#if you didn’t notice it is on the fucking floor

[minkieater]

when another member walks in on you ateez ot8 x fem!reader

silly little thing i wrote between clients today

smut below the cut! mdni ↓ dom/sub dynamics, exhibitionism, oral sex, p in v lol, lmk if i missed anything !!

hongjoong ☄️

“shut up slut, they’ll hear you. i bet you want that, don’t you?” he had your face buried in your mattress, drool slipping from your mouth, your ass up in the air where he was relentlessly drilling  into you. 

you moaned, you had stopped caring about your volume long ago, they would hear hongjoong’s thrusts before your moans anyhow. you clenched around him, only making him hiss out and reach over to push your head impossibly farther into the mattress. 

you pissed him off— you got a little too close to wooyoung, talked for a little too long and hongjoong was livid. 

“you want him to hear you, don’t you? want him to hear all the pretty sounds you make? showing off, huh? attention whore,” his words were venom, his lips inches from your ear with how he bent over you, foot planted on the mattress beside your shoulder. 

“are you guys oka— oh shit, i’m so sorry,” hongjoong lets go of your head only for the two of you to snap your faces up to the intruder, hongjoong stilling inside of you.

“what the fuck?” was all hongjoong could get out, a stunned wooyoung in the doorway, his jaw on the floor at the sight in front of him. “wooyoung! get out!” 

“it didn’t sound like you were fucking! i got scared,” you heard wooyoung yell as he closed the door behind him, leaving hongjoong to pick right back up where he left off. 

“don’t think i missed how you clenched around me, whore.”

seonghwa 🫧

seonghwa had you on your knees while he sat on the bed, leaned back on one arm with the other around your ponytail, guiding you up and down his length. 

in a black tank top and gray sweatpants he looked so fucking sexy in the living room, you couldn’t help but pull him into his bedroom for a minute alone — you needed to taste him, show him how much he affected you. 

“fuck, you’re so good at that,” his words were quiet, a low rasp to his voice as he tugged on your hair a little harder. your mouth slipped off of him with a pop, batting your eyelashes up at him with a knowingly coy smile.

he groaned, a little louder this time, his head falling back. “don’t look at me like that or your throat’s getting fucked.” 

you giggled, mouth attaching to him again, bobbing your head up and down a little faster now. he bucked his hips up little by little, using more force with each stroke and you took him proudly, small gags and noises of nasty wetness leaving your lips.

the door opened without either of you noticing, only catching a head of brown hair leaving seonghwa’s bedroom with a shriek of surprise. this wasn’t the first time yeosang had walked in on you, but it still made you laugh every damn time.

you looked up to seonghwa with a giggle on your lips after popping off him again, seonghwa wearing a smile himself.

“how many times do you think we’ll scar him before he stops coming in here?” seonghwa asks, letting go of your ponytail.

“if he was going to catch on, he would’ve by now,” you readjusted yourself on your knees during the pause, shaking your head before bringing your focus back on his delicious length before you. “you said something about fucking my throat right?”

yunho 🧍🏻‍♂️

you and yunho had been waiting for a day alone for weeks. for too long had you been silenced in the hours from one to three, his fingers clamped over your lips or stuffed between them in an attempt to keep you quiet. comeback season was busy, and when there was time off everyone lazed around the dorms and didn’t fucking leave. 

now, on your third consecutive day off, the dorms were empty and yunho took advantage. he had your hands pinned under your back with a belt he had just taken off, hips snapping into you so hard the sound was sure to be heard outside. 

“sloppy little cunt sucking me right the fuck in,” he hissed, hips cracking into your thighs, his fingers keeping you still.

you were wailing at this point, tears streaming down your face, begging for reprieve while also thinking if he stopped you’d die. 

“don’t stop,” you repeated, a mantra on your tongue, from your hips being slanted upward his cock was hitting that spongy spot in your walls that drove you fucking insane. 

you were so close, mere thrusts away from hitting your peak, and the door busted open, an out of breath mingi stood at the door.

“the rest of the guys are walking in right behind me,” mingi’s words were panicked in a warning, but yunho didn’t stop. he ignored his friend, knowing you were so close, wanting your high to crash over you so he could follow. 

you screamed — mingi couldn’t move. yunho fucked you through it, thrusts only quickening to meet his own end, until he doubled on top of you with two large hands landing right beside your head. 

yunho turned to look at mingi, a smirk playing on his lips with heaving breaths, “enjoyed the show?” 

yeosang 👥

everyday yeosang woke you up the same way: his fingers or his head between your thighs until you were creaming around him, then he replaced it with his cock. it wasn’t a good morning until you had at least one, if not two orgasms. 

this morning he was greedy— it seemed he didn’t want to let you go. you came on his face once, his fingers a second time, and he was working you up to a third on his lap. if yeosang could do anything it was last, his stamina was like no other, he could go for hours if you let him. 

you had your knees planted on the mattress beside his hips, his cock hitting your cervix continuously as you grind your hips back and forth against him, your nails clawing at his shoulders. his head was leaning against the headboard, leaving his throat open to you, where you licked and sucked pretty little bruises across the base of his neck, little whines leaving his throat.

“yes, baby, ‘m so close,” he croaked out, his voice raspy and deep, his abs clenching with every grind of your hips. 

“cum for me then yeo, fill me up,” your hand moved from his shoulder to wrap your fingers around his neck, pulling him towards you to connect your chest to his.

your mornings weren’t usually so filthy, never downright nasty, bringing your skin to touch his brought a sense of intimacy back to your morning. 

his head fell onto your shoulder with a groan, filling you up just as you told him to, thighs twitching beneath you. you moaned at the feeling, letting your head rest atop his, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. 

“you guys awake yet?” seonghwa popped into your room, making you twist your body around to look at him, eyes wide.

“definitely awake,” he pulled his lips into a line, bidding you a singular nod before closing the door again. a huff of amusement left your lips as you looked back down to the boy laying on your shoulder, patting his head, giving him a moment to come back before you’d take your morning shower together.

san 🚪

san couldn’t wait. you were at your favorite club, both tipsy and horny, dancing to the beat of the song before san’s fingers dipped below your dress. you looked up to him with wide eyes, met with a filthy smirk and a pair of dimples that ushered you towards the men’s bathroom. 

“san, anyone could walk in,” you were uneasy, san was never so impatient that he needed you then and there. he’d never portrayed signs of exhibitionism before today, your sex life had always been private — you liked it that way, yet the hunger in his eyes and the spark left in the wake of his fingers on your skin made you excited. 

“let them see how good i fuck you then,” he hummed, fingers flipping up your dress, plunging into your core that was so wet he slipped in. the squelch of his fingers was deafening, you thanked god the bathroom was empty. 

he stuffed you into a stall, fingers still curling into you before he slipped your panties to the side, replacing his fingers with his cock. the pace he set was brutal, your hands bracing the wall above the toilet as he fucked into you from behind, hips slapping into your ass. 

you fought to keep your moans inside, pointless as the sound of skin slapping would overpower them anyway. san groaned, “knew you’d be wet, naughty girl. you were basically begging me to fuck you on the dance floor for everyone to see.” 

a whine escaped you, nails clawing against the tile of the wall. he slipped a hand around your hips, coming between your legs, rubbing your clit at a pace he knew would have you coming in seconds 

“fuck, san, harder please,” you breathed out, head dipping below your arms, hanging between them. 

he listened, quickening his pace, fucking you somehow harder than he was before. his fingers worked in a quick rhythm, making the pit in your stomach grow until you were overflowing on his dick.

“yeah, that’s it, baby. cum all over my cock,” he was drunk off your pussy, words slurring together, keeping his pace on your clit to ride you through it. 

when you were twitching from overstimulation he emptied himself inside you, head falling to the center of your spine. there was nothing but the sound of heavy breaths in the public restroom, you and san catching your breath and your sanity before he flipped your dress back down and zippered himself back up.

when you left the stall, jongho was washing his hands at the sink, barely giving you a glance as you stepped into view. 

“how long have you been in here?” san asked, a pink rising to his cheeks, looking like a completely different person than he had moments ago.

“unfortunately, long enough. broke the seal so i had no choice,” jongho shrugs as he grabs paper towels, drying off his palms. “make sure you two wash your hands.” 

mingi 🫶

the say my name stage always fucked you up, it never failed. being on stage period always fucked mingi up, that never failed either. it was safe to say that your post-show routine was always fucking backstage, it happened every stop, every show, you lost count of how many dressing rooms in foreign countries you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life in.

what was abnormal was mingi not waiting until the show was over. always professional, mingi waited until everyone was no longer sprinting around backstage with mini-fans and makeup brushes to touch up the eight boys before they had to head back out onstage. 

as he came off the stage, his walk was fast paced, precise. it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know what it meant. his fingers hooked around your arm, dragged you further backstage, and had you in a random closet in a stadium completely foreign to you. 

he was quick to split you open, granted say my name was within their first set so you were already dripping by the time he made it between your legs. 

“always so ready for me,” he mumbled out, zeroed in on your center but eyes still not fully clear. in his post performance haze he was always rougher, selfish, not a care in the world for you. it was your favorite. 

“put it in,” you barked out, hips bucking toward him and he was sheathed within seconds. giving you no time to get used to the stretch you wheezed, head lolling onto his shoulder, and he let loose. 

he fucked you stupid, you joined him in whatever haze his brain was under as he pounded into you, hips clapping into the silence of the dark storage room. you heard footsteps outside but mingi made no moves to halt his thrusts, only focused on one thing, getting the two of you off before he had to go back onstage. 

“are you fucking?” yunho’s voice wasn’t clear until he had the door open, light cascading into the storage room, yours and mingi’s necks snapping to look at the intruder.

he was smirking — he knew what he was walking into yet he did it anyway. you and mingi both smiled cheshire grins as yunho stepped inside the storage room, quickly slamming the door shut behind him. 

“why didn’t you invite me?”

wooyoung 🐈‍⬛

wooyoung had you splayed out on the bed, legs bent up with his head between them. eating you out was adjacent to your meditation time, as he calls it, it's his favorite way to wind down. after a long day, after a short day, during his day, it didn’t matter when. wooyoung was always down to eat you out, eager even — he is a man not above begging. 

your chin was shot back, eyes screwed tight, wooyoung had made you cum on his tongue twice so far and he was nowhere near finished. 

after eating you through your second orgasm his licks had slowed down, easing up his pressure, making his tongue soft and pliable instead of hard and pointed. 

soft moans left your lips, he knew by now how to work you through overstimulation, lazily licking at your clit until your moans turned to whines once more.

“taste so fucking good, could eat this pussy all night,” his eyes were fully closed, he was in a dream. between your legs was his happy place, he’d die there a happy man, he’d admitted it more than once. more than ten times, at least. 

when he noticed your breaths getting shorter and your moans shifting to a higher pitch he was sharp with his movements, picking up his pace, licking up your folds and sucking on your clit with swollen lips. 

hongjoong bounced through the door, “hey wooyo, you- jesus fucking christ!” 

your legs snapped shut, closing over wooyoung’s head and he pried himself out of your cage with painted fingertips, jumping up to face hongjoong at the door.

“what?” wooyoung asked, palm swiping at his chin.

“i’m scarred,” hongjoong muttered, voice horrified with hands covering his eyes. your hands fled for the blankets, pulling them over your body with a speed you weren’t expecting to have to use. 

“what do you want, joong?” wooyoung asked, rushed yet still casual, sitting on his knees. his abdomen was clenched, muscles on display as he twisted backward, you didn’t even care that hongjoong was in the room. 

“i was going to ask if you had a spare pair of headphones,” his voice was barely above a squeak, hands still covering his eyes.

“oh, yeah i do, here, they’re my sony 1000MX—”

“i don’t give a fuck wooyoung, give them to me so i can leave.”

jongho 🧸

you were hanging out with jongho in the dance practice room as he practiced the same routine again, the fifth time tonight.

he groaned in frustration after missing a step again, the same step he’s missed the past four times he’s gone through the routine. his hands cover his face, dragging down his cheeks.

you get up from your spot on the floor, making your way in front of him, grabbing his hands to hold in yours.

“why don’t you stop for the night?” you tilt your head, nothing but warmth in your eyes as you stare into his, cold and irritated. 

“i need to get this fucking right,” his lips are pursed, his eyebrows are knit together as he barks, “i need to clear my head.” 

within minutes he had you on your hands and knees atop the hardwood floor, bodies facing the mirror that spread across the wall, forcing you to watch yourself as he fucked you stupid. 

“see that?” he smirked at you through the mirror, fingers tight on your hips, “nothing but a cocksleeve whenever i want it, so willing for me.” 

his words were cool and calm, almost a threat on his lips as he abused your core. your eyebrows were tangled and your mouth hung open, knees and palms burning from the pressure against the harsh wood. 

“yes, just for you,” you manage to choke out between thrusts, body jolting forward with each thrust. 

“that’s right baby,” he nods, his smile turning villainous, only fucking into you harder as he spits, “such a fucking whore, letting me fuck you in public like this.” 

you nod, eyes screwed shut, “d-don’t fucking stop.” 

his chuckle is deep, his thrusts losing their rhythm, “you want it? want me to fill this filthy pussy up?” 

the door to the practice room opens, san strolls inside with a smile on his face before he sees the two of you — he shrieked. “what the fuck!?” 

jongho stilled, laying himself atop your body, trying to cover you as best he could. his words come out nervous, “get the fuck out!”

san slips back out of the door, then peeks his head back in, “wait, when are you gonna be done? i want to practice.” 

“san!” 

masterlist

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[hoonvinx]

Beneath the cold, he found you.

The biggest and richest CEO in Seoul. Widely known for his cold demeanor., but the ice starts to melt when he meets a ray of sunshine like you..

(사장) ° ceo!jay x afab!r WC:3287 | smut, suggestive| Cautions: Unprotected sex(Don't do it girly), Fingering, Pet names.

(저자 노트) ° The ending was rushed don't come for me <-

"Fuck Princess, I can get into so much trouble"

You could feel the weight of your new role pressing down on you as you stepped into the towering skyscraper of Park Industries. The air in the lobby was as cold as the sleek marble floors, and the employees rushing by moved with military precision. This was a far cry from your last job—a small, cozy firm where your coworkers baked cookies for the office on Fridays.

But you weren’t going to let the intimidating atmosphere get to you. You adjusted your blazer, squared your shoulders, and plastered on your brightest smile.

"Fake it 'til you make it," you murmured under your breath.

The elevator ride to the executive floor felt like an eternity. The moment the doors slid open, you were ushered into a boardroom where a man sat at the head of the table. Jong-Seong Park, the CEO.

You’d read plenty about him during your onboarding. The prodigy who had taken the company to new heights. Ruthless, efficient, and brilliant, they called him. But none of the photos or articles had prepared you for the reality of him.

His sharp jawline, neatly combed dark hair, and piercing eyes were the stuff of magazine covers, but his expression? Pure frost.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone clipped and disinterested, barely glancing up from his laptop.

You checked your watch instinctively, even though you knew you were ten minutes early. “I—uh—actually, I’m not—”

He didn’t let you finish. “Being on time means being ready before you step into the room. If this is the level of professionalism you plan to bring, I suggest you rethink your place here.”

Your stomach sank, but you forced your smile to stay in place. “Thank you for the feedback, Mr. Park. I’ll make sure to be... earlier next time.”

That made him look up. For a brief moment, his cold eyes met yours, and you swore you saw a flicker of surprise—maybe even amusement—before his face turned back to stone.

“Go on now” he said, his voice a blade that cut through the air.

You left the boardroom with your head held high, even as you replayed his words in your mind. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were determined. You’d worked too hard to get here.

By the time you reached your assigned office, a small but modern space tucked into a corner of the floor, you had already formed a plan. You weren’t going to let Mr. Park—or anyone else—diminish your confidence.

Sitting down at your desk, you opened your laptop and began familiarizing yourself with the projects you’d be tackling. The more you read, the more your nerves settled. This was your territory—hard work, strategy, and resilience.

Hours flew by, and soon the sun began setting, casting a golden glow over the skyscrapers outside your window. You were so absorbed in your work that you didn’t notice someone standing at your door until they cleared their throat.

Looking up, you were surprised to see Mr. Park himself. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“You’re still here,” he said, his tone devoid of the icy edge it held earlier.

“I figured I’d get a head start,” you replied, keeping your tone light but professional. “There’s a lot to catch up on.”

His eyes flicked to your desk, where neatly organized folders and notes displayed your progress. He nodded slightly, a movement so subtle you almost missed it.

“Good,” he said. “We don’t have room for mediocrity here.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Park,” you replied with a faint smile. “Mediocrity isn’t in my vocabulary.”

For a second, his lips quirked, almost forming a smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Keep it that way,” he said, turning to leave.

But before he walked away, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Next time, you might want to take a break. Burnout doesn’t help anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected advice. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly.

After that you went home for the night, packing your stuff and organizing. You were happy that your first day went okay, but still puzzled about Mr. Park.

The next morning, you woke up determined to make an impression—not just through your work, but also through your presence. You decided to ditch the overly modest attire and opted for something that showcased your confidence. Your outfit was sharp, professional, yet undeniably alluring: a fitted blouse that hinted at your curves and a pencil skirt that hugged you in all the right places. It wasn’t over the top, but it was enough to make anyone take notice.

When you walked into the office, heads turned. And so did Mr. Park’s.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a colleague, but as you strode past, his gaze flickered to you—and lingered. His usually stoic expression faltered for a moment, his jaw tightening as he forced his eyes back to his conversation partner. You pretended not to notice, greeting everyone with a polite nod and a soft smile as you made your way to your desk.

The day started smoothly, but it didn’t take long for Mr. Park to assert his presence. By mid-morning, he called you into his office. His tone was clipped, colder than it had been the day before.

“I need you to take over the client presentation for Friday,” he said without preamble, sliding a thick folder across his desk. “And I expect the marketing strategy outline revised by the end of the day. The current draft is unacceptable.”

You blinked, barely hiding your surprise. “Both by today?”

“Is there a problem?” he asked, raising a brow. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture you hadn’t seen before.

“No, Mr. Park,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” he said curtly. “You’re dismissed.”

The rest of the day was grueling. Between preparing for the presentation and reworking the marketing strategy, you barely had time to breathe. And yet, every time you glanced up, you caught Mr. Park stealing quick glances at you from across the office. His eyes betrayed a flicker of something—frustration, intrigue, or maybe both—but he never let it linger long enough for you to confront him.

By the time you finished your tasks and dropped the completed files on his desk, it was nearly 9 PM. Mr. Park was still in his office, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening just a fraction.

“Here are the revisions and the presentation outline,” you said, your voice firm despite your exhaustion. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”

He took the files without a word, flipping through them quickly. When he finally looked up, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“You’ve done well,” he admitted grudgingly. But then his voice dropped, softer, almost hesitant. “I wasn’t trying to punish you.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Then what were you trying to do?”

For a moment, he seemed at a loss. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. “You…distract people,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. “Including me. And that’s a problem.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He sighed, his usual coolness returning. “Get some rest. And try not to make a habit of turning the office into a runway.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. His eyes were on you again, and this time, he didn’t look away. Something told you this dynamic was far from over.

You arrived at the office feeling the weight of Mr. Park’s words. His subtle warning from the night before had stayed with you, yet you couldn't ignore the flicker of intrigue that had passed between you two. You kept your outfit professional again, but the faintest touch of allure lingered in your style—just enough to keep his gaze wandering.

The day went by in a blur, with meetings, deadlines, and the constant undercurrent of Mr. Park’s presence looming in the background. By the time the clock struck 6 PM, most of the office had started packing up for the night. That’s when your phone rang.

“Miss Y/L/N, my office,” his voice crackled through the receiver, clipped yet calm.

You sighed, gathering your notebook and heading to his office. His door was slightly ajar, and you could see him seated at his desk, reviewing some documents. He looked every bit the composed executive—except for the faint furrow in his brow and the loosened tie around his neck.

“You called for me?” you asked, stepping inside.

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Close the door.”

You obeyed, your pulse quickening.

“I wanted to go over your revisions in more detail,” he said, his tone businesslike, though there was a sharpness in his gaze that told you there was more to this meeting than work. “Sit.”

You took a seat, your notebook poised on your lap. He flipped through the folder you’d delivered the night before, his eyes scanning the pages.

“These revisions are thorough,” he said after a long pause. “Better than I expected. But I need to understand how you approach this level of detail. Talk me through it.”

It wasn’t an unusual request, but the intensity with which he watched you unnerved you. As you began explaining your process, his eyes never left yours.

When you finished, he leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “You’re impressive, Miss Y/N. More than I anticipated when I hired you.”

“Thank you,” you replied cautiously.

“But,” he continued, his voice dropping, “you also complicate things.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond.

He stood and moved to the front of the desk, leaning against it. “You’re talented. Dedicated. And you know how to command attention, whether you intend to or not.”

“I thought you valued that in an employee,” you said, your tone light but probing.

His lips curved into a faint, almost reluctant smile. “I do. But it’s distracting. For me.”

The admission hung in the air, thick and heavy.

“I don’t mean to distract you, Mr. Park,” you said, standing to meet his gaze head-on.

“Don’t you?” he countered, his voice low, almost teasing.

The tension crackled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he straightened, his professional demeanor slipping back into place like a mask.

“I need you to stay late tonight,” he said, turning back to his desk. “There’s a project I need your input on. Something confidential.”

Your breath caught. “Confidential?”

He looked at you, his gaze steady. “Yes. I trust you’ll handle it discreetly.”

“Of course,” you said, though your heart was pounding.

~

The office was eerily quiet as the hours dragged on. You and Mr. Park worked side by side in his office, reviewing documents and brainstorming strategies. But the tension between you was impossible to ignore.

Around 10 PM, he closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, watching you as you finished typing a few notes.

“You’ve been working hard,” he said, his voice softer now.

“So have you,” you replied, glancing at him.

He smirked faintly. “That’s different. I’m the boss. It’s expected.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “And what about me? What’s expected of me?”

He stood, walking around the desk until he was standing next to your chair. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to look away.

"Excellence,” he said softly. “And professionalism. Though you seem to excel at both… along with making things more complicated than they should be.”

“Is that so?” you asked, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand brushed against the back of your chair, the faintest hint of hesitation in his movements.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Miss Y/N,” he murmured. “Do you know that?”

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Maybe. But I think you are too, Mr. Park.”

For a moment, the air between you seemed to still. Then, his hand moved to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“This stays between us,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Agreed,” you replied.

And with that, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was equal parts hesitant and demanding—a release of all the tension that had been building between you since the moment you walked into his office.

His kiss gets hungrier as it goes on, his hand slides down your curves feeling every part. He then slams you down on his desk. He pulls away from the kiss a sting of saliva connecting.

"Fuck Princess, I can get into so much trouble"

"I love taking risks Mr. Park"

"Darling, Call me Jay."

His hand wraps around your neck possessively, your hands land on his hips as he grinds against you. He groans. A sound you thought you never hear.

His hand goes under your skirt,teasing your folds through your panties. Jay pulls down your skirt for more access. He pulls down your underwear to your ankles. His hand teasing your folds.

"Fuck. Your pretty little cunt already so wet."

You flinch at his touch, without warning he slides 2 fingers in. Pumping it in and out. His hands still on your neck as he fingers you.

"Beg me to let you come princess"

"Please.. Jay-let me come.."

Jay grins. Curving his fingers in the right spot. Moans film the room. His fingers are fully disappearing in you. He hits the spot. Making you moan into his lips as he kisses you.

"Jay.. I need it badly"

"Need what sweetheart? Use your words." He says coldly.

"Your cock.."

Jay laughs. He sits you up to face him.

"Such a needy little thing.." He turns you around your ass facing him.

He positions his fingers around your neck again. Undoing his belt. He replaced his fingers with the belt. Choking you. He must get off torturing you, because his grin gets wider and wider.

He unzips his pants, his boxers peeking through. Finally he pulls down his boxers. He wastes no time, he slides his cock in you. Making you moan, your eyes close shut, saliva dripping.

He slams into you, not giving any fucks.

"Fuck darling, I'm close."

Jays eyes glue shut. His pace stops. He fills you up. Everything was a blur after that.You think Jay's cock knocked you out.

You wake up in your bed at home, in your nightwear. You grab your phone noticing a messages from Mr.Park.

"You did great baby, let's do it again some time."

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.4

summary : A week of not so secret flirting, drunken parties, and being surrounded by your best friends; it ends with a promise and a kiss.

og summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive comments!! kissing! language!! all done <33 thanks for all the love recently i truly love you all. final part pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

word count : 3324 + tiny bit of smau

⋆｡‧˚⋆

My feet are freezing but my torso is warm. My head hurts and when I move to sit up in bed, I'm yanked back down by a weight over my waist.

What? I eye the arm over me and trail it all the way to the man next to me. No.

I practically throw his arm off me but he doesn’t wake up, just stirs a bit and tugs on the blanket. It moves down his bare chest to reveal his tanned abs.

I’m in my pajamas. My hair is knotted. My head is pounding. I hit Lando with a pillow.

“Norris!”

He groans, turning away from me and mumbling. Once he realizes the person yelling at him is in his bed, he blinks at me. “What could be so important that you’re waking me up by pillow?” His morning voice is deep and scratchy.

“What the fuck am I doing here!?” I remember going out. I don’t remember making my way into Lando’s bed!

He rolls his eyes then closes them. I hit him again, “Hey!”

“Lando!” I yell again, then my hand goes to my mouth and my eyes widen, “We didn’t…”

He looks genuinely offended, “Give me some credit, Pretty. You’d know.” His arms go to the back of his head, a slight smirk on his face.

I screw my face up, “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” I hit him again, “Okay! Okay! You came here to get your purse but you were shit drunk and wouldn’t leave.”

Shit. “Oh.” I do not recall this at all. I cross my arms. “You couldn’t have slept on the couch?”

“You crashed my bed!” I remember him calling me beautiful.

I groan and stand up, pulling my hair up and finally spotting my purse. The floor is freezing and I can feel Lando’s eyes on me as I cross his room.

“You really don’t remember anything from last night?” I turn back so see him leant over the bed, the comforter dangerously low on his waist.

I turn back and pretend to look in my bag, “I don’t remember anything after my third shot and you dancing with that girl.” I know it’s the wrong thing to say right as it leaves my mouth.

“Oh… So you got drunk because you were jealous.” I don’t need to turn around to know he’s smirking.

“Goodbye Lando.” I make my way to the door.

“You’re not denying it!” He yells after me.

I shake my head and grab the door handle, “Truce, Norris. Don’t forget it!”

⋆༺

My friends and I meet for breakfast, gossiping about the locals and everything that happened last night. “You didn’t answer when I knocked this morning.” Rebecca looks at me while stirring her coffee.

“Hot night?” Alex teases as I make eye contact with Lily who’s smirking.

“I must have just been asleep…” My tone is less than convincing and me being late to breakfast didn’t help either. “You can’t freak out.”

I tell them about waking up next to Lando, their jaws dropped and their hands paused on utensils. Lily is the least shocked but definitely the most disappointed when I share that I didn’t have sex with him.

“Ok i’m officially freaking out!” Kika drops her fork, shaking her head as I prepare for the million questions they have for me.

⋆༺

LANDO

“Last day!” Pierre claps his hands together as we walk down the streets of turkey. The girls’ absence is very noticeable because my friends are fully attentive this morning.

“I’m sad.” Carlos sighs, “I don’t want to go back to real life.”

“I’m excited to go back!” Alex shrugs, looking around the white buildings, “I miss my cat.”

“I don’t know.” I say, “I've enjoyed this trip a lot. But I do need a break from you muppets.”

Charles hits my arm, “You only enjoyed it so much because you finally stopped toying around with Y/n.”

“Truth!” Pierre laughs, “I think you two are a great addition to the group. I mean you’re already in it but now everyone has a couple.

I eye him. “We’re not a couple. She barely likes me as it is.”

Carlos shakes his head, “Mate… She definitely likes you more than ‘barely’. Y/n may be strong willed but I've never seen her blush so much.”

I roll my eyes and pretend like that doesn’t make me like her more. “We’re friends. I think.”

“You think?” Charles raises a brow.

“I guess.” I say.

“Lando!” Carlos practically screams and slaps his hands down on my shoulders, “You need to ask her out.”

“I’m not asking her out! She’s scary as fuck.”

“Pussy.” Pierre and Alex cough at the same time as I side eye them.

“You’re just scared she’s gonna reject you.” Carlos says in my ear as I elbow him in the stomach, “Ow!”

“Fuck off and let’s go.”

⋆༺

YOU

I know he’s staring at me. I know he’s not trying to cover it up. I know he wants me to look back.

And I know I look good as hell.

“Norris!” Carlos calls from the water, “Come on!”

Lando doesn’t respond so I assume he shook his head because I don’t hear him getting up. I open my eyes and tilt my sunglasses down just as a smile breaks out on Lando’s face.

I suddenly understand the extent of why women fall at his feet. He’s got glasses on but his smile makes me want him to break my heart.

“Wanna go swim?”

I’m laying on my stomach so I rest my head against my warm arm and respond, “Go swim with Carlos.”

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to swim with Carlos.”

“Too bad. So sad.” I close my eyes again as I hear him mumble something under his breath.

“Wanna talk about your little jealously streak then?”

I sit up and face the water, “You’re one to talk.” He gives me a look to which I pull my sunglasses back on my head to fully look at him, “You gave that waiter a death glare!”

“He was being weird.”

I shake my head and laugh, “He was asking if I wanted parmesan!”

Lando does not look amused, playing around with his camera, “Parmesan is just where it starts…”

“So what? It’s cheese then asking to fuck me?”

He crosses his arms on the tanning chair, “Exactly.”

I breathe out, looking out at our friends in the water and the clear skies. “You shouldn’t care about that, Lando.”

“I can’t help it.” He shuffles around, snapping a few pictures as he nonchalantly says, “You looked good in my bed.”

I turn to him again, trying to actually see if he’s being serious but his face doesn’t crack into a smile. I’m speechless. And it’s embarrassing. “I- No.” I place my feet onto the sand and quickly stand, pulling off my sarong as I walk down the beach.

He follows me, of course he does.

“Don’t hide, Pretty. You blushing because of me is a lovely sight.” His fucking smile, god!

I’m frustrated that I can’t act cool around him all of the sudden, “Why don’t you look at the very beautiful ocean right in front of us!?”

He doesn’t even glance at the view, “I prefer you.”

My lips pull together in a thin line, “I can’t stand you.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion…” he steps forward and whispers, “that you can.”

I swallow and accidentally make eye contact with Lily who is smirking at us. I know they can’t hear what he’s saying but it still makes me nervous. “I’m sorry for last night.” It’s all I can think to say.

“I think we already established that it was no problem.” Right because he liked me in his bed! Kill me now. “Don't worry. We’ll have a redo soon enough.”

He starts walking away from me as I gasp, “A redo!? Lando what do you mean!?”

He starts walking backward, slowly. “One on both our terms? One with two sober attractive people?” He raises a brow.

I cross my arms but honestly want to laugh. I walk closer, “Keep dreaming, Norris.”

“It’s called manifesting, actually!” Is all he says before picking me up and slinging me over his shoulder. It takes me so off guard that I can’t help my scream.

“Lando!”

I can hear the smirk in his voice, his hands gripping my legs, “Scream my name, Pretty.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m looking at her again.

A little less admiring this time because i’m holding back a laugh as she tries to take Pierre down in a game of chicken.

She’s on Carlos’ shoulders while Charles has Pierre sat on his. Everyone is laughing around us as they watch the four.

I don’t even realize the man next to me until he clears her throat, “Hey man.” He’s american.

“Hi.” I think he’s going to ask for picture or something but then he looks up at Y/n and I get a sick sort of feeling that this is my karma for teasing her.

He looks back at me and gives me a cheesy grin, “I’m Nate.”

I nod slowly, “Hi Nate.”

“Mine telling me your friend's name?” Ok rude. He didn’t even ask for mine. I hate him.

“Carlos?” I blink, pointing to the man.

Nate laughs a bit awkwardly, “Nah man… The hot girl on his shoulders.”

“Oh.” I eye him, my disdain obvious, “That’s Y/n.”

“Y/n, huh? She single?” I give him a look to which he looks frightened at, His hand goes to my shoulder and I fight the urge to step back, “Shit! She’s not your girl, is she?”

“Um…” Everything in me wants to say yes. “No. No she’s not.”

He hums, “Right… I know that look. I’ll back off, I get it.” He’s grinning like he knows all my secrets, “Sorry to bother you.” I think he’s going to leave but he stops, “Man also- in my experience, it’s not a good sign, guys asking you about her.”

He leaves.

What the fuck? I finally get the girl to tolerate me and now everyone thinks I'm supposed to fall at her feet and beg her?

Yeah I'll do it.

⋆༺

YOU

The day has flown by, with the sun burning us one last time and our lunch at the best local place where the chef adores us. I’m sad to go. Even If we still have this last night.

Dinner is slow and quiet, we’re all pretty tired but comment on little things around us.

I’m in a long dark blue dress, my favorite for our last night. Lando’s next to me and by the end of our dinner, he rests his head on my shoulder. I say nothing because I like his closeness.

Kika clears her throat, “This was an amazing trip and I'm very glad I got to enjoy it with you lot. I’m very very thankful for everyone here, and how our little group operates.”

Pierre rubs her back, “I’m thankful for hotel beds. And mojitos and sunscreen.” I laugh as Alex starts.

“I’m grateful for fish and sunglasses.”

Lily shakes her head, “I’m thankful for my lovely friends and for all the amazing food we ate! Plus me beating Lando in golf.”

Lando groans next to me, “I’ll get you one day, Lil.”

I smile, “I’m grateful for the ocean! And boat rides and night swims.”

“I’m grateful for spas and books!” Alexandra joins in.

Charles smiles at her lovingly, “I’m thankful for friends and cooking classes.” God that seems like forever ago.

“I’m thankful for golf as well!” Carlos grins, “And wine.”

Rebecca laughs and squeezes his hand, “I’m grateful for morning yoga and sunsets.”

Lando doesn’t sit up when it’s his turn, just stays resting on my shoulder, “I’m thankful for my camera and all the pretty views I've captured.” His foot nudges mine.

I blink, looking down at him as he just stares forward. Kika grins and holds up her glass, “To us!” I join as we all hold up our respective drinks.

“To us!” We repeat and cheers, Lando’s head leaving my shoulder as he holds up his water.

“You know…” Pierre looks around at us, “I’m not very tired.”

Carlos grins and taps his finger against the table, “It’s our last night…”

Lily laughs and stands, “Beach bar!”

⋆༺

The thought of drinking makes me feel sick so I stick to water. Lando is nursing a drink but it’s the same one I've seen him with all night.

I catch his eye while he’s talking to the bartender, he smiles softly and makes his way over to me immediately.

“Hi.” Hi? I don’t think Lando’s ever said Hi to me.

“Hello…?”

He leans against the bar as the music gets louder, “Fun night?”

I nod, sipping my water as someone bumps into us. He drunkenly apologizes before Lando looks at me again, “Want to go for a walk?”

I find walking down the beach at night with Lando far too often… Not that i’m complaining.

His drink is gone and his shoes are in his hand as mine are in mine, “Accomplish everything you wanted to?”

“Accomplish?” I laugh, “Do you go to every vacation with a to-do list?”

He shrugs shyly, “Maybe a mental one. Like I knew I needed to jet ski. I didn’t know it would end up with an attempted drowning…”

I scoff and hit his arm, “I wish your dramatic ass did drown.”

He just grins, “You’re remarkably bad at lying.”

I shake my head, looking back at him, “It’s something about you… You call me out on everything.”

“Because it’s so easy to catch. Even if you’re joking… you bite your lip a bit. No matter the lie.”

I frown, “You notice things like that?”

He looks past me at the water, then back to me. His face is shaded but the moonlight helps see his features, “I notice a lot of things about you.”

“If you told me that a week ago… I would have laughed in your face.”

“It didn’t just start this week. You just avoided me at every chance you got before this trip, but you’re hard to miss.”

I’m walking backwards now, looking at his loose button down and his hand in his pocket, “Are you saying you watched me, Norris?”

“I don’t think you understand that you’re very interesting to watch.” I go to speak but he cuts me off, “And don’t you dare call me creep. I know you do it too.”

I smile, “I’m grateful for you, Lando.”

His brows raise, “Am I being pranked…?” He comes to a stop as I push his shoulder back.

“I am. You bug the good out of me.”

He sets down his shoes, the music and lights from the beach bar far away but still seen and heard softly. “I’m glad you think so.”

It surprises me when his hand goes to my waist, “What are you doing?” I say quickly.

“Humor me.” Is all he says as his other hand meets my waist for the second time. I move my arms to his shoulders, my hand behind his head.

“Do you dance with all your friends by moonlight?” We sway a bit together.

He smiles again, his eyes so bright even in the dark, “I can tell you in confidence that this is a Y/n special. But you hurt me a bit.”

I raise a brow, “What?”

“Friendzoned while thinking about kissing you isn’t a fun thing.” My heart rate starts up.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me. When we get back.” I watch him talk so close to me, “No hostess forcing us together or shitty small talk. Come on, Pretty. For real.” He’s so beautiful and so nice and so funny.

“We don’t live close. Lando, you travel-”

“Fuck that. I’m asking you on a date in Monaco because I like you, a lot. If nothing else was in the way, what would you say?” He seems almost nervous and it makes me smile because he never shows this side of him.

“I would say yes.” I can’t help it. “But those things are very real and…”

“And?” He raises a brow, a smile replacing his nervous face.

I can’t help but smile, “And I like you. Maybe too much…” this makes his grin widen. “But still!”

“I can fly. I don’t know if you know this…” he leans in closer to whisper in my ear, “But I have some extra money.”

I pretend to push away but he holds me tight, “One date.”

He nods, repeating my words, “One date.”

“Our friends will freak out.”

“They’ll love it.”

“I know they will.” I shake my head, “I swear this was just a ploy to get us together.”

He laughs, “It worked, didn’t it?”

I laugh with him because he’s correct. I started this week with a bad attitude and a need for sun. I’m leaving it with a pretty boy and tanned skin.

“You still don’t know a lot about me.” We sway.

Lando shrugs, our faces extra close now, “I know you can talk for hours. I’ll listen.”

And I know he’s not lying.

“I’m annoying a lot of the time.”

He nods far too theatrically, “Trust me, I know!” I step on his foot but he just uses it as a way to bring me closer. I can hear his breathing and when I meet his eyes again, they’re soft and kind, “One more thing.”

“Go for it, Norris.” I’m whispering but I don’t know why.

There’s no one around, just the faint sound of music and waves crashing. “Can I kiss you?” It’s something so simple that I want to cry.

I smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Norris.” He gives me a look, “Yes, Lando. You can kiss me anytime.”

And so he does.

⋆༺

LANDO

She smells like coconuts and tastes like mint. Her lips are soft against mine.

Our first kiss was on this beach, but it was different. It was hungry and intrigued. I was drunk and she was ethereal.

Now, she’s still beautiful but I'm not drunk. She’s soft. Does that make sense? It makes sense to me. She’s soft against me, his hands brush my neck and cheek, I can feel her smile against me.

Her kiss is something writers dream about and something I’ve imagined in a million different scenarios.

The start of this trip, my main goal was to tease and bug her until she broke. My goal now has been fulfilled with her promise of a real date and her kissing me like I actually mean something to her.

I like that I mean something to her.

She pulls back, her hands on my neck and in my hair, “You’re really beautiful too, you know.” Her lipgloss is smudged and her dress is getting wrinkled under my touch.

I take her in, every inch of her. I want to burn this moment in my brain forever. I haven’t stopped smiling for hours and it’s all because of her. “You’re amazing.”

She laughs, “You don’t have to one up my compliment.” I really didn’t mean to even try.

“I’m serious.” Her face tells me she understands suddenly, “Thank you, Y/n. You really are my favorite surprise this trip.”

She smiles, her hand on my chest, “I never believed our friends. They used to say how great we’d be together.”

“They’re geniuses and I owe them my life.” I shrug as she laughs my favorite laugh in the world: the one where I make her head drop and her teeth show.

“I’m sorry I ever was mean to you.”

“That’s alright…” I push back a strand of her hair, “Everyone needs a bit of foreplay.”

LANDONORRIS

landonorris DUMP FROM MARMARIS!! I miss it and I hate the rain.

username262 : TAN LANDO IS BACK

↳ username32 : he’s literally always tan i’m jealous

yourusername : 😊☀️

↳ landonorris :😋🫵

↳ username123 : what…?

username01 : who is the girl lando??

↳ username44 : his friend!! him and some drivers + girlfriends were on the trip

↳ username56 : interesting that they were the only single ones there…

pierregasly : let’s go back

charlesleclerc : alexandra is already planning another one (this time as a true couples trip)

↳ landonorris : WOAHHH SHHH

landofan4 : she’s sooo pretty istg how do these men pull these women!?

↳ username628 : they’re not even confirmed??

↳ username25 : trust me they will be in a month.

carlossainz : maybe you won’t suck at golf next time

↳ lilymunihe : not likely.

kikagomez : treat her poorly and i’ll punch you

↳ yourusername : punch him!

↳ landonorris : i haven’t even done anything?? and i wont!!!

maxfewtrell : thanks for the invite

alexalbon : I love the part of this dump where the only solo pics are of you and Y/n……..🤨🤨🤨🤨

↳ yourusername : funny alex my favorite part is the same thing😁😁😁

[sturn777]

how would fb!chris react if someone roofied dealer!r's drink???

fb!chris' reaction to somebody lacing dealer!r's drink . | ( female reader ) wc ?? ( masterlist ) + ( request )

��ა " some things you just can't explain, like the way you're stuck in my brain . " ��꒱

the music is too loud, bass shaking the walls of the frat house like it’s trying to knock the place down. red solo cups litter the floor, a mix of spilled beer and sticky jungle juice making the place reek. you're leaned up against the kitchen counter, your usual spot for scoping the scene, your eyes scanning the crowd. a few familiar faces nod your way, a silent acknowledgment of what you're there for.

chris is on the other side of the kitchen, nursing a beer and cracking jokes with nate and tyler, two of his closest boys. he’s got that lazy smirk on, the one that makes girls linger a little too long, leaning in for a brush of his arm or a laugh at something he said that wasn’t even funny. but his eyes keep darting back to you, watching the way you keep your head on a swivel, how you don't smile at anyone unless it’s to close a deal.

you've got your cup in hand, the bright red plastic clashing against your dark nails. you aren't drinking much, just taking a sip here and there, yiur other hand in your pocket like you're waiting for the right buyer to make their move.

"yo," tyler nudges chris, pointing toward the living room where a group of freshmen are trying and failing to get a keg stand going. "you think we should step in before someone breaks their neck, or nah?"

"let 'em," chris mutters, but he’s only half paying attention. his eyes flick to you again, narrowing when he notices some guy standing too close. it’s luke, one of the guys from the frat. he’s leaning in, saying something to you, but you're not laughing or smiling. your face is blank, uninterested. typical.

“you know her or something?” nate asks, following chris’ line of sight. “nah,” chris lies, taking a swig of his beer. “just watchin’.”

watching turns into glaring when luke reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm as he hands you a fresh cup. you hesitate before taking it, your eyes narrowing just slightly. chris catches the shift in yiur expression, the way you sniff the drink before taking a sip.

something feels off. he doesn’t know what it is, but his gut is screaming at him. he pushes off the counter, walking toward you just as you sway slightly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"yo, you good?" he asks, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of the party. you blink up at him, your eyes glassy, and shake your head like you're trying to clear it. "i— i’m fine," you mutter, but your words slur, and that’s when he knows.

his jaw tightens, his eyes snapping to luke, who’s standing there with that smug, lazy grin like he didn’t just cross a line. “what the fuck did you put in her drink?” chris growls, stepping in front of you like a shield. luke’s grin falters, but he shrugs, trying to play it off. “man, chill. it’s not a big deal.”

"not a big deal?" chris barks, and then he’s swinging before anyone can stop him. his fist connects with luke’s jaw, the crack echoing even over the music. luke stumbles back, clutching his face, and then it’s chaos. the other frat boys rush in, trying to separate them as chris lunges again, his eyes wild with fury.

“chill, bro! he’s not worth it!” nate shouts, grabbing chris by the shoulders and dragging him back as luke scrambles to his feet, his lip bleeding. “get the fuck out,” chris spits, pointing at luke, his chest heaving. “now.”

luke hesitates, but the look in chris’ eyes makes him backpedal, shoving his way through the crowd and out the front door. the room’s still buzzing, everyone whispering and watching as chris turns back to you. you're sitting on the counter now, your head in your hands, trying to steady yourself.

“hey,” he says, softer this time, stepping closer. “you good?” you look up at him, your eyes clearing just a little. “i’m fine. just... dizzy.”

“yeah, no shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “c’mon. you’re not staying here.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the house, ignoring the stares and whispers. when you get to his car, he opens the door for you, watching as you sink into the passenger seat.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you say quietly, your voice still shaky. he glances at you through low eyes. “yeah, i did. and if that asshole shows his face again, he’s done.”

you don’t respond, just lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering shut. and for once, you don't argue or push back. you just let him take care of you.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @flouqissss ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory )

[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand. 

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring. 

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re- 

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast. 

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again. 

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck. 

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to. 

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand. 

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts. 

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt. 

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

-

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled. 

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust. 

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you. 

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[sweatyracoon]

Unlikely Scene

Based on this edit

A/n: I watched this edit and literally screamed. I would kill for them fr fr 💀

Warnings: smut? Knife play, blood? Death, Sub reader, knife fucking, fear play? Threesome, penetration, mxm, dom Lee know, switch Seungmin, freaky reader, let me know if I missed anything

You had known for while who your boyfriends were. And it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You were surprised when you first found out, but you were quick to assure them that you were heavily into it.

Ever since the killings had started, and you heard about it from the news, you were more intrigued than scared. You had always had a macabre fascination for murderers and their reasonings. You had studied a lot of them, in fact. Even fell in love with the idea of dating a killer, hoping that he would use it against you if he ever got angry with you. Threaten you with any weapon of their choice. Make you beg.

It made your knees weak just thinking about it.

When you saw that iconic black mask with a face that looked as if it were melting, you felt your heart flutter. Not in fear, but curiosity. The news itself had said each killing had started with a phone call. The killer was male, and enjoyed toying with his victims. That was all they knew. It made you fantasize about him, and how his voice sounded. You had become obsessed with this killer in particular.

To have a notorious serial killer in your lifetime made you squeal in excitement, and not only that, he was in your town! Why you were excited, you didn’t know. You knew that you should be afraid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be.

You kept your doors and windows locked, but you stayed up, wondering who was next. If you knew them. If he was anywhere near you. What type of blade did he use? Did he even use a blade? What if he used just regular kitchen scissors? You couldn’t help it as your mind wandered during the early hours.

You finally drifted to sleep.

The next day, reports were consistently flowing through the news about the new killer, and how the locals had dubbed him Ghostface. The name made you shiver, the sound of it rolling off your tongue in admiration.

How could he have gotten a fan following so quickly?

You unlocked your phone, inputting his name in the tag bar, millions of posts appearing in seconds. You saw pictures of people wearing a similar mask, but you noticed that none of them were the same. It made you wonder if the killers mask was custom made. You also saw fake deaths and pretty girls chewing their bubble gum while calling the guy a creep.

They might be next, you hoped, rolling your eyes.

A couple weeks later, two more deaths were caused at the hands of your new obsession, the people unknown to you. You didn’t lose any sleep over it. But you noticed that the next video caught of him, his body was slightly different. To most people, they wouldn’t notice. But you watched this man closely. The next photo was the same mask. The scuff near the chin and the small indent near the right eye didn’t go unseen by you, but this body was a few inches taller, and his shoulders broader.

That’s not him…is it?

You suddenly doubted yourself, unsure if you were paying enough attention. You cursed at yourself, pulling out your phone, looking at your ghostface file.

Okay. You confirmed that it most definitely wasn’t the same guy. The original was smaller, and more built. This guy was a tall scrawny guy. But the robes and large mask made it hard to see. Even the news people didn’t even notice it. They kept on speaking as if it were your killer. But it wasn’t. You sighed out, suddenly wondering if this was a two man job? Maybe three? Or if this was just a phony that wanted attention.

You sighed, hopping in the shower on your second floor. You didn’t even hear your phone ringing, the shower flooding your ear drums, the steam making you lazy.

When you stepped out, you noticed the missed call. It was from an unknown number, making you shrug, drying your hair. Two minutes later as you’re putting on your shorts, your phone rings again. The same number.

You answer, wiping your legs.

“Hello, y/n,” a raspy voice greeted, making you freeze.

“Hello? Do I know you?” You ask casually, dropping your towel at your feet.

“You might have seen me on tv. I’m a pretty big deal right now, some might say…an icon,” he said, chuckling a bit at the end. You barely caught it.

You had a feeling as to where this was going. You remembered that the news lady said it all started with a phone call. Your breath hitched in your throat, but your insides turned to jello, arousal pooling in your stomach.

“Well, give me a hint, then. What type of people consider you an icon?” You turned slowly, facing your bathroom door, looking passed the hinges into your room. Empty.

“The not so nice people. The ones that want to hurt others…People that crave violence, that worship the wrong god…And guess what? I see that you idolize me, princess. So which type of person are you? You don’t seem violent, just curious,” You could tell he was using a voice changer, but despite knowing it was fake, your thighs clenched together at his on point answer. You breathed deeply.

“I-How did-?” You stuttered, your face flushing. You had all of your Ghostface memorabilia in the guest bedroom, and if he knew that you geeked out over him, that meant he was here. In your home. You were next.

“You must worship the wrong god, sweetheart. Such a shame it has to be you tonight,” he almost sounded genuine, but it was hard to tell with his altered voice. You stepped forward towards your bed, sitting at the edge.

“You’re here?” You whispered, earning a laugh from him.

“Yes, sweetheart. I am.”

Your eyes glazed over, the reality of the situation reaching you before you knew it. A shudder ran through you, and you decided to press your luck. It was silent on the other end, and you took your chance.

“Can I ask you a question, sir?”

You heard a small gasp from him, making you lightly smile.

“Sir? Well with such nice manners, I shall grant you a question or two,” his voice was the same, but the tone turned slightly more playful.

“Are there…are there two of you? I noticed that, you looked a bit different from before…It’s hard to explain-“ you were cut off with a solid answer.

“Yes. There are two of us. A team, if you will,” his voice was thin now, almost reserved, which was so different then the previous playful killer that you had gotten used to in those few minutes.

“Lucky for you, we both came tonight,”

Your eyes widened, unsure how to feel at that statement. Both? What did that mean for you? Are they both gonna try and kill you? Was one here to take pictures while the other stabbed you to death? Your mind wandered, not hearing what he said to you before hanging up.

Your hand dropped to your side, your phone sliding from your palm and onto the floor. You sat still, suddenly aware of the footsteps coming from your hallway. They sounded heavy, and moved with a purpose.

Your eyes caught the black robes as they glided into your room, a knife in his hand. Just one?

He paused in front of you, frozen. You wondered what he was thinking, considering he was wearing the damn mask. You felt your panties sticking to your wet core, making you move your legs. You were desperately hoping he would take the mask off at least once before he killed you. You wanted to see the face of the man that had gotten you hooked over the past few months. It was the least he owed you.

He shifted on his feet, not coming closer.

He almost looked uncomfortable. You tilted your head.

“Were you the one on the phone?” You asked calmly, causing the man to recoil in response.

“I was,” you heard a voice say from your hallway.

You didn’t even hear his steps. When he emerged, he was wearing the same outfit and mask as the other, and you noticed how he was the taller of the two, the one with the broad shoulders. You gasped. He took his palace next to his comrade, towering over both he and you.

“Well?” He cooed, his voice significantly different from how he sounded on the phone. It was lighter and angelic. He could be a singer during the day. He tilted his head as you did to the other, his posture making you feel things you had never felt before.

“Can I see you both? Before you…you know?” You cringe at the thought of death, and the shorter of the two recoiled yet again.

“Why aren’t you running? You should be scared,” he finally spoke, his English slightly broken. Almost as if he was from out of the country.

“Cause she’s fucked up. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” The taller answered for you, making your mouth dry. His voice was so sweet, but his tone condescending. All you could do was stare as thy looked at each other through the masks.

“Let’s let her see. After all, she isn’t gonna be around much longer tonight,” he sighed, almost as if it were a chore.

Your focus was now pointed at them fully, watching the smaller struggle internally before sighing as well, nodding. They both reached for the hems of the masks, tugging the off. At first you couldn’t see their faces, shaking their heads to fix their messy hair. But when they flipped them up, your jaw dropped.

They were absolutely gorgeous. The shorter, his features were sharp, his eyes slanted like a cat. And his lips were thin, his bunny teeth showing as he cringed at the feeling of his hair pointing in every direction. His adams apple shaped like a heart as he tilted his neck to pop it. His gaze was intense as he observed you. His muscular build framed by the robe.

The taller of the two, scrawny, but firm. His broad shoulders held his beautiful face, his cheeks round, and his eyes big and devastating, reminding you of a puppy. His hair brown with a blonde bang. And his lips framed the silver braces shimmering as he smiled.

You fought the urge to make a noise of plea.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” The taller asked with a grin, making you gulp.

You didn’t respond, unsure if there was a right answer or not. You continued looking at them, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together, sighing at the friction.

“Answer me.” His voice deepened, almost like a growl. You gasped when he came to stop in front of you, grabbing your chin to look up at him.

“Are you turned on right now?” He questioned, a mocking tone lacing his voice as he grinned at you.

Your eyes watered slightly, feeling a little spacey.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

He laughed, letting go of your chin, making you whine at the loss of his touch. He stepped back, his grin spreading as he went to whisper something into his friend’s ear. His eyes darkened as he smirked, both turning to you with lust in their gaze.

“Lay down,” the shorter barked the order, and you obeyed immediately, making their eyes widen in shock. They didn’t expect you to comply so easily.

“What should I call you guys?” You mutter, watching as they both went to opposite sides of the bed.

The looked at each other before nodding.

“Lee Know,” the boy said at your right.

“Seungmin,” the one on your left said.

Their names were beautiful to you, and suddenly you wanted to sing them as a mantra, your own prayer. But you held back, not wanting this moment to end.

They both just stared at what you for what felt like hours, your legs brushing against each other to relieve yourself any way you could. Your eyes caught Seungmin gaze, locking onto him as you admired him from your position. You didn’t notice Lee know moving his knife to brush against your throat, making you freeze, eyes widened but still focused on seungmin.

You felt the cool metal brush against your skin, moving lower, reaching your top. He paused before moving above them lower. You whined at the muted feeling of the knife above your clothes, making them both chuckle.

“Your liking this aren’t you, sweetheart? You like Lee Knows knife?” Seungmin cooed, bringing his hand up to caress your face.

You sniffled, “Yes,” you whine, your legs twitching when he pushed the tip of the board into your inner thigh. A slight prick that made you see stars. You turned to look at the other man, watching as he slipped it into the waistband of your shorts.

He used his other hand, using it and the knife to pull them off, immediately noticing you wearing nothing underneath. He groaned, tossing your shorts to the side. You gasped when the blade met your skin again, the sudden chill painful before heating into a deep fire.

“Then you wouldn’t mind him fucking you with it?” Your eyes widened, turning back to Seungmin, seeing his cocky grin. He brushed a hair from your face, raising his brows. “What, sweetheart? You don’t want this? Don’t want us?”

If you were in your right mind, you would be able to tell he was manipulating you, but you were too far gone to care, and you really wanted this. Wanted them.

“I want it! Please! I want it so bad…” you groaned, moving your hips slightly.

Seungmin smiled before watching Lee know flip the knife, placing the handle at your entrance.

The handle with warm from his hands, a deep contrast to the chill of the blade.

“Ready?” Lee Know asked. You barely had the chance to respond as he thrusted the handle in, pressing it to the hilt. The beginning of the blade hit your ass, but he positioned it to where it couldn’t cut you.

You moaned loudly, your back arching as he started thrusting the handle at a steady pace. You whimpered, turning back to Seungmin. He no longer held his mocking smile, instead his face filled with concentration as he watched where Lee Knows hands met your middle, his braces showing from his open mouth.

“You like it, Seungmo? She pretty, ain’t she?” Lee Know slurred, staring at his friend.

“So pretty, Minnie,” he breathed, listening to the squelching of your pussy. He looked up and caught his gaze, both of them staring at each other. It made your toes curl.

Suddenly Lee know pushed forward, capturing seungmin in a kiss. He was caught by surprise, but melted into it, quickly slipping tongue. You watched as you were being fucked, the sight alone enough to make you finish.

You felt the coil in your stomach burn hotter with each second, but it finally snapped when you heard the high pitch moan from seungmin. You came hard as the boys separated, a string of saliva connecting them together.

“Good girl, y/n,” Lee Know mumbled, his lips wet and swollen.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing.

You opened your eyes to see them both staring at you, their eyes glossy and focused.

“Did the knife cut you?” Seungmin asked, reaching for your discarded shorts.

You huffed out, not expecting that question.

“No…are you guys gonna…?” You made a slash motion at your neck, watching seungmin look at you hard.

“No…But I have another idea for you,” his playful tone back, he grinned at the two of you.

“Be our girlfriend. Our watchdog. Let us know if anyone’s on to us. I see you already have done plenty of research, sweetheart,” His head tilted as he grinned at you.

You looked at Lee know, and he nodded, smiling. You noticed the slick on the handle of the knife. You reached for it, Lee know flinching, thinking you were going to retaliate. Instead, you brought it to your lips, licking it seductively as you looked at them both.

“I’d be honored,” you giggled, making them smile.

That’s how you all become partners in crime <3

[taropotwrites]

“I can’t speak!” Jason screams, but all that comes out is a gargled mess that sends the expression on Dick’s face plummeting into the icy depths of hell. It’s so pleasing. So, so pleasing to see the joy and humour wiped clean from the face of Dick Fucking Grayson. That’s right, the grief in Jason crows, feel just an ounce of the pain that you left me in.

“I—“ Dick can’t seem to speak either, but for a different reason. His own voice box, whole and unslashed and never silenced, bobs as he swallows. “How did this happen, Jay? S-Since when…”

‘Are you fucking stupid!’ Jason feels his useless larynx tear at the force of his rage, mangled vocal cords vibrating painfully, feeding iron down his throat, ‘Who do you think did this to me!’ And the knife in his heart demands more agony, so Jason tears the collar of his under-armour down.

Dick’s eyes go straight to where he wants it, to Jason’s neck, where his mutism is slashed across his throat in one vicious, horrible, line. Seven inches stretching perpendicular to his oesophogus. Six months healed, but forever an angry, jagged scar of raised tissue.

And Jason knows that Dick knows. He hears the sharp intake of air, and sees Dick’s eyes grow round enough that he almost looks like his younger self. The self that had taken one look at Jason wearing his colours and cursed him for it.

Jason waits for the satisfaction to hit, begs for the high of the pain when he finally gets to see the horror, the anguish, on the face of the Robin that Jason had once watched flying over rooftops with nothing but stars in his eyes. Now neither of them are starry-eyed. Jason’s are poison green, while Dick’s are a few shades away from sharing the riteousouness of their mentor. So Jason waits, for disgust, or fear, or— Or anything! Anything that he could latch on to instead of noticing the wetness in his eyes, or the beat of his lungs expanding irregularly.

But Dick disappoints him. Because there is no anger from him, only an overwhelming sense of grief. Only a sharp recoil, and a sound almost like a sob.

Suddenly, Jason is uncomfortable. And ashamed.

“Jaybird…”

‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Jason’s mind says. ‘Get the fuck away from me,’ his body language says.

Dick swallows hard, tripping backwards. Away from Jason. “I-I’m sorry, I need to—“ He bolts from the room and takes Jason’s rage with him.

Dick is shaking. He’s shaking so hard his brain mistakes the floor as a ship adrift at sea, his side hits the corner of the table as he drops to his knees. It probably hurts, but not as much as the engulfing, stuttering pumping in his chest. His heart is trying to leave him through his throat, his lunch is successful.

Jason will never make jokes at Dick’s expense again.

Jason will never wittily insult his opponents again.

Jason will never quote Jane Austen or reenact Shakespeare again.

Jason will never speak again.

Oh god. Dick couldn’t even remember the last time he had heard his brother’s laugh. Was it before Ethiopia?

He wipes the sick from his mouth and goes back. Jason looks… not fine, his eyes are near glazed, but his head tracks movement so Dick tries anyways. “Does he know the full story?”

Jason’s shoulders come up in a kind of half shrug. Then his hands come up, flipping and moving. Dick scrambles to keep up, his signing is functional but inferior. The first Robin didn’t learn how to sign until Jason, who sat on a fire escape of a crime alley apartment building every night for months just trying to make conversation with a young boy who was deaf.

“His batarang,” Jason tells him in sign, a condemnation. It’s an answer for a lot of things. Because, Bruce had sat at a workbench for years, Bruce could slice an apple from a branch without rustling the leaves. Bruce knew what his batarangs could do.

Dick trembles. Rage? Fear? He doesn’t know, but it forces him to open his mouth. “He won’t fucking come near you again, Jay, I swear it.”

And that smashes the floodgates to smithereens. Jason is heaving, a wretched, ugly, soundless thing of pain and betrayal. His fingers jerk, pressing a phantom trigger, aimed at nothing until Dick steps forward. After that, Dick can barely keep up with Jason’s fluttering hands. “He chose him over me. He chose him. He killed me and he chose him.”

Him. Jason’s killer. Joker.

“I know, Jaybird, I know,” Dick whispers uselessly. “Tell me what you need.”

A breath, two. Jason exhales and it sounds like a rockslide in a thunderstorm. Sinew tearing, blood gushing. Dick’s toes curl at the sounds but Jason makes his lips move, soundlessly, at first. Pointlessly. Then gravel forcing itself off his tongue.

“K…ill… ‘im,” Jason rasps, the effort staining his teeth red.

And Dick closes his eyes, and swears it on the universe.

Usually I don't really enjoy the 'deaf Red Hood' trope 'cause Jason goes through enough in canon without the added angst. But, I dunno, I just really wanted to write like a hurt!Jason type thing and what better than if Dick finds out that Bruce's batarang did some lasting damage.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 2. the escalation

read part 1. here

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.2 summary:

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap, zero communication, angst

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

Sex with Chris became frequent after that night at the party.

It was a rush, like being swept up in a storm, each moment together like a collision between two giant forces. Rough, loud, painful, and so, so satisfying.

You were currently on your knees, face pressed against the coarse carpet that covered the floor of your bedroom and your ass high in the air, being pounded by the guy who had taken up significant space in your life over the years.

Thank the lucky stars you were home alone tonight, because there would have been no doubt about what was happening in your room.

“Fuck, fuck-” Chris groans, and you feel the way he grips your ass and spreads you apart, likely to watch his own dick moving in and out of your stretched-out pussy. “You’re always so fucking tight-” he says, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.

All you can do is moan loudly against the carpet, your mouth agape as you squeeze around his unrelenting thrusts. You can’t even tell how long it goes, only that he makes you cum, over and over, until he eventually chases his own release.

The clean-up that followed the sex was always quick but efficient, always done in silence. And once Chris was done with that, he always left with a quick kiss and pat to the cheek.

Sex with Chris hurt in the best way possible, and left you craving for more. And he never kept you waiting for long. You don’t think too hard about all the other places he must be getting sex, all you focus on is the fact that he always comes to you eventually, even if you don’t call for him.

-------------------------------------

“Chris-” you whine against his mouth as he thrusts up into you, the head of his dick ramming into that spongy bundle of nerves inside you that whites out your vision and has you gasping for air. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his t-shirt, stretching it as you pull, pull, pull, while he pushes, pushes, pushes into you, his lips sliding over your cheek, barely audible groans escaping him as he holds you back against the counter in this random bathroom at this random house party.

The noise outside the bathroom is loud enough to drown out the sounds of Chris fucking you, devouring you, and your head thrums from the bass, the sensation in your body reduced to just that spot inside you, your lower back, where the edge of the counter digs into your skin, likely leaving bruises, and your hips, where Chris’ hands grab and knead at the flesh as he drags you down onto his cock while thrusting up into you, over and over and over.

If anyone noticed how you limped for the rest of the night, no one pointed it out.

-------------------------------------

Another party, another chase. You’d spent a good hour and a half keeping Chris on his toes as you trailed from room to room, flirting with other guys and getting increasingly tipsy. At least, that’s what you’d thought, until you spotted him leaning over some girl, trailing his fingers up her thigh.

You’d decided to just grab the guy closest to you, quickly ask for his name before demanding that you kiss him, and he does, does it with fervor as he runs his hands all over you, trailing them up over the back of your thighs before kneading your ass cheeks over your jeans, pulling you close. Through the corner of your eye, you see Chris, now kissing the girl he had been talking to, except his eyes are locked onto yours.

You watch the corner of his lips lift slightly, and you feel like you keep losing this game you created in your head.

Ten minutes later, Chris has you on your knees on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles digging into your skin as he shoves his dick into your willing, open mouth. He uses you, makes you choke and gag on it, tears streaming down your face and spit trailing down your chin as he thrusts it in and out of you.

Another ten minutes, before he comes down your throat and shoves you off his cock, leaving you gasping for air.

He doesn’t say a word as he extends his leg forward, pressing the toe of his shoe against your clothed cunt, rubbing it against your jeans.

You know what he wants. So you give it to him.

You rut against his shoe, clawing at his leg as you sob and beg for more.

“What was that?” he asks with a mocking tone. “You want to get fucked?”

You nod furiously, forehead pressed against his thigh.

“Go ask that guy you were all over earlier.”

That was the first night you’d kissed a guy that wasn’t Chris, and in front of him too. It was also the first night he’d left you without making you cum.

-------------------------------------

Chris had one hand clamped tightly over your mouth, while the other was trapped between you, furiously stroking over his dick while he rutted against your stomach.

You’d barely had the time to process it at the time, but Chris had climbed into your room through the open window and proceeded to pin you down on your bed and kiss you fiercely.

That was a few hours ago. Since then he had fucked you twice, once on your back, before he’d flipped you over and fucked you on your knees, your face pushed into your duvet and his hand still clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t get too loud.

“You’re so good, you always take it so well.”

“Such a good girl for me, you like that don’t you?”

“You’re mine, yeah? Tell me. Only mine.”

“One more, you can take one more right?”

And you did take more, over and over and over again. Because it felt good. Only because it felt so good, despite the growing pang in your chest that became stronger every time Chris left.

-------------------------------------

Chris was…an enigma.

Despite the casual nature of your ‘relationship’, Chris tended to say and do things that confused you. And perhaps that was what got so many girls hooked onto him. The way he treated you like you were all his, all that he wanted, even though his womanizing nature was well-known.

At first, it seemed like a calculated move on his part, like he knew exactly what he was implying with his words and actions, a vague promise for more, even when both he and his girls knew there was no chance of it happening.

The more time you spent with him however, the more clear it became that Chris seemed almost sincere most of the time. Or maybe that was the delusional part of you, hoping he might be?

Is this what all the other girls he’s with go through? A constant spiral of wondering what was real and wasn’t, with their relationship with Chris?

A soft snore pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality, where Chris, the man who usually doesn’t stay long once he’s done the deed, was now sleeping under your covers, one arm slung across your middle, while you leaned against your pillows.

It was surreal, seeing him like this, looking the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You’d expected him to help clean you up and leave as soon as he’d fucked you, but instead, he’d stayed, waited for you to take a quick shower, before he too snuck into your bathroom to clean up and eventually crawled back under your covers.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed, but you still find yourself asking-

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, I’m tired, let’s sleep for a bit,” he mumbles, eyes already closed, one arm hanging off the edge of your bed, while the other pulls you close.

“Isn’t this like, against your rule or something?” you ask, trying to fight back the urge to cuddle up against him and run your fingers through his hair. It looked so soft, fanning against your pillow, the moonlight creating a slight halo around him.

He looked beautiful.

“Do you do this with your other girls?” Another question you’d asked before, the first time he’d slept over.

All he does is hum dismissively in response, just like last time.

You settle down under the covers, relishing in the warmth of Chris’ body, exhaustion from your earlier activities settling into your bones as the fresh scent of your own body wash wafting off of both of your skins sends you off into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later, just before sunrise, you’re startled awake by the sound of a branch hitting your window. It was still dark, but there was the noticeable lack of a body next to you, and the warmth that was quickly fading.

That was the one of the rare nights when Chris had stayed the night. And just like always, he left without a trace, the only reminder of his presence being the soreness between your legs and used condoms and tissues in the waste basket under your desk.

-------------------------------------

You knew this was getting out of hand.

Things were only escalating with Chris. What had started out as an experiment of sorts, a game, one that barely had rules to begin with, was starting to feel like a trap. The way he was attentive and disinterested in equal measure, the way he was so attuned to your pleasure and somehow still came across as a selfish jerk who only cared for his own, the way he always, always made it hurt in just the right way…it was almost degrading how exhilarated it made you feel.

You hadn’t accounted for how addictive Chris would become.

Speaking of addiction, you were currently experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

You pull out your phone and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged with Chris.

> Can i come over?

> uh..is everything okay?

> Yeah.

> Why?

> u usually just.. show up lol, why’re u asking this time?

> Heard you were prepping for college apps

> yeah

> Busy?

> kinda? u can still come over if u want..

> it’s been a while

> Have you been counting the days since we last fucked? Lol

> shut up ohmygod

> r u coming over or not?

> Yeah, gimme a few.

> okay

That had been a week ago. Chris had never showed up.

You had tried your best to ignore how hurt you’d felt. You’d instead just focused on your applications, working on your essays and filling out endless forms. You’d even gone out with your friends to take your mind off of everything, attempted to hook up with another older guy at a bar, but he’d turned out to be much older, and married at that, which had put you in an even more sour mood than before. You’d promptly decided to go back home then.

Your shitty mood must have been really obvious, because your brother, who was back home for break from college, showed up at your bedroom door, leaning against the frame as he watched you do your nightly skincare routine. He’d seen the way you’d walked up to your room, scowl so deep with a faraway look in your eyes.

“Did something happen at the bar?” he asked, stepping into your room and closing the door to make sure your parents wouldn’t overhear your conversation.

You pause, watching him through your vanity mirror as he flops onto your bed, displacing your carefully placed pillows and plushies, sending one of them tumbling to the ground.

A deep inhale.

“No, nothing happened,” you say with a deep sigh. “Well, there was this one guy-”

“Fucking hell, what’d he do?” your brother interrupts.

“Relax, nothing happened. He was flirting with me, but turns out he was married. Made me feel icky so I left right after.”

“Oh, okay. What a loser.”

“I know, right?”

You and your brother enjoy the special kind of comfortable silence that only being in each other’s company provided.

“You’ve been kind of off lately,” he finally says. “You wanna, um… you wanna talk about it?”

So much for comfortable silence.

After a few long seconds, you reply. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re kind of a shit liar, kid.”

You ignore him, focusing instead on smoothing some oil into your hair before braiding it. Behind you, your brother sighs, shifting on your bed. Incrementally, his sighs get louder, and he rolls back and forth on your bed, rustling up the covers and making an even bigger mess than before.

“Stop that, will you?” you snap at him, glowering at him through your mirror.

“I’m bored.”

“Go be bored anywhere else.”

“Not leaving until you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“Get out.”

“Nuhuh.”

“You’re so annoying, oh my fucking god- stop messing up my bed!” you yell, chucking your hairbrush at him. You let out a satisfied chuckle when you hear a yelp.

Silence.

“Want to go on a drive? Like we used to?”

You turn to face your brother who is now sitting up on your bed, legs crossed as he picks at one of our plushies. When your don’t answer right away, he looks up at you, giving you a conspiratorial grin.

“Let’s sneak out and get food,” he whispers, eyes wide and eyebrows raised with a wolfish smile.

It makes you laugh, the idea of sneaking out as a fully grown adult with your older adult brother, and you won’t know until much later, but your brother had let out a sigh of relief at seeing you relax a bit.

Abandoning your plans to head to bed, you and your brother quietly make your way downstairs, grab your jackets and head out in his car, and everything felt simple again. The two of you used to do this a lot more often when he was still in school. Every time you seemed stressed, he would suggest an impromptu late night drive around the town, making stops at either a gas station or one of the many restaurants near you to get a late night snack.

You sat, once again in comfortable silence, listening to a song you didn’t recognize softly playing through the car radio, as the two of you dug into the lamb shawarmas you’d decided to get as tonight’s late night snack.

“Oh, this shit’s so fucking good,” your brother groaned through a big, messy bite, making you laugh and gag at the same time, and you shove at his shoulder, exclaiming about how gross he was being, before the two of you just end up shoving at each other and giggling like little kids.

You felt good. Normal.

“You know you can talk to me about anything right,” he says, sauce still smeared across his lip and cheek.

“I know, I know,” you say, as you shove a few napkins into his face.

“Unless it’s about sex. I don’t wanna hear about you fucking some dude. Or girl, I don’t care.”

“Wow, okay.”

“But if what’s got you down- and don’t lie, I know something’s up- has something to do with some guy- or girl, like I said, I don’t care- you’ll tell me if it gets too bad right?”

“Define ‘too bad’…,” you say, picking at the wrapper on your now half-eaten shawarma.

“Don’t want you to get hurt, kid, that’s all.”

You look up at your brother, who is looking straight ahead, still chowing on his food. You feel overwhelmed suddenly, and everything from the past week catches up to you.

The stress from wondering if you’ll get into college, the doubt from figuring out if college was even what you wanted to do, and then there was Chris, and oh, how could you tell your brother about any of that? He would absolutely flip, and you feel so ashamed.

You settle on telling him it’s just the stress of college applications.

“Right,” he says, drawing out the word. “Makes sense, makes sense. You know, if you need help with any of it, just let me know yeah?”

You weren’t going to ask him for help. You nod anyway.

“Oh, by the way,” your brother turns to you, leaning against the car door with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Did you hear? The triplets are going to L.A.!”

“What.”

“Yeah! Apparently, their channel is really hitting it off, so they’re like prepping to move there, ‘cause that’s where all the youtubers and influencers are, right? More opportunities and things like that. Isn’t that cool? I’m excited for ‘em.”

Your brother goes back to blissfully munching on his food, leaving you shell shocked and dazed.

“Yeah…good for them.”

-------------------------------------

The next couple of days went by in a blur. You threw yourself into applications, now extending them into a job search to desperately keep yourself occupied. The initial plan had been to take a gap year after school, which is why you’d been so lax with your college prep. Some of your friends had already heard back from their dream schools and were already preparing to move to different places for the upcoming academic year, some were already working, and you were just, in limbo. And you didn’t mind until now, until you’d realized that you’d end up getting left behind by everyone.

Even…Chris.

That asshole still hadn’t texted or called, and the only time you heard about him was through your brother when he’d vaguely mention about seeing the triplets when he went over to their house. You knew that you could just as well contact him, but pride and your hurt feelings kept you from doing so. Instead, you wallowed in shame and anger at having let this man leave you feeling so disoriented.

This wasn't the plan. The plan had been to hit it and quit it, see what the hype around Chris was all about but he’d managed to crawl under your skin, leave you wanting more.

Just as you’re about to work yourself into another spiral over the man, you hear a series of sharp taps against your bedroom window. You look up, startled, to find exactly the person you didn’t want to see right now.

“Since when do you lock your bedroom window?” you hear Chris ask, voice muffled through the glass.

You remain seated on your bed, leaning against your pillows, frozen, before you slowly pick your phone up from where you’d dropped it beside you, and pretend to mindlessly scroll through it.

“Let me in, babe, c’mon-”

A few more seconds go by, with Chris alternating between tapping your window and texting you to get your attention. Worried that he might end up waking the whole house, you finally make a move to open your window.

“I almost fell off that fucking tree waiting for you to-” Chris starts to say, but one look at your face has him stopping in his tracks.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You weren’t sure what he was seeing, but you could feel a knot building up in your throat, a slight tremor in your limbs. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of this man.

“What do you want, Chris?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of your bed, refusing to look at him, instead focusing on a loose thread on your sheets, picking at it while trying to get your breathing under control.

You feel him step closer to you, until he’s standing right in front of you, your face now level with his waist. Chris’ hand comes up to grab your chin, lifting your head up with a gentleness that surprises you.

“You mad at me, baby?” he asks with a soft smile, and it throws you off, makes you angry, because why the fuck did he have to go sounding like a boyfriend coming home to a girlfriend who’d gotten upset over something trivial?

You huff, rolling your eyes at him, which makes him grab your chin slightly harder.

“Don’t give me that attitude right now,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Why wouldn’t you let me in?”

Your attempt at looking passive was failing, and anger takes over, making you glare daggers at him.

“Two weeks, Chris. Almost two weeks of radio silence, and what, you expect me to just be here waiting for with open arms? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit out, smacking his arm away from you, making him let you go.

“Oh come on,” he drawls out, body going half limp as he lets his head roll back. “I got busy! Didn’t think you’d be this mad, and- and, hold on- I didn’t expect you to be waiting for me, I just don’t get why you’re mad!”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Well yeah, but you already knew that, didn’t you,” he says with a cocky smile, hands reaching out to grab yours. “Stop being so upset, I’m here now, yeah?”

“You can’t just show up whenever it’s convenient for you and expect me to be okay with that. You made plans that night to come to me and just ghosted me! For weeks!”

He looks puzzled, like he genuinely doesn’t understand why you would be upset and that just makes you even more upset.

You feel like an afterthought to him. To a man who had taken up significant space in your life, you were just…nothing. And you can’t blame anyone but yourself for this situation you’re in because you knew **what you were getting into, you knew this was all it would be and yet…

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

Chris freezes up, his fingers that were running up and down your arms stilling against your elbows.

After a brief pause, he sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and burrowing his head into your lap, bringing your hands up around his shoulders.

“How’d you find out?” he asks, voice muffled against your t-shirt. “Wait, let me guess. Your big-mouth brother?”

That makes you chuckle. “Yeah, he mentioned it a few nights ago.”

“I wasn’t lying, I’ve been busy preparing to leave. Nick is the one working on the logistics mostly, but yeah…”

“You could’ve said something,” you whisper, hand coming up to hover over Chris’ head. It seems like Chris senses your hesitation, because he grabs your hand and places it on his head, which you take as permission to run your fingers through the soft strands, combing through the slight knots that were close to his nape and gently smoothing it out.

“We weren’t gonna tell anyone until we had everything figured out.”

“So how did my brother find out?”

“Stupid Matt probably mentioned it when he came over.”

In a distant part of your mind, you think about how weird this all is, having Chris like this, soft and vulnerable, so unlike his usual domineering self. You’re still upset with him, but it feels nice, having this Chris.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I didn’t wanna slip up and end up telling you, which is why I stayed away for a bit.”

“You still could’ve texted, told me something came up.”

“I know,” he whines. “Would you believe me if I said I did mean to text you but every time I thought about it, something else would come up and eventually I just…forgot.”

“Right. You forgot.”

The sharp pain in your chest was starting to feel normal in conjecture with Chris at this point. Of course he just forgot to text you, because that’s how insignificant you were to him.

You pull your hand away from his hair and gently try to move out from under him.

“When are you leaving?” you ask, sitting at your desk to put some physical distance between the two of you, even though your body was screaming to just fall into his arms.

Chris looks at you with an expression you can’t read, before moving to sit on your floor and lean against your bed frame, leaning his elbows over his knees.

“End of the week.”

“That’s two days away.”

He hums, letting his head drop back against your bed.

“Guess your roster of girls are going to have to find a new way to occupy their time, huh?” you say in hopes of lightening the mood.

It undoubtedly does the opposite.

Chris makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. He lifts his head back up and fixes you with a gaze that makes you shiver, his eyes now cold and distant as he smirks up at you.

“One last fuck before I leave? You can find another guy after that, but I doubt anyone here is gonna be anywhere near as good as me,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

And that’s how you find yourself under Chris, wrists caught in his hands and held up above your head as he fucks into you.

It’s different this time.

He watches you intently, and it makes you uncomfortable, his unrelenting gaze, but your focus is split between that and the fact that he’s fucking you with deep, slow drags of his cock against your inner walls. He’d eaten you out right before, worked you up and left you wet and sloppy, close to squirting before pushing into you, eyes locked onto your face as he slowly stretched you out.

You could feel it build up inside you, the pressure to release, but he was going slower than usual, focusing on fewer but deeper thrusts that left you biting into your lip to keep you from crying out loud.

“Tell me, who’s gonna fuck you like this, hm?” Chris asks, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Tell me.”

You gasp, your pussy clenching around him as he tightens his grip around your throat.

“No one,” you breathe out, voice low and rough from your throat being squeezed. “No one, no one else, please-”

“Yeah? You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You nod against his grip, near sobbing at this point, begging for him to just fuck you harder and let you cum.

“Say it. Say the words”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, please- please fuck me harder, please-”

Chris lets go of your wrists, but you keep them where they were, and he lets out a satisfied hum which has you preening.

Chris sits up, his hands moving to grab your hips, and you brace yourself to be fucked hard, but Chris keeps up with the slow pace still, as he pulls you onto his lap, making you cry out in frustration, a fresh set of pleas falling from your lips in hopes of urging him to just take from you like he usually does.

You watch through blurry, tear-filled vision as Chris runs his hands up your stomach, palming at your breasts while he bucks up into you.

“Chris, please…”

He ignores you, fingers now drawing invisible lines across the planes and curves of your body, thumbs dipping into the crease between your cunt and thighs, feeling you all over while he watches you with his intense blue eyes.

You almost miss it, what with the blood rushing in your ears and your own moans, but you hear Chris whisper, “I’m going to miss this.”

And that’s what sends you over the edge, the prospect of Chris missing you, even though a rational part of you knows it’s probably just the sex, just this, your warm body under his to be used by him.

Still, it makes you cum harder than you ever have before, leaves you sobbing and almost screaming. Chris holds down your body, your hips thrashing wildly as your cunt leaks and squeezes rhythmically around him, which sets him off and makes him come inside you.

Everything after that follows as usual. He rolls off of you, methodically cleans the both of you off, discards the used condoms and tissues, and tells you he’s leaving.

You watch as he makes his way to your window, back tense as he runs his fingers through his mussed up hair.

“Bye,” you whisper, trying to ignore the fact that it will be a while until you see him again in person. Months, maybe a year, instead of just a week and a half.

Chris turns then, and you can’t make out his expression in the dark, with his back lit by the moonlight.

You watch, breath catching in your throat as he makes his way back to you, hesitating for the first few steps.

He leans over you, knees bent awkwardly as he angles himself to your height. His hands come up to rest over your cheeks, thumbs rubbing across them, before he completely takes you by surprise with a final kiss.

It’s not the kiss itself that catches you off-guard, but the gentleness and timing of it. You and Chris have kissed before, in fact, you’d done it every time he’d fucked you, but only during. Always during. Never after.

He nips at your bottom lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp, his fingers carding through your hair as he angles your head to deepen the kiss. Your hands clutch at the front of his shirt, stretching the fabric. The next few moments are just this, soft touches as you break apart and keeping going back in for more, quiet but heavy breathing in your dark room as you drink each other in.

You feel tears building up behind your closed eyelids, melting into his touch, and it’s almost funny how much this feels like you’re bidding farewell to a long-time, steady lover. One who wasn’t just a casual sex partner.

It makes you laugh, a wet sound that barely covers up the sob that follows it, and Chris chuckles too, leaning his forehead against yours.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he asks to no one in particular.

“I don’t know, Chris,” you answer anyway, your fingers playing with the chain on his neck. “You tell me.”

One more kiss, pressed hard against your lips with a sigh, before he stands back up and makes his way back to your window.

“I’ll see you later,” he says without turning back.

And with that, he was gone.

That was the first and last night Chris had kissed you after sex. It was also the last night you’d see him before he left for L.A.

-------------------------------------

You hadn't realized how big of a gap Chris would leave in your life.

Things kept changing, time kept moving, albeit slowly, but you were still waiting to catch up with everyone else.

You try to fill the void by hanging out with your friends, getting drunk and high, chasing phantoms of Chris at different parties, finding yourself pressed between bodies that were distinctly not his.

You dated. Like, actually tried. Chris had been in your life since you were sixteen, and you hadn’t sought out anyone for two years after that, but it was high time. You’d stayed loyal to a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend and maybe that had been your mistake. Maybe you should’ve pulled a page out of Chris’ book and just slept around like he did, maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so…lost right now.

But you hadn’t wanted anyone else. Not like you wanted him.

Still, you tried, but it was becoming increasingly clear that you had a pattern. The only guys you ended up actually talking to all happened to be older than you, friends, or friends of friends, of your brother. Subconsciously, you were probably seeking out for a proxy of Chris, some way to replace him in the best way you could.

Elijah had been sweet. He took you out on dates, bought you gifts, and was a real gentleman. Your brother had eventually caught on, and when you’d expected him to be mad, he’d actually approved, told you that Elijah was a good guy and that he trusted him to take care of you. That didn’t stop him from giving Elijah the shovel talk though.

It was good, for a while. Elijah was sweet, maybe too sweet. He was soft with his affection, and it made you feel undeserving.

You felt broken, for being unsatisfied with a man as amazing as him.

The breakup was rough. There were tears, both of you an absolute mess as you tried to explain why you were feeling the way you did without giving away too much, and to his credit, Elijah took it well. He was respectful, didn’t pry, and wished you the best.

“I’ve grown to care for you, a lot,” he’d said, holding your hands in his. “I want you to be happy, and if that’s not with me, I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

You hadn’t realized how serious it had been for him.

You felt like a bitch.

Jason was…wild. He was loud and obnoxious in a fun way, and reminded you of a certain someone. The two of you had hooked up in the back of his car upon your second meeting at a bar, the first one being at your house when he’d come over with a bunch of other guys to help your brother move out and into his own apartment closer to the city.

It didn’t last long. He was not a good lay, and that was that.

-------------------------------------

Ray was amazing. You started talking to him a little after you’d decided to go to community college to get your life in track. You’d gotten accepted into a few colleges of your choice, but in the end, you still didn’t know what you really wanted to do, when the local community college’s brochure caught your eye, and you found some exciting writing and teaching courses.

Ray was supportive, knew what he wanted and got you thinking about what you wanted too. A great listener, and even greater in bed. He was a little emotionally distant sometimes, but even that he’d patiently talked to you about, explaining how he had a hard time expressing emotions in front of people.

You were still going strong, many months into talking and dating, and he had yet to do anything that put you off. He’d even come over to your house for dinner with your parents and brother, and everything had gone well.

Days were exciting again, especially with an amazing boyfriend who you seemed to match really well with. The two of you were amazing at communicating, especially because Ray was good at it, and he was influencing you in such a positive way. You were also sexually so, so compatible, and it just, worked.

Everything was going well.

Until one night, when you’re getting ready to go on a date with Ray, and you hear voices downstairs, loud excited exchanges. You figure it’s Ray and your brother just chatting it up before you have to leave, so you hurry up, fix your hair and put on your heels, before rushing downstairs to greet your man.

The sight that greets you has you stopping dead in your tracks.

“Oh.”

At the sound of your voice, all heads in the room turn toward you. Nick, Matt, and Chris had come back to visit their family, and had decided to stop by your place to see their best friend. Your parents and your brother were there too, and suddenly everyone is exclaiming about how great you look.

You feel disoriented, trying to keep your reaction normal as you brush off compliments from your parents, Nick and Matt. Your brother just rolls his eyes with an affectionate look, while Chris remains silent, his eyes raking over your figure.

“Well, you’re way too dressed up to just be hanging out with friends,” Matt comments eventually. “Date?”

Your mother answers for you. “Oh, she’s been seeing Ray! He’s such a nice boy.”

Your father grunts, muttering something under his breath but nodding all the same.

To anyone else, besides his brothers perhaps, Chris looked like the picture of impassive, but you’d learned to read his body language over the years.

He was pissed. You could tell.

Thing is, even after Chris had left, the two of you had kept in touch. You’d done your best to avoid watching the triplets’ videos, especially after you’d come across ones that featured Chris with different influencers, the prettiest girls you’d ever seen. You didn’t need to work yourself up over the fact that he was around all these beautiful people now. It didn’t matter anymore.

But avoiding the videos was different from avoiding the man himself. You couldn’t help it, texting him every now and then, asking about life in L.A. He always answered, even if sometimes it was days late. Neither of you brought up what had transpired on the last night he’d spent with you before he left, and neither of you talked about the casual sex that had preceded it.

It was an interesting development, talking to Chris like he was just another friend. He didn’t seem like he way trying too hard to maintain a certain facade, like he was trying to hide parts of him.

The two of you talked a lot more in the almost one year apart than you did in the two years you’d been in each other’s vicinity.

You’d conveniently left out the part about you dating Ray though, or any of the other guys, from all your conversations. You didn’t feel the need to. It’s not like Chris was talking about all the dates he was going on, and you were sure there were plenty of those back in L.A., so in the interest of keeping things friendly and casual and normal, you didn’t talk about your love life.

You announce to the room that you’re going to grab a drink from the kitchen, hoping to escape the chaos and wait for Ray in there.

Your parents retreat back to their room. You hear your brother and the triplets chat for a while before you hear Chris ask if there was any Pepsi in the house. You hear your brother offer to grab him one, but he politely says he’d just get it himself.

A few beats of silence, before you hear soft footsteps that get louder as they get closer to the kitchen.

“How long?” Chris asks, as he appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

“What?” you ask, hands gripping the counter as you watch him move closer to you.

“Ray. How long have you been seeing him?”

He pauses right in front of you, towering over you, as he waits for you to answer.

“It’ll be our six month anniversary in a couple of days,” you answer, looking down and choosing to focus on your own clothes, picking at a hem of your sleeve.

“Funny, you didn’t mention him in any of your texts.”

“Didn’t feel the need to,” you reply, turning your head to the side when you feel his face moving closer to yours. “Besides, it’s not like you were telling me about all the people you were dating back in L.A.”

“I wasn’t dating anyone.”

“Dating, fucking, whatever.”

Chris tenses at that, before stepping closer, hands caging you against the counter, and you catch the faint whiff of weed on his clothes.

“You look good,” he finally says, hand coming up to brush against the fabric of your dress where it was cut against your thigh.

“Thank you,” you mumble, wondering how no one had come in to see what’s taking either of you so long in the kitchen.

Just as you’re about to suggest that you both go back outside to sit with others, before you do something you regret, you hear the doorbell ring, and Ray’s voice calling out for you.

You jump, trying to get past Chris, but his hands stay where they are, palms on the counter as his head drops to your shoulder, mumbling something you couldn’t quite catch.

“What?”

“I missed you, baby. Couldn’t fuck anyone without thinking of you.”

And before you know it, he’s stepping away and backing out of the kitchen, his Pepsi forgotten on the counter.

You stay frozen, trying to process what happened. Ray eventually comes to you in the kitchen, greets you with a smile and a deep kiss, tells you how beautiful you look before whisking you away and into his car for your date.

And the whole time, all you can think about is Chris.

author’s note: idk how i feel about this one, it's plot heavy and angsty and i feel like idk idk if anyone's gonna like it but here (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife @spideylovin @sturnclouds

[endereies]

PICK YOUR POISON - CS / MS

No Nut November - Day 26

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After Chris stood you up again, you went to Matt which led to some unexpected results

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d spent tapping your feet on the cold wooded floors. You weren’t sure how many more complimentary breadsticks you could have before you had to start paying. You weren’t sure if he was even coming.

The battery on your phone had deteriorated from a full charge throughout the night, you didn’t have Chris to entertain you. It was pathetic. Your own boyfriend had left you sitting at the restaurant, with only a wine bottle as company. The skin around your nails had been long destroyed by the edge of your teeth, gnawing at him impatiently.

With the amount of stress your studies had given you, the invitation to dinner was accepted with ease. He asked you when he noticed the strain of your behaviour, your eyes squinting past the fatigue. Knowing he set the date for only a week away, you restocked on his favourite perfume of yours. That ended up being reapplied throughout the night.

A waiter, the one who had realised the problem early on, had returned to your table. “Miss? Are you alright, would you like another drink.” The place as empty enough that you didn’t have to be forced out your seat but with people staring at you from around the room, they didn’t have to.

“I’m okay, thank you. I should take my leave to be honest. I appreciate it though.” You pulled your dress down as you reached for the small purse by your feet, wrapped around your ankle. It felt awkward enough to shuffle off the chair in silence, your hand not taken by Chris’. “How much was the wine?” The click of the purse was followed by the crashing of coins in your wallet.

“On the house, after tonight, it’s the least I could do.” She tried to be sweet, she really had. It was too much which resulted in a bittersweet smile and sagged shoulders. “Thank you.”

The chill of the night wasn’t helping your dampened spirits. Goosebumps rose to your skin and not even the warmth of your palm could subside it.

“C’mon, c’mon…” The ‘brr’ tone from the phone just left you desperate. Maybe he was hurt, maybe you were mad for stupid reasons. He didn’t pick up for a while. Why did he have to make you worry?

That went away when he answered, drunk.

You weren’t listening to the multiple calls of your name; the slur told you everything. Rage was quickly replaced with pity, for yourself.

You’d lost count at how many times he had abandoned you like this. The excuses started to be realistic.

‘My work meeting ran late’

‘ I think I got food poisoning’

‘I thought I booked it for next week instead’

But this time? He chose partying instead, you could practically smell the gin on his lips. Just as you did every time.

“Y/n? you there?!” His voice reverberated in your ears, his voice echoing in your mind. You just didn’t have it in you to hide your anger.

“You forgot, fucking prick” The end dial rung in a pleasant comparison to his voice. Disappointment ran through your veins more than rage, that emotion disappeared a long time ago.

The wind picked up, blowing the ends of your hair through the wind. Lines of brick pressed against your back, out the way of strangers walking by. Several options ran through your mind simultaneously and you chose the safest one. Calling Matt. Not only would you not have to spend money on an anxious ride, but you’d get company. You had enough of being alone tonight.

“Hey? How’s the date” High hopes and promise trailed through his voice, besides the obvious mouthful of chips. When he was met with a wall of silence and a shaky breath, he understood. He always did. “Right… want to send me your location.”

“I didn’t even ask anything from you?”

“You didn’t have to, my house or yours?” For the first time in a few hours a laugh slipped past and dispersed into the air. Solemn but honest. “Yours, please.”

He quietly hummed in acknowledgement, shovelling a few chips into his mouth to finish them off so he could hurry in your direction. You pressed the ‘end call’ button for him and leant your head on the line of bricks, the air of your breath mingling into the coldness. By now you assumed you would end up in your house, or the warmth of Chris’ bed, not the concrete.

A few strangers offered you a smile as you stood there, headphones covering your ears. At least they were warm.

Suddenly the honk of a horn made you meet eyes with matt, his arm hanging out the window, calling you with his hand. “Get in! Its fucking freezing out here.”

A wide smile crossed your face at the thought of being in that warmth your fingers started to crave and when the car door shut, you weren’t disappointed.

“Hey, uh- the heating is on and… here.” He leant into the seat behind him and gave you a hot water bottle that had a cute fluffy cover. “I made that while I got ready, is that warm enough or-?”

“Ahh thanks Matt, this is perfect.” Both of your hands immediately shoved themselves directly onto it, hugging it to your chest. He chuckled at the sight and began to reverse out of the temporary parking space.

“How long were you there for?” Matt tried to express how sincere he was when asking but when trying to focus on the road during night, that grew difficult.

“Oh- like… maybe two hours? I kinda lost count. I ended up on TikTok for a while”

“Two hours?! Oh sweetheart, you should’ve called me earlier.” You shrugged, too tired to shut down his offer.

“I guess I was hoping he would show up.” He couldn’t deny the reasoning behind your words, but he also knew how much it hurt you. Only now could he see the devastation on your face, thankfully no signs of tears. Guess the tissues he packed weren’t necessary anymore, they use to be.

His house was warm too, inviting. The goosebumps had subsided by now. You took this free time as a chance to grab a wipe from your bag and get rid of the makeup that was scattered on your face. Your lipstick was long gone with the amount you bit your lips out of habit, yet the deep eyeshadow remained resolute.

You had been laying on the sofa for the same amount of time you were in the restaurant for, a random sitcom entertaining you and Matt while you talked. Your heels were sporadic on the floor along with your purse. A loose hoodie over your shoulders, it wasn’t Chris’.

The silence was quickly broken by the front door crashing open. You sobered up a little when Matt jolted beside you. The late hour pushed Chris home, stumbling. The motion lights stayed on, shadowing his face from you. You didn’t need to see him, you wanted to hear him, an apology. One that would never come.

“The fuck you mean forgot?” He stated his words loudly, reciting  your points from the phone call.

“You left me Chris, again. You promised me a date night, I waited for you. For near enough two hours!” Why didn’t he seem sorry? Now the tears begun to start. The pit in your stomach clenched harder, the breath harder to get into your lungs. It felt so expelled with disappointment.

“Sorry.” Spoken like a child that was forced to say it. He just stood there. How could he stand there like nothing happened.

“You know what Chris, I am done! Done with your stupidity, done with your lies and I’m done with your cowardness.” Rage filled your body fast. You weren’t sure what to do, but you just wanted him to know how it felt to be betrayed by someone, someone he cared about.

You took a glance at Matt who just sunk into himself as much as he could, he didn’t want to intrude. As you picked up your heels and purse from the floor, the hoodie became prominent in your mind. So did a plan. Without any hesitation, your hand gripped Matt’s jawline, pushing him towards you. You both met into a kiss, one neither of you pulled away from. He didn’t pull back until you did, he was too stunned to do anything else. Other than focus on the unexpected taste of cherries.

“What the fuck!?” Chris’ voice deterred your mind from going too far and with that you left.

The brothers were in for a long night.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[haveihitanerve]

I've Got You

Steph just wanted one day. One day. To feel shitty about herself. To sit alone at home in silence and wallow. Watch crappy pirated movies from her phone because she can’t afford a TV and eat junk food that's probably months old because she doesn't really have time to get a real job right now.

She had, preferably, wanted a relaxing day. Being sick wasn't optimal for staying home, but at least it gave her a decent excuse.

So there she was, hunched underneath the covers of her crappy twin bed, on her phone, old bags of chips and tissues littering the floor and bed.

The window slides open and Steph's hand is under her pillow in a second, gripping the small dagger Tim had gifted her.

“I’m fine Tim. Go away.” She calls out in direction of the window as a shadow slips into the room. The shadow straightens to its full height and she curses, quickly dropping her phone.

“I’m not Tim.” Batman rumbles, and Steph drops the knife, twisting her body slightly to face him.

“I see that.” She shoves her phone away, just so that he doesn’t see her pirated movie selections. The last thing she needs is to deal with the fucking Bat. But of course, the Gods hate her.

“You missed patrol.” Steph’s cheeks heat up. She didn’t think it was that noticeable that she’d missed today. Much less that he’d notice.

“Yeah I uh… day off.” She chuckles awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of her neck. “Even my crappy manager Dave at Batburger gave me them from time to time. No point in being your own manage if it doesn't have benefits right?” To punctate the brilliance of her sentence she throws some finger guns his way.

Batman is unamused, white lenses unmoving. “Tim told me you jumped in Gotham harbor yesterday. To save a boy.” he murmurs instead, eyes scanning her apartment, taking in the empty cabinets, mold, and littering of stuff.

“Yeah.” Steph sniffs, grabbing another tissue to blow her nose. “Uh, is he okay?” She hasn’t had a chance to check, and she curses innerly at the lack of care it shows.

But Bruce doesn't comment, maybe because its what he expected, or because… something else, and just nods. “Yes. He’s fine. Minor cold, nothing too terrible. He wasn’t in the harbor for too long, thanks to you.”

Steph frowns at little at that, because it almost sounds like a compliment. Pride. “Uh, yeah well.” She shrugs, unsure of how to play this. “It’s just what we do right?”

Bruce hums his affirmative, eyes now scanning her. “But you..” Steph stiffens at that, and his eyes track the movement, no outward shift visible, but Steph can almost feel him flinch innerly at it.

Its for that reason alone that she forces her body to relax. “You were in it for longer.” He continues, pretending like nothing happened, like he's not bothered. Steph frowns, unsure of the direction he's taking.

“Yeah, I mean, I had to go in, find him, push him out, make sure he was out, and then patrol.” She shrugs. “No biggie.” Bruce frowns, and Steph squints at him, uncertain of what caused the reaction.

“You patrolled afterwards? Without changing?” Steph jerks one shoulder.

“I mean… yeah?” His eyes scan more intently now, taking in the littering of tissues, the large, thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders in the middle of summer, the redness of her nose.

“You’re sick.” The words are flat. Emotionless.

Steph rolls her eyes. “Great work Sherlock. Yes. I’m sick.” She sparkles her hands around herself in a bad display of joy. “Day off work. Sick day.”

Bruce frowns again, and before she knows it, he's crossed the room to her side. Steph stiffens again without meaning to, but he’s so close and he hasn't been this close since she was Robin and-

He kneels, tugging off his gloves as he presses a hand to her forehead, frown deepening. “You're burning up.” He mumbles, hands now moving faster, checking against her throat and moving to her sides and back, prodding and pushing with a firmness that is both professional and gentle and Steph doesn't know how to feel about it.

She wonders, idly, as his fingers settle on either side of her ribs, just resting there gently, how often he’s done this to Tim. To Dick. And Jason. And Damian and Cass. She wonders if even Duke has already gotten this treatment. If she's the last one. The one he hoped he’d never do it to, after he fired her from Robin.

“I’m taking you home.” Bruce announces without much fanfare, fingers finally slipping away from her sides as he stands, and Steph cant help but feel like she's lost something as he puts distance between them.

She glances around her apartment. “I am-”

“The Manor.” He corrects, and if Steph didn't know better she would swear his throat bobs, cheeks red. “You need medicine and food and- I don't know what else but you wont get it here. I’m calling Leslie.”

Steph frowns up at him. “But- I- okay…” She uncurls her legs from underneath her, moving to stand. But she must have moved too fast because suddenly the ground is moving closer and her legs have given out-

But Bruce is there, strong and gentle as he swings her into his arms like she weighs nothing, tucking her head against his chest like he does it daily, cradling her close.

“I can walk.” She mumbles as he moves to the window. “I can do it.”

Bruce hums his agreement, grappling away from her tiny, musty apartment. “I don't doubt it.” His breath ruffles her hair, warm against her ear. “But you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Steph's hand contracts on his suit, bunching the fabric, and if a tear slips out of her eye, well... its just the wind. 

[witchyvibes91]

Slytherin Boys Break-up Blurb: Part 2

Part 2 of the break-up series. This one is filled with groveling and begging for forgiveness. Enjoy little stars.

Mattheo: You walked through the common room, seeing your friends smiling. 

“What’s gotten into you three?” You asked as you made your way to your dorm. 

As soon as you opened it, the heavy scent of flowers hit your nose. They were everywhere. Your favorite flower filled the room. There were petals all over the floor. Candles that casted a yellow-ish glow. And right in the middle was none other than Mattheo Riddle. 

“I am so, so sorry.” He finally said as you looked at him. You could hear his voice cracking as he spoke. It had been a rough last month without Matt but you weren’t sure you were ready to forgive him. Not yet anyways.

“Matt…” Your  voice trailed off. You were unable to form words as you looked at the transformed room. This was something Matt always did to you, take your words away. In both good and bad ways. Perhaps this was a good way.

“I know. I know I messed up and I know I don’t deserve you, believe me. But please. Please let me at least try to make it up to you, Princess.” Matt pleaded, something you never thought you’d hear before. 

You were staring into eyes when you finally noticed the little box he was holding. A red one with a white bow on it. He held it up and you walked closer to open it. Your hands shook a bit as you undid the bow and opened the box. Inside was the most beautiful bracelet with your birthstone set right in the middle.

“You know you can’t just buy me back.” You finally managed to say. Matt smirked, the smallest chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at you.

“And I’d never expect to. This is just the first of my many apologies to come. Because you, Princess, you deserve this. You deserve this and so much more.” Matt explained through that cracked tone once again. But this time it wasn’t just a crack. It was a full break. Tears sat on his waterline and you could feel your heart breaking.

You weren’t quite ready to forgive him but this was a good start. You placed one hand on his cheek as you kissed him softly, knowing that you’d give him that second chance. And you would be forever grateful that you did.

Theo: It had been weeks since your fight with Theo. Usually he apologized right away but this time you haven't heard from him. Maybe you two really were done.

You were walking through the castle when your phone went off. A text from Theo telling you to meet him in the forest. You almost didn’t but something told you to go. 

As you walked through the dense area, you saw him leaning against your favorite tree. It was the large one right next to the babbling creek. He had the faintest smile on his face as you approached him.

“What is it Theo?” You asked sternly and you saw how sad his eyes looked. There were dark circles under them. He wasn’t sleeping. You could tell.

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t get that stupid fucking fight off my mind.” Theo admitted after a minute of staring at you. He pointed to the tree, seeing the initials the two of you had carved into it months ago.

“I come back to this tree every day and I stare at those letters. I can’t do this, cara mia. I can’t be away from you. And I’m so fucking sorry I ever thought I could.” He admitted before looking back at you with the most solemn look on his face.

You could feel your heartbreaking listening to him. He hurt you. He let you walk out. Fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea. You shook your head as you looked at him.

“It’s too late, Theo.” You whispered as you started to talk away. You took two steps before you felt a hand on your wrist, pulling you back in. 

Your eyes shot up to his blue ones. They stared into your soul, begging for forgiveness. 

“I let you go once. I won’t ever make that mistake again.” He said firmly. He was pleading through his eyes, hoping you would just give him a second chance. He didn’t deserve it. Fuck. He really fucking didn’t deserve it. But you missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit.

“Please, tesoro. Please just…just sit here with me?” 

And you did. You spent the rest of the evening sitting with Theo against that tree, yours and his initials carved just above your heads. Maybe he didn’t deserve this but you didn’t mind letting him talk, explain his side. Apologize. And god did he apologize. He did nothing but apologize over and over again. Maybe he’d get that second chance after all. 

Lorenzo: You still couldn’t believe the way Enzo had acted. It was months later when you finally saw him for the first time. And he looked awful. He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t taking care of himself.

Good.

You didn’t even look his way as you walked past him. The closer you got, the faster your heart started to beat. The pain and anger started to bubble inside of you once more.

“Y/n, wait!” Enzo called out to you but you didn’t stop. You kept pushing forward as your shoes squished across the courtyard grass. 

“Stop! Please, I just want to talk!” He shouted once more, now following behind you. You could feel everything boiling inside of you, not sure if you could hold it back anymore.

“Come on! Just stop!” 

That was it. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You stopped but not because he asked. You stopped because if you didn’t, you were going to boil over and explode. You turned to face him, your hair spinning around you as you whipped around quickly.

“No! You don’t deserve a conversation. You don’t deserve my attention. After what you did, Enzo? Seriously? You deserve nothing but the scum on my shoe.” You shouted at him, much to his surprise.

There was a small moment, a moment where the two of you would stare at one another with a longing–a longing for something that has now been lost into the past. 

After a few moments, you finally turned and walked away. Lorenzo watched you leave. He watched you until there was no you left. His heart was breaking, knowing he’d messed up–knowing he had lost you forever. 

Over the next few months, you received the most lavish gifts, the most detailed letters. Every day, Enzo sent you something. Even if the two of you never spoke again, it made him happy knowing he was still in your life somehow. And you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you enjoyed how much he was wanting to earn your trust back. And maybe, just maybe, he would.

Draco: It had been five weeks since your break-up with Draco. The pain was still raw but you were trying your best to push through. As you made your way to your next class, you realized you hadn’t seen him much and you wondered why.

You walked into the classroom, heading to your desk before noticing a book on it. It wasn’t a book you recognized. You picked it up, feeling the black leather in your hands and noticing the pages had gold edges to them. Beside the book was a small piece of paper that had your name on it, noting the book was for you.

You opened the book and recognized the handwriting immediately. Draco. A part of you thought maybe you wouldn’t read this, shouldn’t read this. It would only hurt. 

That didn’t stop you. You started to read the words, slowly realizing what this was. The first page detailed Draco’s upbringing. His relationship with his father, his mother. All of it.

You moved on to the next one and with each new page realized he was opening up to you. Maybe he couldn’t say it, but he could write it. 

You read it until you reached the end, noticing how only half the journal was full. There were still plenty of blank pages left but each one was numbered as if it was continuing. 

“I see you’ve found my gift.” Draco called out behind you. You turned around quickly, seeing him standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Draco, what is this?” You asked, still slightly confused why he would give you something like this. He walked a bit closer, his eyes completely locked with yours with each movement.

“It’s me opening up in the best way I know you.” He stalked a bit more forward before stopping right in front of you, “You deserve that, Y/n. I was an idiot for not realizing that earlier and I’m sorry.” 

An apology from Draco Malfoy? You never thought you’d see the day.

You glanced back down at the book, flipping it in your hand before opening up to the blank pages. Draco pointed to it, the silver ring with his family crest in the middle shimmering as his finger touched the empty page.

“And the blank pages? That’s for us to use together. For our new memories. We’ll write in it every day if that’s what it takes to earn you back.” He said softly before finally moving his finger from the page.

“Draco…” You said softly, closing the book. The effort was sweet, the gesture appreciated. But you were nervous. Was this all for show? 

“I promise. I will be as open with you as I can, even if it’s through letters.” He said softly, taking his hand and wrapping it through your hair. 

How could you resist this? You weren’t going to fully cave for him just yet but this was a step. It was a very welcomed first step to getting back to what you once were.

Blaise: You hadn’t heard from Blaise in a few weeks. In fact, you hadn’t seen him at all which was shocking. Blaise was everywhere all the time or so it seemed. Not seeing him on campus was something that should cause concern.

You were walking back to your dorm one day when you saw smiling faces and little giggles in the common room. What the hell was everyone so happy about? You opened your door and there in the room stood Blaise. 

He was standing in pajamas and holding your favorite flowers. All of your favorite snacks covered the bed. Soft music played from the speaker. Your eyes went a bit wide as you tried to take everything in.

“Blaise? What the hell are you doing here?” You asked through a bit of shock. You were trying to process what was happening but it was almost too much. Almost.

“Apologizing. I’m so sorry for what I did. And I know, I know I might have lost you forever but, ma, even if I just have you as a friend that’s good enough for me.” Blaise spoke softly. You could feel your heart racing with every word.

There was something about this moment that made you think, perhaps, you would remember it forever. It wasn’t anything big or special but it was important. To you, it was important. 

“Blaise…” You said softly, letting your voice drop off at the end of his name. His eyes searched yours and he seemed to wonder if you would take his gesture.

“We can spend all day in here. Watching movies. Talking. Eating every snack the house elves could manage to find for us.” He said as his voice ran off into the smallest chuckle.

Always joking, that was Blaise. Even in the most serious moments, he could make you laugh. It was something you always enjoyed about him. He took a small step forward, still holding the flowers in his hand.

“All I need is you. No parties. No outside world. Just you. So, what do you say, ma?” He asked quietly. You thought about it but there wasn’t much to think about. What he did was wrong, yes, but this? This was a great start to making up for it. 

You walked towards him, taking the flowers and giving them a small sniff before setting them on the nearby desk. Your eyes went back to his, those dark eyes that only seemed to sparkle when you were around. 

“A day in here with you sounds perfect.” You whispered before feeling him wrap his arms around you in a hug. You hugged him back and as you did, you felt as if your life problems all seemed to disappear.

You would spend the entire rest of the day with Blaise, talking and laughing about everything possible. It wasn’t a confirmation of a restart of your relationship but it was a push forward. And Blaise loved it. Even if it was just the tiniest bit of attention from you, he loved it because, at the end of the day, you truly were the only thing that mattered. 

Regulus: It had been a year since you had heard from Regulus. There was a part of you that perhaps thought you would never hear from him again. There were rumors he died. Rumors he ran away. Rumors he joined the dark side, fighting for Voldemort. But you couldn’t believe any of it.

You knew Regulus. He would never do that. If he had joined the dark side, it was only to fight from the inside. The worst rumor was the one that he died. You couldn’t bear that thought. You would have to see him, see his dead body before you accepted that truth.

You were walking back from Hogsmeade one afternoon when you got caught in the rain. You were rushing, trying to make it back to the castle when suddenly you heard your name called out.

The voice was familiar, one that sent waves through your body. You turned around to see Regulus standing in the rain, drenched. His long and curly hair was plastered to his forehead as he stared at you.

“Reg?” You asked, almost not believing it was real.

“I’m sorry.” He replied through the rain. Your heart was racing, there was a building of tension between the two of you as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry I left you. But it’s over. It’s done.” He explained and your mind started to race with a million thoughts. He did it. He won. And he came back for you. Just for you.

You dropped your books, rushing up to him and jumping in his arms. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close before he pressed his lips to yours in a heated and passionate kiss. 

“Don’t you dare ever leave me again, Regulus Black.” You said as you broke the kiss but stayed in his arms. He looked down at you with the softest smile on his face. 

“I won’t.” 

And he wouldn’t. He’d never leave your side. For as long as the two of you lived, he’d be right there. For you were the only important thing in Regulus’ life.

[devotedfem]

«Yoongi Scissorhands»

Synopsis: He was a shy and cute creation, but his inventor died before making him hands, leaving him with scissorhands. He hid in the dark until you met him, giving him a shelter and showing him he was deserving of love.

M. Yoongi x f. Reader

2.8K words.

Genre: Inspired by Edward Scissorhands (1990) | yander-ish.

Tags: Edward scissorhands au, fluff but at the same time dark, cute and sweet Yoongi, but possessive and obsessive Yoongi (don't let him fool you), sweet reader, naive Yoongi, dangerous Yoongi, he's too whipped for reader, insecurities, jealousy, codependency, cuteness, soft Yoongi and reader, very fluffy but very toxic, reader likes her space and Yoongi likes her space too, obsession, murder, smut, rough s3x, cunnilingus, somnophilia, infatuation.

From the series masterlist; Hush.

Navigation Masterlist.

“… There are all kinds of scissors. And once there was even a man who had scissors for hands.”

You sighed rolling your eyes, you regret telling your mom that you’d help her sell her Avon’s products in the neighborhood. You needed the small sales commission, but no one bought anything from you.

This was frustrating, you already knocked all the doors of your neighborhood.

But then… you watched the gothic mansion on the hill from the side-view mirror of your car. The former owner died months ago of a heart attack, and since then, the castle looked abandoned. People say that the former owner was a creator, an artist that lived like a hermit.

You shrugged at your own thoughts, starting the car in the direction of the mansion. After all, curiosity always get the best of you.

You stood before the huge front door of the mansion castle-like, knocking the door and entering uninvited when you noticed that it was already opened.

“Uhm… hello? Is anyone at home? I don’t want to intrude but I have such good Avon products to show you!” You spoke out loudly, your customer-service smile wavered when the only sound that greet you was the echo of your voice.

You were about to turn around defeated until you heard steps in the second floor, making you grin with hope.

You wanted to at least sell one product today, and you were willing to do anything to achieve that, even if it involves literally intruding a stranger’s house and climbing their stairs.

The second floor looked like a huge studio, without rooms, just an empty and big space with canvas everywhere.

You narrowed your eyes when you saw a figure hiding in a dark corner, almost as if they were scared of you.

Your brows knitted, but that didn’t stop you from trying to charm the stranger with your customer-service smile.

“Oh, hello there! Sorry to intrude in your house, I just want to-“

You stopped mid-sentence by a scream of horror. In front of you stood a man with Scissorhands.

Fucking Scissorhands. You didn’t believe your eyes.

The pale boy flinched at your scream, widening his eyes and taking some steps back. His shoulders were a bit shrugged, and you noticed him hiding his Scissorhands behind his back.

A pang of guilt squeezes your chest, you didn’t mean to make him feel bad about himself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for my reaction, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m y/n, nice to meet you!” You smile wide again, trying not to waver this time.

The boy tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy. If you say you didn’t melt by his cuteness, you’d be a liar.

“But I’m the one who’s scary,” he mutters softly, with his cat eyes looking at you with curiosity.

He was so pretty that it took your breath away. His raven and long hair boost his beautiful pale face. He was all dressed in black, goth alike, but his behavior was like that of a puppy.

And well, his Scissorhands were intimidating, but you stopped feeling scared when you realized he was harmless.

“You’re not scary at all, you look very nice to me. You’re just a little bit different, but there’s nothing wrong with that!” You grinned crinkling your eyes, you were trying your best to make him feel comfortable.

The boy returned your gesture, with a soft smile that bared his gums prettily.

You came here trying to be charming not charmed.

You watched your surroundings again, noticing that this place looked so abandoned and desolated.

“You live here alone?” You asked cautiously, watching his every expression.

He pouted with a sad nod.

“Yes, my creator left me without having finished my hands.” He said with a deep sigh, watching his scissors for hands.

He said left, not died.

You felt that pang of pity again, he looked so alone and hurt. Maybe you could… help him?

“I can… I can take care of you for a couple of weeks, to help you find a job and a place to live in the neighborhood.”

The boy blinked shocked, pointing a finger-blade to himself.

“Me? You’ll help me?”

“Yes,” you said smiling softly. “What’s your name?”

“Yoongi,” the gothic boy smiled with stars in his pitch-black eyes, melting you again.

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“All right,” you whispered, applying softly concealer under his watchful eyes. You felt his gaze heavy on you while you’re applying the Avon products.

He was still under your touch, his face inches from yours. You tried to ignore the hot knot in your belly by the closeness, but he made it difficult with those piercing and gentle eyes fixated on you.

You saw the next product that you haven’t tried on him, a lip balm. The mischievous part of you made you use your finger to apply the product softly on his lips, and you heard him inhale sharp. You tried so hard to hide your smirk. His lips were so soft at the touch, so you pull your finger away quickly to stop your train of thoughts.

“All done!” You singsong, acting like you didn’t see his face falling when you pull yourself away from him.

You two grew closer the last couple of days, your family wasn’t too eager of accommodating him, but when he offered himself to tend the house garden, turning it into a beautiful magazine-like garden, then they started to accept him.

You ignored the gossips of your nosy neighbors, happy to make Yoongi feel at home. Yoongi always did his best effort to please you, working as a hairdresser thanks to his hair cutting skills. You tried to be always around him, making sure that nobody take advantage of him. He was too naïve and well-intentioned for his own good, so you do your best to protect him.

He always follows you like a lost puppy, and you tried to teach him how to be more independent, but even then, he will still follow you everywhere. It’s like he needs to be around you, so you let him be for now.

Every morning he wakes up next to you on your bed even when he has his own bedroom, but again, you let him be. He cooks all of your food, and follows you when you went out to buy more products or sell to your neighbors. The townspeople say between whispers that the strange man was obsessed with you, but you pay them no attention, it was only gossips of ill-intentioned people.

It was so hard not to like him when he gives you one of his gummy smiles, or when he pulls your foot on top of his knee while trying so hard to tie your shoes, making you giggle at his serious and concentrated face. He was adorable, but… he also doesn’t know much about boundaries.

You see, after the second week you stopped feeling comfortable with him waking up beside you on your bed, not when he was getting so close to you. The other day his chest was glued to your back and his face buried into your neck, you wouldn’t bat an eye if it weren’t for his bulge poking your ass. You told him to wake up on his own bed, but he didn’t pay you attention, ignoring your request.

You started to get annoyed when he didn’t stop following you around even when you ordered him to give you some personal space. But he just shrugged, playing dumb as if he didn’t understand you at all.

That’s why you sneak away from him, having some space for yourself for a couple of hours before he caught you, and when he did it, it’s when you realized that something was off.

Yoongi’s eyes were crazed and his raven hair disheveled, he ran to you, wrapping his arms around your body and crying his heart out with relieve and fear. You were frozen, your limbs unmoving by the shock of his state.

“Why did you hide from me! I thought you left me like he did!” He sobbed, his teary eyes broking your heart.

You ignored the pain you felt at his Scissorhands cutting the skin of your arms.

You let him sleep with you that night, and it was your first mistake, because after that he started to sleep with you every night, not taking no for an answer.

You felt trapped.

Your second mistake was to show yourself vulnerable in front of him. You were crying because the man that sells you the Avon products acted rude and cruel towards you, not wanting to sell you or your mom any more products at all.

Your face was buried in Yoongi’s neck, with his arms wrapped around you while you were sitting on his lap. Your eyelids felt heavy when he rocked softly and gently your body, humming a sweet song into your ear. You’ve never felt so cared for, maybe that’s why you let yourself fall asleep into his arms that night, ignoring the feeling of lips brushing and mouthing your skin.

That was a moment of weakness, one that cost the rude man’s life. You screamed at the top of your lungs when you saw stains of blood covering half of Yoongi’s face, and the blood dripping from his Scissorhands were evidence enough of the crime he committed. His brows knitted with worry at your reaction, he wasn’t good at dealing with your rejection.

“I did this for you, because he hurt you, and I love you too much and I don’t want to see you sad.” He burst out with a trembling chin and a watering gaze.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, your blood ran cold, you were just shocked. You ignored him, walking past him, turning a deaf ear to his pleas and his heartbroken cries of your name.

Even though you acted tough, you were very weak for him, that’s why you didn’t tell the police that he murdered someone. You felt so ashamed of yourself, you didn’t even know why you were doing this for literally a stranger that you just met a couple of weeks ago. It was just so stupid, you were stupid.

Since then, Yoongi showed you a side of him that was darker, opposite to his sweet and innocent persona. He was acting more possessive and territorial towards you, threating to kill any man that dares as much as talking to you. He didn’t listen to your angry yells, simply staring at you as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum, pissing you off even more. He was controlling, following you everywhere, you didn’t have space for yourself.

And the worst part was that you were trapped, because you were scared of him hurting more people or your family, and you were worried that he would tell the police that he murdered someone and that you lied for him.

It was a loss-loss situation.

You hide yourself in your bathroom, sitting on the floor and crying your eyes out. The only moment that you have time for yourself, away from him, was in the bathroom. And you needed the space to shed some tears before facing your ugly reality again.

The sobs were getting louder and wrecking, you covered your mouth but your cries could still be heard outside the bathroom. You winced at your own loud outburst.

Yoongi knocked immediately the door.

“Y/n are you okay? Can I come in?” He asked in a rushed tone, you know him well enough to sense his desperation.

You didn’t say anything back, wanting him to suffer.

“Y/n! Please open the door right now!”

This time he yelled at the other side of the door, you listened to his Scissorhands trying to turn the knob but failing, either way the door was locked. He hit the door hard, begging for you to open the door and shouting in anger when you simply ignored him.

Then there was an unsettling and deep silence, way too long for your like.

Until the door burst open, making you startled and scream.

Yoongi’s lips were curled down and his jaw clenched, it was the first time you see him this angry. His gaze was stern and his breath heavy, he walked towards you with long steps, and you flinched away cowering into the bathroom’s corner. His boots stopped before you, you made an effort to not look up and avoid his gaze. He squatted, growling when you still didn’t meet his eyes.

You cried in pain when he used his Scissorhands to grab your chin making you look at him. You felt blood dropping from the wound. His ebony eyes widened, and his brows knitted in worry and anger.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you make it very hard.” He said with a pained grimace, as if the thought of hurting you wounded him more than you.

“Go back to your house Yoongi, I don’t want you near me.” You pressed between teeth, fighting back tears of frustration.

Yoongi inhaled sharply, with hurt flashing his watery eyes. His lips wobbled and the tears stream like cascades to his chin, he didn’t wipe them away, he only stared at you as if you just stabbed him.

You gulped hard at the sight, ignoring your heavy heart and avoiding his eyes, looking at the tiles of the bathroom instead.

“Is it… because of my hands? I know they’re ugly and sharp, but I promise not to hurt you with them.” He urged with a broken voice, coming closer to you, inches from your face and pushing you deeper into the corner. You felt trapped by him. He just didn’t let you breathe, it’s all him, him and him everywhere you take a breath.

“It’s not your hands! I like them! It’s just… you don’t give me space and you go around killing people and that’s not okay! Can you just have some common sense?” You barked against his face, panting with anger.

Yoongi looked like a kicked pup by your scolding.

“Sense? ‘Don’t know ‘bout that, ‘just know that I like your-your space and I don’t like bad people making you sad.” He whispered with a weak and soft voice, looking defeated.

You closed your eyes a second, the pang of guilt was too strong to bear. He didn’t know any better, he was just naïve.

You grabbed his face into your hands, stroking softly his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping the dry tears away. Yoongi sighed into your touch, with his lids heavy, staring piercingly at you.

You two stayed like that for a couple of minutes, until Yoongi pulled your wrists away, getting more closer to your face till your noses brushed.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked with a thin voice, his hot breath caressing your lips. You felt dizzy by his voice, scent and closeness, it felt like he was putting you under a spell.

You just nodded weakly, not wanting to utter a word and break the tension growing between you two.

His lips roamed until your jaw, brushing the skin and smiling against it, that was your only warning before he stands up pulling you with him, making you gasp and wrap your legs around his waist, he tried to not cut you with his Scissorhands.

You liked being carried by him as if you weight nothing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his raven and soft looks, his scent making you dizzy again.

He took you to his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. He tried to lay you down on his mattress, but you clung yourself around him tighter, not wanting to pull away from his warmth for even a second. Yoongi chuckled at your reaction, trying to lay you down again.

“Let go, pretty girl,” you melted at his words, letting go of him and lying on his bed. Yoongi smirked mischievous at your compliance.

One of his finger-blades caressed your cheek lovingly, your heart beat was wild against your ribcage. Yoongi proved to be very dangerous, but at the same time, very sweet and innocent. You didn’t know what to think of him anymore.

“Let go of your thoughts, focus on me.” He ordered with a deep voice, his heavy gaze was watching your every expression, not missing your doubts.

You blinked surprised at his tone, but you smiled at him anyway.

Your legs were opened widely to make room for him, your toes curled at the feeling of his groin rubbing yours. You whimpered with your back arching at the feeling of his tongue lapping your neck like a starve dog, touching you everywhere like a possessed man. You ignored the pictures of you pinned to his wall, too busy moaning against his ear.

He’s doing what he wanted to do the first time he saw you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg @acherry04 @lizziekitty @withmuchluv-tannie

[hippolotamus]

"Are you going to be okay?" + Bucktommy

No. No, I am not 😭 Please remember this is an angst prompt and that I love you so, so much 💞

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your smile and the sound of your voice | T | 1.2k

“Are you going to be okay, Buckaroo?” 

Hen taps the neck of her beer against his and nudges his shoulder. 

“Yeah, of course.” He checks his phone again and sees the text he’s been waiting for from Eddie.

Be there in 5

“Yeah,” he says again, brighter and easier. Like he’s suddenly got more room to breathe.

She fondly rolls her eyes, letting him know she’s not buying it but she’s here for him all the same. 

His gut twists with nerves, like he inhaled an entire roll of Mentos and chased it with a two liter of Coke. He’s fine, though. He’s more than likely tachycardic, and he’s sweating like a pig, but he’s good. Honestly. 

Why wouldn’t he be? His family is supporting him through one of the more dramatic moves he’s ever tried to pull off. And he didn’t have to say a word for them to buy into his unhinged plan. They just- did. Albeit with many unvoiced concerns communicated in shared glances and whatever telepathy thing Hen and Chim have going on. Still, they’re here and he’s so, so grateful. He’ll want them to celebrate or if… well, he just needs them either way.

He taps his foot nervously, gripping the karaoke mic tighter and watching the seconds tick by on his watch. And then he sees him. His world stops when Tommy notices him. Their gaze locks across the room like one of those cheesy rom coms that Tommy loves. The kind they’d watch on the couch, or in bed together on a lazy afternoon. Buck wishes it was actually one of those meet cute moments where the main characters have a love at first sight experience. 

Instead, Eddie and Chim are nudging Tommy towards the front of the bar, urging him not to turn and run. All so Buck can cut his heart open and bleed out on the stage for him – for them – and hope he has enough time before his veins run dry. 

Tommy reluctantly sits on the bar stool strategically placed front and center. He’s flanked by Eddie, Chim, Maddie, Hen, Karen and Josh like a group of off kilter secret service agents. And yet he’s still looking at Buck with this mix of adoration and exasperation. Like nothing changed and he’s just here to watch his boyfriend be an idiot.

Buck’s heart pounds behind his ribcage and it’s all he can do to stay standing. He takes a swig of his beer, not that it does much when his mouth feels drier than the Sahara. Hopefully Tommy will understand needing a little liquid courage if only because he knows how much Buck hates singing in public. 

“Ready?” The DJ asks him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Buck’s eyes flick to the screen, knowing his piece begins immediately. There’s no intro or lead up. Just Buck and whatever’s left of his dignity. 

“If you change your mind-” he winces as his voice cracks, “I’m the first in line. Honey, I’m still free, take a chance on me.”

Christ, it’s so off key but he’s on a roll now and gaining confidence with every note. 

“Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie, if you put me to the test, if you let me try!” Buck sweeps his free hand over his torso, peacocking in every sense of the word.

Tommy scrubs at his face, looking for all the world like he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Not that Buck blames him. 

“Please don’t make this harder.” Tommy sighs. Silently begs with a pleading look. 

Buck sings louder to drive the point home. “You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair. But I think you knoooow, that I can’t let go.” 

Even with Tommy’s palm covering his mouth, Buck can still see the smile glowing in those blue eyes he always wants to stay lost in. 

He steps off the stage, flirty and confident as his friends make room for him to circle the man he’s over the goddamn moon about. The man he’s so fucking in love with that he’s willing to humiliate himself in front of their colleagues. “You say that I waste my time, but I can’t get ya off my mind. No, I can’t let goooo. ‘Cause I love you so.” 

Buck shrugs playfully, drinking in the embarrassed smirk he’s so familiar with. Just one of the dozens of expressions he’s catalogued over their months together. And tortured himself with in the weeks since Tommy broke his heart. Both of their hearts, really. 

By now, the crowd is clapping and cheering him on as he sings his lungs out, strutting around like the lovesick fool that he is. 

“Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me!” 

The song fades out, coming to an end as he slides on his good knee. He stops in front of Tommy, panting and flushed, baring his soul for everyone at the badge and ladder to see. Except he only needs one person to see it. To see everything and not be terrified.

“I know I fucked up before and I- I rushed things. And I know this isn’t how any of this should have happened. But you wouldn’t answer me or- or return my calls or texts.” His jaw trembles, voice breaking as tears drip off his chin. “You can take your time, baby. I’m in no hurry.” 

Buck risks reaching for Tommy’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Tommy. Sweetheart. Take a chance on me. Again. Please.”

It feels like a truce, like a fresh beginning. Like the start of something.

“Evan.” 

Buck’s blood fizzes like champagne, bursting with hope. Tommy smiles, a lopsided thing, and oh Buck can hardly sit still long enough to hear what comes next. But he has to, he needs to be patient. Not impulsive, not like before. 

“Buck,” Tommy corrects. 

The world seems to collapse around him. His chosen name sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Like a sour note in an otherwise beautiful aria. 

A tear escapes, rolling down Tommy’s cheek, past his now wobbly lip. “I wish I could. This is- it’s sweet and no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” Tommy looks up at the ceiling, just like he did that night in the loft, and then meets Buck’s gaze again. “You are gonna be someone’s once in a lifetime. I just know it. But not-” There’s a strangled sound between them, from god knows where. Maybe it’s Buck, maybe it’s Tommy. Maybe it’s both. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers. 

In a blink, Buck’s hand is empty and Tommy’s weaving through the crowd. Leaving him all over  again.

“No, wait! Hold on!” Buck drops the microphone, ready to chase after him this time. Like he didn’t before. Like he should have. He apologizes as he knocks into tables and past servers until he’s finally out in the cool night air. He licks the salty tears from his lips, frantically searching in every direction. It hasn’t been that long. Buck was seconds behind. Tommy has to be here. 

But he’s not. There’s no sign of him in the crowds of people walking by. People laughing and talking and living their lives with fully formed hearts. All of them ignorant to Buck and his despair. 

“Wait,” he rasps, falling to his knees in the middle of the filthy LA sidewalk. “Please wait.” 

[latenighttalkinqwp]

kk arnold x dancer!reader, maybe some smut too

kk arnold x dancer!gf

as they finished calling your entry number and the applause quieted down, the walk onto the stage felt like forever. your eyes darted across the room, looking for a specific pair to meet yours. the first few beats of your song began to play, and your mind immediately went quiet. this was your last time competing on stage before college, and you knew you couldn’t risk it. you have put every bit of your soul into perfecting this solo for this exact moment, and everyone in the room was able to tell. weather it was your technique being near to perfect, or the story being told with your body, the judges were loving it.

as you knee-dropped to the floor, you slowly looked up and met her eyes across the room. her smile was wide, and her phone was recording this moment for you. the emotion on kk’s face was evident, and it gave you the motivation to continue performing to the best of your ability. she has been with you training all these months, and she’s one of the few people who know how hard you have wanted this. being on the stage at nationals your senior year has been your forever dream— and now you’re finally here. “bum roll up…hold this leg. dear god hold this leg baby.” kk whispered, having every moment of your choreography memorized.

the angle of your body shifted, and your leg slowly began to come up into a développé for five counts. your toes were pointed, and your back slowly began to arch as you fell into a back-walkover. the audience cheered, as you began to walk off stage. your eyes were watering, and your team ran to hug you as the audience was standing to applaud you. “that was so beautiful.” your teacher whispered in your ear, hugging you tightly. you muttered a quiet thank you, just trying to get out from backstage. as the next number was called, you were finally able to break away and start looking for your person. kk was doing the same thing, looking around the convention center looking for your navy blue costume.

“kk!” you waved, speeding up your walk as you noticed her in the distance. she smiled, pushing past a few other dancers to finally pull you into a tight embrace. “you did so amazing baby.” she immediately said, wrapping her arms around your waist. you could feel your cheeks heat up, her compliments still having that affect on you. “thank you.” you mumbled, pulling back from her embrace slowly. you began to look around for a more quiet place, the constant flow of people overwhelming you. “i found a place we could go when i was walking over here, cmon.” she said, knowing what you needed. her arm wrapped around your waist, as she led you to an empty meeting room that the convention center had left open. you immediately sat on one of the couches, pulling kk down with you. she laughed, handing you a bottle of water she had bought for you earlier.

“i’m so proud of you.” she leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your red lips. you pouted, “what kind of kiss was that?” you said. “i didn’t want to mess up your stage makeup.” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for a deep kiss. kk’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into her lap. your emotions were still going haywire, the adrenaline from performing still surging through you. “you looked so good up there.” kk mumbled, pulling away to start leaving kissed down your neck. you let out a quiet moan, throwing your head back. her hands ran up and down your open back, and your body covered in chills. “kamorea..” your eyes flutter shut, as your body begins to melt into hers. “what is it baby?” she pulls you back in for a kiss, her hands wrapping your waist firmly. “mm..need you.” you say against her lips, still kissing her intensely.

“are you sure? so many people could hear us..” she leans up to whisper in your ear, then kisses down to the nape of your neck. “fuck- yes kk. please” before you could even finish your sentence, she had begun pulling your costume off, and leaving kisses down your your bare chest. your breathing picked up, as you pulled her shirt off quickly. she began to pull the rest of your costume off, and pulling down your tights gently so they didn’t rip. “you looked so good up there baby-“ she rubbed her hand up to the inside of your thigh, feeling the heat coming from your core. your hands come out to hold the back of the couch, as kk slowly begins to take off your underwear. it all happens fast after that- her slim fingers sliding into your core, while her thumb rubs circles on your clit. “fuck- oh my god.” you moan, biting down on your bottom lip. “you feel so good baby- so wet f’me” she rasps out, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a fast pace.

you can feel the knot in your stomach forming, and your hips begin to grind against her hand. “i’m so close- kk. oh my god.” your hand comes up to your breast, as you throw your head back. “that’s it baby, come for me” her fingers slow down for a moment, as you slowly come down from the high. kk slides her fingers out slowly, pulling them up to her mouth. your slick had covered her pants and nearly her entire hand- but that clearly didn’t bother her as she licked off her fingers. “you did so good baby.” she kisses your cheek, trying to find something to help clean you off. your chest is still heaving as you are trying to catch your breath, and your mascara is definitely running. “i can’t believe we just fucked at a dance competition- kamorea!” you giggled, pulling her back down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “what? don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” she laughs, helping you put your costume back on.

“you’re lucky i love you.” you both laugh, trying to make each other look presentable again.

- thank you so much for reading all the way through!

- guys this has been in the drafts for a hot minute… but lmk if this is good pls ( im not much of a smut writer so be kind 😣 )

[alwaysthefool]

House of Horrors (x Xavier)

Tags: Comfort, action, MC Reader, GN Reader

Warnings: scary, long, violence mention

Synopsis: You see just how much Xavier tries to keep you safe during and after a mission.

Happy late Halloween 🎃?

This one was meant to be a solo mission, and Xavier, though he would always come with you if he knew, was deployed elsewhere. The circumstances surrounding the mission were odd; firstly, Jenna was on a break so it was handed to you by the robots in charge, and secondly, this was unlike any mission you’d had before.

Some tourists went missing after booking a house for their stay, and the investigation team reported strange happenings in the house, outside the gambit of police as it seemed to have something to do with Wanderers. Things weren’t too busy in Linkon either so it was confusing as to why you had to handle it alone. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to bother Xavier, so you informed Nero and Tara that you’d be going alone.

Although, as you parked your car in the driveway of the western-style , secluded from the bustling city and dark already at 6PM, you felt an urge to text Xavier, frowning when you noticed there was no service in the area, and even your hunter’s watch wasn’t functioning. That should have been your first cue to leave, but you were informed this was typical— which is where your evol would come in handy in checking for metaflux fluctuations.

Plus, in the house’s and probably your defense, it was well maintained from the outside and there were functioning CCTVs, just secluded. The tourists wouldn’t have suspected anything wrong, it was just the knowledge and silence thereafter that scared you.

You turned to open the electronic lock with the code given to you, but the door creaked open by itself.

I have a gun, you reminded yourself, heading inside.

The living room was covered in police tapes, the vintage furniture covered in plastic. You felt around the dark room for the light switch, but upon turning it off and on, it seemed to be non-working. You expected that too, so you relied on your torch.

It almost felt like ghost-hunting as you walked around the eerie house feeling for any hint of metaflux, your heart rate increasing for no apparent reason. Although your watch couldn’t sense Metaflux or send any signals, it depicted your blood pressure as ‘extremely high’, advising you to sit down. Given your syndrome, you should have, but you only had the basement left.

You climbed down the first floor, back to the living room, feeling something amiss, as if something had moved, or was different from before. You were also certain you left the front door open, but it was now shut. You chalked it off, pulling out your gun, as you found the door to the basement.

You knew it’d be dark, but even with the torch, you could barely see the stairs. You carefully took your first step down when the door behind you slammed shut.

Fuck.

The only way now was further down.

And with what you could hear, there was definitely something else there.

You gulped, every step a screeching creak, the scent of rot hijacking your nose. You didn’t dare use your peripheral vision, or look behind you for you were sure something was surrounding you. When you reached the floor and shone your flashlight, there was nothing to be seen. Quite literally, no light penetrated the basement, from where, amidst the terrorising feelings of fear and dizziness, you sensed it.

A Wanderer.

You couldn’t shoot shots into the dark, neither could you go back up, so you took a single step into the dark, trying to rely on your other senses.

Terrible idea. The logical voice in your head spoke.

You felt something grab your ankle in the pitch dark, dragging you at high speed. You let out a scream, hastily reaching for your gun which was knocked out of your hand by something sharp.

“Let me go!” You screamed, pushing at whatever held you. It lifted you up by the foot but you managed to land a shot somewhere on it, making it let you go. You fell face first, terrified, scrambling, reaching for where you dropped your torch, the only hint of light in the room. You managed to reach the basement steps, before being tripped and pulled back.

“Xavier!” You cried, your hand holding on the floorboard with dear life. You didn’t know why you called for him of all people, at the darkest moment of your life too. Your heart pleaded for him to be somewhere close by, regretting not taking him with you, hoping he’d be his stubborn self and look for you anyway.

“I’m here.” He replied, his strong hand taking yours and drawing you into the light. He pulled you safely behind him, his evol lighting up the basement. The Wanderer howled at the light, trying to hide in corners, behind the dryer, but Xavier was onto him within seconds, blazing sword slicing him into dust. With a final screech, the being fell, leaving only a Protocore behind.

Xavier let it fall to the floor, rushing back to you, holding you tightly in a protective hug. You held him back, scared, crying on his chest, letting down how brave you had tried to be.

“You’re here.” You sobbed, and he stroked your hair, shushing you gently, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re hurt.” He pulled away to look at your face in concern. You noticed his white coat covered in blood, and wondered what a mess you must have been looking like. Xavier carried you in his arms, outside, to the car, and although the Wanderer was gone, you did not dare look at the house, choosing to bury your head in his neck instead.

You were taken to the nearest hospital, doctors taking you to a bed to examine the wounds. Xavier decided to give you privacy, but you held his hand, not able to say you needed him with you. He sat beside you, squeezing your hand back, silently reassuring you he’d stay with you. His face never left yours as you were covered in small bandages. Your ankle was also dislocated, but luckily you didn’t sustain any other major injuries.

Xavier took you home, listening to the doctors and buying your medicines on the way back, and it broke your heart as you reached your front door, where you knew his hand would finally leave yours.

“I’ll be up if you need anything.” He spoke softly. You could tell he wanted to scold you for not informing him where you were going before, but you were already visibly traumatised to the point you let go of all shame and almost pleaded to him, your face a sure mess with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Xavier looked at you with care and love, giving you a gentle nod. “Then I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

You nodded, allowing him to go get his things while you showered and got rid of the blood on your face. You were right, you did look filthy. If it was anyone else, would they have put up with your clinginess? Maybe Xavier just had a lot of patience.

Showering felt like a terrifying task, you having to constantly watch for any sounds or discrepancies, even looking into the mirror afterwards feeling difficult.

Thankfully, Xavier was already outside, with dinner on the coffee table. You practically ran to him, and he was more than happy to pull you into a hug. Although he’d never done it before, he kept you on his lap, turning on the TV to your favourite comfort movie.

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his chest, accepting when he fed you popcorn with his hand. He laughed at that.

“This is the first time you’re the one being clingy to me.”

“I’m being clingy?” You lifted your head up, eyes droopy. Xavier pulled you in his embrace again immediately. “But I like it.”

“Get used to it,” you leaned into him more, snuggling as he wrapped a blanket around the two of you. “Because I’m never going on a mission without you again.”