTS OUT IN 10 MINUTES.”
Standing before the pink guard, you request to use the bathroom and thankfully, whoever is under that mask, doesn’t give you a hard time. He simply steps aside to let you walk down the sickly pesto pink hallway to the women’s lavatory.
Your steps echo over the pristine white tile, sterile lights glow from the ceiling as you scan the long and empty bathroom. You’re the only one here. Sighing, you stand over the sink and collect yourself.
Your clothes reek of decay, the wrists of your jacket damp and sticky - and you were right about feeling that dried blood on your chin. Your eyes are sunken and glossy, your hair messy and unbrushed and the beds of your fingernails are crusted in red bodily fluids.
Enjoying the moments of silence underneath the fluorescent glow, you begin your nightly routine scrubbing yourself clean.
“LIGHTS OUT IN 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1”
The bathroom remains lit, and you give it a second for the pink guard to come get you, but all you hear is the water dripping from the faucet and… otherwise complete silence. Your eyes watch the door to your left, but it remains still as it was.
They must have forgotten you were in here, but that doesn’t bother you. This was the first time you’ve heard silence in days. No snoring, no rustling of bedding, no screaming, gunshots, crying, praying… just complete and utter silence.
You’ve only had a moment to begin fixing your hair when you hear the hinges of the door creak open.
Turning your head, you’re met with Thanos swaggering into the room, heels scuffling over the tile. Eyes like daggers remain fixated on you by the sink.
“There you are, my baby girl. Why’d you dip on me earlier? I was trying to defend my girl.” He says casually, leaning against the wall.
You can admit the fact that the man before you is… attractive. His sharp facial features stand out in a crowd. The tattoos that litter his skin give even more of an edge to him. He’s tall and lean… But he’s an ass who has been lingering over you unsolicitedly for days. His personality is equivalent to needles splitting your brain open, but you can’t deny that in this moment, he looks good.
“How- how did you get in here?” Your only moments of silence, the only time you had to yourself was eventually corrupted by him, as always. You keep your face tight and swallow the feelings of confusion and anger.
Thanos shrugs, pursing his lips.
“I just came right in. No guards out there, plus they can’t keep me from you baby girl, you know that.”
“You’re fucking insane. Get out of the girls bathroom!”
”Relax, baby,” pushing himself off the wall, he takes his time to stalk towards you. Hand over his chest, he raises his brows in a sympathetic manner.
“You hurt me back there. Can’t you see how much I care for you? I never treated a lady like this before.”
You back up slowly, observing his every moment closely. His pupils were dilated and his lips curled into a grin.
“Just the the fuck out, we’re going to get in trouble if you’re caught in here.” You didn’t have a death wish right now, given the situation you’re in. You’d rather die messing up in a game than by the choice Thanos has made.
“Don’t test me,” he says sternly, pointing two fingers at you. His nostrils flare before his face relaxes.
”C’mon baby girl, tell me what you and my boy were talking about? You made me look like an ass out there.”
Gripping the cool porcelain sink, you take a breath. Maybe talking calmly to him will de-escalate the situation. It’s evident that the guards either know you both are in here and just don’t care, or they can’t even hear you.
“Thanos, I was just trying to cheer him up. You know how shy he is, Min-su isn’t cut out for these things. I mean, look at the situation we’re in, it’s traumatizing.” That’s probably the longest thing you’ve said to him, and you notice that he notices. Giving a smug look of satisfaction, he’s eager to respond.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” His arms shoot open and he leans his chest forward. “This shit is fun. He’s under my wing, he’s got nothing to worry about. If you guys stop voting to leave we’d have a higher chance of getting all that money and leaving here together as a group, you know what I’m sayin’? And you guys just fuck around behind my back.”
You observe his characteristics when he talks to you. He’s expressive with his body, leaning his body side to side, talking with his hands. You’ve noticed that he’s more fidgety when he’s high.
“I can take care of you baby girl, like I have been doing. Keep all your attention on me and we won’t have a problem, yeah?” Your plan didn’t work. It’s calmed him down some, you can see it in his eyes, he’s looking at you like he… adores you. His eyes dart around your face in awe, his mouth slightly dropped open.
He’s just fucking high.
“I’m done, we’re going to bed.”
Moving to leave past him, Thanos grips your wrist painfully tight.
“The hell-“
He pushes your body back in front of him, bringing your wrist up to your face level. His other arm slithers over the small of your back, keeping you close. He’s warm, and surprisingly clean, despite his clothing. His grip is bruising, and you’re too sore to give back much fight. He might just end up killing you here, in an institutional bathroom.
Your eyes blow wide in surprise. The lighting here is so stark that you can see yourself in the reflection of his glossy eyes and enlarged pupils.
“You fucked with me, and here’s how this is going to go.” His all too excited smile was telling - that he was enjoying this. He’s been waiting for this moment.
”I keep you safe, I feed you… and you wanna flirt with other guys right in front of me?” His voice amplified the last of that sentence and you squeeze your eyes shut in response.
“What’s he got that I don’t have, huh?” His head cocks to the side before he presses his face close to your ear. You shutter at the yelling, but he doesn’t allow you to move an inch.
“You’re insane.” You whisper.
”The only thing that’s been driving me fuckin’ insane in here is you… you…” He pauses.
His face quickly reels back, face confused as ever before it drops again into that soft expression. His mood swings give you whiplash. You never know what’s next with him.
”Baby, I don’t even know your name.”
You shake your head, looking up at him perplexed. “Wha- I don’t,” you begin. The way he can change topics on a dime-
“My baby giiiirl,” he drawls, “tell me your name. I don’t even know my girls name.” He pouts.
You stare back at him in shock, refusing to move a muscle. But obviously this won’t do for him. Unsatisfied with your lack of reaction, or name giving, he twists your wrist tight again, causing you to open your mouth in a silent scream.
“Tell me baby, tell me your name.” He presses the arm around your back tightly as he guides you backwards. Your body collides into the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and now you’re really fucked.
You give in. You offer your name on a silver plate to him, the last bit of yourself you haven’t given away was now his.
“Ah,” he takes it in and repeats your name over and over again, tasting it on his tongue and savoring it like a candy sweet.
You swallow thickly, taking in each breath slowly from the double sided pressure. It’s all getting too much. The anger you felt earlier comes bubbling up again. His annoyance, his obnoxiousness, his presence - it’s all too overwhelming. His reactions to things, the way he bullies the other players, his corruption and carelessness…
”Fuck off.” You spit.
Thanos whistles then smiles wide. You fucked up. You fucked up in a way that unleashed the depths of his insanity. Bringing his face unbearably close to yours he gives an airy laugh.
”God, you’re always such a prissy bitch,” he sighs, savoring the icy daggered look you give him, “I fucking love that.”
”And you’re a fucking freak.”
“You know I’ve been waiting forever to be alone with you. Show you how I really feel.” He responds, not even acknowledging what you said to him.
Thanos goes again to press his leg between your thighs, he pushes his knee up to your core. Now you’re stuck between the wall, his body and straddling his leg with absolutely no space to move. Your face twinges in the slightest of pleasure, but you quickly collect yourself.
He definitely notices.
”You’re like a pretty painting, like in one of those fancy museums.” He slurs, keeping his eye on you. “Could look at you all day…” he spaces off.
“Thanos,” you wiggle in his grip, unable to breathe.
“Baby if you keep moving like that…” You already feel it. Not just feeling it, but you see it. Down between your bodies, his bulge protrudes upright, reaching to his waistband. Little wet spots of precum had already formed through the fabric of his jumpsuit god-knows when.
You want to whine, but you opt to squeeze your eyes shut and extend your neck up to face the ceiling. The white light illuminates through your eyelids, reminding you where you are.
Thanos takes this moment of your exposed neck to devour it. He’s sloppy, but coordinated. His wet tongue drags up to your jawline, leaving hot saliva that cools over. He groans at the taste. He’s not so gentle with his teeth when he drags them over your flesh, nibbling and scraping the tender spot under your chin.
Mindlessly, Thanos humps into you. His thick bulge grinds over your sweet spot in the perfect way… forcing a soft moan past your lips. With each hump, you feel his sweatpants push and push down, exposing the head of his cock.
Thanos loosens his hold on you, bringing one hand to the bottom of your sweater to lift it up, exposing your belly.
You gasp, immediately feeling the wetness of his precum stringing from his cock to your stomach with every thrust. Your eyes shot open, almost going blind from the lights above you. Tufts of his hair block your vision, and the scratching of his earring begins to irritate your cheek.
“I’m sorry babygirl, I was just mad earlier. I know you’d never flirt with Min-su…”
Hump, hump, hump.
“Ah - but if you ever think about giving your time to anyone else, you’re fucking dead.”
His voice rasps lowly in your ear and his precum starts to get messier by the second. Looking down, you see his cockhead red and angry. He’s thick and long. Veins dance along his shaft beautifully, and his sweet smell wafts to your nose.
“Needed you so bad all those days ago. Can’t believe I finally have you. You’ve been thinking of this too, yeah?”
He doesn’t give time to answer, not like you would have. Your emotions were a mix between anger, shock and… pleasure. It was a confusing mix, it was intense and steamy. Your core burned for him but your heart raged. In a way, you were flattered, but that feeling was none compared to the others.
In a swift motion, Thanos pulls away his knee, much to your internal dismay, to pull down your pants to your ankles. He gives himself just a second to free himself, only to the base of his balls. Standing upright at attention, you see fully how thick he is. He was a tall man, but you didn’t think his size would correlate…
From base to tip, he was the same circumference. The tip of his cock a dark blushed pink, almost red, while his balls were plump with clean cut hair. He must have trimmed the day he was kidnapped for the games.
“Come here baby girl,” he whispers before picking you up with ease and pressing you against the cold tile once again. He hooks his arms under your legs, pressing your legs open to a standing mating press. Your body contests with the stretch, but you’re too weak to adjust yourself.
Using the leverage the wall gave, he positions himself comfortably, cock lining up to your opening. His head prodded your entrance, and you feel all too hot.
Giving him an icy glare, all he gives back is an expression of sickly love.
“Don’t worry baby, you’ll realize one day how much you love me back. But for now, I gotta show everyone who you belong to.”
Opening your mouth to respond, Thanos was quick to press his bulbous cockhead past your opening. Your mouth slacks open in pleasure, while your core burns at the sensation. You would hate to admit it, but you were already pooling from the pressure of his knee earlier.
But of course he took notice.
“Oh fuck, I feel you. See, I knew you’ve been wanting this too.”
Thanos pushed and pushed through your walls, deeper and deeper.
”Sorry baby, I couldn’t wait. I’ll touch you next time, yeah?”
Your walls twitch at the intrusion, but your slick allows him to press in with ease. Finally hitting the end, you gasp for air. His cock must be pressing against your cervix, the pressure is too much, you internally beg for him to move. His balls softly push against the curve of your ass before he moves his hips back, letting his cock drag along your walls.
“Oh my god,” you barely whisper. It was like a dream. A fucked up, but also marvelous dream.
Before he does anything else, Thanos latches on to the base of your neck like a leach, sucking your skin roughly like he’s trying to take every last molecule of your blood.
Humping into you only by inches, slowly creating your pussy into the shape of him, he sucks and sucks deeply at your neck. Closing your eyes, tears of pleasure being to pool at the feeling.
“Ouch, Thanos, please,” You writhe in his hold, but he doesn’t let up until he wants to. Popping his lips off of you, his breath is ragged. Dark eyes meet yours, intense and hypnotizing.
“You’re fucking mine. I’ll kill anyone that even looks at you.”
And with that, he plunges his cock deep inside you again, all the way to press himself against your cervix.
He starts a brutal pace, fucking you deep and raw. The intensity within his eyes swim with a sickly adoration before he asks-
“Kiss me. Fuck, kiss me.”
You whine, pressing your lips into his. His kiss was rough, full of teeth and need. Your head bumps against the tile and without a second thought, Thanos wraps one of your legs around him to keep you in place before placing his hand behind your head to cradle your skull.
His tongue forces his way into yours, and he groans at your taste, your warmth. His breath is ragged and fast, fucking you roughly into oblivion. His pelvis rubs your clit with every motion and you grind back down every time he meets you deep.
Pulling away, he presses his sweaty forehead to yours before moving his other hand to the fat of your ass. His dull fingernails dig into your flesh with an iron grip, moving you to his rhythm.
“Not going to last long, fuck baby-“ He groans before sticking his tongue out to lick and suck at your bottom lip. It must be an oral fixation for him when he’s like this.
Your name falls from his mouth like a mantra, over and over again like before. He whispers sweet nothings of how much he loves you, how he’s so happy to have met you and -
“You better fucking vote to stay in the games next round.”
It was a threat. But the pleasure you felt within your core washed it all away within milliseconds. You feel the slick from your cunt coat his balls and your belly starts to tighten. The string of your euphoria was under so much pressure and it was ready to snap.
Thanos’s thrusts became sloppy and even harder than before. The sound of skin slapping was all you could hear, that and the moaning that fell effortlessly past his lips.
1 pump, 2 pump, 3… your body was a ragdoll in his grip, sending you over the edge in nonverbal pleasure. You silently cry out, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your walls contracted and shuddered around him, causing him to lose all bearings.
“Fucking love you…” was all he said before filling your pussy with hot ropes of cum. It was too much, and you felt the balloon pop deep inside you. Warm, sticky liquid coats your walls and begins to seep out with every tired thrust he gives.
You both stayed there for a few moments, before Thanos kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose and finally your lips. You’re too tired to respond. Him pulling out of you is equivalent to a wall opening a dam.
But he was oddly gentle, like those little moments he’d give you when he wasn’t high.
He must have come down.
Because he was gentle, setting you down to the floor, and gentle when he took your hand to hold you upright. Your legs threatened to give out any second, and with everything that had happened today, you were absolutely spent.
He didn’t clean you up though. Instead, the purple haired man caressed your face softly while his other hand shoved his cum back up inside your cunt.
“Tired?” He nodded to you, and all you could do was nod back. “Let’s go to bed, sweet girl. Tomorrow we got more money to earn.”
He took the time to pull up your pants and tuck himself back inside his before slinging an arm around you.
You realize the position you’re in. You’re at his mercy of the games, and beyond that.
And you just realized that you can’t say no either.
#yandere squid game#yandere thanos#yandere squid game smut#yandere thanos x reader#thanos x reader#thanos squid game#squid game smut#thanos x reader smut
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[Arcane preference] reacting to a jealous s/o
Disclaimer: I’ve had about ten different requests regarding jealousy, and while this doesn’t cover all of them, it does address some. Disclaimer #2: It would be out of character to write that everyone handles it perfectly, so read at your own discretion. Lastly, as always, I’ve got an Arcane longfic in progress! If you’d like to read it, click HERE, and it’ll take you straight to the AO3 page.
Jayce:
You need to get a grip.
He’s an understanding person, but there’s a limit to everything. If jealousy stems from insecurity and is brought up as a calm and peaceful discussion, he’ll sit beside you to talk it out.
However, if it’s a scene, if it escalates into yelling, restrictive demands on his freedom, or absurd and over-the-top behavior, he’ll enter a period of coldness where he’ll reflect on things.
But if it happens again, don’t expect understanding.
You can’t expect to publicly humiliate someone like that, try to control them because of your own insecurities, and not face a negative reaction.
Viktor:
Raises an eyebrow, his only initial reaction.
The first thing he’ll do is laugh—whether because he finds the situation ridiculous or it’s just an instinctive response, that’s what you’ll see first.
From his perspective, he’s working like a beast of burden not just to be independent but to be a person with dignity, breaking free from the dynamic imposed by Zaun and Piltover that has shackled him like some original sin. And now, not only do you not trust him, but you’re also trying to put him back in the role of a pet that needs taming and obedience.
He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, knows he hasn’t been giving attention to anyone else but you and his work.
That’s why jealousy only damages the relationship.
Ekko:
Perplexed.
Assuming no one would take a public scene well, in the case of a civil confrontation, he’d mostly be confused.
It makes sense, sure, given how close-knit all the Firelights are, but it never occurred to him that it might bother you.
He doesn’t even know how he should react. He’d definitely try to talk with you, figure out what exactly made you feel that way, and explain the ambiguous situation that set you off.
A scene isn’t a dealbreaker with him, but it does lead to a few days of awkwardness before a fight inevitably happens.
That doesn’t mean he lacks self-respect, though. After the umpteenth time, he’ll simply give up.
Vander:
He’s too old for this kind of nonsense, to be honest.
If you throw a scene, he’ll just ignore it. He’ll let you yell and stomp your feet until you’re out of energy, let you cool off, and then come back to have a conversation.
His response will be laced with irony, like, “Well, who wouldn’t be jealous of the most charming man in the Lanes, after all?” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the issue seriously—he’s just trying to lighten the mood.
He’ll ask how you think he should handle it but ultimately decides for himself whether your request is reasonable or over the top.
When you lose your cool, he’ll treat you the same way he used to handle kids throwing tantrums.
Silco:
Let’s assume no one would dare make a scene in public with Silco out of pure survival instinct. That alone would be an immediate dealbreaker, and you wouldn’t have any chance to confront, talk, or even approach his space again.
A private scene would irritate him regardless. When you’re done, his response would be, “Is that all?”
He’s a diplomatic person. The idea of yelling—or even wasting unnecessary energy on these trivial little issues when his vision is grand, almost boundless—feels almost insulting to him.
If, however, you approach it as a calm and rational discussion, while he may still feel mildly annoyed, he’ll try to reassure you and help you understand that there’s no real reason for you to feel that way.
Jinx:
A fertile ground for conflict, given her fear of abandonment, obsessiveness, and jealousy.
Reverse card: if you start a scene, there’s a high chance she’ll throw it right back at you, leading to a full-blown argument.
Her fear of losing you means that even if your request makes her furious, she’ll still do what you want.
Not the healthiest relationship you could have, but hey, who am I to judge?
She’s not one to leave arguments unresolved. After the shouting match, there have to be cuddles, even if only to prove there’s no lingering resentment between you two.
Vi:
Completely caught off guard.
Now, no one likes a scene, BUT she grew up with a sister who felt emotions way too strongly, so there’s a good chance she’ll switch into “caregiver” mode and try to calm you down immediately instead of getting mad.
She wasn’t expecting an outburst like that. She’s likely more hurt by the fact that you feel this way than anything else.
After the fight, she’ll probably ask to hold you for a bit, trying to make up for unintentionally hurting you.
She’s open to changing the things you need her to change because she values you more than other people.
Caitlyn:
Caitlyn’s problem is that she has the dignity—and let’s be honest, that’s what it is—to tell you to fuck off after a jealous scene, especially if it’s in public. But unfortunately, she pours her soul into relationships, so she’ll try to talk it out.
She’ll meet you halfway within reason. Obviously, you can’t ask her to stop going out alone with colleagues after work, but if your concerns are more reasonable, she’ll try to accommodate them.
However, that doesn’t mean she’ll be calm immediately after the scene. Quite the opposite. She’ll need the rest of the day to cool off and a night’s sleep to forget how angry she was.
If you handle things diplomatically instead of with a scene, she won’t be angry but might feel a bit sad.
Mel:
If you throw a scene, expect to be left right where you are—literally.
If you want to yell, stomp your feet, and act immature, she’ll just turn and walk away, and you’ll find out the state of your relationship when you try to return to your shared apartment and find it empty.
It’s not about pettiness; it’s about the humiliation of being publicly exposed, about dragging your private matters into the open, showing so little respect that you can’t even grant her privacy.
If it’s a discussion, prepare to bottle it up.
Everything she does is for appearances, for trust, and as a political figure, she can’t neglect something as crucial as her public image.
It’s up to you to trust her enough.
Sevika:
A public scene disgusts her and puts her in a horrible position. She’ll be mocked—Silco will hit her once and tell her that “You walk her like a dog,” and his goons won’t let her live it down either.
Depending on her mood, the timing, and countless other factors, her reaction could range from ignoring you to screaming at you in the bar to telling you to get a grip or even walking away and ending it.
It’s about respect, pride, and understanding where your limits lie—and this might be one of those moments where you’ve crossed the line.
If you talk things out calmly, don’t expect her to console you. Whether you trust her or not isn’t her problem.
She holds no grudges, but she also has no intention of babying you.
#jayce x reader#viktor x reader#ekko x reader#silco x reader#vander x reader#jinx x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#sevika x reader#mel x reader#jayce talis#viktor arcane#ekko arcane#silco arcane#arcane vander#jinx#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#mel medarda#sevika#arcane x reader#arcane headcanon#arcane 2#arcane writing#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#mel arcane#jinx arcane#arcane jinx#arcane silco
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TWO IN THE MORN
pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader
summary: you complain to your stepbrother about your insomnia. fortunately, he has the solution for this issue.
contains: smut, 18+ content mdni, stepcest, stepbro!nicholas, sort of romantic/fluffy, slight age gap (reader is 19, nick is 22), reader is lowkey gullible, pwnp, fingering, finger riding, clit play, under the clothes, squirting, cum eating, risk kink, praise kink, aftercare.
a/n: whew this had me tingling! hope it’s the same for ya’ll 😫 sometimes foreplay can be lowkey sexier than actual intercourse. it’s the ✨tension✨ for me, that’s jmo. anyways, thank you all for the support! i’ll get on those requests.
taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy
“shh, you don’t wanna wake up mommy and daddy do you, princess?”
your stepbrother, nicholas, lowly whispered as his hand was buried deep within your silk black pajama pants patterned with white hearts, his ring and middle fingers moving like clockwork in the depths of your clenching walls. you tried to keep yourself quiet as possible, but due to nicholas’ skill, it was damn near impossible.
“mm. mm-mhm.” you manage to whimper, feeling so bashful under his searing, ebony gaze. your chest heaved deliberately as the spaghetti straps of your top started to droop down the skin of your shoulders. your leaned back with your hands placed firmly flat on his mattress, your fingers practically clawed at his plaid sheets. instinctively, you bucked your hips in tandem to the motion of his fingers, softly hissing through your teeth when nicholas brought his thumb to swipe against your sensitive button. a strained whine escaped from you when he pinched it between his thumb and index.
“shh, easy, princess. i’ll give you what you need.” he seductively reassured, pushing his fingers further within your wet heat. what you really needed was some sleep.
ever since your mom married his dad, things have been interesting concerning your relationship with nicholas. he wasn’t a bad stepbrother. he was chill, protective, charming, funny, and an all around good “brotherly” figure to have around. if by brotherly, you mean coming to him with a request for advice on your boy issues, then hell yes. you’ve already talked it out with girls, but who understood guys better than—a guy? nicholas always knew what to say and you would easily follow his advice because it actually got you asked out by your crush! you were grateful to him and you’d never dare to say it out loud to a living soul, but you thought he was—hot. even if it weren’t for the circumstances of being bound by your parent’s marriage, you wouldn’t lie that you had a tiny crush on your stepbrother. it kind of made you jealous how your friends could easily fawn over him and rave about how handsome he is while you couldn’t even courtly agree, so that you wouldn’t come off as a perverted creep.
besides, he was just easy to talk to and hang out with.
this night in particular would completely shift your whole family dynamic. it was two in the morning and you couldn’t sleep, no matter how long you closed your eyes, you weren’t lulled into slumber like you should. that’s when you got up from the comfort of your bed, walked quietly passed your parent’s bedroom down the hall, and found yourself right in front of nicholas’ bedroom door that was slightly cracked open. you peeped through the small opening to see that he was still awake himself, scrolling and typing away on his phone while laying on his bed. respecting his privacy, you lift your knuckles to knock the “secret code” you two created to signal to each other when you wanted access to each other’s rooms. within seconds, you heard the springs of the mattress creak as your stepbrother received the signal and his footsteps quietly, yet deliberately reached the door before he opened it wider to reveal his six foot figure leaning against the doorframe. it was dark, but you could still see that he was wearing a black ribbed tank top that showed off his large biceps with grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, his signature gold cross chain around his neck twinkled in the darkness. fuck, no matter what he wore, he always managed to look amazingly hot.
you try not to gawk too long before he’d start to notice. you swallowed quickly before uttering an awkward greeting in a low, breathy voice.
“hey.” you say, hiding your hands behind your back. it was something you did when you were nervous.
nicholas raised a brow, tilting his head in concern before running a hand through his already messy, brown hair.
“hey.” he reciprocated, his voice raspy, but low enough so only both of you could hear. “are you okay, y/n?”
at his inquiry, you shake your head.
“i can’t sleep. can—can i hang out in here with you? i hope i’m not intruding.” you ask, your doe eyes meeting his what was once a sleepy gaze, instantly lit up at your request.
“uh, yeah—sure. make yourself comfortable.”
nicholas nods before giving a once over to his bed and steps aside to allow you inside of his bedroom. as you take your spot at the foot of the bed, he slowly closes the door, careful not to make a sound that could wake your sleeping parents. after switching on the lamp, he steps over to the bed and comfortably takes a seat a mere foot away from you because he respects your space as you do his. nicholas leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his eyes meet with yours.
“so what’s keeping you awake tonight, hm? is everything okay with you?”
you shift, clasping your hands on your laps and shrugging your shoulders.
“i don’t know—maybe it’s stress. i’ve tried everything to get relaxed enough. a hot shower, chamomile tea. hell, i even put on one of those sleep hypnosis videos and it still didn’t work, nicholas.” you explain, counting on your fingers as he takes in every word and giving an attentive nod. with a hum from his chest, nicholas straightens up his posture before giving your figure a quick examination, raking his eyes up and down. now, you were starting to feel like an idiot at his silence, but you weren’t expecting what was going to come out his mouth next.
“i don’t think you’ve tried everything.” he states, casually leaning back on the bed, his hands giving him leverage. you shoot him a puzzled look and turn your body to completely face him with a furrowed gaze.
“well—what do you mean? what do you think can put me to sleep and keep me asleep this late, nicholas?” you question, unconsciously leaning forward as you were itching to find the solution. nicholas’ guidance has never really failed you, so you were eager for his opinion on the matter. he didn’t move an inch as you came closer, there was something different that twitched inside of him. at the sight of your scantily clad upper body in that black and white polka-hearted top with the lace hugging the melanated mounds of your breasts that was merely a few inches from his chest, he couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance to the display before meeting your soft, pleading gaze.
“here’s my solution— an orgasm.” he blatantly suggests, his eyes flickering to a certain suggestive light. you were bit inexperienced in that area, so it was only natural that the heat of embarrassment scorched your skin, your mouth agape as nicholas struck you speechless.
“a what?” you ask, registering what you just heard.
nicholas could only chuckle at your reaction which he found to be absolutely adorable. he loved that your unique beauty and your trusting nature painted an image of naivety that just turned him on. he couldn’t deny that when you came to him for almost everything under the sun, it made him feel a sense of purpose, power, and control. a lazy smile painted on his chiseled face paired with those half-lidded bedroom eyes of his that always put you in a tizzy.
“c’mon, we’re both adults here. i know you heard me, but i’ll say it again: an orgasm can help get you to sleep.”
“how do you know?” you question with a tilt of your head, but then all the dots start to connect, realization painted on your already heated face.
“that means you’ve done it before.”
“atta girl!”
with a snicker, he pats the top of your head in which you shake him off.
“so—sex can wear you out like that?”
he nods before giving you a further explanation.
“well, all aspects of sex can do that. from fucking to masturbation. even oral, depending on how intense it is.”
at the mention of masturbation, it was now your turn to deliberately nod.
“i guess that makes sense. god, i sound so sexually uneducated and i’m almost twenty for fuck’s sakes.” you exasperatedly sigh, nicholas chuckled and scooted closer towards you making his leg brush against yours.
“it’s no big deal, it’s all about knowing your body in your time. you’ll get there, y/n.” he reassures you with a sincere gaze.
“see, that’s the problem, nicholas.”
“what is?”
“i can’t get there. like—when i, y’know.” you pause, gesturing towards your lower region. “i’m relaxed, but i can’t finish. i want to go back to my room and take your advice, but i don’t think i can do it. i feel like there’s something wrong me—”
“stop.” nicholas immediately cuts you off, placing his index finger on your lips. who knew that a touch so small could send such a surge of electricity through your entire body? your silence was his cue for him to continue.
“listen to me, okay? there’s nothing wrong with you and anyone who’s made you feel otherwise, can fuck themselves.”
your stepbrother pauses to carefully examine your natural features. he found you, his stepsister, to be absolutely breathtaking. nicholas absolutely loathed the circumstances of this situation as his feelings for you never changed from the very moment he and his father had dinner with you and your mother. you were his everything and you didn’t know it all. you didn’t know of all his yearning for your voice, your touch, your laughter, and your body. your presence had him fucked up in a million different ways and in this clandestine moment between you, he couldn’t hide it any longer.
“i believe—you’re absolutely perfect.”
your heart skipped a beat at your stepbrother’s confession, did he just—confess his feelings? for you? had you been blind that he saw you the way you saw him? one part of you was elated while the other pondered on the possible consequences if anyone figured out the bond between you was more than platonic, especially your parents.
“nicholas, i—” you start, but he interrupts you again, his face inching closer to yours as the tip of your noses brush against each other.
“if you feel like you can’t do it, then i can help you.”
your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes searching his for clarity on his statement as his lips ghosted over yours.
“you’d do that? but, i’ve never had—”
nicholas’ large hand came up to rest on your cheek, his thumb swiping across your flaming skin in reassurance.
“we’re not going that far, babe. especially not with mom and dad in the house, but we can unpack that later—what i need to know is do you want me to help you go to sleep tonight?”
your mind was already made up, there was no way you could pass up an opportunity like this. all the cares and worries of getting caught now gave you the craving of the thrill that you’d be been waiting for and your stepbrother was the right person to do so.
“mm-hm.” you murmur, nodding your head as your heart rate increased in tempo within your chest. the familiar tingly sensation pools in between your legs.
“that won’t work for me, sweetheart, use your words.” he softly demands, his hand sliding from your face down to your waist to shorten the distance between you.
“yes, nicholas, yes! please—” at your desperate pleas, your stepbrother closes the gap between you by smashing his lips on yours, a line that both of you have been dying to cross for months. your hesitant at first, but once you get the feeling of his intoxicating touch, you fall right into his rhythm as his tongue skillfully wraps around yours, causing you to hum in satisfaction deep into his mouth. he pulls away after a few seconds, you pout as worry creeps in.
“did i do something wrong? was i bad?” you frantically questioned in a whisper, feeling self-conscience about the act you were committing. nicholas calmed the fret in your voice by placing another kiss to your lips, a deep hum of satisfaction erupts from his chest as you relax in his arms and return the affection. he pulls back again.
“no, no, sweetheart. you’re doing just fine. just wanna let you know m’bout to touch you. you okay with that, baby?”
you were about to nod, but then remembered that nicholas needed your verbal consent, so you quickly changed your tune.
“y-yes, go ahead.” your voice shaky, but affirmative enough for him to continue by snaking his hand under your tank top to cop a feel of one of your breasts. you shiver when his rough palm meets the plush skin, rewarding it with a squeeze. you want to cry out when he brings his other hand in and starts to knead your chest beneath your shirt, but you bite down on your lip to not a make sound.
“fuck, your tits feel so perfect. i’ve always thought they were—it’s like they were made just f’me.” he whispered before gazing up to see your strained, but blissful face. with a quiet chuckle, he makes things worse when he starts to spread wet, open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbone. your grip on his sheets tighten when he moves from your breasts down the trail of your stomach and navel until he made it right above the waistline of your matching pants. before he could even ask, it was now your turn to make a demand. it was getting late, you just wanted to sleep.
“i want you to touch me, nicholas.” you pause by holding onto his wrist to inch his hand deeper into your pants, “please.”
“eager, aren’t we? be a good girl and spread those legs f’me.”
you do as you’re told and your breath hitches when his fingers slide beneath your clothing. nicholas chuckles as he figures out that you’re completely bare, giving him easy access to your throbbing, wet core.
“no underwear? guess you’re not as innocent as i thought.” he slyly comments, not wasting time for his fingers to graze along your slit. when the pads of his middle and ring make light, pressured circles around your clit, you whimper before you hastily cover your mouth before you take it away once you have control of sounds—or so you thought when one finger eased its way inside, stretching your walls as they clench around him.
“you’re so tight, sweetheart. m’gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”
with that, his ring joins in with his middle, both working in tandem as they push in and pull out so fluidly it makes your leg spread and head spin. when his fingertips hit that one spot, you gasped, holding onto his wrist to signal for him to hit it right there. nicholas wasn’t playing around as he instantly picked up on your cue, pumping his fingers faster against the erogenous area of your walls.
“s-shit, nicholas that feels s-so—” you try to stammer out, but he interrupts you by placing his free finger on your lips.
“shh. try not to make a sound. you don’t wanna get caught do you?”
you shake your head, stifling your mewls by swallowing.
“that’s my good girl. m’gonna make you feel so fucking good, beautiful.” he boasts by pressing his thumb over your clit again, rapidly jutting it up and down in which your hips instinctively buck into his fingers. the only sounds you could hear in the room is the light squelching of your sex combined with the muffled “hm, hm, hm” buried in your mouth as the familiar heat deep in the pit of you began to burn.
“c-close.” you murmur loud enough for only him to hear, you lean back as your hips were squirming against his gliding digits.
“i know, baby, i know. do something f’me okay? c’mere.” he beckoned you closer in which you did before his free arm guides one of yours to grasp onto his shoulder, you follow suit by taking your other and placing it on the respective shoulder, so that you could hold onto him with a firm grip.
“move with me, baby. ride my fingers.” he moved his fingers steadily as you begin to grind your hips in the perfect rhythm, his thumb never ceasing its affection on your sensitive, puffy button. it was all driving you so crazy, that your nails dug into the skin of his muscular shoulders before you practically bounced yourself at a rapid speed on his fingertips, your breath now labored with each thrust.
“oh, fuck. oh, fuck, nick! m’gonna cum!” you softly bellowed, the pitch of your voice getting higher.
“fuck, go ahead, gorgeous. make a mess all over of me. i got you.”
before you could utter another sound, nicholas grabbed you by the neck to pull you into a passionate kiss, where you poured every single lewd sound you had pent up melt into his mouth as your tongues reunite in a sensual dance. there were so many sensations going on at once from above to below, that the slow simmer of the heat that coiled inside of you grew hotter until it finally exploded. as it occurred, you pulled back from him, tightly grasping his wrist as intense tidal waves of pleasure surged through you, causing you to weakly double over into his chest. your mouth was wide open, but not a sound came out as your juices flowed onto his fingers and poured down your thighs. after you rode out your high, nicholas slide his fingers out to take a taste of the glistening substance that poured on his hand. a hum mixed with some soft profanity left his lips at the new taste—his next idea brewing in his filthy mind.
“you did so well, angel.” he wrapped his burly arms around your shaky, fucked out form, resting a kiss to your forehead. he noticed that you were quiet, his brown eyes descended towards you to see that you were knocked out cold in a sweet slumber after such an encounter. if he could, he’d sit here all night watching you peacefully sleep in his arms, but he had to put you back in bed before sunrise, so that your parents wouldn’t be suspicious. ever so stealthy, he picked you up bridal style and walked quietly to your open bedroom before gingerly placing you in the sheets, pulling them over to conceal you from the chest down. he was even kind enough to find your protective satin bonnet, gently lifting your head to securely place it over one of the many hairstyles that he always found to be stunning on you. nicholas’ soft, coffee gaze lingered on your peaceful, sleeping figure before he leaned forward to lay one last kiss on your head.
“sweet dreams, princess.”
after he bid you a tender goodnight, he gazed down at the stiff arousal within his sweats. nicholas concluded that he had to take his own advice of putting himself to sleep within the privacy of his bedroom only with the thoughts of you on his mind.
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If You Only Knew Pt. 2
Main Masterlist
Read on A03! - Part 1
Tags: Soldier Boy/Female Reader, tooth rotting fluff, pining, emotions (oh no), smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v)
Title from I Can See You by Taylor Swift.
Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! Ben is experiencing feelings. Real feelings. For a woman. But his reputation his proceeds him, so trying to win her over is taking a while. Once he gets a chance, he simply fucking refuses to blow it.
Author's Note: Nothing better than making a man be down bad.
Word Count: 8.5k
He’d pulled out the fucking stops. Ben didn’t even know what the fucking stops were, but he’d pulled them out. He was going to make every goddamn romance in history look fucking pathetic. She was going to swoon and fall into his arms like a movie, and he’d kiss Her like the hero he was, and then he’d have Her forever.
Just Her. All for him.
If Ben did this right—and he would, because he was a goddamn gentleman and not a fucking pussy asshole who would fail the first woman who’d managed to make his heart move—he’d get to have Her forever. He’d have one fucking person he didn’t need to prance around like a monkey for, who he could walk home to, smile at, and fucking mean it. One person he actually liked, who didn’t want to see him do a trick or say the right thing, who just wanted him. Who spoke to him without fear, but still with reverence, because Ben would make Her fall for him so fucking hard, she’d finally feel all these stupid goddamn emotions he’d been plagued with over the last year.
Ben would do whatever the hell he needed to for Her feel this. This strange fucking pull to be near Her all the goddamn time, and serve her, and talk to her. He’d throw everything he had into showing Her that he felt it—more than he’d ever felt fucking anything—and that if She could feel it too, he’d never allow her to stop feeling it. He’d fucking worship Her. He’d be whatever She needed him to be.
And She just seemed to want Ben to be Ben.
Which made him fall harder.
And made him all the more resolved to romance the fucking Christ out of Her.
He was picking Her up. Standing outside Her apartment with a bouquet of flowers like some goddamn idiot. Shifting on his feet as he waited for Her, because her roommates said she was still getting ready, and Ben wasn’t allowed inside.
Her roommates didn’t really seem to like him. Ben didn’t really fucking care what they thought. They weren’t Her, and she was the only one who fucking mattered right now. Maybe ever.
Christ on a cross, that would be nice. If She got to be the only thing that mattered to Ben. If Ben got to be the only thing that mattered to Her.
He should knock on the door again, because it could not take that fucking long to get ready for a date. Ben had done fucking everything—suit, shaving, shoes, cologne—and that had taken him five goddamn minutes. Maybe those fucking bitches were trying to talk Her out of this. Trying to tell Her that Ben wasn’t serious about her, and she shouldn’t waste Her time with him.
She needed to waste Her time with him. Ben was here to do fucking everything with Her, and that included wasting time. Together. If he had it his way, they’d waste time all fucking night, and then keep wasting it for another million years.
He needed to break that fucking door down. He’d fix it after, too, for Her. He’d do fucking anything for Her, and if she was having doubts, he needed to kill them-
The door swung open only a second before his fist went flying, and Ben felt like he’d gotten punched.
She was flawless. Fucking gorgeous, designed by goddamn heaven and sent to Earth like some star that never burned out. Ben had never seen anything like Her, in front of him and smiling. Perfectly colored lips and styled hair and sinful body, more beautiful every second because She was being beautiful for Ben. She always looked like a fucking incarnation of Ben’s fantasies and dreams—no matter what She wore or how she did her makeup—and he’d seen Her look like this a million times for charity galas, but it had never been for Ben.
She’d chosen that dress for him. She’d done Her hair because they were going out. She picked a lipstick she wanted Ben to see.
And if Ben did this fucking right—did this like She deserved—he could have that color staining his cock by the end of the night.
“Hi.” She whispered, giving him a sweet smile, and Ben was going to fucking explode. “I’m sorry about my roommates. They’re protective.”
“Good.” He grunted, glaring over Her head. “You deserve to be protected. But they don’t have to fucking protect you from me!”
She raised Her brows, even as a faint, pretty flush crept over her face. “I don’t think that’s going to convince them, Ben.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He muttered, moving his gaze back to Her. Christ, She was too goddamn beautiful. It was trapping him in a loop. “You look fucking hot.”
“Thank you. You, um, you too.”
Her voice sounded breathy, and She was looking at Ben like she wanted to jump on him. He needed to keep that look on Her face for the rest of goddamn time.
The stops. Ben needed to pull out the fucking stops.
“These are for you.” He shoved the flowers into Her hands, scanning over Her pretty features to check that they had the intended effect. They seemed to. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and Ben could hear her heart do a little stumble in Her chest, so he was pretty damn sure they’d worked.
“Ben-“
“There’s paper in my car, too.” Ben jumped in, because She needed to know about everything before She formed an opinion. “And a fuck ton of pencils.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
“You said you needed more paper and pencils.”
“I said-“ She swallowed, Her body leaning a little closer to his. That seemed good. “I said I needed more paper and pencils, so you bought me more paper and pencils?”
Ben frowned. He was pretty he’d made that damn clear. “What the fuck else was I supposed to do.”
“Nothing.” She smiled at Ben. The soft smile. He’d fucking nailed it. “Thank you, Ben.”
He grunted, offering Her his arm. “Are you ready.”
She nodded, disappearing back into Her apartment for only a second to put the flowers in a vase before returning, fucking smiling at him again, and letting Ben lead Her out of her shitty apartment building to his car. She looked fucking right in his car. The seat molded perfectly around Her, she was beautiful at Ben’s side, and this was where She belonged. Where Ben could touch Her—his hand curled into a fist in an effort to not touch Her, not yet—and she could be comfortable. In luxury.
She deserved luxury more than fucking pussy Ben knew. More than the assholes who already had it, more than the brown-nosing dick-riders who chased it at Vought. Ben could fucking give it Her. She didn’t even have to ask, and he’d move the world onto a platter at Her feet. Because She was real, and beautiful, and so fucking sweet Ben got a little fucking high on it when She spoke. When She told him about all her students in the car, and giggled at his jokes. When She smiled at him in the golden light of the road, took his hand out of the car with sparkling eyes, and leaned into his touch as he guided Her into the empty restaurant.
He could get used to this. To the look of wide, blatant awe on Her face as they were led to their table—it was a nice fucking restaurant, and Ben had picked it out specifically for Her, so that was another damn good sign—and the way that whenever their eyes met, she’d give him that soft smile again.
“Ben.” She whispered as they sat down. “Where are all the other people?”
He shrugged, giving the waiter a curt nod as he poured the water and left them alone. “Not fucking here, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I know that. Why aren’t they here?”
“Probably because I rented the place.”
She sat a little taller, and Her expression open as her lips parted and brow furrowed.
“What’s-“
“The whole restaurant?” Her voice was barely a breath, and Ben frowned.
“Obviously,” He grunted, trying to work out why the fuck this was freaking Her out. “Do you not like it?”
“Not at all, it’s just-“ She pulled her lower lip between Her teeth, fingers fidgeting with her napkin. “You didn’t have to do that. For me.”
Ben scowled. “Of course I fucking had to-“
“Ben-“
“Sweetheart, if I didn’t, people would be gawking at us all damn night. Sticking their fucking noses in your business, crawling up your taint like they’re always up mine.” Ben leaned forward, holding Her wide gaze. She needed to know he was serious. That She was damn worth this, and Ben would keep Her safe. Keep Her at peace, away from the fucking vultures and monsters, at Vought and in the media. “This is for us, babygirl. I’m not going let any fucking pussy bother you, let anyone look at you who you don’t want to. And nobody,” he shot Her a wink. “Is going to crawl up your taint but me.”
She giggled, Her body relaxing, and Ben counted that as another fucking victory. “That’s gross, Ben.”
“It’s true.” He shrugged, bracing his forearms on the table. “Until you say the word, nobody’s going to know fucking shit about us.”
“The waiters will know.” She pointed out, even as the pretty flush returned. “About… us.”
Christ, the word us had never sounded so fucking good. Ben never wanted to hear anyone but Her say it again. He never wanted it to mean anyone but them. Her and Ben. Us. Something he could defend and protect and keep just for them, together.
He chuckled. “The waiters will keep their pussy fucking mouths shut, if they know what’s good for them.”
She rolled Her eyes, but her smile remained. “You’d murder a waiter for me?”
She was joking. Ben would murder a waiter for Her, if she asked—She never would, but if she did, she wouldn’t even have to say please—but She was joking, so he just laughed.
“For you, I’d kill the damn president.”
Another fucking giggle escaped her. Ben wanted to bottle that sound and shoot it into his blood like goddamn heroine. “That’s not very American of you, Soldier-“
“Don’t fucking say it.” He raised an accusing finger at Her, even as a smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s Ben to you, sweetheart.”
She hummed, raising Her brows slightly. “Is it Ben for all the other girls, too?”
“Wouldn’t know.” He leaned forward with a smirk, lowering his voice to the rumble that always seemed to make that slack, wanting expression pop up. “There aren’t any other girls.”
“Oh.��� She whispered, and there it was. Ben had Her. So fucking close. “No girls?”
“No girls,” Ben’s voice was firm as he said Her name, because he’d had countless other women in his bed but none of them had been his. None of them had been even fucking close to what She was, what Ben hoped she could be to him. “I was damn serious, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked another woman in a year.”
She swallowed. “For me?”
He nodded, watching Her carefully, and she gave him a soft, slightly nervous smile.
“No sex?” She raised Her brows. “You must have a lot a free time now, huh?”
Ben laughed. It was loud and rolling through his chest, breaking the static silence of the restaurant because Christ, he needed to have Her.
“Smart fucking mouth, babygirl.” He smirked, leaning forward. “Not wrong, either. You’re going to get a fucking master.”
He winked, and there was a soft hitch in Her breath.
“I’m getting a master?”
“I haven’t be keeping it in my pants for fun,” Ben drawled Her name, and he could get addicted to that flush and small gasp. “We’re going to fill up that free time together.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She was gaping at Ben—practically fucking drooling—and if he grabbed Her face, he could kiss her. Here. Now. Blow Her fucking mind and fill that free time right here on the damn table. Fill Her on the damn table-
“What have you been using the free time for?” She asked. “While you’ve been, um, keeping it in your pants.”
He shrugged. He’d waited a year. He could wait a few more hours to fuck Her stupid. “Watched TV. Smoked.” He tilted his head at Her. “What do you use your free time for.”
“I, um, I don’t really have free time,” She mumbled, and Ben frowned. He’d have to fix that.
“What would you do?” He pushed, ready to mentally mark whatever he’d need to keep around for Her, once she had that time. “If you had the time?”
“Maybe a hobby?” She pulled her lips between her teeth, and if She kept doing that, they wouldn’t make it to actual dinner. “I could make art. Or write. Or bake.” She tilted Her head. “I think I just like making things. Seeing that I did something, and it was me. I did it.”
Ben nodded. He could get paint. And more fucking paper and pencils. And whatever the hell people used to bake. He didn’t understand Her making something shit, but Christ, he liked Her for feeling it and saying it. She was so fucking caring and sweet, he was going to lose his damn mind. “That why you teach?”
“Yeah, actually. I think it is.” She gave him an odd look. “What about you? What would you do as a hobby?”
Ben opened his mouth, and She shook her head.
“Don’t say drugs. Or me.”
He scoffed, and fuck, She looked hot when she was smug. “Fuck off, Sweetheart-“
“Was I wrong?”
“No.” He grumbled. “But I don’t fucking do hobbies.”
She snorted. “Everyone does hobbies, Ben. You just haven’t found one you like.”
Ben rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. He didn’t know how the fuck She did that to his face. “What, you think I’m going to start fucking knitting, like some damn pussy grandma-“
“You could collect something,” She offered, and Ben might fucking die if She kept sounding so sincere. Like She actually fucking cared that he found something to enjoy. “Or do a sport-“
He snorted. “I don’t fucking do sports. No one can keep up with me, it’s not fucking fun.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She swallowed, and Ben didn’t miss how She glanced at his arms, and chest, and hands. How that expression like She wanted to jump on him was back. “How about woodworking?”
Ben raised his brows. “Woodworking.”
She hummed, nodding with a small, teasing smile. “It’s a very masculine hobby, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s probably that, or coaching little league.”
Ben chuckled, but his brain started to spin into images of coaching little league for their kids. And he’d be more fucking thrown by that image if similar ones didn’t flash through his brain all the damn time. If he didn’t constantly fucking imagine a real life with Her. If he didn’t think about it all the goddamn time, because She was it. Ben wanted all of Her, and he’d be damned if he didn’t give Her his own all once he had her-
Right before Ben could damn it, throw himself over the table at Her, and prove to her that he was damn serious about his with his mouth and hands and cock—that he’d never fantasize about fucking Little League for any other woman—the waiter interrupted them to get their orders.
Ben ordered first, and She just took what he was having. She didn’t even glance at the damn menu.
“You know,” he drawled Her name, raising his brows. “I just fucking eat whatever the hell people put in front of me. That food might be fucking shit.”
She didn’t laugh like he’d expected. She just gave him an odd, unreadable look, and moved on. It wasn’t until the end of the night, when the food was gone and Ben felt fucking high on Her laugher and beauty, that it was mentioned again. When he asked if the food was worth the risk, and that look came back, this time with a question that threw Ben right off his goddamn axis.
“What’s it like?”
He frowned. “What’s what-“
“Having your life be a brand? Designed by Vought?”
Ben’s blinked. If it wasn’t Her asking, he would’ve stormed off with a roar. But that wasn’t some fucking gotcha question, meant to make his head spin and test his temper. She just wanted to know, so she could know Ben. And if that was all She was asking for, fuck him if he wouldn’t give it to Her.
“My job is the brand.” He shrugged. “And Vought is full of fucking pussies, but they do their damn jobs, I do mine, and we all fucking go home. That’s all it is.”
The Vought assholes went home to families, and Ben went home to cold, empty riches, but that wasn’t the point. Ben did his job, and he was fucking good at it, and the brand—Soldier Boy—was the fucking job. Simple as that.
“Do you like it?”
Her voice was still fucking soft. She was going to goddamn kill him, if She kept fucking caring. If She kept making Ben think about how he fucking loathed it. It was filled with gold and wealth and fucking nothing. All the light was just cameras flashing. All the warmth only stayed on his skin, never sinking into his muscles and organs. All his co-workers were fucking pussy idiots. And that had always been enough. It had always been all he wanted.
Until it wasn’t.
Ben leaned forward, holding Her wide, open gaze. “I like that it got me to you.” He muttered, and that was the goddamn truth. “And you’ve fucking got me, babygirl. I meant it, there wasn’t a damn lady before you. Not like this. And I’ll keep fucking saying that until you get it. Solider Boy might be the brand, might be the job, but I’ll keep it in my pants for another damn year and pick up fucking woodworking if I get you. Understood?”
There was a long moment of silence as She scanned over his face—looking for whatever She needed to find—and Ben felt an itch on his skin and a prickle over his heart. It might be fucking nerves.
He didn’t care for it.
“Understood.” She whispered, and the nerves vanished into some sort of euphoria as She smiled at him. “Do you, um, you want to go? Back to my place?”
Ben’s grin was unrestrained and probably looked a little feral, but thank fucking Christ. He had Her. He didn’t have to keep it in his pants, because he had Her.
And when he stood up, picking Her up into his arms with a squeal and carrying Her out of the restaurant, he made a silent vow.
He wouldn’t give Her a single goddamn reason to ever leave.
And he’d start proving why She should stay right fucking now.
—————————
Ben’s really strong. And you’d known that—it was the whole Soldier Boy brand—but that didn’t stop you from being shocked by how that strength feels wrapped around you. Pressed right up against your body, arms flexing and muscles shifting under his shirt, his chest and shoulders like a rock, but still somehow comfortable and warm.
You’d like to stay here, in Ben’s arms and against his body, for maybe the rest of your life. It feels safe, but not like a cage. Like a blanket or shield around you, promising that harm wouldn’t even dare to look at you, because only a fool would try to attack something that belongs to Ben.
Fuck.
You don’t belong to Ben. Not in the way you’d want to mean it, where it’s your heart out of your chest and into his hands, and you never have to worry about it again. Never have to worry about anything again.
It doesn’t help that it feels like you could belong to him. Like if you asked, he would keep you here. Maybe he’d carry you everywhere. Maybe he’d offer his heart back.
He won’t. You can hear his heart pounding, when you turn your head and press your ear to his skin. It’s loud and powerful, and you’d really like for it to move in a rhythm with yours. But you don’t know if you could keep up, and you’re terrified to learn that he wouldn’t slow down.
But your lips graze his neck when you breathe, and you could swear he shudders. That his grip on you tightens, and a low grunt escapes his throat that has nothing to do with walking to the car.
You’re too far gone. This is exactly what you’d been trying to avoid, trying to dodge and weave around with giggles and eye rolls. Belonging to Ben. Making your dumb little heart really believe that he’d care about you in a way that he’d fight for. Falling into him until he’s less taking you, and more being offered to have you. However he’d like.
And God, if he asks to have you tonight, you’ll say yes. All your previous rules will fly out the window. Rules about waiting a certain number of dates, kissing first before going right into more, or ensuring that—when the sun rises the next morning—you won’t be alone in bed. Rules that would be pointless, because this is Ben and you’ve been dreaming about touching him for a year. He can never know you’ve lost sleep to it. To feeling heat between your legs at just the thought of him, to covering your face with a pillow because just the idea of him was enough to make you scream and moan and wake your roommates up.
Shit. Your roommates.
You’re going to have to figure out how to justify to them that you will be seeing Ben again, because you hadn’t stopped feeling dizzy and drunk on him for the whole night, and now you’re gone—the last piece of your resistance to his advances gone, your will to not fall in love completely dissolved—and you won’t be coming back until Ben breaks you in half.
That if Ben doesn’t break you—if he chooses to keep you, just you, because for reasons you don’t understand he seems to only want you—but holds you close and stretches tonight into sixty years, you’ll never even bother to try and return.
You don’t know if he’ll want to keep you. He’s placing you in the passenger’s seat with careful movements, but brushing hair from your face with an unreadable expression and restrained hands. He kisses your brow before drawing back up, and he glances at your lips, but he doesn’t touch them. He doesn’t say a word, only closing the door behind him and walking around the hood of the car.
When he drops in the driver’s seat, his hands rest on the wheel, and he stares ahead with a frown. He doesn’t grab the keys from his pocket. He doesn’t speak, or look at you, or move.
There’s a long and horrible moment when you think he’s done with you. Where everything tastes like ash and dust, and you can feel your body deflating and crumbling. Of course he wouldn’t want you. You’re normal and boring and wouldn’t look right on his arm. You’d fit there—you know you would, because you’d slotted right into him all night like you were meant to be there, and now that will haunt you for the rest of your life—but you wouldn’t dazzle and sparkle and flash. You aren’t a good accessory. You’d cleaned up best you could for this, but your clothing was cheap, your lipstick cheaper, and your hair styled by your own hands. Hands with little bumps on the fingers from writing, that you did your best to keep soft but also ended up dry, because your apartment’s humidifier was broken, and it’s the middle of winter.
You’re nothing horrible. Nothing worse than anyone else. But also normal. So painfully average, just another face that walked on the street.
Ben should be with someone bright. Someone blinding who wore lipstick that cost as much as that fancy dinner, and clothing that could probably out-sell this car. Someone who had their hair styled by a team, because they were American royalty like Ben was.
Girls like you don’t get to linger in divinity. They don’t get more than a night.
And you might not even get a night. Ben isn’t moving or talking or teasing about how he’s going to touch you, so he might not want to. He might have been trying you on, and now he’s ready to throw you out because he’d realized you didn’t look as good on him as he’d thought you would-
“We’re going to my place.” He grunts, and you blink at him.
“Your place?”
He nods, and finally looks at you. He’s so handsome. You’ve never seen anyone have a face like that. You’d been being dramatic and lovelorn before, thinking of him as divinity, but there couldn’t possibly be another reason for him looking like that.
Untouchable.
Reaching out to touch you.
Ben’s hand cups your face, keeping your gaze trapped on his, and his words are a low rumble that rip through your body like a wildfire. Your skin and heart are ablaze, and you’re completely ruined, and he’s only talking.
“I’m going to touch you, babygirl.” He mutters, and you think you whine. “Going to fucking ruin you.”
This isn’t fair. He looks like he’s about to ask you a question, and you’ll never be able to give an answer that isn’t a breathless plea.
“Ben-“
“But,” he pushes on, smirking as your breathing start to get ragged. “I’m going to have you screaming my name all fucking night, and I’m not interested in having an audience. I fucking love you, but your apartment is goddamn fucking. Dramatic roommates who won’t let me fuck you like you deserve, too goddamn small, and not nearly fucking good enough for you. So come back to my place.”
That’s probably supposed to be a question. Ben’s tone didn’t sound like he was asking—more like ordering, or telling you what was going to happen—but he’s also not starting to car or letting go of your face, so you think he’s waiting for an answer.
It takes a moment, because you’re trapped in his voice, still echoing in your head.
I fucking love you.
You don’t know if he’s aware he said that. If he is, it doesn’t seem as if he’s about to elaborate.
But he did say it. And he’s not taking it back.
You’re kind of done with testing the waters. With holding yourself back from what you want for the sake of your sanity.
Sanity that’s already long gone anyway. Razed and wrecked and shaped into the same sound of Ben saying I fucking love you, all while touch you and looking at you and speaking to you, and you alone.
“Okay,” you whisper, and you can’t really imagine saying anything else.
Ben nods, his hand moves to your thigh, and you can feel something changing inside of you. His touch is so measured—so carefully controlled with a big, rough hand that kneads mindlessly at your skin—and it’s igniting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt. It’s like lighting in your blood and water on your skin, soothing and electric and so completely consuming.
He really is consuming. You’ve never met anyone whose very presence devours your every thought and nerve until you’re glowing from inside. Even if you weren’t being branded by his touch on your body, weren’t drowning in his cologne, you’d still only be thinking about Ben. He’d said you looked hot, and under his cannon-like attention—loud and powerful and demanding—you’d really felt like you were. He’d said there were no other girls, and you believed him because you could feel the words over your bones. He’d said he’d kill the president for you, and it had oddly been the most romantic thing any had ever told you.
Ben’s life was Solider Boy. Soldier Boy’s brand was America.
He didn’t want to be Solider Boy with you. He didn’t care about Soldier Boy for you.
And you’d never tell him to kill the president, but if you do get to ask for anything—just one thing for Ben to give you, and only you, because you asked for it—it would be that he keeps doing that. Keeps being consuming. Keeps looking at you like you’re all the stars in the sky, when you’re the one getting lost.
Because you’re so lost. You’d promised yourself you’d be careful, but now you’re lost in Ben, and you’d never chose to be anywhere else. Not when his hand on your thigh is a promise of being a master and filling free time. You’d love to waste free time with him. You’d love to get more and more lost in this odd sense of given security—Ben is here, and he’s built like a tank that’s designed to keep you from horror—for the rest of your life.
And you’d think that was dramatic, if Ben didn’t keep looking at you like that. Like you’re a rare treasure he’d found buried underground, and he’s going to make you shine.
You’re already shining. Just that look—full of promises and stoic, firm care–makes you sit a little taller in your seat, warmth sparking and pooling in your gut like an oil meeting a match.
The explosion is going to wreck you.
You’re more than ready for it.
Ben parks outside of a shocking normal apartment complex, helps you out of the car, and half covers your body with his—his face bent down and hidden, you barely a shadow below him—before moving you inside.
This is a normal building. You’re awestruck, how average this place is. You’ve heard about Ben’s house, but it’s further upstate. You’ve been to one of his apartments for a Vought party—and ended up mostly curled near him, but not against him, on a couch—but that was across the city. And this place didn’t have the marble floors and doorman and oil paintings. It was all stained brown carpet and small mailboxes, walking up concrete stairs and passing worn welcome mats.
“Ben?” You lean back to look at him, and he seems vigilant. Watching every corner you turn and tensing at every creek of the building.
He grunts, his eyes falling to yours—something that’s always rough behind them not softening, but becoming honed, and aimed all at you—and you take it as a cue to continue.
“Where are we?”
Ben lets out a long, heavy breath, stopping in front of another, boring, generic door. “My apartment.”
“Oh.” You look around the hall, then back to Ben. He’s started to fidget with the keys. You didn’t hear him wrong.
You’re still incredibly confused, right up until Ben pushes the door open.
This is more what you expected. Plush sofas and polished chairs, a glass table and expensive looking art on the walls. It’s a little different that his other apartment—there seems to be more personal things scattered across the room, bits of Ben left out on the side table and shelves—but not at all in line with the rest of this building.
And Ben must see all your questions on your face, because he leans down to whisper in your ear, his arms wrapped around your stomach and light stubble brushing on your skin.
“Bought this place off the books.” He starts to guide you further inside, his hands rubbing slow, mind-numbing circles on your hips. “Place for myself, when I don’t want anyone intruding or interfering with my shit.”
You swallow. “Does anyone else know-“
“Just me.” He mutters, starting to kiss a very distracting line up your throat. “Not one damn pussy at Vought knows this place exists. Landlord thinks I’m a reclusive artist or some shit. Like I said, sweetheart. My place.”
Ben’s place. Just his place. For his shit. That he doesn’t want intruded on.
It takes you longer than you’d like to piece it all together. In your defense, you’re a little overwhelmed—in all your wildest fantasies about Ben looking at you and meaning it, you still hadn’t manage to imagine this—and Ben’s not really helping your thought process at all. One hand has moved down to pull and squeeze your upper thigh, the other is still keeping you pinned to his chest, and his mouth has started to wander. Grow bolder. Wet, sloppy kisses over your collarbone and along your jaw, sucking a small bruise behind your ear and making you a little dizzy.
But you slot it all into place.
And there’s not a thing in the universe that could save you now. Fuck, if anyone tried, you’d probably punch them.
“You’re serious about me.” You mumble, and Ben hums, the sound echoing around your head like a fucked up, love drunk lullaby.
“About fucking time you got it.” He mutters, his hands sliding up to grip your throat. It’s a light touch, barely any pressure at all, but Ben doesn’t need to be firm. He tilts your head slightly back, and you go all the way. Leaning on his shoulder, holding his darkened gaze with your own, slightly dazed one, smiling at him like an idiot.
You can be an idiot for this. For Ben, you’ll be a fucking fool, because you can be. There’s nothing else to do here. Nothing to work for. He’s won. You’re his.
All that’s left to do fall down.
Ben smirks at you, that hand on your thigh starting to drift further and further between your legs, and you don’t think he’s going to make this easy on you.
“Do you know how much I’ve fucking dreamt about this?” Ben drawls, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth. It’s light, and taunting, and in perfect time with his fingers. Playing with the hem of your panties, knuckles occasionally bumping on your clit and making your knees weak, all while he continues talking. “I’ve spent fucking months working out exactly how I want to fuck you, babygirl. Thought about how fucking good you’d feel, wrapped around my cock, how pretty you’d sound screaming my name, how fucking beautiful you’d look all fucked out and wrecked under me, or against me, or fucking riding me. But nothing,” Ben nips at your ear, and you think you squeak. “Could’ve gotten me ready for this. Look so fucking gorgeous just here. Hardly ever touched you yet and you look like a dream.”
You’re going to lose your fucking mind. Ben’s hand has moved to cup you over your underwear, and you can’t stop yourself from grinding shamelessly onto him.
“Christ, sweetheart, already fucking soaked just from dinner.” Ben looks awestruck, his lips parted and breath hot on your skin. It just makes you more desperate. “You like it when I talk dirty? Like it when I tell you how much I fucking want you? How much I need you?”
You moan, nodding like a bobble-head, and he chuckles.
“Tell me what you want,” Ben says your name, pressing his thumb over your clothed clit, and you definitely squeaked that time.
“You, want you-“
“How do you want me. Get specific, babygirl, want to hear-“
“I want you with me,” you gasp, rolling your hips in search of any friction at all, whining when his grip on you tightens. “Want to have you Ben, fuck- Want all of you-“
You might have ascended. Ben cuts you off with a strangling, heavy, starved kiss, and if it wasn’t the most carnal thing you’d ever experienced you’d have thought it was holy. It’s invasive and rough—his tongue down your throat and his teeth nipping at your lower lip, swallowing your moan when he rips off you panties and shoves one, broad finger into your cunt—but there’s something softer behind it. His hand stays on your neck, but only to tip you further back and grant him more access, never tightening enough for you to really feel it. Your legs give out as he starts to finger-fuck you at a brutal, unforgiving pace, but he also keeps you upright and steady.
Ben pulls you apart on just his hand—palm rolling on your clit, fingers taunting and teasing on the deepest, most sensitive place inside of you—and he never breaks the kiss. You reach behind your body, wrapping an arm around his neck and running your fingers through his hair, and when you tug it, he groans. The sound moves through your whole body, fueling every bit of your arousal, melting you further into Ben’s body as he picks up his speed. He keeps a rough pace and firm pattern, drags your right up to the edge until you’re writhing against him and scratching hopelessly at his arm in a slight plea for more. You need more, you’re already inhaling him and filled with him but it’s not enough.
When he finally crooks his fingers inside of you, everything goes white. It’s only Ben sucking on your upper lip and pumping his fingers through your orgasm, only his pounding heartbeat near your ear and ragged breath over your face.
He’s hard. Pressing right up against your ass, and hard, and big. He’s fucking huge.
You need him. You need him now.
“Ben,” you tug on his hair again—your voice breathy and weak as your head spins—and he hums against your skin, that sinful fucking mouth sucking small marks along your jaw. “More. Need more, please-“
“Patience,” he mutters your name, and you moan, shaking your head. “I’ve been waiting too fucking long to take this slow. Got fucking months to make up for. You’re not going to be able to walk for a goddamn year when I’m done with you, babygirl, so calm the fuck down, and take what I give you. Got it?”
You nod a little stupidly, and Ben draws back from your neck with a smirk, teasing along your pussy with those same, sinful fingers before pulling them away and—before you can even whine from the loss of him—bringing them to his mouth. Licking your arousal off his skin, never breaking your gaze.
You can’t be patient. It’s an impossible thing to ask, when he’s toying with you like this. When he looks like that—so fucking satisfied from the taste of you and cocky when you moan from only the sight of him—and wraps his arm back around your waist, keeping you steady as he kisses you again. It should be illegal to be this good a kisser. It’s like a drug right into your bloodstream, making everything just pleasure and Ben. He tastes like wine and smoke and you. That’s you on his tongue.
You’re going to fly out of your skin.
“Please.” You gasp, tugging on his hair again until that same groan from before rumbles in his chest. “Ben, please-“
Ben squeezes your throat once before dragging it away, prying your hand off his head and kissing your knuckles with a softness that might be worse than the animalistic lust. It’s just a small, tiny second of care—silent, real affection—but you’re still going to go mad from it.
“You want my cock, babygirl?” He asks the question with the most smug grin you’ve ever seen. Like he knows there’s not a world where you’ll say anything but yes. “Want me to fuck you nice and dumb, take good fucking care of my girl?”
His girl. You’ve put it together that he really somehow means that, but it doesn’t change how the words are electric in your body. Your legs almost give out just from the sound of Ben’s deep voice saying them.
He tightens his grip around you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head backward. “Not a mind-reader, sweetheart, give me some fucking words-“
“Yes-“
The answer is barely out of your mouth when Ben hauls you off the ground and starts to move, walking into the bedroom and dropping you onto his mattress. This is Ben’s mattress. He’s slept on it before, and the sheets smell like him and have touched his bare skin.
You’re going to touch his bare skin. He’s ripping clothing off like it’s paper as you crawl backwards, and you barely have time to remove your dress—let alone take him in—before he’s prowling over you, his eyes gleaming and sparkling in a way that makes you start to drool.
He’s completely naked. You want to see him, see all that impossible, powerful glory that’s about to wrap around you, but you don’t get the chance before Ben starts to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses up your legs and your vision blurs with pleasure. He’s so good at this, and you’re not at all surprised, but it still makes every fantasy and wet dream you’ve had feel like a crude, faded sketch. The real thing is a work of art. You’d been joking when you’d called this his hobby, but he’s playing you like an instrument and molding you like clay. He finds his way between your legs, and stays there just long enough to work you into a frenzy. Broad licks up your pussy and flicks of his tongue over your clit, sucking the already burning nerve bundle into his mouth and letting his teeth graze against it until you’re grinding up into his face.
Then he’s moving on, leaving you dangling right on the edge and kissing over your stomach. Up your body until he drags you into a long, heavy kiss, silencing your every needy, high plea for release. He won’t let you have release. He’s kissing you far too passionately and firmly for you to do anything but melt further into him, but God you’re burning up from the inside and he won’t even let you move. He had dropped his waist to pin you down to the mattress, and you can feel him poking again your inner thigh, and fuck-
Ben rises up with a grin, and there’s the awestruck look again. He can’t keep looking at you like that. It’s going to kill you.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He mutters your name, and you were wrong. That’s going to kill you. How sincere and blunt his words are, like they’re pure fact and not at all subjective. “Never seen a goddamn thing like it.” He rolls his hips against you, and you whine. “Look like a fucking angel.”
You want to tell him that he looks better, or at least thank him, but all you can remember how to do is moan, squirming a little beneath him as he chuckles.
“You got something you need, sweetheart?”
He rolls his hips again, and your eyes almost roll back in your head as you nod.
Ben clicks his tongue, leaning back down to speak against your lips. “Need you to fucking say it, baby.”
“Fuck me.” You gasp, because you’re past dignity and dancing around things. “Fuck me, Ben, please, fuck me-“
You yelp as he rolls you over, hauling you up onto his lap and impaling you on his cock in one movement. And when he starts to move—grabbing your hips and guiding them in a smooth rhythm with his thrusts—you know he’s not going to stop proving you wrong. He cares, and this is higher and better than any heaven you could’ve—and had—imagined. This is what’s going to kill you.
Because you’ve thought about this far too often, imagined this exact moment countless times, but it’s still more than you know how to comprehend. Ben’s splitting you open and bumping against all the right places inside of you, the angle pushing him so deep into your cunt there’s not a second where you aren’t on fire. He keeps alternating between wild, demanding bites—hickeys on your throat and shoulders—and gentle, hot kisses on your lips that swallow your every soft moan and whine. Your arms wrap around his neck as your try to drag him impossibly closer, and he smirks, his hold on your hips tightening as he starts to drill up into you.
It’s brutal and sudden and rough—his skin slapping on yours and his gaze burning right into your body—and if Ben wasn’t holding you up, you would’ve collapsed. You might be saying his name, might be begging for more, but you can’t hear it over a fogging haze of Ben, talking so dirty you’re surprised his voice alone isn’t bring you to release.
“Look so fucking hot, bouncing on my cock, such pretty fucking tits, fucking tight and warm, goddamn soaked for me-“
“Fuck,” you try to grind down onto him, but he’s too strong. All you can do is kiss on his jaw and pray he’ll give you more. “Feels good, so good, please-“
“Who’s fucking you good?” He demands, nipping on your lower lip and guiding you in a circle on his dick, smirking as you whimper from the sensation. “Fucking scream it, sweetheart, tell the whole goddamn world who’s fucking you-“
“Ben!“ You almost scream, and you’d be embarrassed if it didn’t immediately earn you another long kiss and groan of your name against your skin.
“There you go,” he mutters, snaking one hand around your body to rub at your clit. “Good girl, feel so fucking good squeezing my cock, so fucking needy-“
“Ben,” Your brow drops to his, and your nails scratching at his neck and shoulder blades. “Please, wanna cum, please-“
He cuts you off with a searing, almost violent kiss, growling down your throat. “Since you asked so fucking pretty,” he jerks his hips up in a rough, blinding movement, pinching your clit at the same time. “Cum for me, babygirl.”
This orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. Springing in your gut and washing your body in a burning but comfortable heat, filling your vision with stars and wracking your body with a pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. This is better than heaven. This is Ben kissing you through your high and still dragging you higher, rubbing his thumb around your clit and palming at your breast as you scream into his mouth.
And you don’t come down. Ben doesn’t stop, and you’re not sure if this is just a million smaller orgasms exploding like fireworks in your body, or if he’s trapped you in an infinite state of bliss, but the orgasm doesn’t end.
And Ben’s not done with you.
He’s getting rougher. He’s still hard inside of you, starting to throb and lose rhythm with his movements, and you barely have the mind to gasp or whimper when he rolls you back under him, pulls out of you for a brief second, and flips you around onto your stomach. There’s a brief, cold moment where he’s gone—still hard against your thighs but no longer caging you against him—and then he drags your ass into the air, pushes himself back into your dripping, oversensitive pussy, and starts to hammer into you with a pace you can only describe as feral. His balls slap on your clit as he hits somehow deeper inside of you, groaning behind you as you grind back into him, and you’re still cumming. You don’t now know how that’s possible. You didn’t know your body could do that.
You don’t really know anything but Ben right now. Thrusts becoming short and uneven, draping himself back over you to kiss at your shoulder and throat and behind your ear, pinching and rolling a nipple between two rough fingers, and groaning right in your ear in a way that just keeps everything going.
Ben grabs your chin right as his hips stutter, turning your head to roar your name against your mouth as he cums. It finally brings you down—when he’s spent inside of you and pinning you to the mattress in his warmth—and you like out a soft, happy sound of content when he kisses your swollen lips with a gentler, easier pressure. It seems like he’s kissing you just to kiss you. Touching you just to touch you.
Laying with you just to lay with you.
“Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters in your ear, pressing another small kiss to your cheek. “You’re so fucking good, sweetheart. Never going to go a week without this pussy again, best thing I’ve ever fucking felt.”
You smile, craning your neck back to look at him, and you’ve barely started to move before Ben’s flipping you one last time, keeping you caged between his body and the mattress.
And he’s grinning at you. A powerful, wide grin that would look strange on his face if it didn’t feel so natural. You rarely see Ben really grin—all joy and teeth and something unbridled and almost pure—at all, his expression usually rough smirks and more taunting smiles, but this is just Ben, grinning at you.
And he looks like a human. He’s sweaty, short hair sticking up at odd angles and eyes a little brighter from his own release, and you really think this could be it. That he could be a life you’d be happy to lead.
Because Ben’s got you. Outside of how he’d just fucked you within an inch of paradise, he’s also pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, and a longer one to your lips, before moving away to grab a towel and clean the mess he left between your thighs. He’s bringing you water and tucking you right against his body, muttering that you should get some rest before round two, because there will be a round fucking two.
“Ben?” You mumble, and he grunts near your skin in a silent acknowledgment to continue. “What… um, I don’t know what you- what we-“
“We’re together.” He grunts, and you let out a long breath of relief. You hadn’t even had to say the stupid, embarrassing question aloud. “Nobody’s touch you but me, and not one single fucking lady is getting their hands on me but you.”
“Okay.” You hum, wiggling a little further into his hold. “Good.”
Ben chuckled. “Real fucking good, babygirl. You’re going to get spoiled fucking rotten.”
You smile, and you’ll fight that later. You don’t want to become only a doll on a shelf just because Ben’s got you.
But you also think you have him. And that if you asked for the world he’d try and figure out a way to put it into your hands. That if you demanded he not be an asshole about you continuing to work, he’d grumble but relent.
And you can live with that.
You can thrive with it.
End Note: Once again saying I really think Ben just needs a cool wife to obsesses over and be violent for and he'd chill out.
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
Taglist
@sthefferrete @lyarr24 @deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n
@globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr @youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing
@panicking-outside-the-disco @ambiguous-avery @elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde
@heyimolive @alwaystiredandconfused @kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007
@jackles010378 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @chi-raz
@lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @tiana-kh @woaheasytig3r
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x you#reader insert#romance#x reader#request#the boys#smut#the boys amazon#the boys fanfic#soldier boy smut#soldier boy x female reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#female reader#godmadeaterribleerror#part one#anon request#p in v sex#shameless smut
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Release: Request
Warning: (Fluff)(comfort) (brief mention of gun usage)
Word Count: 4k
A/N: okay so I fuckeddd up and didn't post this with the request itself, my bad, so this is me trying to fix that lmao. I loveddddd this request!!!
Request: @fluid-joe : Hi! I really like your writings! Can i request a Frontman x femreader? The prompt idea is kinda like a "hotel room for 2, only 1 bed" type of situation after a long day of work ( the reader is an assistant of the Frontman ). Thanks :)
Masterlist <-
____________________________
It had been one of those days—one that seemed to stretch on forever, dragging every second behind it like a stubborn weight. A day so exhausting, so unrelenting, that all you wanted was to escape. To close the door, shut out the noise of the world, and sink into the kind of silence that wraps around you like a thick, comforting blanket. Your body ached, your mind buzzed with a thousand unresolved thoughts, and the idea of human interaction felt impossibly heavy. You didn't want to speak, to listen, or to even exist in the same space as anyone else. All you craved was stillness, solitude, and a moment to simply breathe.
You'd spent the entire day immersed in a whirlwind of spectacle and scrutiny, sitting through four different games that seemed to blur into one endless cacophony of cheers, whistles, and distant gunshots. In-ho, ever the picture of control and precision, had been laser-focused, his sharp eyes dissecting every move, every interaction, every cog in the intricate machine of this international event. The grandeur of it all was lost on you, though—you were far from home, stranded halfway across the world, juggling the delicate art of serving booze, running errands, and fulfilling every whim and demand he tossed your way.
His orders had been crystal clear this morning, delivered with the kind of authority that left no room for interpretation. "You will stay within my sight at all times" There was no softness in his tone, no trace of flexibility. Why would there be? You were his assistant—his shadow, his tool, his extension—and only his. You bowed to no one else, took orders from no one else. That was the unspoken rule etched into the foundation of your position.
And so, you had followed him through the day like a silent ghost, your presence unnoticed by the crowds but vital to him. Even as your feet throbbed and your patience wore thin, you knew better than to falter. You were there to ensure his needs were met, to anticipate his desires before he voiced them, and to remain firmly anchored at his side. No complaints, no questions—just obedience.
The hotel was nothing short of magnificent, a masterpiece of modern luxury. Towering ceilings adorned with sparkling chandeliers reflected the soft glow of golden lights onto marble floors so polished they could have doubled as mirrors. The air was perfumed with a subtle blend of fresh-cut flowers and something faintly exotic, almost otherworldly. As the two of you stepped through the grand revolving doors, the bustling murmur of the lobby seemed to hush, if only for a moment.
He walked beside you, maskless, as if he owned not just the hotel but the very air within it. His presence demanded attention, though he didn't seek it—his sharp jawline, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, and piercing eyes were enough to turn heads effortlessly. You'd worked for him long enough to know that this reaction was standard, but still, it was hard not to be struck by his sheer perfection. He wasn't just handsome; he was unearthly, immaculate, as though he'd been carved from marble and brought to life.
And yet, for all his physical allure, he remained a mystery. Your conversations were short, clipped, and strictly business, like carefully choreographed exchanges in a dance you hadn't mastered but couldn't afford to stumble in. You knew better than to ask about the man beneath the surface—the life he lived outside of the games, the things that made him tick. Questions like that would have been a breach of the invisible wall he kept firmly in place.
You'd already handled the arrangements earlier that day, securing the room and picking up the key in advance, just as you always did—efficiently, seamlessly, without error. It was a double king-size suite, one of the finest in the hotel, complete with a sprawling balcony that promised a breathtaking view of the city's skyline, now glowing faintly against the encroaching twilight.
Pressed tightly against your chest were three hefty binders stuffed with player information, the edges of the pages worn from frequent use. Their weight was a constant reminder of the day's endless demands. Your shoes echoed sharply against the gleaming marble floor as you hurried toward the elevator, the sound swallowed by the luxurious quiet of the space. When the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, you stepped in beside him, clutching the binders like a lifeline.
He moved with his usual ease, his long, purposeful strides effortlessly carrying him forward, while you, in contrast, struggled to match his pace without breaking into an undignified jog. Your legs burned with the effort, but you said nothing—it wasn't worth the risk of slowing him down or, worse, irritating him.
When you finally reached the suite, you fumbled slightly as you retrieved the key, tapping it against the door's sensor until it blinked green. The door clicked open, and you pushed it inward, stepping across the threshold with a practiced confidence.
The room was beautiful, exactly as you'd expected—sleek modern design, polished floors, and a wall of glass that framed the glittering city skyline like a painting. But your breath hitched as your eyes scanned the suite and landed on the bed. One bed. Just one. And God, was it small. It wasn't the sprawling double king you had meticulously reserved, but a modest queen at best.
You froze for a moment, the binders still clutched in your arms like a shield. The air between you seemed to thicken as you carefully placed the binders down on the nearest surface, your movements stiff and deliberate, as though any sudden motion might make the situation worse. Turning toward him, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like a boulder.
"This… this isn't what I had reserved," you stammered, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze. "I swear, I—"
But the look on his face stopped you cold. His expression was a perfect storm of irritation and restrained disbelief, his sharp features even more cutting in the dim light of the suite. It was the kind of look that silenced any further attempts at explanation. You knew better than to keep talking. Zip it, your mind screamed, and you obeyed, pressing your lips together tightly.
You stood there awkwardly, the tension in the room discernible as his piercing eyes swept over you, then the bed, and back again. Your heart pounded as you waited for him to speak, to issue a command, to say something—but the silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting, leaving you feeling small and exposed.
"It's fine," he said at last, his voice low and steady, though there was a trace of something softer there—resignation, perhaps. "I don't have the energy to make this into a thing."
He strode toward the bed without another glance at you, his movements slower than usual, as though the weight of the day was finally catching up with him. Sitting down, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head drop for a moment. "We'll survive one night."
You hesitated, the apology on the tip of your tongue, but the way he waved a hand in your direction made you stop. "Just… don't stress about it," he said, his tone carrying an edge of finality. "It's not worth the argument right now."
His exhaustion was evident in the slump of his shoulders, in the way his usual sharp edges seemed dulled for the moment. It wasn’t forgiveness exactly, but it was close enough to leave you rooted in place, unsure how to respond.
------
The silence between you was dense, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of sheets. The bed was softer than you’d expected, the covers warm and inviting, but comfort was the last thing you felt. Laying under the heavy blanket, your heart raced despite the stillness of the room. The darkness pressed in around you, save for the faint glow spilling from the cracked bathroom door, a soft, golden light that stretched across the floor and climbed the walls.
You kept your gaze fixed on the ceiling, willing yourself to stay calm. You were telling the truth—this wasn’t your fault. It was an oversight, a mistake by the hotel staff. But no matter how many times you repeated that in your head, you couldn’t shake the nerves coiling tightly in your chest. You’d thought about apologizing again, but the idea of babbling, of stumbling over your words and making yourself look foolish, kept your lips sealed. Silence felt safer, even if it left the air between you unbearably heavy.
As you lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, a flicker of movement caught your eye. Turning your head slightly, you noticed his shadow cast on the far wall, long and fluid against the faint glow of the bathroom light. He must’ve just stepped out of the shower. You could see the silhouette of him wrapping a towel around his waist, the sharp lines of his shoulders and the curve of his muscles etched in perfect detail. His broad chest tapered into a narrow waist, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
Your breath hitched when his shadow shifted again, his hand dragging through his damp hair. You could almost imagine the droplets of water running down his skin, tracing paths over those impossibly defined contours.
The casual way he pushed his fingers through his hair made the muscles in his arm flex, the movement mesmerizing in its simplicity.
You quickly averted your eyes, heat blooming in your cheeks as you stared back up at the ceiling. The room suddenly felt too warm, the covers too heavy, and you found yourself wishing for sleep to come quickly—to escape the weight of the moment and the unrelenting awareness of his presence just a few feet away.
The light flickered off, plunging the room into near-total darkness, save for the faint glow of the city skyline sneaking through the edges of the curtains. You turned onto your side swiftly, your back to him, not wanting to seem suspicious—as though you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Your heart thudded against your ribs as you pressed your head deeper into the pillow, eyes clamped shut in an effort to feign sleep.
The room was silent save for the soft sounds of his movements. You could hear the muffled thud of footsteps against the carpet, the faint creak of the nightstand drawer, and then the gentle rustle of fabric. Each sound seemed louder in the quiet, every subtle noise pulling your focus as though your senses had heightened just for him.
The bed shifted beneath you as he climbed in, the mattress dipping under his weight. He moved with a surprising care, settling beside you in a way that felt almost cautious. Then you felt it—the nearness of him.
He was close. So close that the warmth of his body seemed to radiate through the covers, threading its way to you. And then there was his breath. Soft, steady, and impossibly near, it brushed against the tip of your nose, warming the skin there. You resisted the urge to shift, to move, to do anything that might reveal how acutely aware you were of the intimate proximity.
“We’ll need to stop by the facility once more tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice low and laced with a tired edge. “You know, say our goodbyes, show gratitude, or whatever the fuck.”
The words caught you off guard, pulling you from the precarious edge of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, disoriented for half a second before they met his gaze. He was already watching you, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
For a moment, you froze. The weight of his stare was enough to pin you in place, and you were acutely aware of just how close he was. You’d almost forgotten—almost—that reading people wasn’t just a skill of his. It was second nature. He could read the subtlest shift in your body, the tiniest change in your breath, and right now, you felt entirely exposed under his scrutiny.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his tone neutral, though his eyes stayed locked on yours as if testing the truth of your reaction.
You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond, the heat from his breath still brushing faintly against your skin. “I wasn’t asleep,” you murmured, though your voice felt too soft, too uncertain.
His lips curved into the barest hint of a smirk, almost imperceptible. “You were trying to be.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew. Of course, he knew.
You shifted onto your back, the movement pulling the covers tighter around you. The soft fabric of your tank top clung to your body, the rise and fall of your chest matching the slow rhythm of your breath. As you shifted, your pendant tilted to the side, its ruby gleaming softly in the dim light.
He noticed it immediately. Without a word, his hand reached out, the fingers of his long, deft hand brushing lightly against the chain before carefully taking hold of the pendant. He turned it between his fingers, his touch deliberate and slow, as if studying it, feeling the coolness of the stone, tracing its edges.
You couldn’t help but watch him, feeling a strange mix of vulnerability and curiosity churn in your stomach. His gaze was fixed on the ruby, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed distant, absorbed in the weight of it.
“It’s a ruby,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “My birthstone.”
He didn’t respond right away, just continued to rub the stone gently between his fingers. There was something in his expression now—a shift, subtle but noticeable. The usual distance, the usual coldness, seemed to have faded slightly, replaced with something more curious, something more... attentive.
For the first time, you wondered if he actually wanted to know, if the stone had sparked something more than just idle interest in him. Something about the way he held the pendant so carefully, almost reverently, felt different from his usual detached demeanor.
You didn’t know why it unsettled you, this sudden change in his behavior. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken much about anything personal, not even once in all the time you’d worked together. And now here he was, paying attention to the smallest detail, a shift in his presence that almost felt like an invitation to talk. The air between you seemed charged, like the quiet moment had ripened with the possibility of something more, though you couldn’t tell what.
As he released your necklace, the chain slipping softly through his fingers, you felt an unspoken tension hang in the air between you. You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling inside you like a storm. But then, almost impulsively, you took a deep breath, deciding to take the leap of faith you’d been contemplating for what felt like forever.
“Mind if I ask you something?” The words left your mouth before you could second-guess yourself, and you immediately regretted the way your voice sounded—hesitant, fragile, like a plea for something you weren’t sure you could handle.
For a moment, his gaze flickered to you, and you could see the glint of weariness in his eyes. The usual sharpness that defined his expression softened, but only slightly. You could tell he was tired—exhausted, even—and the weight of the day seemed to hang on his shoulders like an anchor. Still, he met your gaze, his eyes steady, and gave a small nod.
“Sure,” he said, his voice low, though there was a hint of something unreadable beneath the simplicity of the word.
You swallowed, the words feeling heavier now that you had his attention. "Why do you do this," you began, carefully choosing each word. "I mean this business. This life."
It was a question you’d asked yourself in passing many times over the years, but now, with him so close, it felt like a raw, exposed piece of your curiosity—an inquiry into the thing that defined him, the thing that kept him in motion, kept him so relentlessly focused.
The moment you finished speaking, the air between you thickened, a tension invading the space as you waited for his response. You could hear your pulse in your ears, the beat steady but quick, the uncertainty making your breath catch in your chest. Would he answer? Would he brush it off like so many other things? Or would this be different?
His eyes remained locked on you, unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line as he seemed to weigh the question, considering it in a way you hadn’t expected. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of his thoughts, and you held your breath, hoping for a glimpse into the man you’d only ever seen from the outside.
He shifted slightly, the tension in the room growing as he processed your question. The usual control, the polished exterior that he wore so effortlessly, seemed to crack just a little—just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something deeper, something far darker. His jaw tightened as he sat up straighter, his gaze narrowing.
"You think I do this because I want to?" His voice was low, rough, like it had been scraped raw. His words were sharp, almost biting, but there was something in his eyes—something chillingly intense. "You think this is a choice? That any of this is a choice?"
He let out a slow, frustrated breath, his gaze flicking away from you, as if searching for the right words, or perhaps for some escape from the question itself. His hand moved, almost unconsciously, to rub at his temple, like the weight of the day had suddenly come crashing down.
"This life—this business—it's a cage," he muttered, his voice carrying a quiet venom. "One you can’t escape. You think you can just walk away from it, but you can’t. Not when you’re in it, not when it’s inside of you. People like me, we don't choose it. It chooses us. It never lets go."
He paused for a long moment, his gaze flickering back to you. There was a flicker of something—pain, maybe, or regret—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. His face hardened once more, the mask snapping back into place.
"That's why. Because there's nothing else. There never was."
The silence that followed his words felt suffocating, as if his truth had hung in the air, thick and inescapable. You could feel the weight of his answer settle between you, and for a moment, the room seemed impossibly small, the distance between you and him suddenly very real.
Your breath caught in youe throat as his words landed, heavy and final. The room felt as if it had shrunk, the space between you thick with the intensity of his response. You didn’t know what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t that—the rawness in his voice, the sharp bitterness laced into each word. It left you unsettled, as though you had touched something fragile, something dangerous, and the moment was far too real.
You sat up, the covers slipping off her shoulders as you pulled your knees toward your chest, your mind racing for something to say. The weight of his words pressed on you, but you knew you couldn’t remain silent—not now.
"That’s... that’s a lot," you murmured, your voice quieter than usual, softened by the unexpected weight of his confession. You weren't sure what you were feeling—sympathy, fear, something else—but the look in his eyes made you want to reach out, to offer something, anything. You couldn’t erase the tension in his voice, couldn’t take back the things he’d just revealed, but you couldn’t ignore it, either.
"I didn’t know," you said, your words tentative but sincere. "I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t know you felt like that."
Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of the blanket, feeling the cool fabric against your skin as you looked at him, trying to read the deeper layers behind his walls. "I thought..." You trailed off, unsure of what you thought. You wanted to say you thought he had control, that he chose this life, but the words felt wrong now. You could see how damaged he was beneath the surface—how the very thing he tried so hard to hide was eating him alive.
"I don’t know what to say," you admitted, your voice small, vulnerable.
"But... I can’t imagine being in that place. Feeling like you don’t have a choice."
The weight of his silence was crushing, but you refused to back down. You had asked the question, had exposed that curiosity inside you, and now you had to deal with the consequences of it. He wasn’t the kind of man to open up easily, and you understood that.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence between you stretching, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. His gaze softened for just a moment, and you caught it—something raw and fleeting in his eyes that made your heart stir. You couldn’t name it, but it pulled you closer, made you feel something more than just curiosity.
You watched him, his movements slow and deliberate as his hand ran through his damp hair again, but this time there was no mask. He wasn’t the same man who had controlled every conversation, every interaction. This was someone else—a man who was letting go, if only for a moment.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he said quietly, the words rough, like he was speaking a truth he rarely allowed anyone to hear. “But it’s the only thing that keeps me going.”
Your chest tightened as the weight of his confession settled over you. You could see it now, that vulnerability he so desperately kept hidden, the cracks in the armor he wore every day. And though you hadn’t expected it, it made you want to close the distance between you, to reach out and pull him out of that dark place. But you didn’t know how.
Everything between you had shifted, the air filled with something unspoken. You didn’t know if it was the closeness of the moment, or the rawness of his words, but your body moved before your mind could stop it. Slowly, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you extended it toward him. The space between you felt so small now, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t want to let it remain.
His eyes flicked to your hand, and for a moment, everything stopped. Neither of you moved. Then, without a word, he took your hand in his, his fingers warm against yours. The slightest pressure, and the air between you thickened further, the connection undeniable.
You didn’t pull away. You leaned in instead, your face tilting slightly as your gazes met again, this time with an understanding that neither of you had voiced, but both of you felt. The silence seemed to hum with expectation. Without a word, there was a sense of understanding in his eyes, as he he sat up, moving closer, his lips barely grazing yours as his breath faltered.
Then, he kissed you.
It was urgent. Intense. There was no hesitation, no gentleness—just the overwhelming need to connect, to close the space between you that had always felt too wide. His lips were firm against yours, claiming, demanding. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, as if the distance between you had never existed.
You felt yourself melt into the kiss, everything else fading away. The questions, the doubts, the uncertainty—all of it was forgotten in the heat of the moment. It was just you and him, tangled up in the urgency of the kiss, in the shared, unspoken need to be close, to feel something other than the weight of everything else in your lives.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, nothing else mattered.
#hwang in ho#hwang in ho x reader#front man x reader#front man#in ho squid game#fanfic#squid game season 2#the frontman#squid game fanfic#fan fiction#the front man x reader
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In computer programming, there is a limit to the amount of memory that computers have, especially the easily accessed, short-term storage that programs rely on. Whenever an application needs to 'remember' something, it is assigned a location in memory to use for that something. When it no longer needs to remember that information, the program is supposed to communicate with the computer letting it know that the address is no longer required. That way it can be reused. If memory is not freed up in this way, eventually it will run out, which will initially cause the program to be very slow (because it will need to start using slower long term memory and swap space), then eventually cause it to crash. This would be known as a "memory leak" and is extremely common in programming.
Programming languages generally have three different strategies for dealing with this problem. Modern, "high level" languages usually have "garbage collection," which is an automated process that goes through and tries to identify memory that is no longer in use. This can be a disruptive and relatively inefficient process and is part of the reason why "high level" languages are slower, but also more convenient. They also aren't perfect, and there can still be edge cases that cause memory leaks.
Lower level languages might instead rely on the user to specifically request memory be allocated and freed. This is the ideal situation because memory management can be optimized for the program at hand, but it puts the burden of effort on the programmer.
Finally, other lower level languages might be memory "safe." These languages are designed in such a way that it is difficult to produce code that would cause memory leaks. These programming languages will not permit you to write code that it identifies as unsafe.
The above is a humorous meme, which affirms that it is preferable for programmers to simply be skillful at their task, rather than make use of a safe language that forces them to write good code. Most people in the early twenty-first century would not get it, as it is a niche field, and even many programmers exclusively use high level languages and were not taught to think about this topic.
@c-official i have feelings for you
#period novel details#explaining the joke ruins the joke#not explaining the joke means people 300 years from now won't understand our culture#when it comes to shooting yourself in the foot...#rust won't let you aim down#c++ will load the bullets for you
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𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗞𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦. franco colapinto · #43
your boyfriend acts on impulse, leading him to get into fights, and you to worry about his safety.
genres : hurt/comfort ... established relationship ... franco x fem!reader. request : anon for franco + stitches on a cheekbone for the 100 event. word count : 0.6k. warnings : mild arguing ... mention of injuries (bruises, a cut, stitches) ... mention of franco punching someone ... profanity ... some spanish pentanes (i do not speak spanish but i think they're all translated correctly). note : tell me why there were no good pics of franco so i had to find a random gif instead LIKE i swear finding pics takes longer than writing the actual fics sometimes. ( masterlist ) ( taglist )
“Franco? Where the fuck have you been?” you asked disgruntledly as the figure of your boyfriend stepped through the door. Wide eyes, clearly tired, but they softened at the sound of your voice, no matter how irritated your tone was. He dropped his tattered backpack on the floor and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly and nuzzling his face into your neck.
“I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t mean to leave you worried,” he whispered. You breathed, closing your eyes and reciprocating the hug. More than twenty-four hours with no word from him had you thinking of the worst possible scenarios to explain what had happened. Although you were still very much mad at him, you let him have the hug that you both needed in the moment. Breathing in his familiar scent, letting it calm your senses just slightly. He was safe, back in your arms. You could finally let your brain take a break from running in circles.
You felt him press a few kisses to your neck, soft and slow, travelling up to your cheek until you pulled away from the hug.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” you questioned, withdrawing to look at his face.
“My phone died. And I got in a little fight— but, I’m really okay, Y/n. It was just a crazy night.”
Your face fell. “You’re so reckless all the time, amor. Don’t you ever stop to use your brain once?”
You knew the words would do little to change anything. Franco was messy. Nothing could magically make him a clean person. Usually it didn’t bother you. It was something you loved about him. But when it got in the way of his safety, it scared you. Staring at the bruises starting to form on his left cheek, and the cut on his cheekbone closed up with a few stitches, you only wished he would listen to you for once.
“How’d you start a fight this time?” you asked, leading Franco to sit down on the couch. Now that he was back home, it was time for you to take charge and take care of him. And if you were lucky, knock some sense into his brain. He was silent for a moment, thinking of how to phrase what had happened in the mildest way possible.
“Well… we were all drunk, and some guys said some things about you, so I just punched them in the face so they would shut up,” he said simply, trying to stop himself from grinning. You stared at him in shock.
“Franco—”
“Y/n, you can’t possibly have expected me to just let them talk shit about you? I don’t think I overreacted,” he defended. In his mind, a few bruises to his face was more than worth it to shut up a few assholes talking about his girlfriend. And seeing them run off with much worse injuries than him was satisfying.
“You didn’t have to fight them over it. Now you’re hurt, and I was left worrying about you for hours. It was unnecessary and completely avoidable,” you pleaded, hoping that he would understand where you were coming from. A few tears building in your eyes stopped Franco from arguing over it more.
“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he whispered, cupping your face and silencing you of any other critical words. You knew it was time to drop the issue. You didn’t want to press him more after he apologized. “I won’t do it again,” he said, noticing the doubt in your eyes. It eased up, and you relaxed slightly.
“Promise?”
“Swear on my life,” he assured, sincerity swimming in his pearly eyes. You knew he meant it this time.
taglist: @caffeinboi
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Not a request but imagine Viktor debating whether or not to augment his dick because on one hand fun sexy times and on the other it's his dick shit can go wrong and he doesn't want to affect his fertility if he decides he does want kids
You know, as a fandom, I feel like we don't discuss the dick situation as much as we should... like, I've given my opinion on what's up with the Arcane Herald Penis Predicament (go read more on that in my one-shot The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt 👀), but I can't imagine the Machine Herald Cock Conundrum is the exact same...
Here is my hypothesis:
So, Machine Herald replaces the parts of his body that he considers weaknesses or that could be augmented with technology and machinery.
Dick and balls are pretty inconvenient from a technical standpoint, they're an easy target to incapacitate someone in a fight ((fun fact, some animals actually know this and will attack the face or the genitalia of other animals/humans to inflict the most damage)). Plus, they are a strong testament to how much the human body is controlled by emotions and impulses, so it wouldn't be that far-fetched to assume MH!Viktor would have gotten rid of them.
HOWEVER
I believe that this theory would be missing an important aspect of MH!Viktor's philosophy and identity. What he craves is an evolution of the human species through the removal of weaknesses of the flesh, such as illness. And evolution REQUIRES the continued existence of a species through time, which means reproduction is still a key aspect in his vision. It would be counterproductive for him to want to get rid of reproductive organs: they're an essential part of making sure a long-term evolution is even possible.
Additionally, MH!Viktor has been shown through various parts of his lore to be exceptionally caring about children. In that same vein, season 1 Viktor often brings back the concept of having a personal legacy...
Considering both of these factors, I'd say that, yes, MH!Viktor still has his human penis. BUT, he would also definitely get rid of the flaws I mentioned earlier.
For example, he would likely be able to at least partially regulate blood flow to his cock, in order to be in control of his own bodily reactions (ie., when he wants to be hard or not). He would also probably add some sort of protective cover or coating over it, with a flexible but resistant material that would prevent genitalia from being used as a weak spot. Almost like a permanent, metal cocksleeve.
If he was to gain a lover along the way, perhaps the sleeve could be tweaked a little, to add some bonus features. A length enhancer, or some bumpy ridges... the possibilities are truly endless. But it would all be solely for the purpose of his goal, of course, not for something as trivial as pleasure. A lot of research seems to correlate female orgasm to higher chances of pregnancy; he's only doing what has to be done to strengthen the future of the Glorious Evolution. Any additional physical enjoyment is merely a side effect, nothing more.
IN CONCLUSION, according to my professional, scientific opinion, I believe MH!Viktor would keep his human penis, but remove all its conceptual weaknesses with technology. There is simply no version of Viktor in the multiverse that doesn't make use of his big, fat cock, and that's just the way things are 😌.
#I SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME THINKING ABOUT THIS AHDJFNNF#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor smut#machine herald viktor#arcane viktor x reader smut#arcane viktor#viktor headcanons#my rambles#my asks#mine#im sooooo normal about him
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