#like fuck me sorry for not wanting to spend even more fucking money for something that should just accept a fucking birth certificate

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

in other news i wish my mom listened to me for once in her life

[pirefyrelight]

Ive been riding my bike to work for the past week or so and I've noticed a few things. One, of the two major roads that have bike lanes, both of them are shit and I have simply found an alternative route that uses sidestreets with less traffic, and two, random children on parking garage rooftops wildly overestimate my abilities.

To go into more detail on that second point:

The last stretch going to my work is a just steep enough decline that I've never noticed before when walking or driving, but am able to sail down into a pleasant breeze for about 3 blocks (baring stoplights and pedestrians). The downside, or rather the going up side of this, is that after a long day of work I might as well be climing everest biking home those first few blocks.

And of course, another thing I've noticed, is that no matter which way you're going there's a headwind.

So picture me, last week. 9 hour shift. No sitting down since I got on my bike that morning. Hot as balls but in that way it *could* theoretically be worse? In black pants and t-shirt as is dress code and I haven't gotten into the habit of bring shorts to change into yet. At the start of the summer I haven't been on a bike in at least 5 years, probably closer to 10, I am so incredibly out of shape.

So this goddamn child, this hooligan hanging out on the top of a three story parking garage, sees me battling for my goddam life, going uphill into a headwind and sweating so bad he can probably smell it from up there, calls "do a wheelie" like sir the only wheelie that's imminent from me is being blown back down the hill in such a way the front tires get caught first. The only trick doable from me right now is getting to the top without falling over.

[no27-autonation-honda]

not to be a colossal fucking cowabummer about everything but it really does suck that like. my really chill and like. supposedly more realistic type of career goal feels about as unattainable as like a kid saying he wants to be a singer or something

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[sharkcatshark]

whoever designed the process of changing your name in mygov needs to be fucking shot and publicly humiliated

[nomaishuttle]

I'm gonna be so open and honest with you guys right now i fucking rly dont want to go to work tomorrow .

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[anastasiabowe]

𝘾𝙃𝘼 𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂! — Your husbands who just can’t say no to your cute little face, but sometimes that comes with a cost you will have to pay.

note: This one came to me in a DREAM. I want a man like this, so why not make my man like this?🤷🏽‍♀️

Content warnings: overstim, piv, punishment, rich husband, spanking, tough love, swearing, anything else 17+

★ — 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜

Nanami loved when you were happy. It wasn’t even a happy wife happy life situation, it was a I love seeing her smile situation. He never denied you of any expensive item you wanted. I mean how could he say no to you? He watched as you practically skipped around the mall with his black card, showcasing it if anyone who glanced at you.

He smirked seeing you happy, but yet he felt a little disappointed by your lack of self control. He knew what he was getting into when he pulled out that million dollar ring. His strong arms were lined with black bags and name brands, your hands only holding his card and one small bag. He didn’t mind though, as long as you were happy!

But don’t think he lets you get away with everything! If you have an attitude after this shopping spree, which you do, he will punish you, and that’s because he loves you! It was an agreement, if you can spend his cash, he can use you, or what he likes to say, “enjoy you.”

“Nanamin!” You whined as your new set of black nails tried to push his stomach away.

“Yes?” His deep, yet professional voice oh so casually responded, despite his deep thrusts.

“P-please slow down! I can’t t-take it!” He chuckled at you, you were too cute to ignore, but this is what you deserve! You spent thousands of dollars today, and when he simply asked “are you almost done?” You give an attitude? Oh no, no, no. You weren’t going to get away with that.

“I’m sorry baby, just wanna show you who’s paying for everything you bought today. Just wanna show you who you were giving an attitude to.” He started to speed up, and you cried from the amount of orgasms you’ve had.

“Just one more, then you can have a break.” He kissed your head, and readjusted his position, you both know it won’t be one more.

★ — 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜

Toji hated when you spent his money. And what I mean by hate, I mean he will hand you his card and regret it later. You’re actually a modest shopper. You have a bit of an expensive taste, but you have respect for Toji enough to not go crazy. But when Toji had handed you his card at the mall and gave you and said something back handed, you went a little wild.

You bought new heels, expensive jeans, expensive make up, expensive bags. You swiped his card until your hand had a rectangular shape from how hard you gripped it while you tapped it to the card reader.

When Toji later that night checked all of the receipts (which you purposely got so he could see how mad you were) he nearly blew a fuse. $10,000 worth of items you bought. Even though that is nearly nothing compared to how much is in his bank account, it was the principle of it.

“I give you my fucking card only for you to use it like a fucking piece of plastic.” His hand smacked your left ass cheek, making you dig your nails into his thigh.

“I-I’m sorry!” You cried. He rubbed his hand over the deep red mark, and tsked.

“I bet you are.” He landed two more hits to your left and right cheek. You let out a whimper and he ripped both of your cheeks again.

“$10,000, y/n. What were you shopping for, a house?” He chuckled at his own joke, but you didn’t find this funny. He landed another smack. “What made you think that was ok?”

You sniffled from crying and the rage you felt earlier burned through your body again. “Maybe if you didn’t call me a gold digger, yo I wouldn’t be $10,000 poorer!”

The word “poor” irked something in him he hasn’t felt in a while. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head up.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth, I’m the one who fucking pays for your shit.” He spat, you frown, and your bottom lip slowly popped out. He knew what you were doing, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Nah, don’t pull that shit.” He smirked, but the longer he looked at your face the more guilty he felt.

“Y/n.” He warned. You continued to look at him with that face, and he sighed. “You spoiled brat.” He let go of your hair, and moved you to straddle him.

“Just don’t be spending my money all crazy ‘n shit.” You nodded, and he rolled his eyes.

You always fucking win.

[st4rrth0ughts]

There's not enough sub!Sampo out there thank you for writing it <3 I just want to put him in a mating press and breed him. Maybe be his sugar daddy and make him wear slutty outfits. He's a whore (affectionatly)

a/n :aghsshsk anon you read my mind holy shit (+ tw, sampo being a little shit) [edit, sorry for the long ass wait, anon, i lost motivation T-T

Sampo being fucked silly by sugar daddy reader. 💎💚

Its a match made in heaven, whether the unspoken feelings between you two went unsaid or not. You wanted company, and had too much money for yourself to spend alone. Sampo was more than willing to be the one for you to dote on. Its pretty nice, coffee dates, spoling your purple haired sweetheart, you could say that the cunning man knew the effect he had on you. But sometimes, he steps out of line, flirting with other people, even he needs some punishment.

You knew Sampo was probably doing this just to get on your nerves. Its no secret that he's always turned on by you manhandling him in the bedroom like he was a toy. Perhaps the last straw for you was when he sent you photos while you were at work, with your pretty sugar baby in a outfit that made your cock bulge embarrassingly large in your pants. He was making a lewd face at the camera, a vibrator shoved into his pussy with the caption, wish it was you inside me, sweetheart <33. When you get home, he's protesting as you drag and lock him in the bedroom, but the glint in his eyes tell you that he knew damn well this would happen.

Fuck him in that outfit he was wearing earlier, tears pricking his eyes as you stuff the vibrator into his cunt, turning it at max speed while he whimpers and begs you to have mercy on him, saying he'll be your good boy. Well, too late for that, you think as he throws his head back, squirting hard around the toy, as you gently coo and let it continue to overstimulate him, fingers finding their way to trace over his nub, making him arch against the bed like a cat in heat. His eyes are wide open as he throws his head back, his arms restrained by the handcuffs bounding him to the bed post.

Reaching down and burying your face into his cunt, your tongue plunging into his cushy walls, making him squeal and pull agaisnt his restraints so hard its bruising his wrists. Despite all that, he's still being a good boy and keeping his legs open for you to ravish him, and your all too happy to oblige. Stuffing another finger into his pussy as you find spots so deep in him the thief is seeing stars as he bucks his hips into the air. He lets out a pretty wail when you shove your length into him at one go, his stomach bulging from the sheer size of you, which is something he'll never get used to.

Fondle his tits as your cock pounds into him from behind as he arches his back harshly, he’ll claw at the sheets, your back, your arms, but it’s futile as your hands maintain their grip on his waist, your mouth and soft lips roaming over his neck. His cunt is dripping while his head lolls back, dazed eyes looking back at you. lifting him up from the bed as your hands hold him, his legs dangling over the ground limply as your cock hits all the right spots deep in him, his cum leaking around you and forming a small pool on the carpet, his hands trying to claw at your arms as he whines out for you to stop, only to cry softly when you actually do show signs of slowing down, stuffing two fingers down his throat to muffle him as he’s left midair being fucked silly by you.

Getting him into a mating press while he panics slightly at how deep you push into him, your cock fits so much nicer like this, and he shrieks when you start to fuck his cervix. His hands held above him in a firm grasp as he tries to struggle away from you, begging for a break as your length splits him open again, loud wails and sobs filling the room as his knees are folded to his chest, aeons, he can feel you fucking his cervix so harshly that the bed is creaking from your movements. he comes undone with a sharp moan, his body laying limp against the pillow, but oh dear, your not done with him. Your sure he can handle just a few more rounds for his daddy, cant he?

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unconditional Love ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.7K

⤜PAIRING: Chan X Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: established relationships, mummy issues, chan comforting reader after finding her crying, mummy issues are bought up, trauma dumping i guess as well, producer bang chan not idol chan, 

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The day was supposed to be something special between you and Chan, but everything went wrong at every single turn. The two of you had decided today was the day you were finally going to tackle painting the rest of the spare bedrooms in your shared home but you'd run out of paint on the third room, as well as accidentally spilt some of the new carpet on the top of the stairs, it was safe to say the day was going to hell pretty quickly.

Chan had text letting you know that the store had none of the colours you were using so he'd gone to the next town leaving you alone in the bedroom you were in, staring at the walls as you felt your phone buzzing excessively.

~Mum Calling ~

It had been ringing on and off for the last hour and a half and each time you just stared down at the screen, waiting for it to end only to pick back up once more. You had no idea how she managed to get your new number every time you got one or why she insisted on calling you from burner phones but you knew it was probably her going to everyone you knew begging for the new number.

Giving them her usual sob story about how you'd neglected to tell her you changed your number and as usual they felt sorry for her and gave her the number. Despite not knowing the true reason you never gave her your new number and why you refused to speak to her.

The two of you didn't exactly have the best relationship with one another growing up, instead of treating you like her daughter, she treated you like a bank and a punching bag for insults she would throw your way. Nothing you ever did was good enough in her eyes, nothing you ever did was good...at all for her.

Biting down on your lip you watched as the screen lit up once more with ~Mum Calling ~ but you made no move to answer it. You just watched as you waited for it to end, each time bringing up more and more painful memories for you.

All the times she'd scream in your face because you wanted attention, but you were a child...Children wanted attention from their parents. You'd done practically everything you could to get her to even pay you the tiniest bit of attention, staying in the top 1% of all your schools, getting incredible grades and giving your 100% in everything that you ever did but she didn't care.

The memories of her rushing out of the house every day to go on a spending spree of your father's hard-earned money were still burnt into your memory. Your birthdays were filled with nothing but a cupcake from the maid who had remembered it was your birthday and a card, signed by "Mum and Dad" But both signatures were your father's handwriting. Your mother didn't care and you knew that.

It had taken almost all of your life for you to realise that you meant little to your mother and that she hated you somewhere inside of her. Every conversation...on the rare occasion that you'd have one led to her screaming at you and insulting you about how you could never measure up the way she wanted you to.

~Mum calling~

Sighing to yourself you knew you were going to regret it but you answered the phone, not even able to open your mouth before she started the screaming match,

"What if I was dying?! Huh?! What if I was calling you because I was dying?!" She screeched,

"I'd hope you'd call Emergency services." You mumble a little, sinking against the unpainted wall behind you as you feel yourself shrinking at her words.

"You're the worst daughter in the world you know! You never come to fucking see me! Ever since your father divorced me and threw me to the side for that younger bitch you never see me!" She screamed making you roll your eyes.

Your father hadn't left her FOR anyone, he'd left her because - like you - he'd had enough of her shit and finally decided to leave her. Unfortunately for you, while he could hide from her for the rest of his days you couldn't count yourself that lucky. Your father served her with divorce papers and a restraining order, cutting off total contact with her and leaving her with nothing.

None of his money was hers thanks to the prenup his father had made them sign and she was left with nothing. Hence why she constantly called you, begging and pleading with you to send her a little money because her benefits didn't suit her lavish lifestyle, in her eyes.

"What do you want, mum?" You asked, cutting her off as she continued to ramble about what an awful man your father was when he'd done everything he could to make her happy in all their years of marriage until he finally snapped.

"Is that any way to talk to the woman that gave birth to you?! That raised you?!" She continued on but you ignored her. Raised you? If you counted shoving you in the arms of nannies from the moment she could as raising you then sure. But your mother had never been involved in any of that.

She merely palmed you off in the hands of anyone she could, your grandparents, the nannies...the maids. Even friends. You could still remember the one time you'd stayed over at a friend's home for almost two weeks because your mother had gone to Paris for a "break" a break from what, you never knew. Part of you had hoped she'd forgotten you there and you could live with your friend but your father collected you one night, apologising for not noticing you were missing.

The door to the bedroom opened and you glanced up at Chan who looked concerned, even though the phone wasn't on speaker he could hear your mother screaming at you through the line.

"Mum." You mouthed to him as he sat across from you and handed you a hot chocolate and watched as you took the verbal abuse spewing from your mother's lips.

"I just need a little money," She finally finished, turning on the sweet voice as you rubbed your temples.

"I can't." Your voice came out shakey as it always did whenever you denied her the money she was scrounging for which was every single time she called you.

Because of course, she'd never call you just to check in like anyone else's mother would.

"You ungrateful little fucking bitch! I know you have money! You're with that fucking producer! He must be loaded!" Chan looked at you, slowly shifting so he was sitting behind you, bringing you to sit between his legs as he held you in a comforting manner.

He hadn't known much about your family, he'd met your dad sometimes but the topic of your mother was avidly avoided whenever it was brought up and now he understood why that was.

"And unlike you, I won't beg my husband for cash," You spit at her, only earning another spew of insults flying in your direction but this time Chan took the phone from your fingers and hung up the phone for you.

"Chan..." You whisper as he goes into your settings, blocking her number before setting all unknown numbers to go straight to voicemail from now on and he smiles weakly at you.

"You don't need to deal with this alone anymore." He whispers, throwing your phone to the side and pulling you into a tight embrace, kissing your shoulder softly as you feel yourself relax in his embrace.

"I don't get it," You choke out between sobs, your heart breaking at the thought of everything.

All your life, all you'd ever wanted was a relationship with your mother like everyone else seemed to have. Someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally and be there for you. All your friends had someone they could turn to, their mothers waiting with open arms.

"Why am I not good enough for her?" You finally cry, hiding in Chan's chest as he starts to rub your back softly. Your body trembles as you speak, your voice heavy with everything you'd been holding back for so long.

"Why doesn't she love me? I've always...I've always watched everyone else with their mums, and they look so happy...W-Why don't I get that too?" You cried softly as he stroked your back gently, his heart aching with how sad you were.

"It's not your fault. You deserve...so much love and it hurts me to see you go through this...Your mother's actions don't define your worth, baby." Fresh tears spill down your cheeks but Chan brushed them away gently.

"It feels like they do." You whisper, your voice trembling now.

"I just...I want her to love me, to finally tell me she's proud of me but all she cares about is money. It's like I don't matter to her at all." Chan pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as he rocked you both gently.

"You matter so much, Yn. To me, to your friends, to everyone who truly cares about you. I'm sorry your mum is so blind she can't see how incredible you are...How amazing her daughter is but it doesn't change the fact that you're fucking everything to me and so many others," He whispers as he cradles you into him, your tears soaking through his shirt,

"I know it hurts...but you're loved. You have people around you who care about you deeply... I'm here for you...always," He whispered as he continued to hold you, letting you cry for as long as you needed to in his warm embrace.

After a while, you finally sniffled and wiped your face from the tears,

"Thank you, Channie. I don't know what I'd do without you," Chan simply tightened his hold around you,

"you'll never have to find that out." He promises you, bringing a soft kiss to your forehead as you smile softly up at him.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

[medusapelagia]

Love at first sight

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 6: HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG) and @steddie-week (Day 6, Prompt: Dizzy / drunken confessions) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 997

The music pumps in his ears and Steve might have drunk a little bit too much. Not enough to run to the bathroom but enough that he feels dizzy and happy for no reason, so he slams his glass on the bar counter and moves toward the dance floor.

The people are dancing around him like a human tide and all he wants is to go adrift. Someone grinds against his ass but he doesn’t even turn. Steve needs this, a little bit of human contact, the feeling that he’s wanted even if his parents just sent him their last check with a letter saying that from now on he’s on his own.

He should have told Robin, but she was on a date with the pretty barista she had a crush on since forever so he just crumpled the letter and threw it in his drawer, took his keys, and got to his favorite gay bar and started to drink the last money his parents gave him. No better way to spend it after all.

Someone bumps into him too hard and Steve loses his equilibrium. Trying not to fall on the ground he grabs the first thing he can, which apparently it’s a leather jacket.

Fuck.

Leather jackets mean bikers or metal heads, usually closeted ones that will get really angry.

“I’m sorry…” he slurs, “I tripped and…” Steve starts to apologize, but the man that’s looking at him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Long curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, and a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He tells him, holding Steve up, “Too many drinks, huh? It happens to the best of us.”

The man chuckles, making sure Steve is stable enough on his feet before turning toward his group of friends, but Steve’s hand is still holding tight on his leather jacket.

“If you could let go of me we could go back to our friends, sweetness,” the man smiles, prying Steve’s hand open.

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want to have fun with your friends?”

“No friends.” Steve tries to explain, and the man frowns.

“You here alone?”

Steve nods, but the sudden movement makes him feel dizzy again. Luckily the other man grabs his arm and stabilizes him once more.

“Sorry… my head is spinning.” Steve apologized, hiding his face behind his free hand.

“Why don’t we sit for a moment, huh?”

“Eddie, come on! This round is on you!” Someone yells next to them, and Steve notices at that moment that he’s not in the middle of the dance floor anymore, but close to the bar counter.

The man grabs his wallet from his back pocket, one hand still holding Steve’s arm tight, “Need to get back to the table. Take what you need.”

“But how can I bring all the beers back?”

“I’ll ask Jeff to help you, don’t whine!”

Steve looks at the dark-haired man and asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Why don’t you sit with me and my friends for a moment?” he proposes, dragging him toward the bar's private area, “We’re celebrating. We just signed our first contract with a musica label.” Eddie winks, “What about you? Something to celebrate?”

“My parents officially disowned me. And I’m drinking the last money they sent me.”

Eddie hums with a sad smile, “I know a thing or two about shitty parents. But maybe getting drunk in a bar alone isn’t the best choice to deal with things like that. People could take advantage of your state.”

“Are you going to take advantage of me?” Steve asks innocently, “I would let you if you wanted to.”

Eddie snorts, “Thank you for the offer but I’m the kind of guy who prefers full consent to drunk consent. Hey guys! This is Steve! He’s having a bit of a hard day so he’s staying with us until he feels a little bit better and we can send him home safely.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Jeff. Would you like a glass of water?”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you get one for him while helping Gareth with the beers? I gave him my wallet.”

“You gave your wallet to Gar?” another man asks, ginning, “He’s going to spend all your money. I bet twenty dollars he will come back with the most expensive bottle he can find.”

“Not my problem, Freak. You know I don’t really care about money.” Eddie shrugs, sitting next to the tall boy who keeps grinning.

“So you found another stray, Eddie?” Freak asks, scooting over to let them sit.

“I can't tell one from another. Did I find you or you find me?” Eddie replies, turning toward Steve who stares at him in confusion, “It’s a line I heard in a love song, always wanted to use it, never got the occasion. Till now.”

“Maybe wait for him to be sober before hitting on him, huh? Don’t worry. Eddie is dramatic like that, but he’s a good guy.”

“I think I love him,” Steve whispers to Freak way too loudly, and the big man chuckles.

“Look at you, Eddie! You just signed your first contract and already found yourself a groupie!”

Eddie reaches out for the glass of water that Jeff is holding and gives it to Steve, “Drink it all like a good boy.”

“I do.” Steve insists, taking Eddie’s hand and putting it over his chest, “Can’t you feel my love for you? It’s like you said. We were meant to find each other.” 

If Steve wasn’t drunk he would feel ashamed of himself, but what he said it’s true. He never believed in love at first sight, but now he would swear by it.

“Ok. Ok. Now drink your water and if tomorrow morning you’ll feel still in love with me,” Eddie says, fishing a chewed pen and writing a number on a napkin “call me.” 

Now with a second part

[vicocaaisha]

All Mine

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Sypnosis: Having friends is not your top priority; therefore, you kept rejecting Harin's advances. Not until she got jealous when you found yourself a new friend.

Warnings: SMUT, mature scenes, choking, virgin!reader, possesive!Harin, bottom!reader, top!harin, stalking, read at your own risk!

Requested by: @imurcherie1

“Y/N-ah, do you want to hang out later after school?”

“Harin wants us to eat later together at lunch, can you sit with us?”

“Can you join our group for the school project? We can do it after school!”

“Hey, Y/N, can you teach me how to play chess? Help me beat Harin!”

Typical Wooyi, always asking you for help. You think it’s just an excuse to make you hang out or spend time together with Harin, which for you is a waste of time because you have other things you want to do than doing friendly stuff that you’re not interested in.

“Sorry, unnie. I have other things to do! Maybe next time.” is the response you always answer to Wooyi.

You sometimes wish that you are in the lower grade, like in grade C so that no one won’t bother you and leave you alone. Being family friends with Harin means you’re also powerful inside your classroom, that’s why your classmates are always clinging to your side because they think that you’ll favour them or something.

But you didn’t care. All you care about is your studies, not the recognitions but the information you learn. Such a nerd thing to say but deep inside you really love studying, learning so many topics fascinates you.

You are smarter than Doah, but you don’t even participate in school competitions. You’re just focused on gaining skills.

“You look pretty having your hair up in a bun, Y/N” Harin greeted you.

“Yes, you do! Can you teach me how to do that later at lunch, please, Y/N.” Wooyi practically begged.

Here we go again, Harin’s group always bothers you to join them during lunch. You don’t have an interest in being friends with them even though your families are good friends. You’re just not that fond of being friends with someone, you like being alone more. Plus, Wooyi enjoys to torture your classmate, which is like a redflag to you because how can you enjoy on tormenting someone?

“I’m sorry, guys. I actually have a thesis report that I’m finishing. You know, I make money doing these things for other students.” You replied.

Harin only scoffed and started to walk away from you. She knows that you’ll just reject their invitation to hang out with them. Harin can’t do anything about it. She can’t blackmail you into being friends with her because there’s nothing hideous about you or even a secret.

Harin could only stare at you from afar. She likes you– no–, she wants you to be hers.

She’s so glad that you being preoccupied with your hobbies means you’re less aware of what's happening in your surroundings. Harin could easily stalk you and you won’t even notice that some of your things from your room are missing.

“I read somewhere that the new season of Jujutsu Kaisen is airing next week.” Jaeun said as she sat beside you.

How did she find you? You’re sitting under a tree that’s far away from your classroom’s building.

“How do you even know I watch that?” You scoffed as you read your book. Does she need something? She’s usually on her own or with Suji. What does she want now?

“Oh, you don’t? I was actually giving this Geto plushie for free.” Jaeun waved the plushie doll on your face.

“Oh my! He’s my favourite!” You were shocked, you can’t find any Jujutsu Kaisen merchandise here in South Korea, and Geto is your favourite, “Can I have it, please? Where’d you get this?” you asked as you grabbed the plushie.

“Oh, umm…” Jauen was stammering. She didn't know how to handle this kind of situation. She’s scared that she might fuck it up after having your attention.

“He’s so cute! What do you want in return, can I please have him?” You begged her. This is the first time that your classmate sees that you’re capable of showing feelings, too.

“O-of course, uhh… I just want to be friends with you, can you join me during lunch?” You were too happy from the plushie you received that you accepted her offer without thinking about it.

And that’s how you ended up being with Jaeun. She always follows you around and you were too happy that one of your classmates watches your favourite anime. When you’re with her, you are too talkative about your favourite anime, Jauen doesn’t care though; she’s satisfied that she finally is on your good side.

Harin noticed that you finally are friends with someone, and that someone is the person who she despised the most. She was angry, she wanted to harm Jaeun but it’s impossible because of Suji always rescues Jaeun whenever she corners the tall girl.

Jaeun introduced you to Suji and Se-eun. You were awkward when you met them, you don’t really like social gatherings; you can only handle one person at a time.

So here you are, on the rooftop with them. Suji introduced you to their plan once they figured that you’re trusty enough. You rejected their proposal though.

“Sorry, Suji. I don’t have an interest in being a hero here. I know, call me selfish or whatever. Do you know who you’re provoking?” You asked them genuinely.

Suji still tried to convince you. You just rejected it again and excused yourself. Do they know what they’re doing? Are they high? Harin is so dangerous. Even if you want to end this game yourself, deep inside you still value Harin.

You’ve known Harin ever since the both of you were younger. You secretly had a crush on her, when you saw her performing a dance. You were in a trance, you befriended her. You thought at first you wanted to be just like her but as your friendship progresses, your feelings also progresses. You tried to ignore it but can’t help it.

Although, as the both of you were growing older, she started to change. Sometimes you think that she turned into a monster but still, you cared for her so much even if you don’t show it.

You wanted to be away from her because you realized being in love with a girl is rather unusual. You’re scared that she might notice that you’re in love with her and betray you. Harin is unpredictable, you’ve seen it yourself.

“Y/N!” Wooyi runs into you as she sees you walking down the corridor.

“Wooyi, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now. My head aches so badly.” You tried to make an excuse before she could ask another invitation to hang out with them.

You tried to walk faster, “The chairman wants to talk to you right now, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Wooyi said as she tried to catch up with your fast pace.

“What? She could have texted me beforehand. She has my number, ugh. I don’t even look presentable right now.” You mumbled to yourself, Wooyi seemed to hear that.

“Oh, don’t humble yourself. You’re always pretty! You should spray some perfume, bet she’ll go crazy over you!” Wooyi said, which she regretted saying afterwards because it confused you. The chairman going crazy over your perfume?

“Oh, I’ll head to the classroom now. Gotta find them bootlickers!” Wooyi suddenly parted ways, you didn’t even get the chance to ask what she was talking about.

You sighed. Usually if the chairman, Harin’s mother, wants to meet you, she’ll schedule a meeting or she’ll text you and your parents about it. Also, you never had a meeting inside the school because she said once that it feels unprofessional meeting inside the school. What could be the problem now?

You are now in front of the chairman’s office, spraying perfume over your uniform. You took a big breath before opening the door, you were nervous that you might be in trouble, especially after hearing Suji’s crazy plan.

“Hello, Mrs. Baek. I’m sorry if I took too long, I was at the–” you stopped what you were trying to say when Harin revealed herself by turning around her chair.

“Uhm… Where’s your mother, Harin? She asked for me, didn’t she?” You tried to ask to make the awkward atmosphere out of the room.

“That would be for another time, Y/N-ah.” Harin said and stood up from her chair; walking towards you.

“You’re smoking again, I told you that’s not good for you.” You tried to lecture Harin. You are now currently in the middle of the room.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Harin said as she took another puff of her cig and she continued walking after passing you. Where is she going?

“Okay then, I better get going now if your mother is not here.” You rolled your eyes.

You heard a click. Harin locked the door behind you, trapping you inside the chairman’s office.

You began to feel nervous, you haven’t been in a room alone with Harin for the longest time. You tried to avoid this kind of encounter because you can’t contain your feelings. When talking with Harin alone, you will start to stutter.

“I wanted you here.” Harin dropped her cigarette and stepped on it. She’s aware that you dislike the smell of cigarette.

“Ohh, can we make it faster, please?” You were trying your best not to stutter because she’ll sense that you’re nervous.

“Enjoying being friends with Jaeun?” Harin started to walk towards you, which made you walk backwards as well. You were like a prey in her eyes, anytime she might devour you.

Oh shit. You thought to yourself. You forgot that Jaeun and Harin had a history before, she talked to you about this before! How could you forget it! It’s because of that damn plushie, you got too excited over that.

“H-harin, I’m so sorry. I forgot, I’m really sorry. It’s because she gave me the plushie, I got too distracted over that. I don’t mean to offend you, I swear–” You stopped your rumbling when your back hit the table. She got you very cornered this time.

You didn’t have the space anymore to move back and she still is walking forward slowly as if she’s stalking a prey. You’re very scared now, hell, you even are sweating too much for your liking. Note that this room is air conditioned.

Harin giggled to herself, “Y/N, why are you trembling so hard?”

She is now in front of you.

She tugged on your school necktie, which made you lean towards her. Since she is taller, you are looking up at her.

“Tell me, Y/N. Whom do you like to kiss?” She’s taunting you and all you could do is look at her doe eyes.

“Do you like Jaeun?” She asked you with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t like her, I don’t even have an i-interest to date a-anyone.” You stuttered, fuck you really are nervous.

“You’re lying, Y/N/N.” That nickname she used to call you when the both of you were younger.

“You’re stuttering, Y/N, it means you’re lying. Which one is it, hmm?” Her face is inches away from yours. Even if you haven't talked to her for years, she still knows your mannerisms.

Before you could even reply, she suddenly kissed you.

It felt passionate for a short time, not until she bit your lip that caused you to whimper and she immediately inserted her tongue. Did she practice with other girls before? How come is she so good with kissing? You felt jealous...

Your thoughts got cut off short when she stopped kissing you and started to undo your blouse.

“Harin, we s-shouldn’t be doing this.” She got tired of your mindless comments, so Harin pulled your necktie tighter that made you choke.

“Did I tell you to talk?” Harin only smiled when she saw you struggling. You were just gripping her clothes and whimpering because of the restriction of the air in your lungs.

Once she was satisfied, she stopped pulling your necktie and continued removing the articles of your clothes.

You were now left in your school blouse that is open, and your skirt; no bra nor panty. You suddenly felt insecure about your body when Harin was staring at your body up and down. Your first instinct was to cover up your body, but Harin beat you to it and held your wrists before you could even move them.

“H-harin” You can’t understand what’s happening between the two of you. Is she toying you?

“Stop talking, Y/N! God, you made me wait for so long, and then Jaeun easily caught your attention?!” Harin felt insatiable over you.

She then started kissing your neck, leaving marks all over your neck. You can’t even move and too scared to protest but deep inside you’re really liking this.

“You’re mine, Y/N/N.” Harin whispered, hunger laced on her voice.

“Hnng–, H-harin!” You yelped when you felt Harin’s long, slim fingers toy your clit.

Yes, you’ve touched yourself before but Harin massaging your clit felt so amazing. You can’t contain your moans anymore. You tried to shush yourself by putting your free arm on your mouth. Harin noticed this and…

She inserted two fingers, you aren’t ready for it, and it’s definitely your first time. It hurts like hell. You were struggling below her, and all you could do was to let out a shameless moan.

“A-hh, it hurts. It hurts, Ha-rin! Hnng!” She only removed your arms that were blocking your mouth and continued fingering you even if you're hurting.

Pain soon starts to feel pleasure soon enough. Harin is still putting hickeys on your chest area. She then started to look at your face, your fucked up face. Looking at you with adoration, you look so good even if you’re being fucked, Harin thought to herself.

“Baby, you look so good.” Harin whispered seductively, she couldn’t even explain how turned on she is right now. The stoic and nerdy, L/N Y/N, is being fucked out like this.

“You’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want you seeing anybody but me, you get that?” Harin starts to get rougher on you, hitting that one spot makes you struggle to respond to her. Because of that, she slapped you, thinking to herself that it might knock you to your senses.

“Mhhmm– sorry! Ahh– Fuck!” was all you could blur out during that time.

Harin only chuckled as she pressed down her thumb to your clit. Fingering you and massaging your clit at the same time feels like you’re going to climax soon.

“I f–eel, ahh! Like I’m gonna p–EE!” You gripped onto her shirt more.

“Say you’re mine, Y/N, then you can let go.” Harin teased you. She then started to suck on your breasts, which added to your stimulation more.

“I’m y–yours! Harin–nng. I lov–e you for so long, Fuck!” You didn’t even realize that you accidentally confessed your love towards her because of the pleasure you are feeling. Harin felt over the moon when she heard your confession, which drove her even more very crazy and continued to get rougher on you.

As you trembled against her holds, you couldn't contain yourself anymore; you tried to let go of the pressure you were feeling, and instead, you squirted.

Harin continued to finger you until you rode out your high. You didn’t even realize the mess you created on her uniform because you were still trying to calm down. So many thoughts were running to your mind that time and one of those is that you just fucked your long time crush.

“Baby, are you okay?” Harin asked you with softness evident in her voice. She brushed your baby hairs out of your face with her dry hand. You look so exhausted, and your face is very flushed. You just nodded weakly, too tired to say anything.

You were laid against the table, and Harin decided to take you on the couch so that you could rest comfortably. You’re too tired to even care about your appearance at that time. You just let Harin help you wear your panty and your bra.

Maybe you could rest for a bit, so you decided to close your eyes.

“I love you.” Harin whispered as she was doing after care to you. She must have thought you were asleep.

“You do?”

“Yes, so much. I was trying so hard to reconnect our friendship again.” Harin kissed you passionately and with love this time.

“You’re wet?” You asked sheepishly as you felt her clothes.

“Oh, you squirted.” Harin smiled at you.

“What? No, I did not!” Harin laughed at your response. You’re still stubborn as you were before when both of you were younger. Harin only stared at you blankly. You can’t seem to read what her thoughts are, so you decided to break the awkward silence.

“So, is Mrs. Baek really asking for me?” You asked.

“No, it’s my last resort,” she confessed, “I can’t seem to get you all alone for myself, why are you avoiding me?” Harin asked you as she caressed your face.

You avoided her gaze, “It’s because… I’m scared that I have feelings for you, more than friends.”

There was silence again, when you looked up at her, she looked as if she were in a daze; lost in your beautiness. She was still caressing your face that time. You leaned up and kissed her with all the strength you had. The both of you kissed that you felt like it lasted for hours.

You stopped kissing her because it might lead the both of you to another round, and you still have classes to attend to.

You are fixing yourself, trying to look presentable after Harin fucked you out. Hickeys all over your neck, your hair is tangled mess, your clothes crumpled. Suddenly, Harin hugged you from your back, and you felt the wet spot on her clothes.

“Harin, go change your clothes. It’s disgusting!” You tried to wiggle out of her embrace and then laugh when she kissed your neck.

“It’s your fault, you peed on me!” Harin protested.

Let’s just say she never lived that day down when you squirted and always teased you that you peed on her.

I've read your requests. Sorry if I didn't get to reply, but I'll be working on those soon!

I'll also go back to school tomorrow, so it might take me a while to post again. Sorry!

If you have any requests, dont hesitate to send them^^

[cutielando]

the last social media au was so cute!! maybe one where george’s gf is a famous romance book author and when they make the relationship public his friends cannot believe posh “arms against the wall 2023 intro package pose” george could be the inspiration for all the smutty scenes his gf is famous for (only if your comfortable of course!)

romance is in her books | g.r.

social media au

my masterlist

Instagram

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yourusername working on something very special 🌸

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booklover101 YAS BITCHES WE'RE GETTING A NEW BOOK!!!!!

chillypeppers Y/N on her way to releasing yet another banger😮‍💨😮‍💨

zendaya what u cooking bby?😉💞

yourusername something with an extra bit of spice🥵

user1 is nobody else wondering who she's writing the *explicit* scenes about?

user2 lol she most probably has a boyfriend or something

user3 or maybe she's just like any other young woman lmao

lilymhe i'm literally obsessed with the way you write🤤

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yourusername not really, no

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oscarpiastri did you give her a sneak peek??????????

yourusername ...maybe

oscarpiastri deeply betrayed

georgerussell63 my beautiful girl this comment has been deleted

user5 GEORGE????????

user6 IS GEORGE THE SECRET BOYFRIEND?????

charles_leclerc can't wait to read it

yourusername you’re just like one of the girlies charlie 🌸🌸🌸

user2 the amount of money i spend on her books is so unhealthy but i don’t care. TAKE ALL MY MONEY BABY 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user3 is it a stand-alone or is the new book going to be part of a series?👀

yourusername i’m planning a new series soon, but my next release is going to be a stand-alone 🌸

user4 i love her, she is the sweetest 🥰🥰

iMessage

george 🩵

i might have just fucked up

y/n ❤️

you're hopeless

george 🩵

do you think people saw the comment?

y/n ❤️

judging by the way my phone has been blowing up, i think they have

george 🩵

i'm sorry, my love

y/n ❤️

it's okay, don't worry. now we can mess with the fans for a bit ;)

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yourusername “racing hearts” is now yours, my lovelies. this book holds a very dear place in my heart and i hope that it will speak to you like it spoke to me when i first started writing it. thank you to everyone who came to the book signing yesterday, you make my life all that more special ✨❤️🌸💞

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georgerussell63 beautiful book, who were you thinking about when you wrote it?🤔

yourusername you know, just a random Brit

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yourusername he really is

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landonorris you went wild again, didn’t you?

yourusername i might have

landonorris do i even wanna read it?

yourusername honestly? probably not

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yourusername i always have a trick or two up my sleeve 😉🌸

charles_leclerc someone should censor you

yourusername where would be the fun in that?

charles_leclerc how does your manager approve of this?

yourmanager i’m one of the girlies 🌸

charles_leclerc that explains it

booklover101 THE WAY I SCREAMED WHILE READING IT HAS ME INSANE

booklover101 YOU DESERVE EVERY AWARD IN THE WHOLE WORLD

chillypepper i have no words. i said it before and i’ll say it again. she is the best author of her generation

user1 never beating the dating allegations now

user2 she literally named her main character RUSSELL, HOW DO PEOPLE STILL THINK HER AND GEORGE AREN’T DATING??????

user3 George is the luckiest man in the world😭😭

user4 he must really rock your world if those scenes are anything like the real thing

yourusername you have no idea 🤭

mercedesamgf1 I couldn't put it down. Amazing work, Y/N!!

yourusername thank you admin 🌸💞💞

liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer and 601,583 others

georgerussell63 Words can't describe how proud I am of you. The way you connect with your readers, the way you give life to every story you write never ceases to amaze me. I'm thankful to be able to watch you do your thing, watch you inspire so many young writers to chase their dreams. I love you 💞 P.S. Yes, I am the inspiration behind the sexy scenes ;) tagged: yourusername

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yourusername your support means everything to me. thank you for always being here for me, helping me through my writer's block and cheering me on. i love you more than you know💞🌸

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georgerussell63 jealous?

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landonorris BRENDAN IS ME?????????

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user1 i am in love with their love😮‍💨❤️

user2 going to jump off a cliff, brb

user3 i cannot believe i know stuff about George Russell's sex life👀

user4 George's? HOW ABOUT OUR PRECIOUS LITTLE Y/N'S?

alex_albon simp

georgerussell63 how can i not be? just look at Y/N

yourusername baby🥹💞❤️🌸

alex_albon you two make me sick. i preferred it when you weren't public

georgerussell63 and i preferred it when you shut up

lilymhe we are all in love with Y/N ✨❤️👀

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REQUEST HERE

[urhoneycombwitch]

hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie. 

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall. 

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud. 

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously. 

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head). 

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more. 

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks. 

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries. 

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.” 

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips. 

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers. 

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf. 

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore. 

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home. 

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of. 

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends. 

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry. 

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.    

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds. 

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh. 

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release. 

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to. 

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap. 

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good. 

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness. 

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths. 

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you. 

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along. 

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it. 

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing. 

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge. 

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze  and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity. 

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through. 

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time. 

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops. 

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye. 

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest. 

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is. 

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

[mrsshabana]

I saw your posting Gyutaro role-playing courtesan and we being customers and I liked it a lot!!Can I request one shot or something detailed about it?

+I'm not native so my sentence can be awkward

𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒂𝒏!𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

♥ CW: 18+ content, MDNI, female reader, smut, creampie, dubcon, sex work, manipulation

♥ AN: Demon Gyutaro disguises himself as a human courtesan. (Basically switching places with Daki). I really enjoyed writing this one (sorry it took me awhile). But I think this is my favorite one shot I've written yet! Thanks for reading!

♥ WC: 2,512

"What?! Y-you want me...?" The tall man with flowing black locks, and vibrant sea-blue eyes looks down at you.

"Yes," You offer him a satchel full of money, "I would like to purchase a night with you."

He hesitantly takes the bag, "Customers never request me..." he mumbles, "Are you sure it's me you want for the night? There are men that are much more attractive than me..."

"I'm positive," you nod, "I have seen the other men in this house. And you are my favorite... I find you very attractive."

"Well then," he gulps, "Follow me."

With a skip in your step, you follow him down the hall and into an extravagant looking bedroom. Candles glowing in the corners of the room, illuminating the large futon in the middle. Decorated with elaborate silk sheets.

"Please take a seat," Gyutaro says politely, motioning towards some cushions in front on a low table.

You take a seat and look up at him as he pours you a cup of tea.

"My name is Gyutaro by the way," he says as he sits down in front of you.

"What a lovely name, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure to be spending this evening with you," you blush as you sip at your tea.

Gyutaro sits there and watches you, unsure of how to move forward with the main event. You did pay him after all... so he might as well give you what you paid for.

He clears his throat and breaks the silence, "We can start whenever you're ready..."

You blush, remembering that you didn't come here for a simple cup of tea. "Oh um, I-I'm ready to start now."

"Alright then, make yourself comfortable," Gyutaro motions towards the futon. Trying not to stare as you strip down to your corset and panties, laying down on the silk sheets.

"Fuck," Gyutaro curses under his breath. You look so sexy. Never would he have imagined that he would get the opportunity to have sex with such a gorgeous woman. It makes his insecurities skyrocket.

If he shows you his body, surely you will demand a refund.

He takes a deep breath, building the strength to remove his kimono and reveal his body to you.

The room goes silent as he waits for you to express your disgust. But you never do.

You look up at him with the sweetest expression, patting the spot beside you on the futon.

"You... still want me?" he gasps in disbelief.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?" you cock your head to the side. He feels slightly insulted that you choose to ignore the obvious fact that his body isn't what you were expecting. But he can't complain. At least you aren't hurling insults at him.

All he can manage is a nod. Looking down at you, seeing your perfect body, he's already rock hard. His hormones take over, pushing his negative thoughts and insecurities aside.

Lasty he removes his underwear, his cock springing free.

You can't help but stare. It's so much larger than you had anticipated, and not only are you surprised by the size, but it's so pretty too. The same birthmarks that cover his face trail down his shaft as well. You can't help but admire them, watching as each vein pulses in anticipation of being inside of you.

Gyutaro wastes no time climbing on top of you, making himself comfortable between your legs.

He gently kisses your neck and whispers, "At any point, let me know if you want me to stop."

"O-ok," you moan, pulling him closer.

He grins and continues kissing and nipping at your neck, being sure to leave marks behind. He grinds his hips against your clothed pussy as he removes your corset. Kissing and twirling his tongue around your nipple, as his hand squeezes your other breast.

"A-ah!" you gasp.

He looks up at you with hooded eyes, not even bothering to stop rubbing his cock between your folds. "You like that huh? I can tell... you're already seeping through your panties," he smirks.

"Mm hm," you nod, "f-feels good."

"So, you won't mind if I take these off, hm?" he laces a finger under your panties, tugging them slightly.

"Please do," you mutter.

Gyutaro has never gotten an opportunity like this, he can't believe his luck. Right in this moment, he vows to himself that he is going to get as much from you as he can.

He removes your panties, watching in awe as your slick clings to the fabric as he pulls them away. His cock twitches at the thought that you could possibly want him so badly to be this wet.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he positions himself at your entrance, "Ready for me, Y/N?"

"Y-yes, I'm ready Gyutaro," you nod, spreading your legs wider for him.

With a smirk, Gyutaro leans his body forward as the tip of his cock slides into you. As he goes deeper, the sensation of your walls clenching down on him quite literally takes his breath away.

He lets out a low groan as he slowly slides into you, making sure to consider your comfort. You are his client after all and a part of him is hoping that you will come back for his services again someday.

You squeeze your eyes shut and cling onto him as he bottoms out, moaning in ecstasy at the feeling of being completely full.

Gyutaro stills for a moment, looking down and clenching his teeth. Trying to recompose himself enough to speak, "Are you... are you comfortable?" he mutters.

The fact that he cares so much about your comfort makes you blush. "Yes," you nod enthusiastically, "I'm comfortable. You can start moving now..." you look away in embarrassment.

The first few thrusts are shaky and tentative as Gyutaro tries to adjust to the pleasure that he's feeling. Even though he is a courtesan, a Yarō to be specific, he never gets requested to perform sexual services for customers. He earns his keep by acting and doing tea ceremonies, which he excels at.

But it's not long before he gets a good rhythm going. The beautiful moans that escape your lips encourage him to keep going, picking up the pace. His cock sliding in and out of you, filling the room with obscene wet slaps and squelches.

He already feels himself getting close, but he wants to make sure his customer is left satisfied, "I-I wanna make you cum," he says between pants and grunts.

You roll your fingers through his hair and move his head to look into your eyes, "I'm getting close Gyutaro, ah-, you're doing so good." You moan as you wrap your legs around his hips, bringing him closer to you. He barely pulls his cock out of you before thrusting back in again, the added friction of his pelvis rubbing against your clit bringing you even closer to climax.

And he can tell by the way your walls tighten around him. He feels like he is quite literally being milked.

He feels himself slipping as he becomes drunk off of the way your pussy pulls him in and begs for his cum. All he can think about is filling you up, nothing else matters.

When your walls start quivering, it pushes him over the edge.

Gyutaro crashes his lips with yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth as your body shakes beneath him and the two of you climax together. With another harsh thrust he's spilling his sticky hot seed inside of you, filling you to the brim. As his spotted cock twitches, he feels every part of his being let go and become one with you.

He's never experienced such pleasure in his entire life.

When his orgasm fades and he pulls away from the kiss, he looks into your glazed over eyes. Only to be met by the look of pure terror on your face.

"What's the matter?"

You are in complete shock. The man that you just made love to, is not the man you thought he was. But rather a demon.

His appearance completely changed. His long black hair is now half lime green, and his beautiful sea-blue eyes are now sickly with glowing yellow scleras. His vibrant skin now grey and lifeless. And when he opens his mouth to speak, you are met with deadly sharp teeth inches away from your face.

It takes Gyutaro a moment to realize that his human disguise had faded. He let his guard down and wasn't able to keep his guise up during his orgasm.

"Fuck," he growls as he quickly covers your mouth with his hand before you are able to scream.

"And I was starting to like you too," he sighs, looking down at you with a frown, "Now I have no other choice but to kill you."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, your pleas being muffled by his hand.

"Don't worry darling," he smirks, "I'll make you cum again before you die."

He cackles as he watches the tears flow from your eyes.

His entire demeanor has changed now that he is showing his true self. Before, he was so polite but now he is the complete opposite. A blood thirsty killer ready to use you for his own enjoyment.

He momentarily moves his hand and grabs your hips to flip you over, pressing your ass against his dick. Before you even get the chance to speak, he's ramming his cock back inside of you. Eliciting a yelp from you.

"Ah-" you start, but his hand muffles the rest of your whimpers.

"Shut the fuck up," he punctuates each word with a hard thrust. Pulling your head up, he keeps his other hand seated on your waist. Your back arches as he bends you into this uncomfortable position.

You whine and yelp into his palm as he continues to abuse your already sore pussy. No longer considering your comfort, all you have become is a toy.

"Fuck," he grunts under his breath, "this pussy is so tight, Ngh- gonna miss it after I devour you."

He cackles when he feels your face contort in fear as your tears wet his hand. Gyutaro decides to move his hand from your mouth to your throat, firmly constricting your air flow as he feels his cock start to switch.

When you claw at his hand and start gasping for air it pushes him over the edge. Watching you struggle for your life, seeing you completely at his mercy. He empties another load into your pussy, his previous one already dripping down your thighs.

With a content sigh he releases you, causing you to fall on your face back onto the futon. Blood fills your mouth when you accidentally bite your lip, but that's the least of your concerns. You are too busy gasping for air to care. Your lungs burning.

Gyutaro sits back for a moment to watch you struggle. Looking down at his still erect cock he shrugs and to your dismay, grabs your waist again.

"P-please Gyutaro, don't hurt me," you whimper, weakly trying to crawl away from him.

"Calm down, I ain't gonna kill you yet," he chuckles as he positions you to sit on his lap.

"Just one more round, ok? I still wanna make you cum again," he tenderly moves your hair out of your face, "You'll ride my cock like a good girl, won't you?"

Wiping away your tears, you nod, "Y-yes..." you whimper as your shaky hand holds onto his shoulder for support while you position his cock at your entrance and slowly lower yourself onto him.

His eyes widen at your obedience, groaning when you sit on him fully.

He's shocked to see how you start riding him with enthusiasm, even going as far as to gently lay your head in the crook of his neck. Holding onto him and moaning sweetly into his ear.

He thought that you'd just be doing this to persuade him to spare your life, but why do your actions seem so genuine?

Maybe it's because you are strangely even more attracted to him in his true form. Something about having sex with a dangerous man-eating demon makes you want him even more. Being used like a toy by this powerful man. It all makes you want him even more.

"Ah Y/N..." he moans, gripping your ass and guiding you up and down his length.

"Mm you feel so good, Gyutaro," you pant, "so so good..."

You gently kiss the rough skin of his neck, causing him to gasp and moan. His adam's apple bobbing with each pleasured sound that escapes his lips.

He presses his thumb down on your clit and starts rubbing in tight circles.

"R-right there baby," you moan, encouraging him to pick up the pace. Being called baby pulls at his heart strings. He wants to make you cum so bad, but this time for less selfish reasons.

He passionately kisses you, gently sucking the blood from your bottom lip. You taste so sweet on his tongue. A taste he finds himself quickly getting addicted to.

As he continues to play with your clit, he uses his other hand to hold onto your hip and thrust up into you, meeting your hips with a loud, wet slap.

Your orgasm hits you hard, "Gyutaro!!" you scream. Your thighs trembling as your walls tighten and convulse around him.

Gyutaro thrusts a final time and he's unraveling with you, wrapping his muscular arms around you and holding you close as he fills you up with his cum for the third time tonight.

The way that the two of you hold onto each other, it's almost as if you love one another.

Gyutaro holds you in his arms, listening to your labored breaths.

He carefully slides out of you and lays you down on the futon. He looks down at you with a frown, watching as you continue to surprise him. You don't run away or beg for him to spare your life. It's almost as if you have completely forgotten he promised to kill you once he's had his fun.

Instead you just lay there and stare up at him with a look he is unfamiliar with. One that he doesn't quite understand but it causes his body to move on its own. Without saying anything, he lays down beside you and pulls you into his chest. Gently caressing your face, he watches as sleep overcomes you.

You look so peaceful. But how could that possibly be so, when you have a demon in your bed?

Once he is sure you are fast asleep, Gyutaro gets up and puts a layer of his kimono back on. Staring down at your helpless body sleeping under the silk sheets.

"Sister..." he rasps, "come out."

He hunches over and a beautiful woman with long white hair forms out of his back, quite literally crawling out of his skin.

"Yes brother?" she says obediently before she looks over at your sleeping form, "Oh, what do we have here?"

"Store this human in your obi," he demands, "I have plans for her..."

I want to thank @lilliumteaandbeez for educating me on the history of male courtesans in the entertainment district! Thank you so much for the help! ♡

[fear-is-truth]

void. ── patrick bateman x reader

⟢ WARNINGS: fantasying about violence, sex & murder ・ foul language・sexism・ reader discretion is advised .ᐟ

⟢ TAGS: bateman’s pov・fem!secretary!reader ・“y/n” used i’m so sorry

⟢ WORD COUNT: 1,875

a/n: english is not my first language, but i loved the book & movie sm (might write a part two.)

VOID

I flip through the pages of GQ, my attention divided between an article on the season’s latest must-have suits and the image that keeps surfacing in my mind.

Paul Allen’s assistant. She started working here a few weeks ago, and ever since, I can’t seem to get her out of my head. It’s irritating as hell. She’s not like the women I usually deal with—clones of one another, in varying shades of blonde. This new girl is different.

It’s not like she’s anything special—at least not in the usual sense. I remember watching her, studying the way she fumbles with a stack of papers, fingers trembling slightly. I wonder how they’d feel like wrapped around my cock.

She’s not like the others. Not like Evelyn, with her relentless neediness, or even Jean, who’s dependable but she is, well, Jean. Reliable, dependable, and utterly forgettable.. y/n—there’s something about her that feels different. Unspoiled. Innocent in a way that’s almost laughable in this city, like a virgin lamb wandering into a den of wolves, completely unaware of the danger that surrounds her. And it makes me want to ruin her.

It’s intriguing. It’s also fucking annoying.

I toss the magazine aside, the pages crumpling as they hit the sleek surface of the desk. My eyes drift to the window, where I can see the city stretching out below, a concrete jungle full of meaningless, vapid people.

My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored wall, and I adjust the knot of my Charvet tie, admiring how it complements my gray wool suit by Cerruti 1881. Everything is meticulously in place: my Valentino loafers shine under the soft glow of the overhead lights, and my skin is flawless, practically glowing from the morning routine of an intense workout and the application of a moisturising mask from Jean Paul Gaultier. I run a hand through my slicked-back hair, appreciating the perfection I’ve crafted.

I feel a pang of something—sadness? Anger? No, it’s more like emptiness. A void that no amount of money, no designer suit, no fucking (and later slaughtering) prostitutes can fill. I’ve been feeling it more often lately, especially when I’m alone with my secretary who’s in love with me. She’s always there, always willing to please, but she doesn’t challenge me. She doesn’t excite me. She’s just… there. I pity her, in a way, though I doubt she even realises it.

“Van Patten,” I reply coolly, leaning back in my chair. I feel the leather creak beneath me, a sound that irritates me more than it should.

“Going to Harry’s Bar later?” he asks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Typical. I stare at him, considering the offer. Harry’s is fine, but the thought of spending the evening listening to these idiots prattle on about which bar serves the coldest martinis or which girl they’re planning to fuck next, makes me want to drive a nail through my skull. Still, there’s a game to be played.

“No,” I say finally, my voice flat. “I have plans.”

Van Patten shrugs, clearly not giving a shit, and turns to leave. But then he stops, his gaze shifting to the hallway behind him. I follow his eyes, and there she is—her, holding a stack of files that looks too heavy for her.

“Oh, by the way, have you seen Allen’s new assistant? McDermott’s been talking about wanting to fuck her her non-stop. I’d like to fuck that pretty little thing too.”

I don’t react outwardly, but inside, I feel a flicker of something—anger, perhaps. Not for her, but for myself. For the fact that I’m letting this get to me. Because I too want to fuck her. “McDermott’s an idiot,” I say coolly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s not his type.”

He snorts. “She’s not anyone’s type. Too shy, too pure. She looks like she’d freak out if you even touched her. You know how some guys love that innocent act. Wouldn’t last a day with someone like Bryce or Preston. They’d eat her alive.”

“Get out, Van Patten,”

My thoughts drift to Allen’s last dinner reservation—Dorsia, of course. Bastard. I can’t even get a table there without months of planning, but Paul Allen—stupid, oblivious Paul Allen—walks in like it’s nothing. It makes me want to crush him, to take everything from him. Including her.

Once he’s gone, I stand up and adjust my suit jacket, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. I step out of my office, my eyes scanning the hallway until I find her.

She is standing near the copier, a stack of files in her arms, her head tilted slightly as she tries to figure out the machine. She isn’t flaunting anything, and yet, she still manages to catch my eye. The black dress she’s wearing is Donna Karan, I’m almost sure, though the cut is a bit too conservative for my taste. It clings to her figure, revealing just enough to pique my interest but not enough to satisfy it. Her shoes, I note with some disappointment, are Manolo Blahnik. Not quite as stylish as something from, say, Azzedine Alaïa— not predictable choice, though not without merit. The impression of someone trying to fit into a world she doesn’t fully understand. Cute.

“y/n,” I say, my voice cutting through the hum of the copier. She jumps slightly, looking up with wide eyes that are both fearful and curious. Interesting.

“Mr. Bateman,” There’s no coyness in her voice, no flirtation. Just that same goddamn innocence. My mind wanders, imagining what it would be like to run a blade across her soft, supple flesh and watch the light fade from those innocent eyes Her skin parting under the sharp edge of a knife, the warmth of her blood spilling out, the sound she would make. But as quickly as the thought comes, it dissipates, leaving me with a hollow emptiness that I can’t quite explain. It’s a thought that would normally excite me, but with her, it feels… wrong. Unnecessary. Maybe even wasteful.

I realise I don’t really want to hurt her. At least not in the way I’ve hurt others. Quite unsettling, I feel… disappointed in myself, as if I’m losing my edge.

“Call me Patrick, or Pat.”

I correct, though I don’t know why. I’ve never cared about what people call me before. I glance down at the papers she’s holding.

“Your boss is not in yet?” I ask, knowing full well he isn’t.

“No, he’s not,” her voice is breathless, carrying a slight tremor—I wonder how my name would sound on her tongue when I’m fucking her. I also wonder what sounds she’d make. Soft kittenish noises, maybe. Doesn’t seem like the type to spew profanity, but one can never tell.

“I’m just trying to get these copies done before he arrives.”

I nod, pretending to care.

“He’s lucky to have an assistant like you,”

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she stammers out an thank-you, though I barely register it. My focus shifts to the gold chain around her neck—Tiffany. Cheap, sentimental. It doesn't belong here, but it suits her somehow, in that unsophisticated way.

“Though, if I were you, I’d be careful. He’s not exactly known for his discretion.”

“I’m…sorry?”

I smile, she’s taken the bait. “Paul’s habits aren’t exactly… discreet. Let’s just say he’s not very particular about who he spends his nights with. Or what he picks up from them.”

She blinks, the implication sinking in, and I see a flash of something in her eyes—concern, maybe disgust. Good. Let her think about that. It’s too easy to manipulate her, to plant seeds of doubt in that pretty little head of hers. I flash her a smile, one I’ve perfected over years of dealing with people who are far beneath me.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” I continue casually, “about what’s going around these days. AIDS is a nasty business. You can never be too careful.”

“But don’t worry,” I add quickly, my tone lighter. “You seem like someone who’s smart enough to avoid trouble.”

She doesn’t respond, just nods slightly, still processing what I’ve said. I can see the effect my words have had on her.

“Did you know,” I say, shifting to something more conversational, “that Ted Bundy once worked at a crisis hotline? Spent his days talking people out of killing themselves. Ironic, isn’t it?”

I don’t expect her to catch the reference—most people don’t. It’s just another way to distance myself from them, to prove my superiority. But then, she surprises me.

“Yes, I read about that,” she says quietly, looking up at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else—understanding, perhaps?

“It’s strange, how someone can seem so… normal, but be so twisted underneath the mask of sanity.”

I pause, taken aback by her response. She got it. She actually understood. For a moment, I feel a flicker of something—something almost like respect. But it’s very fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar emptiness.

“Exactly,” I reply, my voice smooth as glass. “People are rarely what they seem.”

There’s a brief silence, and I let it linger, watching her as she processes our exchange. I’ve rattled her, but I’ve also piqued her interest. It’s a dangerous combination, one that I’ll need to manage carefully. But I’m feeling bold.

“By the way,” I continue, “I was planning on having dinner at Dorsia tonight. Why don’t you join me?”

She looks up at me, confused, unsure, and I feel a flicker of satisfaction. She’s still trying to figure me out, to understand what I want. It’s amusing, really, how little she knows.

“I don’t know, Mr. Bate– Patrick,” she says, her voice faltering. Her innocence, her reluctance—it’s almost intoxicating like pure, uncut cocaine.

I smile again, this time more warmly, but it’s just a mask. “Come on, doll. It’s just dinner. Besides, it’s not like your boss will miss you for one night.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. There’s that softness in her voice again, that genuine gratitude that I don’t understand.

“Excellent,” I say, satisfied. I turn to leave, but not before giving her one last look. She’s already turned back to the copier, but I know that she’s not thinking about the papers anymore.

She makes me feel… something, though I’m not sure what. It’s frustrating, maddening even. But it also gives me hope. Maybe she’s the key to filling that void. Or maybe she’ll be another disappointment, like the rest. But tonight, at least, she’ll be mine to toy with.

Hopefully that will be enough to stave off the void for a little while longer.

read part ll here

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.