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angelfic · 1 year ago

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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

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lnfours · 2 months ago

Note

“Person A taking Person B home after they fell asleep at a friends house.“ 🥹🩵🥹 definitely picturing the reader falling asleep at max f’s house and Lando carrying her home

stop because i can so see this happening 🥹

jordan’s birthday sleepover!

you hadn’t meant to fall asleep during the movie, but you were so comfortable. being cuddled up into his side, his body heat keeping you warm under the blanket pietra had given you earlier. add in the fact that your boyfriend was genuinely just the most comfortable pillow ever, it was bound to happen.

you had a long week, between work and just life in general, it had been tiring. you thought you would be able to handle a simple movie night, however, you were so wrong. the minute max turned down the lights and within the first half hour of the movie, you were out like a light.

lando smiled softly down at your sleeping frame when he realized you weren’t talking about the movie with them, that you hadn’t reacted to anything playing in front of you like you usually did. he brushed the fallen hair from your face, pulling you a little closer as you slept peacefully. your face was squished against his chest in the cutest way. how was he supposed to disturb you?

when the credits rolled and the lights came back on, max’s voice was quiet as he questioned your state, “was she asleep the whole time?”

lando nodded, gently playing with your hair, “just about,”

max nodded and pietra audibly ‘aw’ed at the fact that their friend was so in love. how he gently moved your limbs, your face nuzzling into his neck as he situated himself to pick you up.

“need some help with the doors?”

“please,” lando said, carrying you bridal style. he smiled at the blonde girl on the couch, “goodnight, p.”

“goodnight,” she smiled, “get home safe.”

max opened the front door, “where’re your keys, mate?”

“left pocket,” lando said, turning to let his best friend fish the keys for the mclaren from the pocket of his sweatpants, “can you unlock it and get the door? i’ve got her,”

his best friend nodded, opening the door as he situated you in the passenger seat. you hummed softly, leaning against the window once he got your seatbelt on, ready to fall back to sleep.

he bid a goodnight and a thanks to max for having the two of you before climbing into the car himself. he turned the volume down on the radio so it wasn’t loud enough to wake you, taking occasional glances your way. he couldn’t help it. you looked so pretty, curled up in the passenger side of his car while you slept.

when he pulled into the driveway, you stirred awake as he leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt, “how long have i been asleep?”

“a few hours,” his voice was soft, “didn’t even make it through the first half of the movie.”

he chuckled softly as you pressed a hand to your forehead, your giggle sounding through the car, “i’m sorry,”

“nothing to apologize for, baby,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, “let’s get inside and go to bed, yeah?”

with a simple nod you followed him inside the house, kicking your shoes off and changing into one of his t-shirts before climbing into bed next to him. the minute your head rested on his chest, you knew it’d be only a few more minutes until you were back to sleep.

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hxney-lemcn · 9 months ago

Text

True Beauty — Vil Schoenheit x gn! reader

summary: a simple sleepover had Vil questioning how you made him feel.

tw: none (maybe not the best characterization of Vil's thought process but this is cute so...)

a/n: just a small thought I needed to get out.

wc: 0.5k

Master List

“He is not pretty,” You said with a judgmental look on your face.

“Are you blind?” Vil asked back, raising one of his perfect eyebrows. “Look at his jawline, the impeccable makeup, the fashion style!”

“He cheated on his partner!” You shot back, nearly causing Vil to mess up his application serum to your skin. His light colored eyes narrowed, silently warning you to stay still.

“That may be, but that has nothing to do with his looks,” Vil countered, carefully picking out an eye cream that would suit you.

The two of you were having a sleepover…well that's what you were calling it. Vil had simply offered you help with your night routine since ‘your skin looked puffy’ (you hadn’t seen a difference but this was Vil we’re talking about). You managed to convince Vil to put on a show in the background and he had simply pointed out the main antagonist looked attractive, which led to this mini-argument.

“Wrong,” You stated, making a buzzer noise. “Personality is everything. Yeah I can see what you mean physically, but he ruined his looks with his actions. He’s the ugliest character ever because of what he did.” Vil paused his actions, blinking at you. He genuinely was caught off guard by what you said. His entire life he felt pressured to look perfect, it didn’t matter how a person would act. He had always wanted a starring role, a role that was painted as a hero, yet he was always shot down because he ‘looked’ like a villain. So you stating that you saw the world differently, that you judged others mainly on actions instead of looks, he found himself speechless for once.

“Yet you’ve fallen for my charms,” Vil tried to rebuttal, ignoring the weird warmth that tried to consume him. You were such a strange person, he still couldn’t wrap his head around you…but he supposes that was your appeal.

“Yeah,” You shrugged, pulling back as Vil finished putting a really good smelling moisturizer on you. “Because you’re really nice. I mean you literally just used skin care products on me that cost more than my life.”

Once again you had managed to make his heart stutter and he hated you for it (not really, he’s just being a drama queen). You said it so casually, do you not realize just what that meant to him? He always felt like he had to prove himself, make himself look the most beautiful, work hard for his place, yet you had managed to carelessly toss it to the side with such a simple statement. With a simple belief. You sat across from him as he wore no makeup, his hair messy (it was perfect even if it was casual), and in pajamas (they were the most expensive pajamas you had ever seen), yet your eyes held nothing but adoration.

“Can I do yours now?” You asked, like you hadn’t just shaken his entire world. Typically he’d deny such a request…but he found his resolve crumbling under your warm smile.

Just what were you doing to him?

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #twst wonderland x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil #vil twst #vil twisted wonderland #x reader

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temis-de-leon · 1 month ago

Text

He sees how you fell in love with your ex

Summary: Once more victims of their lack of prudence, the boys are cursed to experience horrible visions; that is, seeing first-hand how their lover, MC, fell in love with their ex.

Characters: present! Lucifer x gn!reader, past! gn!reader x gn!ex

Main Masterlist

C/W: the reader is said to be in college/early 20s during the memory, but no age is specified. Reader is betrothed to their tutor (not their teacher) and kisses them.

A/N: I spent four days trying to write a simple drabble for Barbatos and then I wrote this in two hours. I ain't fighting my mind anymore. Mammon was supposed to be in this one, but I think one post per character is good enough.

Lucifer – Similar, but so different

He feels the need to wonder if he has done anything specific to deserve this punishment.

Did he grab the wrong book? Lucifer doesn’t even remember being in the library to begin with. Was he cursed, perhaps? In that case, by whom? Whether it was his brothers, that damned sorcerer or an unknown brainless demon didn’t matter to him, because the uneasy frustration wouldn’t leave his chest regardless of his reasoning.

You are there, right in front of him, but deaf to his voice and unresponsive to his touch. Your skin holds no warmth either and trying to caress it feels useless, like grabbing an ordinary leather wallet.

Unfortunately, Lucifer is old and experienced enough to realize rather quickly that what he is seeing isn’t a simple vision or an imaginary scenario. He looks at your fingernails and can’t decide anything concrete about them; are they long or short? Painted or not?

Your surroundings are also blurry, and devoid of details. While it’s obvious the setting is a library, his acute sight can’t decipher any of the titles in the bookcases and the hallways don’t seem to have an end; rays of sun enter through the window, but only the blue skies are visible; and there’s not even a librarian to make you company in such a fine day.

It is a memory; a good one, judging by the dreamy feeling and the brightness of it.

He drops his head to study you one more time and unsuccessfully tries not to scowl in a sour manner when, despite being unable to see you as clearly as he would any other day, the golden shine of a ring catches his attention.

Simple and classy in its design, the significance of it holds a heavier weight than whatever material it is made of.

His tongue clicks in disapproval, already thinking of punishments that would fit the perpetrator’s audacity. How dare they? How dare they deprive him of you? How dare they show him this?

Lucifer looked around, unsure if he wanted to see what was inevitably coming next, although whatever magic threw him there probably had that exact intention. His body was glued to the seat, useless against his inhuman strength and his powers, and, as much as he tried to avert his eyes, he could do nothing but stare at you incessantly. Was he waiting for you to raise your head and recognize him? Gasp in horror before rushing to cure him with your own magic or even the most obvious true love kiss? He didn’t know, but he was absolutely sure he wanted you to know who he was, at the very least.

Of course, that was childlike hoping.

Your hair was styled differently and your face seemed younger and more innocent, obviously ignorant of anything beyond human life. Lucifer could guess when he was based on the context, but you had never talked about this specific stage of your life enough for him to exactly pinpoint.

Somewhere in between your college years, you had been betrothed to someone and later, evidently, single again. Since you weren’t keen on divulging every piece of your ex-partner and your previous relationship without apparent reason, he tried not to dwell on the topic unless the conversation begged for it, but it wasn’t like he was extremely interested either. No need to focus on the past when you both had the present going on and, having each other, who needed anyone else?

He felt the need to reconsider.

Although it was obvious you were trying to study, you seemed to give the ring more attention than anyone would ever do in any similar situation. Your sorrowful expression was a stark contrast against the gentle ambience of the room and the softness in which you were treating the piece of jewellery, the sad eyes and the frown distorting your face.

Lucifer tried to reach you again in hopes of offering comfort, but it was like he didn’t exist to you. While he knew it was due to the situation, he couldn’t help but pout and cross his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide his aching heart. It beat frantically and pathetically, wondering why would you reject him, and no amount of reasoning would calm it down.

A set of footsteps caught your attention.

He frowned miserably as you turned around, looked at the newcomer and then returned to your initial position with a quivering lip. The other person, whom he could only assume to be your ex, twisted their face in remorse and hurried to your side, sitting and rushing to hold your hand.

A part of him wanted to break the contact and instantly take you somewhere far away from there, from whoever was that person that had you in their arms before Lucifer even had the chance to meet you, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you looked at your ex-fiancé with hurt and a tinge of hope.

“I am so sorry, baby” they said in a whisper, even though no one else but him was around to hear the conversation. You two were close, faces mere inches away from each other, and he couldn’t do anything but watch it all. Each word cut Lucifer’s heart with the precision of a scalpel, but it was the tiny optimism in your expression what hurt the most. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way; you didn’t deserve it. You studied, you tried, you failed and I snapped and you didn’t deserve it…”

“I wanted your support” you reminded them in a voice too small for you.

They didn’t look annoyed at the interruption, instead nodding in a humble motion.

“I know-“

“You aren’t my tutor anymore, you’re my partner”

“I know, I’m sorry”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

He’d had similar conversations with you in the past where you had failed a task or hadn’t turned homework in when it was due and he had been clear in showing his disapproval, regardless of how happy you were in your relationship. Business and pleasure were separate for him and your success at RAD very clearly belonged to one of those categories. Sure, he didn’t get paid for each one of your victories; in fact, it was he who gave the reward on occasion, but ensuring the exchange program went correctly was related to his work with Lord Diavolo, not his feelings for you.

Although he enjoyed seeing you succeed very much.

“I’m very proud of you” said your ex with an honest expression, smiling before cupping your cheek to bring you closer and kiss you.

Lucifer could manage to look somewhere else for that one, but he still heard the noise. Your happy humming before another kiss.

He wondered briefly if the library had been empty in reality or if your feelings for your previous partner had made it seem as if there had been no one else but them in the room with you. Did he make you feel the same? Did he make you feel as if there was none but the two of you in the world?

Not wanting to see your delighted expression directed at another person, he looked at your fingers again, unfortunately finding theirs interlocked with yours. The shiny ring taunted him.

“You’ll get it next time; you’ll see”

“You think so?”

“I know so, baby”

And that made you laugh like a fool, which only made Lucifer’s mood worsen.

You only looked at him that way on certain occasions; mainly when he allowed them to happen or when he was too drunk to think about appearances. Sure, he loved you and he showed you so, but was that enough to make you forget about all the times he didn’t do it? Was it enough to mask his disappointed words or his arrogant behaviour? To drive your attention away from the fact that he never properly apologized for anything, even when it hurt you?

Why did you break up with this human? They clearly treated you well and you clearly loved them, so why? What made you see that someone who adored you so much wasn’t the right match for you?

There was no ring on your finger with his name on it, but you did have a pact. A pact with THE Lucifer Morningstar, which not many people had. He wasn’t lying when he said that you belonged to him.

…but did you really?

“I forgive you” you said.

A sickening feeling of hope made him immediately look at you, wishing those words were directed at him, but of course, they weren’t.

He watched as you got up and your partner helped you with your belongings, offering their arm before leading you out of the library. Lucifer wasn’t even sure if he wanted to follow, especially when you were looking at your fiancé with that much love in your eyes.

“Thank you for being here” you mumbled quietly against their lips, putting the last nail in Lucifer’s coffin.

Did you really belong to him?

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x gn!mc #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader #om! lucifer #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me drabble #obey me angst #obey me hurt/no comfort

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mamayan · 1 year ago

Text

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

#tw:noncon #kinktober #Shiggy fuckers come get y’all juice #kinktober 2023 #my only one lol #shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki mha #shigaraki x reader #mha tomura #tomura x reader #boku no hero academia tomura #yandere tomura #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere tomura smut #yandere shigaraki tomura smut #yandere tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader smut

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satellite-evans · 5 days ago

Text

Not my baby

Pairing : Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry comes back home with the wrong kid :)

Warning: tiny angst, happy ending, sleep deprived parents

Word count: 2.3k

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had never truly understood what it meant to be a parent. He loved his family, of course—he adored his wife, Y/N, and now he found himself utterly smitten with their newborn daughter, Willow. But the reality of sleepless nights, endless feedings, and the whirlwind of emotions that came with being parents was something Harry had never fully grasped until now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his friends with their children or heard the stories from other parents. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for how deeply the exhaustion would seep into every part of his being. And the exhaustion wasn’t just his. Y/N had been the one to endure the brunt of it, her body adjusting to the demands of both breastfeeding and the round-the-clock needs of their infant.

It had been nearly three weeks since Willow was born, and although Harry had tried to help in every way he could—holding Willow while she napped, soothing her when she cried, and trying to take on household chores—he knew that Y/N had it the hardest. She was the one that had carried Willow for nine months, the one who had brought her into the world, and now, she was the one who was still waking up every two to three hours to nurse, then trying to sneak in some rest during the day when Willow took her naps.

Despite the weariness that clung to her every movement, Y/N had a glow in her eyes whenever she looked at Willow. That love—the undeniable bond between mother and child—shone brightly even through the tiredness. Harry admired her for it, but he could see that she was starting to run on empty. He could feel it in her sighs, the way she held her head a little lower, and how she kept rubbing her tired eyes like they could somehow erase the exhaustion.

Harry knew he couldn’t take away the sleepless nights or the emotional toll, but today, he was determined to do something to help her. Just a little. A few hours of uninterrupted rest. That’s all he wanted to give her.

It was mid-morning, and Y/N had finally managed to doze off on the couch after nursing Willow and settling her back into her bassinet. She had been awake for hours, trying to comfort Willow, who had been fussy from teething. Harry saw how her eyes fluttered shut as soon as her body hit the cushions, and he knew that was his chance.

He tiptoed into the living room, making sure not to disturb her. He’d thought long and hard about how to make this work. There was no way he could bring Willow into the other room and make noise. But he could give Y/N some time to sleep if he took Willow out for a little walk. The fresh air would be good for both of them. Harry figured a quick stroll to the park would do the trick. Just a few hours. He’d be back before she even noticed.

He glanced at Willow, still peacefully asleep in her bassinet. He smiled softly, heart swelling with love. He picked her up gently, cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. She was so tiny, so perfect. She had a tuft of dark hair on top of her head and a soft, little face that made Harry’s heart ache with joy. He placed her carefully into the stroller, making sure she was comfortable and snug with a soft pink blanket tucked around her.

The stroller was simple—black and white, sleek and modern. (Y/N) had picked it out before Willow was born, and Harry had made sure it was ready for the day they brought their daughter home. He adjusted the straps around Willow’s tiny body and double-checked the wheels, giving them a quick spin. Once he was satisfied, he crept into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, sitting at the table to quietly sip it before heading out. He didn’t want to wake (Y/N).

For a moment, Harry allowed himself a deep breath. He was still reeling from the intensity of fatherhood. It was overwhelming at times, especially with the lack of sleep. He thought about how this experience had shifted his entire perspective on life, on love, on what truly mattered. (Y/N) was everything to him, and Willow... Willow was their miracle.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry decided it was time. He grabbed his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and with one final glance at Y/N, he left the house.

The air outside was crisp, a soft breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Harry loved the quiet of the neighborhood during the day, the calm before life got busy again. He pushed the stroller slowly, savoring the peaceful moments as he made his way to the nearby park. Willow was still asleep, and Harry let himself relax for the first time all morning. There was something so serene about these early mornings—the silence, the fresh air, the gentle hum of life around him.

Harry hummed quietly, looking down at Willow. He reached down and gently stroked her hair, his voice soft and comforting.

“Alright, love. We’re off on an adventure, just you and me,” Harry whispered, smiling as Willow’s tiny face stayed relaxed, oblivious to his words. “I’ll make sure you’re as tired as I am by the time we get home. I know you’re sleepy now, but we’ll get some fresh air, won’t we?”

Harry continued walking, his thoughts drifting as he pushed the stroller down the sidewalk. “Your mum’s going to love this. A few hours of quiet for her—she deserves it more than anyone.”

As Harry approached the park, he noticed the familiar sight of other parents with their children. Some were chatting, some were on their phones, while others simply sat in silence, enjoying the break from the whirlwind of home life. Harry guided the stroller to a bench and sat down, looking out at the peaceful surroundings.

He watched Willow’s chest rise and fall gently in her sleep, her tiny hands curled into fists. It was hard to fathom how quickly she’d grown in just a few weeks. Harry knew he couldn’t wait to see her first steps, hear her first word. But for now, he was content to just be with her in this quiet moment.

Not long after, another man arrived at the bench nearby, pushing an identical stroller. Harry glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the coincidence.

“Hey there,” the man greeted, settling onto the bench next to Harry. “Nice day for a walk, huh?”

Harry smiled, glad to see someone else enjoying the peace and quiet. “Yeah, it’s beautiful out. My first time out with her,” he said, gesturing to Willow. “Trying to give my wife a break. She’s been—well, you know.”

The man nodded knowingly. “I get it. It’s tough, isn’t it? My daughter’s a handful, and I’ve been trying to get a break too. But, you know, they’re worth it.” He chuckled softly, glancing down at his stroller. “I’m just trying to let her nap for a bit.”

Harry laughed, nodding in agreement. “I hear you. Same here. She’s been pretty calm though, so I think I’m lucky so far.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind of quiet that only new parents seemed to understand. Harry watched the man’s daughter playing in the distance, toddling toward a group of other kids. He smiled, feeling a little sense of camaraderie in the shared exhaustion of parenthood.

Harry’s eyes drifted back to the stroller beside him. He noticed the other man’s baby had a soft pink blanket just like Willow’s, and for a split second, Harry didn’t think twice. He stood up, yawning as he stretched his back.

“Alright, kiddo,” he murmured to Willow, who was still asleep. “Time to head home.”

The man had stepped away for a moment, leaving his stroller unattended. Without thinking, Harry grabbed it, instinctively pushing it toward the park entrance.

When Harry finally returned, he was beaming. He had given Willow the quiet afternoon she deserved, and now, he was looking forward to seeing Y/N wake up, refreshed and happy.

He quietly unlocked the door, stepping into the house with the stroller in tow. Y/N was still fast asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling gently. Harry smiled to himself, knowing that soon, she would get a break.

He tiptoed over to her, setting the stroller down beside the couch and gently pulling back the blanket to reveal the baby. But when Y/N blinked her eyes open and took in the sight of the child in the stroller, her blood ran cold.

“Harry, what the hell... is this?” Her voice cracked with panic.

Harry froze. “What?”

“That’s... not Willow!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. She sat up so quickly that she nearly knocked the stroller over.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned, peering into the stroller.

Y/N was practically shaking now. Her fingers trembled, gripping the edge of the couch. “That’s not our baby! That’s someone else’s child! Where is Willow?!” Her voice pitched higher, bordering on hysteria.

Harry’s heart raced. His thoughts scattered. He stepped back, his mind running through a thousand thoughts in an instant. He glanced from the baby in the stroller to Y/N, and then it dawned on him—he had made a mistake. A huge mistake.

“No... no way... no, I—” His voice trailed off as his own panic set in.

“Harry, you took someone else’s baby!” Y/N’s voice went from frantic to full-on hysteria. She was trembling now, her entire body shaking from the weight of the realization. “Oh my God, you took the wrong kid!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Harry tried to explain, his brain struggling to catch up with the sheer magnitude of the error. “I swear, I thought—”

Y/N wasn’t listening. Her breath was coming in short, panicked gasps. Her hands shook violently as she pulled out her phone to dial the police. But when she saw her fingers trembling uncontrollably, the numbers on the screen blurred. She could barely focus. Her vision blurred with tears of terror.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, hands shaking so violently that the phone nearly slipped from her grasp. She tried again, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Why can’t I dial? I—I can’t breathe!” Her voice broke.

“Don’t call the police!” Harry begged, his voice cracking. “Please, just let me explain. I’ll fix this—just let me fix this.”

Y/N couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of utter dread. “You don’t understand,” she gasped. “We need to find Willow. We need to find her now.”

Her trembling hands hovered over the phone, but before she could dial the number, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden. Harry’s heart stopped. He rushed to open the door, his stomach flipping with anxiety. And standing there, holding Willow in his arms, was the man her met at the park whose expression mirrored his own terror.

“That’s my daughter!” the man snapped, seeing the baby in Y/N's arms, his voice full of frustration. “What kind of person takes another child's baby?!”

Harry stood there, stunned. His eyes darted from the angry man to Willow in his arms and back to Y/N, who was now crying from a mixture of relief and rage.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, barely able to find his voice. “I thought she was mine.”

The other father glared at him, his irritation palpable. “Yeah? Well, next time, keep track of your kid!”

As the situation settled, both parents not only exchanged the babies, but they also exchanged apologies. The tension in the room was still thick. Willow was safe, and the other baby was safe, but the mix-up was enough to send both families into a temporary panic.

When everything was finally sorted, Harry stood in the living room, staring at Y/N, who was still shaking from the ordeal but still hugging Willow close to her chest, who had no idea what happened. She walked over to him; her face a mixture of anger, exhaustion, and relief.

“Harry,” she began, her voice low but firm. “No more surprise walks. No more ‘I’m just trying to help’ crap. You scared me half to death!”

Harry looked down at the floor, feeling the weight of his mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help you get some rest.”

Y/N softened just slightly, placing a hand on his chest. “I know, love. I know. But next time, double-check the stroller, okay?”

Harry nodded, his heart still racing. “I swear, never again.”

And with that, they both took a deep breath. The chaos was over, but it would be a long while before they forgot the walk that went terribly wrong.

#fluff #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x wife!reader #harry styles imagine #dad!harry

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dandelionjack · 7 months ago

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another really well-designed visual storytelling element of dot and bubble is the decision to have the fifteenth doctor star in it wearing his “doctoriest” costume yet. doctor outfits vary, of course, but a unifying trait is some kind of suit/smart-casual style and long jacket — subverted in many cases, obviously, but even thirteen wears the long hoodie and suspenders, and twelve’s punk fits still follow roughly the same template, nine has his leather jacket doing the job — whereas fifteen has most noticeably stepped outside that mold for the past few episodes, starting with the kilt and open-shouldered vest (!) in TCORR, then the t-shirts and, in general, far less rigidity.

but in Dot and Bubble, you take one look at this man and know: he’s the Doctor. which is why it creates such a powerful feeling of juxtaposition — all this ‘Doctor-aura’ posturing that usually works on side characters straight away completely fails to have any kind of effect in the face of unabashed, impenetrable bigotry. the clothing is a kind of uniform, it provides reassurance that this man *is* the doctor, that he’s come to rescue you, that he’s the same person he’s always been. but not to the residents of finetime.

since time immemorial (the second doctor’s era, but maybe even earlier, i haven’t seen much hartnell so correct me if i’m wrong) the doctor’s been asked — “why am i talking to you, why am i telling you my secrets?” and he’s always replied that he has a “face you can trust”. it’s time lord magnetism. people are naturally drawn to him. he commands a room. people begin to follow his orders because they know on some primal, innate, subconscious level that this entity is going to help them survive and make their existence better.

which is why it’s so jarring when they don’t. the racism, privilege and prejudice that clouds their eyes is genuinely so strong that it almost works like a perception filter, blocking out the doctor’s natural charisma, his bottomless kindness, all of the superhuman qualities that make him irresistible. they don’t see the charming 2000-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey that is going to “save their lives and everyone else’s”, long jacket fluttering out behind him as he runs, holding his hand outstretched like a beacon of hope. they see a Black man and nothing else, and that puts him beneath them no matter what he says, no matter what he does, how he proves that *he’s the Doctor*. to fascists, race stands above everything. you can be accomplished, talented, wise, clever, brilliant, but to them, the simple fact of the colour of your skin renders you unworthy. and that’s why they’re beyond saving.

#doctor who #dot and bubble #doctor who meta #doctor who analysis #dw meta #ncuti gatwa #fifteen #fifteenth doctor #dw #doctor who series 14 #ruby sunday #costume design #costume analysis #russell t davies #the doctor #kitty.txt

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weakformingyu · 9 months ago

Text

Style | Y.J.

Pairing: Jeongin x afab!reader

Summary: you always wanted to do something crazy, something different from what your family expects you to. Who would have guessed that you'd meet Yang Jeongin, the guy who has the worst reputation around town and the one who's ready to deviate you from god's path.

Words count: 7,037

THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Warnings: badboy!Jeongin, churchgirl!reader, exaggerated description of conservative/religious families, dirty talk, protected piv, oral(f. receiving), degradation(very little), praise(even less), biting(I think that's all, let me know if I forgot something)

A/N: inspired by TS' song Style, one of my favs.

You have been the pride and joy of your family since your birth, their perfect little daughter who is obedient and never goes against their word. You are a straight A’s student, the main singer of the church's choir, you’re never harsh and never vulgar, you're never free. That makes you mad, you have never enjoyed your life, like truly enjoyed it, you have been living for others this whole time and you’re tired of it.

“You know what?” Soyeon, your newest friend says, “we should go out”

“To go where?” You ask, confused. You two are seated together in your social studies class, she’s different from all your other friends and your parents would definitely kill you if they ever found out that you befriended someone like her. In your eyes, you know there’s nothing wrong with her but you know they would never agree with this friendship the moment they laid eyes on Soyeon.

She has tattoos all over her body and her hair is pink, she wears strong makeup and clothes that show too much skin, nothing like you. You had to beg your parents to let you wear jeans when you got into college, telling them the long dresses would make you stand out too much and at the same time that they gave you an earful because you were giving in to the sins of the world, they agreed that it wouldn’t be a good idea for their pristine daughter to get too much attention.

Your circle of friends in college is basically the same as the one you had in high school, mostly people from the church, people just like your parents, who judge others based on looks so it was shocking for you when Soyeon approached you first and it was even more shocking when you realized how much you both have in common. She also comes from a conservative family, but unlike you, she decided to rebel at a young age, she chose to be free.

“There’s a new club in the city, I think you’re going to like it”, she tells you, looking the place up on the internet to show it to you.

“I don’t think my parents would let me go”, you chuckle looking at the pictures and at the people in the pictures, you’d definitely stand out in there.

“And who's talking about asking for permission?” She giggles, watching your horrified face.

“I could never”, you shake your head frantically, anxiety growing in your chest just by thinking about it.

“Y/N, you’re always telling me how much you wanted to be brave and do something impulsive, this is your chance”, she pushes, seeing you bite on your bottom lip, wondering if it would be okay to do that just this once.

“But how am I going to explain to them the reason I’m going out at night?”

Soyeon chuckles, amused.

“Have you ever heard of lying?” She asks, sarcastically, making you blush.

“Stop”, you pout, making her laugh loudly.

“Just tell them you are going to have a sleepover with your righteous friends or whatever, I don’t think they are going to doubt you”, Soyeon suggests.

“Fine, yeah, I can do that”, you say, trying not to shiver at the simple thought of lying. You don’t think you have ever lied to your parents, too afraid of what would happen if you were caught, scared that you’d lose the little bit of freedom you have but maybe it’s worth it this time, maybe you’re going to find a whole new world.

You don’t know why Soyeon asked to meet so much earlier than the actual time of the party. Everything goes well with your parents, you never gave them reason to distrust you so they don’t even think too much of it, telling you to come back first thing in the morning for your prayers.

You go to Soyeon’s house, her parents love you, hoping that you’re going to bring their daughter back to the righteous path, little do they know that she’s the one who’s trying to deviate you from that very path.

Since she’s with you, they believe in everything she says about how you two are going to watch a movie in the theater and then she’s gonna sleep at your house. And you do go to the theater, or better, to the restroom there.

“What are we doing here?” You ask, confused, when she locks you both in the tiny space.

“What do you mean?” She seems as confused as you, looking for something in her bag and then she looks at you, realizing something and laughing. “Girl, bold of you to think I’d let you go dressed like that”, she says, staring at you up and down.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” You ask, looking at yourself.

“Hm, there’s nothing wrong if you were really going to the theater”, she says, pulling out a few clothes out of her bag, “you’re going to a club, you need to look hot.

“Why?” You inquire again, tilting your head.

“Just because”, she loses her patience, handing you the clothes, “now put this on, I’ll do your makeup after you finish dressing.

“I don’t think this is right”, you tell her from inside the booth, opening the door to find Soyeon frowning.

“What is not right?” She asks, and you look down.

“Is this supposed to be a skirt?” You ask, pulling down the small piece of fabric that’s barely covering your ass.

“That’s how people dress, you’re the one who’s always covering yourself”, she explains, coming close to you. “Now, I’m gonna do your makeup, don’t worry, I’m going to take it easy this time”

“This time?” You murmur, making her chuckle, ignoring your question while she pulls her makeup accessories out of the bag.

You can barely recognize yourself when you look in the mirror, but strangely that doesn’t bother you. You are used to always feeling plain and boring but right in this moment, you feel interesting for the first time in your life. Soyeon really didn’t exaggerate on your makeup, she just put on some mascara on your eyes and a red lipstick on your lips. The silk tank top you’re wearing suits you best if you go braless and the skirt is still too short for your taste but anything over knee length is too short for you.

The club is crowded, you don’t think you ever went to a place so full of people and so full of life. People are laughing, kissing each other, dancing, enjoying themselves and that’s something so rare to see in your everyday life, it's delightful to you.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Soyeon asks, loud enough for you to hear.

“I think just water for now”, you tell her and she nods, your friend is not one to pressure you to do something you don’t want.

“I’m going to the bar, okay? I’ll be back in a minute”, she says, as soon as you both reach a booth.

You nod, watching as she struggles to squeeze herself in between the people dancing, you’re not sure if she’s going to be able to arrive safe and sound to the bar.

You look around, you think you know a few people from your school but you hope they don’t recognize you. However, there is a pair of eyes that catch your attention, making you stop to stare at him for a whole minute before he smirks, giving a step in your direction until you realize that he’s coming to you.

You know him, you know him so well. That’s the guy all your friends told you to stay away from, even your parents warned you about him. Yang Jeongin, the city heartthrob.

Jeongin is a known rake, he goes around causing trouble and breaking hearts and that’s something you don’t want anything to do with. Then, why can’t you move? Why does it feel like he’s pulling you like a magnet, like you can’t get up while he has his eyes on you.

You look around, trying to see if Soyeon is close by to save you from him but she’s nowhere to be seen and in an instant he arrives at your table, tilting his head and looking at you up and down. Jeongin raises a brow, watching as you fidget on your seat.

“I don’t think we have met”, he says, sitting down.

“We haven’t”, you say, drily.

“But I think you know me”, he smirks, “And I know you — I mean, the other version of you”

“Well, if you know me, you should also know that there’s nothing for you here”, you tell him, feeling nervous, a strange heat spreading around your lower belly.

He chuckles, sliding in the booth to sit right by your side, slipping his arm around your shoulder.

“Any knowledge I had about you went down the drain the moment you stepped in this party wearing this tiny piece of fabric you call a skirt”, he murmurs too closely, eyes fixed on yours, making your heart beat faster. You should definitely tell him to leave since you have the slight idea about where this is going but at the same time you don't want him to leave. God forbid anyone knows that you ever let this man touch you but you sure want him to. You can't even blame the alcohol since you didn't drink any but you can blame Soyeon for leaving you alone in a place where Jeongin is. Having him so close to you is making your head hurt, you feel your whole body turning hot, the throbbing on your upper body making you dizzy.

Something takes control over you, making you turn your upper body over to him, clicking your tongue next and smirking.

“Shall we get to know each other, then?” You hear your voice but don't know where that courage came from.

“I'd like that”, he squeezes his body even closer to you. Jeongin leans over the table, resting his chin on his hand while he rests his elbow on the metal surface. “You look stunning tonight by the way, very different from the way you look on the daily basis”

“So you really know who I am”, you ask, surprised.

“Of course, you're the college's model for good behavior”, he chuckles, “the amount of times I heard professors bringing you up as an example is crazy”

“Well, it's the opposite with you”, you shrug.

“Ouch”, he pouts, “why does it sounds like you don't like me”

“It's ‘cause I don't”

“I'm sure I can change your mind”, he leans in closer once more.

“Oh, pray tell, how are you going to do that?” You scoff, amused. There's no way this guy has gam-

“Have you ever had your pussy eaten?”

You almost choke on the air you just breathed.

“Wh-what?” You gulp, trying to recompose yourself.

“I'm sure you're gonna like me after I eat you out”, he smirks.

You roll your eyes, scoffing at him, trying to hide your embarrassment and how hot you're feeling.

“Do you say that to all the girls you try to sleep with?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest, making your boobs go up, something that makes Jeongin's eyes go down to stare at your breasts, the smirk growing bigger in his lips.

“Only to the special one's”, he tells you, nonchalantly, raising a brow. Before you can retort, you see Soyeon coming in your direction with drinks in both hands.

“Sorry, it took ages for someone to get my order”, she says, tilting her head in confusion when she looks at Jeongin. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all”, Jeongin is the one to say, “I was just about to leave, it's nice to see you by the way”, he smiles at Soyeon while getting up. “If you change your mind, feel free to come find me”, he says, winking at you before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Soyeon sets the drinks on the table, sitting by your side with a puzzled face.

“What was that about?” She asks.

“Nothing”, you sigh, fanning yourself to try and calm down and ease your hot face.

“Well, by the way you are reacting it doesn't look like nothing”

“He was hitting on me��, you say, feeling embarrassed again. “I told him I'm not interested”

“Why?” Soyeon asks, more confused than before.

“What do you mean ‘why’? He's Yang Jeongin, the guy who everyone warns us about”, you answer like it's obvious.

“Nope, he's the guy the people from your church warned you about”, she chuckles, “I know him and he's not that bad, but it's true that he can't keep it in his pants”

“Even if it's not as bad as people painted him to be…”, you lean closer to her so you can talk lower, “... I never did anything, I don't know if it's okay for me to do it here”

“And who's the person who's going to tell you if it's okay or not?” Soyeon asks, “you should do what you feel like doing, don't think about your parents or your church, just think about what you wanna do”

You stare at Soyeon for a moment, biting on your bottom lip. You know she's right, you do, but are you brave enough to take the risk?

“Do you have a con…dom?” You ask, feeling your cheeks hot and a big smile grows on your friend's face.

“I sure do”, she answers, opening her bag and looking for it inside, grabbing two packages and giving it to you. “Don't feel like you have to do this, you can just try and see what happens. I have known Jeongin for quite a while and I know he wouldn't do anything you're not up to”, Soyeon assures you.

You nod, getting up. There's nothing wrong with trying, right? Your parents will never know and it's not like he's going to tell anyone too.

You walk in the direction Jeongin went, squeezing yourself in the middle of the crowd, looking around to find the man. There are so many different people, but you're sure you can spot him without issue if he's nearby.

You do come across him, eyes meeting his back while you watch as he whispers something in another girl's ear. There's an ache in your chest as you watch how she laughs about what he's saying like he's so funny. Well, stupid of you to think he would be waiting for you. You sigh, maybe this is a sign that you should just call it a night and go home.

As if the universe hears what's going through your mind, Jeongin turns around like he could feel your gaze and your eyes meet for a split of a second before you turn to look anywhere else, just to find someone you know. Fuck, it's a girl from your church, her family is really close to yours, what's she doing here?

You spin on your heels, deciding to run to the restroom for now, it's your best option. She's known to be a snitch, if she sees you there's no way she's gonna keep quiet about it to your parents and after that your life is over.

Miraculously, you manage to find an empty bathroom, going in and locking the door. You watch yourself in the mirror, your red lipstick is still intact. You wet your hands, throwing drops of water at your face but not enough to mess your makeup.

You're fine, you're alright, you can just sneak out of this club and get home safely without anyone knowing. You nod, turning around to open the door. And when you get out, you're going to forget any strange ideas you had about-

“Jeongin?” You ask, seeing the man standing in front of the bathroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“This is a public restroom”, he jokes.

“Ah, yeah”, you nod, stepping aside so he can go in and you can walk away.

“I was kidding”, he explains, “I thought I saw you looking for me”, he smiles, crossing his arms in front of his chest while he leans on the door frame

“Was I?” You pretend. You had just decided that you wouldn't let these impulsive feelings control you so why is every fiber of your body telling you to just grab this man by the collar and kiss him.

“Should I come in?” He asks, ignoring your cynical retort. “If you tell me to go in, I'll understand that you're interested in going further in this little game but if you're still not interested, you can just tell me to leave”

You take a few deep breaths, thinking about what you really wanna do, just like Soyeon said.

“Fuck it”, you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, locking the door after.

Jeongin watches you with that damn smirk on his face.

“I won't do anything I'm not comfortable with”, you inform him, making him chuckle as he takes a step closer to you.

“Wouldn't want it any other way”, he says, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing your body against his. Jeongin leans closer slowly, taking his time enjoying how you lick on your lips anxiously and watch him with big eyes. Then he kisses you, his lips gently press against yours, so much more delicate than you thought he could be. His tongue brushes past your lips, going into your mouth and exploring every corner, dancing with yours as he shows you what to do. You kissed someone before but it was nothing like this, you never knew you could feel this hot with a kiss. Your belly feels like it's on fire, warmth spreading everywhere.

Jeongin's hands slide down to your thighs, brushing your skin slightly and making you shiver as his hands goes up, beneath your skirt.

“Is this okay?” He asks, squeezing your ass only covered by your panties and you feel dizzy, nodding frantically. Jeongin smiles, he's not usually so careful but he can guess that you're not very experienced, and the last thing he wants is for any partner to have a bad experience with him.

Jeongin lifts you up, carrying you to the sink and making you sit there, sliding his hands down to your legs to spread them open for him. Your skirt rides up and he can see your baby blue panties and the wet spot between your folds.

“Are you already this wet, baby?” He asks, sliding your underwear to the side as he brushes his fingers slightly in your entrance. Jeongin looks at you, looking for any hesitancy but you're looking at him with expectant eyes, waiting patiently for him to fingerfuck you. He inserts one finger inside you, “Who knew a good girl like you would let someone like me fuck her in the restroom of a club?” He teases, watching as you squirm in embarrassment but also how your walls flutter around his finger. “Hmm, do you enjoy hearing how much of a whore you are?” He thrusts in and out, feeling your pussy sucking his finger more and more as he degrades you, making him add one more.

“Don't say that”, you whine, grabbing him by the shoulders and digging your nails on his jacket, trying to contain the moans that try to escape your lips.

“Oh, but I think you like it”, Jeongin smirks, using his thumb to tease your clit while his other hand wanders beneath your crop top, grabbing one of your breasts, kneading and squeezing the flesh.

“Ah!” You whine, closing your eyes to the feeling. You never thought it would be so good to feel someone else's hands touching you like that, it makes you wonder why it took you so long to try.

As if Jeongin can hear your thoughts and want to torture you, he takes his fingers out of you, make you whimper to the loss of his touch.

“Shh, pretty girl. I'm going to make you feel good real soon”, he kisses you one more time before sliding his jacket down his arms, dropping it on the floor. He's wearing a tank top that looks painfully tight on his body, hugging every bit of his muscles and showing his toned arms.

You gasp when he takes the piece off, showing you his muscular chest, making you gulp and try to close your legs to rub them together to ease the tight knot growing on your lower stomach but being prevented by Jeongin's hips.

“Do you like what you see?” He asks, condescendingly. But contrary to his expectations, you nod frantically, probably not thinking straight anymore. Jeongin chuckles, leaning closer, biting on your earlobe. “After you come in my mouth I'm gonna show you something you're going to like even more”

Before you can ask questions, the man is getting on his knees in between your legs. He pulls your panties, sliding it down your legs, licking his lips to the sight of your glistening cunt. You can feel his hot breath reaching your sensitive spot, Jeongin kisses your inner thighs slowly, making you whine for him to do something, anything to help you feel any sort of relief.

Finally he dives in on your pussy, sticking his tongue between your wet folds and licking a huge strand until he reaches your clit. Jeongin sucks on the hardened bud, circling it with his tongue, digging his fingers on your hips as he pulls your pussy closer to his face, leading your legs over his shoulders. You taste delicious, sweet and wet, he feels like he could stay with his face between your legs forever. When he feels your hips bucking in against his mouth, he groans, eyes fixed on your pleasured drunk face.

Your hands fly to his head, pressing him against your cunt without even realizing, his nose poking on your clit just makes it worse and when he inserts two fingers in your hole at once, you feel your whole body shaking. Your toes curl and a loud moan escapes your lips as Jeongin slows down the movements on your sensitive spot, enjoying seeing you coming down from your high.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, standing up. You open your eyes to stare at him, his face glistening with your juices and you have the inexplicable urge to kiss him, so you grab Jeongin by the neck and crash your lips on his.

He groans in between your sloppy kiss, feeling his painfully hard cock throb even more while listening to your sweet sighs. He feels like he's about to explode when he feels your hand touching the buttons of his jeans, pulling away to look at what you're doing.

“I wanna touch you”, you explain, feeling your cheeks hot but too drunk in pleasure to even feel embarrassed.

“Oh, pretty”, he smirks, your hands freeing his cock in a simple move, making Jeongin bite on his bottom lip to hold on the moan about to come out when he feels your fingers grabbing on his cock.

“I don't know what to do”, you whine, looking at him with expectant eyes, he really wanna curse right now but he doesn't want you to think he's angry.

“Here”, he covers your hand with his, leading yours up and down his shaft. “Like this”, he closes his eyes, leaning on your shoulder and letting you work alone.

“Do you like it, Innie?” You ask, softly. Your movements on his cock makes him whimper, he hates being called that but why does it sound so sweet coming out of your mouth?

Jeongin lifts his head, looking at you. You have your bottom lip stuck between your lips, your eyes are glossy, your red lipstick is all smeared and your breathing is erratic.

“Fuck, you're hot”, he answers, making you giggle, putting more pressure on the caresses you're giving his length. “Can I fuck you, pretty girl?” He asks, making you halt your movements. His hands cup your face and he kisses you, smiling once he pulls away. “We don't have to”, he assures you, “you said you won't do anything you're not comfortable with and I agreed”

“I want to”, you say, feeling your face hot. “It's just that- I never did this before, so I don't know what to do”, you tell the truth. You're having mixed feelings about this whole thing, you really want to do this but you can't shake the thought that something bad is going to happen if you do something to displease your parents.

“We can go slowly, okay?” He asks, pulling you out of your deep overthinking. You nod, giving him the condom that you had stored in the pocket of your skirt. “Oh my, you're dirtier than I thought”, he chuckles, opening the packaging and putting on the protection.

He positions his cock in your entrance, checking once more with you if everything is okay.

“If it hurts too much, I'm going to stop”, he tells you and you nod, feeling him sliding inside you slowly. You gasp, the stretch is rougher than you thought and when he reaches a certain point it starts hurting too much. He stops when he sees the tears running down your face, making him frown in worry. “Are you okay?” He asks, you look at him and nod.

“It just hurts a bit but I can take it”, you assure him, seeing him smile. Jeongin leans closer to you, trying not to move his hips for the time being.

“You're so good, baby”, he praises you, kissing below your eyes, on your tears stained cheeks.

He kisses your lips, feeling you relaxing on his hold and that's when he moves, his cock going all the way in as you whimper in his mouth. “Does it hurt a lot?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“It's good now, I think I'm good”, you whisper, “can you move?” Jeongin nods, thrusting in and out slowly, letting you get used to his cock. Your moans make him believe that you're enjoying yourself. “Oh Innie, Innie, that's so good”, you mumble, feeling like you can see stars.

“Shit, y/n, fuck”, Jeongin groans, feeling his orgasm approaching. “I'm not going to last, baby, I'm gonna come”, he groans, leaning on your shoulder once more and biting on the soft skin, making you cry out.

“Me too, oh- oh”, you moan loudly feeling your release, the faltering thrusts of the man inside you and his low moans tell you he just came too.

You two stay silent for a whole minute, trying to process what just happened. You can't believe you just had sex in the restroom of a club and with Jeongin of all people, but even though you know no one other than Soyeon is going to be excited about that, you can't stop the big smile that grows in your lips.

Three knocks on the door make the both of you come back to reality, you jump from the sink, trying to fix yourself to look presentable outside and before you two can talk about what just happened Soyeon’s voice comes out.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” She sighs.

“Yeah”, you answer while you try to fix your lipstick that's all over your face.

“We have to hurry, a girl from your church saw me and it's just a question of time before she finds you too”, she tells you, making you look at Jeongin.

“I gotta go”, you inform, even though he hears what Soyeon just said.

“Yeah”, it's the only thing he says and that makes you disappointed. You shouldn't have expected much of someone who just fucked you in the restroom of a club but you thought you felt something different, guess you were wrong.

When you walk out of the restroom, Jeongin comes down from his gaze. Fuck, he can't believe he let you go just like that but he was too shocked about the things he felt a few minutes ago. Why did it feel so different this time?

You can't stop thinking about Jeongin, the way he held you that night is stuck into your mind and the way he kissed you made you want more but you can't have him not now and not ever. While you have been torturing yourself and overthinking, Jeongin kept living his life to the fullest like that night never happened, like you never happened.

“That Jeongin guy is so vulgar, I heard he’s got girls left and right, doing God knows what with him”, one of the girls of your church says. You feel your cheeks hot, you know exactly what they are doing with him because you were one of those girls.

“I don’t think we should be talking about that”, you murmur, biting on the insides of your cheek.

“Ah, you’re right”, she nods, smiling empathetically to you, “we shouldn’t talk about such worldly things”, the girl grabs your hand, looking around to the other people and smiling gently. “Shall we talk about the song we will be presenting on Sunday?”

You nod with the others, but you pay no attention to whatever she’s saying or anyone for that matter. Your thoughts traveling far to those ungodly sensations Jeongin caused you.

In your lunch break you don’t really want to be with your church friends, you know that at some point, something about sins is going to come up in the conversation and you’ll have to hear how you were a slut, even though they don’t know that they’re talking about you. So you go to the opposite side of heading to the bathroom, it’s not the most hygienic place to eat but at least you’ll be left alone.

That was your idea, until you feel someone grab you by the wrist and drag you to an empty room. You were ready to curse at the person when your back is pressed against the wall and you have the chance to look at the culprit’s face.

“Jeongin?” You ask confusedly, looking at his sharp eyes.

“The one and only”, he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Aw, baby”, he pouts, “why does it sound like you didn’t miss me?” He asks, taking a step closer to you — if that’s even possible, since you two are already glued.

“Because I didn’t”, you lie, avoiding his gaze, trying to push him away from you but getting your wrists held by his hands the moment they land on his chest. “And by the way, are you crazy? How can you just drag a girl to an empty place like this?”

“I’m sorry, are we still at that time where men and women can’t even be left alone to talk without being forced to marry?” He asks sarcastically, “we already did so much worse than just talk though”

“Just tell me what you want and leave me alone”, you huff, trying to control yourself. His body so close to yours does things to you, thoughts you don’t know if you’ll be able to control.

“Well, even if you didn’t miss me, I missed you”, he suddenly looks too serious, not a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Well, I heard that you’ve been out and about with some other girl”, you scoff, trying to hide your bitterness about the subject.

He sighs, biting on his bottom lip.

“What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking about that night, about you”, he confesses, making your heart melt for a moment. So he wasn’t as alright as you thought he would be and that gives you some peace of mind, to know that you weren’t just another notch in his belt. However, reality comes crashing in soon after, as you remember that you two could never be together.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” You ask, even though your sentence sounds hostile, you really want an answer.

“We can try and be a thing, I don’t know anything about couple’s shit but I can try if it’s with you”, he scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly and that confession would sound a bit cute if you didn’t know better.

“Jeongin, we can’t be together”, you clear things out, feeling a sudden pain in your chest.

“Why not?” He looks at you like you’re saying something unbelievable and that makes you chuckle.

“Because, we come from two different worlds. You wouldn’t have ever looked at me if it wasn’t for that party”, you bite on your bottom lip. “It’s that girl you’re interested in, the bold and pretty girl who takes risky decisions”, you manage to push him away this time, he’s too shocked by what you’re saying to even try to prevent you. “You’re probably just enchanted with the idea of me and in a few days you’re going to get tired and even though for you I’ll be just another ex-girlfriend, for me… Unfortunately, I can’t recover after you”

You grab your bag that had fallen on the ground, continuing to speak.

“Until I get out of my parents' home, I have to follow their rules and they would never agree with me dating someone like you. My whole life will be a mess after you leave, but yours is going to be as normal as it was before you met me”, you smile sadly to him, waiting for a moment while he stares at you with a scowl in his face before you nod, turning around and leaving him behind.

You feel like throwing up. If he never came after you at least you could pretend that night never happened, that it was just as insignificant to you as it was to him. Why did he have to come after you and make things so complicated? That makes everything so much worse, it’s so much more painful to think about what you two could have been.

You try distracting yourself with your classes and the church choir, trying to get more tasks so you won’t be able to think about Jeongin. You need to stop thinking about him. There’s a point where you even think you might be going crazy, when you see someone just like him at your church on Sunday but there’s no way he’s there, Jeongin would never step foot in a place like that and you’re sure the other people that attend wouldn’t like him there either.

You help get the lunch ready at home, your parents are acting strange and treating you so nicely that you think one of them might be dying and they are trying to sooth you before telling the truth. That’s when you hear the sound of the doorbell, frowning, you didn’t know you were expecting visits.

“Can you get the door, honey?” Your mother asks and you nod, walking to the entrance and opening the door just to find someone who looks exactly like Jeongin, but there’s no way that’s him.

“Good afternoon, y/n”, he greets you, what happened to him? He’s wearing khaki pants and a light blue sweater over a white dress shirt. His hair is styled slipped to the side, not a strand out of place. You close the door fast, in panic.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, holding the knob of the door so your parents won’t open it before he goes away.

“I was invited”, he says nonchalantly, like it’s something he’s used to doing.

“Aren’t you going to invite our guest to come in?” You hear your father’s voice, looking at Jeongin like he’s an alien. He smiles at you, tilting his head while you open the door, suspiciously.

Your parents greet him with a big smile, something you never thought you’d see them doing towards Jeongin.

“Did you have trouble finding the house?” Your mother asks, as she puts some rice on a plate for him.

“Not at all”, he answers politely, “you have a beautiful home”, he smiles charmingly, making the older woman giggle.

“I’m sorry, but can you explain how you know each other?” You ask, confused with their interaction.

“Honey, Jeongin found us at the church earlier and we have never been more proud of you”, she smiles as your father nods.

“Proud of what?” You feel your head spinning, the only thing Jeongin could have told them was about the night you spent together and you’d probably be homeless right now if your parents ever found out about that.

“Now now, don’t be so modest my dear”, your mother smiles. “Jeongin told us how you have been unstoppable about your mission on bringing his soul back to our lord”

You blink once, twice…

“I did what?” You ask, frowning, Jeongin’s hand sneaks right to your thigh, squeezing the flesh, almost making you squeal.

“He told us everything”, you father stops eating, “how you searched for him while he was lost and guided his soul back to our God’s path”

“I told your parents how I became a new man because of you, y/n”, Jeongin says, smiling kindly to your family, “and I asked them if it would be okay if we got to know each other with the intention of marriage in the future”, he says like its nothing, making you choke on the air you just breath.

“Marriage?” You almost yell.

“Only after I’m done with all my studies and when your parents consider me a man worthy of you, of course”, he looks so genuine, you would surely believe him if you didn’t see the corner of his lips slightly upturned.

“And of course we agreed”, your mother says, “someone who got lost once has more chances to get lost again, so who better than you to be by his side, helping him get through the worldly desires without deviating from the right path?”

You nod, not really understanding what's happening but going with the flow.

“May I take y/n for a walk after we eat?” He asks your parents, they look at each other and nod, telling him to go ahead.

The rest of the lunch is unbelievable, Jeongin even quotes the bible, making your family impressed. After everyone eats, he helps your mom collect the dishes and after a few minutes he comes back from the kitchen, smiling kindly at you and offering his hand to you so you can hold and get up. You walk together for a couple of minutes, you’re still too into your own head to ask him anything, everything about this whole situation doesn’t seem real.

“You are insane”, is the only thing you say when you see his car at the end of the road, you look at him just to find his piercing eyes watching you.

“I’m just someone very determined”, he shrugs.

“So what now, you’re going to pretend to be a good boy forever?” You walk straight to his car without even realizing it.

“Not forever, just until you get out of your parents house”, you spin on your heels, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, confused. “You could have anyone you wanted”

“Not you”, he tells you, simply. “And I want you”, he takes a step closer and when you step back, you feel your back press on the door of his car, making him grin, walking even closer to you and pressing his body against yours.

You don’t want to reject him, you never wanted to in the first place and to think that he managed to find a way so you two can be together, it makes you flustered.

“I want you too”, you murmur, feeling your cheeks grow hot.

Jeongin smiles, leaning in to kiss you but stopping before his lips could touch yours, sliding his hand behind your back to pull the handle of the door.

“That’s good, ‘cause you have no idea about how much I’ve been wanting to taste you since I saw you this morning at the mass”, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close enough to be able to swing the door open, pushing you inside of the back seat of his car.

You’re wearing the long dress you always use to go to the church and it makes Jeongin even crazier to see you dressed like this than it did when you wore those tiny little pieces at the club. This way no one else can see you the way he does, everything about you is for him to see, you're all his.

“Innie, we shouldn't do this here”, you whimper when he rides your skirt up, revealing the wet spot in your panties.

“That's not what your pussy is telling me”, he chuckles, pulling the piece of fabric aside and brushing his fingers between your folds. “Fuck, you're soaked”, he groans, leaning down to lick your clit, making your hips thrust involuntarily to feel his mouth in your needy hole.

Jeongin digs his fingers on your hips, preventing you from moving while he licks and sucks on your core. The wetness of your cunt is too much for him, it's overwhelming and your smell makes him go crazy.

“Can't we go to your house?” You whimper, looking around, trying hard to keep your eyes open even though your body is forcing you to close them to enjoy the pleasure.

“Nope, I promised your parents I would have you back home in thirty minutes, we are running out of time”, he raises his brow to you, daring you to protest more but you just give in, enjoying his hot tongue on your cunt and letting yourself come on his mouth.

On the way back to your home, Jeongin promises to keep appearances for your parents but he tells you that what he wants more than anything is to take you out of the righteous path. He says that with that damn smirk on his lips and you're sure he's gonna succeed.

A/N: if you enjoy my work, don't forget to give me some feedback. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated and are the things that keep me motivated to write. You can also buy me a coffee ☕

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corseque · 1 month ago

Note

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

#Dragon Age #DA4 spoilers #Veilguard spoilers #DA4 critical #Solas

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messenger-of-babel · 25 days ago

Text

Blue is a Christmas Colour

Summary: You attend a Christmas party held by the titans and spend the evening trying to avoid your crush. (Dick Grayson x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: Def pushing everything back by a day, I got sick (curse the Aussie summer heat) so I'm taking it easy. Not many warning for this one, except maybe a slightly OOC Dick? Idk I've never had to write them not in pain before.

~RiRi <33

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You had exactly one hour before the Christmas party, yet you were faced with the classic Hallmark crisis of having nothing to wear.

Sure, you had been confident in your outfit a day before the party. You were sure it was going to look nice a few hours ago, and you were convinced you were ready to leave the house and arrive early as you were getting dressed. However now that you were looking at yourself in the mirror, you just couldn't feel comfortable in the outfit. Despite being something you wore no problem last year, it somehow didn’t look right on you, the material was puckering in the wrong places and for the life of you, you couldn't get the fabric to fold down flat.

So now it was thrown across the bedspread alongside half of your wardrobe, a steadily rising pile of red, green and white. You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. You weren't sure why you were so concerned about looking your best for a simple Christmas party. You had been invited to an end of year get together by the Titans, despite only joining their ranks earlier in August. You told yourself that it was because of being new and wanting to make a good impression, that you could let your hair down and have fun. That you weren't always the hard ass, follow the protocol type that you were at work. You told yourself that it was because you liked Christmas and wanted to just celebrate the holidays in style. Or maybe it was the fact that you were technically in the public eye at all times since you didn't wear a mask, and what if you got caught off guard on your way there? There were a million excuses that you made in about the span of a minute, just to ignore the real reason.

To try and block out the memory of how your stomach fluttered when the team leader, Dick Grayson asked if you'd like to attend. Forget the way that your cheeks burned with heat catching sight of his smile, or the thudding of your pulse against your neck when he shielded you during a mission. You refused to have a one-sided crush, so with a groan you rubbed your hands over your face.

Thirty minutes to go and you were now staring at yourself, happy yet mortified with your outfit choice.

Who said blue couldn't be a Christmas colour? you had split it up with white, but you still chewed your lip. Maybe I could say it's like a snowflake, you thought to yourself. Or like a Jack Frost theme. Still kicking yourself over your outfit choice, you had no time to dally. You were locked into this now. You threw on some accessories on your way to the door, making sure you had your keys and phone in your purse before locking your apartment and hurrying down the stairs. The lift was broken, so by the time you finally got to the lobby you were out of breath from your clipped jog, scanning your FOB to get to the garage.

Settling in behind the wheel you buckled in and checked your phone to make sure there wasn't anything you needed before arriving. The group chat was pinging with people's ETA’s, and you typed in your own "On my way, be there about ten." before locking your phone and putting it back in your purse. Your stomach rolled uncomfortably, making you tap your fingers on the wheel anxiously as you started up the car. Hopefully your subconscious wasn't too obvert, and people didn't have a laugh at you for the left field Christmas outfit. Hopefully HE wouldn’t laugh.

Yet if you had stayed in the group chat for just a moment more, you would have seen the blue heart react that popped up on your message almost immediately, before the other colours started adding to it.

You parked your car nearby the team headquarters, somewhere that you could slip away to easily at the end of the night without being worried about a stupid camera flash. The elevator ride up you couldn't help but fiddle with your fingers, rocking on your heels. You got this, no one's going to notice-

The doors slide open and you almost bump into someone, and you can feel their eyes scan across your figure like it's a hot brand.

"Hey, nice-"

"It's a snowflake." you blurt out, making Donna's eyes widen. She holds a moment before laughing, eyes crinkling as her head tips back.

"I was just trying to say I was glad you could make it." she grins, the confusion in her eyes overwritten by the laughter on her face. "And that blue is a good colour on you."

Your cheeks fill with heat, and you place your palms over them in embarrassment. "Oh."

"OH, is correct." she hums, shaking her head. "Come on, nearly everyone else is here."

Donna links her arm with yours, pulling you further down the hallway until you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music and chatter from behind a door. She pushes it open confidently, half dragging you into the room with her.

The room is decorated lavishly, tinsel and wreaths hanging off every roof and column edge. The few standing tables are filled with ornament table arrangements, and there's an icy sheen projected onto the dance floor. You wave at Raven and Kory lightly, who are standing on the other side of the room at one of the tables. Theres a small Santa hat clipped to Raven, most likely the work of the happy, red-headed alien next to her sporting two mini hats of her own.

You're still new, so you feel awkward talking so casually to some of the other members by yourself, so you stick as close to Donna as possible. She had helped you out a few times on missions, and her internal resolve int the face of conflict had helped you mitigate your own panic more than you could count. It was the same confidence you saw on the battlefield that she used now, except instead of a warzone it was a somewhat active Christmas party.

Some days you wondered how you even got into the hero business in the first place.

The first time you had caught Dick's eye was when you were going to grab a drink from the crystal punch bowls on the side, weaving your way through the small crowd. He came up beside you, giving you that stellar smile that made your head rush.

"Hey."

"Hey." you replied curtly, unable to make anything else come out of your throat.

"You look nice."

"Thank you. It's a snowflake." you blurted, fingers tightening on your glass as you filled it.

"I can see that."

"Yes."

You had proceeded to scuttle away, leaving him slightly stunned. The entire way back to Donna's side you kicked yourself, nails digging into your palm out of frustration. You needed to put some distance between you two. You couldn't get attached. You needed to shake him like the flu, push down those jitters in your hands and round up those stomach butterflies with a net.

Dick Grayson on the other hand, appeared to be much more a trouble than you had begun to imagine. It was almost like he was tracking you down the whole night, appearing when you talked to Kory, sliding into the conversation when you struck one up with Gar. He happened to be around every corner fixing his shoe or making sure that the decorations were just right.

"Had to make sure everywhere was decorated." he'd shrug before striking up some awkward small talk. Teammates had begun to giggle, and so you finally left the main room when you could take it no more, hurrying into the hallway to take a break.

You sighed deeply, putting a hand on your forehead.

Now you were alone, now you could gather your thoughts-

"Do you not like me?"

Your eyes fly open at the sound of his voice. You should have known that if anyone was going to notice your disappearance, it was going to be him first. Dick stands a few paces away from you, suit crisp and holly pinned to his lapel. He tilts his head, studying your startled expression, while hurt is written on him like a book. "I understand that not everyone gets along, but I thought we got along fine before." he frowns. "Did I do something wrong? Could you tell me what I did?" he asks you softly, and you have to stop him there.

"You did nothing wrong. “You rush out, taking a step forward. "You're fine, it's nothing."

"Then why are you avoiding me?" the hue of his eyes flicker with a clear flame of hurt, and his hands hang limply by his side.

You sigh, fingers wringing together. "Dick it isn't you, it's just I-"

"You what?" he presses, stepping forward again.

"I just-"

"Just?"

"I like you, okay? And I don't know how to handle it!" You snap, the pressure welling up in your chest like a dam. He looks stunned at your outburst, and immediately you cover your face. You blew it, and you blew it big time.

"God, just forget I said anything actually. It's just the stress, it's all been getting to me, and the missions lately-"

"I like you too."

"It's all just been building up, you know? So sometimes I say things I don't really mean...what?"

Dick begins to laugh, running a hand through the black mess of hair. "I said I like you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." he grins, coming to stand in front of you. "Why didn't you just say something sooner?"

"Because not everyone is a charming flirt." you shake your head. "And I wanted to keep things professional between us."

"I think you're very charming." he grins, eyes glinting in the low light like a cat. "Very charming and very professional. It's cute."

Your cheeks heat up, stealing the words from your chest.

"You know, I liked you since you had my six on the rooftop stakeout." He says quietly, eyes shimmering with a boyish look. A lovesick look. You raise your eyebrows in return. "The one where you almost got jumped by a henchman?"

"That's the one."

"I would have thought that was embarrassing for you."

"You stopped him, didn't you?"

"Yeah, by throwing a brick."

"See? you had it handled."

"It was the closest thing to me, and I panicked."

"Just take a compliment, will you?" He laughs, and the sound makes the tension melt from your shoulders as well. You laugh alongside him, not realising how close you had gotten. He was so close that you could fix the shift in his red tie and push the black strands of hair from his sparkling blue eyes.

"Merry Christmas." he says softly, eyes flicking around the hallway. "Say, are you much for traditions?"

You tilt your head at the sudden change of topic but follow his eyes up to see a white berried bunch of mistletoe hanging from the archway. "Did you plan this?" you accuse jokingly.

Dick puts his hands up in mock defence. "Hey, I did say the whole building got decorated." He teases, eyes flicking from the mistletoe back down to your lips. "Do you...may I?" he asks softly, eyes searching yours for permission.

You swallow and nod, blood rushing to your head as he smiles and draws closer. H his hand that comes to rest on your hip feels like a thousand degrees, and when you close your eyes and his lips slot over yours you feel like you're on fire. It only lasts for a few fleeting moments, his actions gentle and soothing before he pulls away. You find yourself wanting to lean forward and chase the taste of mint and candy cane on his lips, hazy as the giddiness sets in that you just kissed Dick Grayson.

"Wanna rejoin the party?" he asks, grinning as he sees the faint shock the kiss left you in. He offers you his hand and this time you take it with no hesitation. You offer him up a smile, seeing your own excitement reflected in the flickering of his irises.

"Sure." you hum. Maybe this wasn't the worst way to end a year.

"Oh, and no one is buying that snowflake story."

#messenger of babel #fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc #dc x reader #nightwing fanfic #nightwing #dc nightwing #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x you #dick grayson #riri's christmas special #christmas countdown #mistletoe

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 months ago

Text

Kiss it better

Label Mature 18+

Summary After a one night stand with Hank you’re hooked, however things take a strange turn the next time you see him leaving you to decide how far you want to take things.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Edging •teasing•self pleasure •phone sex• forced inebriation• sex while drunk• dirty talk•pinning•manhandling •clit play fingering•squirting•sex on a couch•doggy style•rough sex•hair pulling•multiple orgasms•after care

(Sorry for delay I had to read some of the book ☺️)

Kiss it Better

After your first hookup with Hank, he’s all you can think about. The way he effortlessly took control, the way he knew exactly what you wanted before you even had to ask—it’s been replaying in your mind, leaving you restless. You’d expected to hear from him right away, anticipating his call like it was inevitable. But as the hours drag into the evening, the uncertainty starts gnawing at you.

By the time 10 p.m. hits, nerves and frustration twist in your stomach. Why hasn’t he called? What could possibly be wrong? The silence is loud, and you’re starting to question everything. At 11 p.m., you can’t stand it any longer. You grab your phone and call him, heart racing with a mixture of hope and impatience.

No answer.

You sit back on your bed, rolling your eyes, trying to play it off like it doesn’t bother you. But the sting digs deeper with every passing minute. What started as a simple craving now feels like a slow ache, hollowing you out. It’s irrational, you know that, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from swirling.

By the next morning, the ache has settled into something more tolerable and you check your phone the moment you open your eyes, but there’s still nothing.

The lack of contact feels personal now, a quiet rejection that weighs on your chest. You start your day, trying to shake it off, telling yourself not to be so eager. But deep down, you know the truth—you’re hooked. The way he treated you, the way he made you feel, it’s like an addiction and you need more.

During the day the weight of it grows heavier, and the sting sharper, until finally, your phone buzzes with a message. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you see Hanks name on screen. It’s a simple text, but it might as well be a lifeline after a day of silence.

-Had to deal with something unexpected-

That’s it. Just six words. But something about them feels off. You stare at the screen, reading the message again and again, trying to decipher the distance that seems to linger in his words.

It’s vague, detached, like he’s holding something back. There’s no explanation, no apology and you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen, trying to find the balance between casual and curious, not wanting to sound desperate but needing more than the vague explanation he gave you. Finally, you start typing, your heart pounding in your chest as you hit send.

-Everything okay?-

The simplicity of it makes you feel exposed, but it’s all you can think to say. You don’t want to push too hard, but you can’t ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut that this isn’t a casual brush off, he couldn’t wait to have you again, something is wrong.

Your phone buzzes almost immediately, and you freeze, staring at the screen like it holds all the answers you’ve been waiting for:

-I’ll call you tonight-

His words are simple, but the relief that floods your chest is instant. You didn’t realize how tense you were until now. Your shoulders drop, and you exhale, feeling some of the pressure ease off.

He’s still there, still planning to reach out and somehow, that’s all you need.

You smile a little to yourself, as you set your phone down, your heart lighter than it was moments ago, and you try to distract yourself until tonight when you’ll finally get to hear his voice again.

You throw yourself into the day, keeping busy. You run a few errands, grab a coffee, and spend the afternoon shopping for a new outfit—something daring, just in case you see him later.

As you browse the racks, a micro mini skirt catches your eye—black with a subtle side slit that adds just the right amount of edge. You pair it with a fitted top that hugs your curves and plan to wear it with a a leather jacket from your closet to complete the look.

Later, you meet up with friends for dinner and a few drinks, the laughter flowing as easily as the cocktails. The lively conversation and warmth of good company begin to melt away some of the anticipation that had been building inside you all day. Even though a part of your mind is still on Hank, the buzz from the cocktails leaves you feeling light and carefree.

By the time 10 p.m. rolls around, you stumble into your apartment, kicking off your heels. Your mind is still swimming from the drinks as you head to your bedroom tossing your purse onto the bed and stripping down to your bra and panties.

You’re ready for a quick shower when suddenly you hear your phone buzz. Your heart leaps in your chest and you pick up on the first ring, a smile already forming on your lips as you fall down on your bed the room spinning.

Before you even say hello, Hank’s voice comes through the phone, low and playful sending a thrill through you.

“So eager,” he teases, his tone filled with amusement, but there’s something underneath it. His voice sounds rougher, more strained, but you brush the thought away, too caught up in the relief of hearing his voice.

“Maybe because I’ve been waiting for you all day,” you quip, your voice playful, a little slurred from the drinks with a mockingly seductive edge to it.

“Mmm, have you now?” he asks, his voice dropping lower with intent. “What are you doing now that you have me?”

You bite your lip, relaxing against your pillows feeling the heat rise between you through the phone.

“I’m laying in bed wearing lingerie,” you out right admit a smile forming on your lips as the words flow so easily with the alcohol loosening your tongue.

He hums in response, the sound low and full of pleasure causing a surge of arousal to course through you.

“What color?” he asks, the edge in his tone making your heart race.

“Red,” you reply softly, your voice dipping into a whisper. “It’s red.”

You can hear him shift on the other end, a subtle sound that deepens the desire building between you.

“You have no idea what that does to me,” he says, his voice lower filled with desire.

“I want to find out,” you tease, your fingers snapping the hip strap of your panties, the sound cuts through the air and you can almost hear his breath catch on the other end.

“Close your eyes for me,” he instructs and you readily obey, feeling the haze of intoxication blend with the heat coursing through your body.

“How do you feel?” he asks, the sound of his breathing filling the silence.

“I feel… good…really good,” you confess, your words softer now, feeling the anticipation in the air.

“I can hear it in your voice.” He observes, his tone dropping lower, more intimate. “You must’ve been thinking about me all day, haven’t you?” He says his voice trailing off as you hear the distinct sound of his zipper lowering. The noise sends a thrill through your body as he continues. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” he adds, his breath catching slightly.

Your heart races from his words, feeling a mix of excitement and arousal as your hand instinctively runs along the curve of your breast.

“You have?” you whisper, the need growing more intense.

“Mhm,” he hums. “Right now, I’m so hard just thinking about how wet you must be.”

His words send a jolt of heat through your body, and you squirm slightly, your breath quickening.

“Touch yourself for me,” he says softly, “Tell me how good it feels.” he commands the words slipping from his lips like a secret.

You swallow hard, your breath catching as your hand slowly trails down your body, and you let out a soft moan as you follow his instructions.

The sound of his breathing on the other end of the line is all you need to hear.

“Tell me how wet you are.” he asks, his voice thick with desire

“I’m…so wet,” you moan softly, your body responding to every word he says as your fingers move faster.

“Those little noises…I want to hear every sound you make.” He urges his voice low and commanding.

You increase the pace, your moans spilling out as the pleasure intensifies, your body completely obeying his voice.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his tone low and full of arousal. “I’m so hard right now… wishing I could be there to feel you,” he groans, his voice heavy with need.

The subtle sound of his hand stroking himself reaches your ears, sending a rush of heat through you, and you moan ready to orgasm.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, his voice strained with his own arousal. “Keep going. I want to hear you come for me.”

His words push you over the edge, your breath quickening, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. You can hear the way his breathing grows more ragged, the sound of his hand stroking his cock faster, until finally you shudder with release, his name falling from your lips.

You hear him groan deeply, the sound of his own pleasure reaching its peak as he follows you over the edge. The silence that follows is filled with the sound of your labored breaths, both of you slowly coming down from the intensity of the moment until the only thought flooding your mind escapes you.

“Hank… when can I see you again?” you ask, your voice still shaky from the orgasm.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admits, his voice shifting, darker. “Thinking about what I’ll do to you the next time I see you.”

Your heart races at his words, the anticipation coiling tighter inside you.

“What are you going to do to me?” you whisper, your voice barely steady, desperate to hear him say it.

“Everything,” he replies, his tone thick with intent, sending a rush of heat through your body.

You’re already desperate by the time you finally ask, your voice almost a plea. “When?”

There’s a pause as he carefully considers his words before he finally answers, “…I’ll be back at the bar next week,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll call you then, be ready for me.”

“I will,” you whisper, the promise slipping out before you even realize it.

After you hang up, you lay in a daze, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts spiraling around Hank. The impatience gnaws at you, the need for him building like a pressure you can’t release. He’s fully in your head now, and no matter what you do, it’s impossible to shake the thoughts of him.

The days stretch by in agonizing slowness, every minute dragging as you try to focus on work. Tasks that once held your attention now feel like background noise, your mind wandering back to Hank at every chance. Each time your phone vibrates, your heart leaps, only to be disappointed by another text or email.

When you finally receive his call, it’s 11:30 at night. You’re in bed, resting, when your phone buzzes in your hand. Without even checking the screen, you pick it up on the first ring—you know it’s him.

“I like it when you’re eager,” Hank teases, clearly satisfied with your quick response. “Didn’t even hesitate, did you?” He asks his voice laced with amusement, and you immediately notice how much more energized he sounds compared to the last time you spoke.

“Why would I?” you reply smoothly, a hint of challenge in your tone. “You knew I’d be waiting.”

He’s silent for a moment, the kind of silence that makes your pulse quicken and when he speaks his voice drops lower, growing with that familiar edge.

“You’re ready for me tonight?” he asks, the question hanging heavy in the air, thick with suggestion.

You bite your lip, you’ve been waiting impatiently for days, but you’re not going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how desperate you are— not yet.

“Maybe,” you say, your voice trailing off, trying to mask your need.

You hear him chuckle on the other end, dark and knowing. “You’re trying to tease me, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice soft and commanding.

There’s a brief pause as you struggle to find a response, but he continues before you can speak.

“We both know you’re too eager for that… You’ve been waiting for me.” He confirms, his words like a slow burn, his control as intoxicating as ever, pulling you deeper into the game he’s so effortlessly mastered.

You can’t deny the effect he’s having on you—the way your body responds at the mere sound of his voice.

“Come to the bar,” he says without even waiting for your response. It’s not a suggestion—it’s a command, leaving no room for hesitation. And you don’t need to be told twice.

You’re up, getting ready in record time, slipping into the outfit you’d planned: the red lingerie, tight top and a micro mini skirt with a daring slit. Your heart pounds in your chest as you throw on your leather jacket and rush out the door. The excitement and anticipation of seeing him again is almost too overwhelming.

The bar is dimly lit when you step in, the low hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses blending into the background as your search for Hank.

He’s exactly where you expect him to be—behind the bar, pouring drinks with practiced ease, commanding the place effortlessly. But tonight, something feels different.

He’s not wearing his baseball cap, and his sandy blonde hair frames his jaw, brushing against his neck just so.

A few loose strands have fallen into his face as he pours drinks, and when he casually tucks them behind his ear the simple gesture makes him look even more irresistible.

But, something’s off and your breath catches when you notice it—Hank has a black eye, a bruise darkening around his cheek bone, slightly swollen, the purplish hue stark against the smoothness of his skin.

Without thinking, you find yourself walking faster toward the bar, your heart thudding in your chest. The question bursts out before you can stop yourself.

“Hank! What the hell happened to your eye?”

He looks up from the drink he’s pouring, a slow smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes lock onto yours.

Despite the bruise, or maybe because of it, he looks more dangerous, more alluring than ever. The black eye only adding to his rugged appeal, like a badge of something wild and untamed just beneath the surface.

He leans against the bar, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it aside, the smirk never leaving his face. His eyes gleam with mischief as they sweep over you, taking in your appearance as if he’s savoring it.

“Why?” he drawls, his voice a rough tease. “You care about me?”

You blink, thrown off by his question and the way he playfully watches your reaction makes it seem like he already knows the answer.

“I care,” you admit, because seeing Hank hurt actually does stir something inside your chest, and as your gaze keeps flickering to the bruise you realize that’s why he postponed seeing you.

Hank chuckles softly, his full lips quirking into a devious smile as he takes a step closer, his body leaning over the bar.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice warm and enticing, and as you slide onto the barstool, his eyes study your reaction as he slowly leans in, his face just inches from yours, his broad arms folding, elbows resting on the bar.

His blue eyes are sharp, his full lips curving into a knowing smile as you take in the way his presence dominates the space between you. Hank is so attractive that as your eyes roam over his face, you can’t help but get lost in the details of him.

“You really want to know?” he asks, his voice warm and intoxicating, laced with a dangerous allure that makes it impossible to look away.

“Yes, Hank, I really want to know,” you reply a little more breathless than you intend with him so close.

His eyes darken, locking with yours, and the way he’s staring at you sends a wave of heat through you.

“Tell you what,” he says, his voice lowering with seduction as his eyes fall to your lips. “You kiss it better,” he says, with a slow smile, “and maybe I’ll tell you.”

His words are like a slow burn through your core the concern quickly morphing into something else entirely.

For a moment, you hesitate, your gaze flickering between his eyes and that damn bruise. You feel terrible that he’s hurt, but the way he’s watching you, like he’s daring you to cross a line, has heat pooling in your core.

“Come on,” he urges softly, his voice a velvet caress. “Kiss it better.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the gap between you. Your lips brush against the bruised skin just below his eye, soft and hesitant at first, but then you press a kiss onto his cheek full of all your unspoken affection for him.

Hank sharply inhales and you can tell right away the kiss had more of an effect than he lets on.

When you slowly pull back, his eyes are darker, his smirk gone, lost in desire, replaced with something far more intense.

You’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, and as he stares at you, your mind spins, your body reacting to him in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I need another kiss,” he whispers, and before you can respond, his lips brush softly against yours. The kiss starts slow but quickly deepens. His lips growing demanding, his control unmistakable as he kisses like he knows exactly how to break you down, how to make you melt under his touch, and he does.

In that moment, nothing else matters—the bar, the patrons, it all fades away. You just want him, the connection between you two so deep, it feels like you could drown in it.

When he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your heart racing, your body aching with need and you see his eyes darken, his lips curving into a devious knowing grin.

“You’re dangerous,” you whisper, half breathless, half aroused.

“You have no idea,” he reveals, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “You taste even better than I remember,” he admits.

His words take you by surprise, sending images of your last hookup flashing through your mind—the heat, the intensity, the way your body instinctively responded to him. A sudden flush rises to your cheeks as your lips part, craving more.

He can see the effect he’s having on you and his smirk widens just a little more, a knowing glint in his eyes as he straightens up.

“Take a shot for me.”he says low and smooth,

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “A shot?”

“Yeah,” he says, already reaching for the bottle behind him.

There’s a teasing edge in his voice, but underneath it, there’s a challenge—a quiet authority that makes it clear he expects you to follow his lead. The way he’s looking at you, like he’s got something planned, makes your heart race faster.

He pours you a shot of amber liquid, pushing the glass toward you with a slow, deliberate movement.

“Take it down ,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

You reach for the glass without thinking, your fingers brushing against his as you lift it to your lips.

The whiskey burns as it slides down your throat, the heat spreading through your body, making your skin tingle. Hank watches you with that same dark intensity, waiting for you to finish before pouring another.

“Good,” he says softly, pouring the next round. “one more.”

You open your mouth to protest, but his eyes are locked onto yours, commanding, unwavering.

He pushes the glass toward you again, and there’s no question—he’s in control now, and he knows it.

He knows how easily you fall under his authority, how you like the edge of danger, the way he takes charge, pushing you further than you would ever go on your own.

You take the second shot, the room spinning just a little as the alcohol starts to hit. Hank smirks, watching the way your lips part, your breath quickening. He pours another, the third, the amber liquid sloshing in the glass as he sets it in front of you.

“One more,” he says, his voice a rough whisper now filled with promise. “For me.”

His words make your heart pound, the heat in your stomach growing as you take the glass, downing it in one gulp. The burn is stronger this time, the edges of the room starting to blur, your mind foggy with the warmth spreading through you.

You’re dizzy now, but Hank—he’s crystal clear, standing in-front of you, his eyes heavy with intent.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his voice sending a shiver through you.

He leans down, his lips brushing the side of your ear, just barely grazing your skin. “My shift’s over,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath making your pulse race.

“It is?” you ask, your voice softer than you intend, feeling the anticipation heavy between you.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes burning into yours, studying you, as his smirk widens. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low and full of promise. “And I’m taking you to my place.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with intent, and the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to say no.

It’s not really a question and the way he says it, with a hint of dominance, sends a thrill through you. He’s not asking for permission; he’s already decided how the night’s going to end.

His words are laced with the promise of something intense, something that will leave you breathless, just like before.

You know what you’re getting into with Hank. There’s no pretense with him. He wants you, and he’s not shy about it. And if you’re honest with yourself, you want him too. The tension between you has been simmering since you first met.

“Your place, huh?” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though it’s hard when he’s so close, his scent, his heat, clouding your thoughts blurring with the alcohol.

Hank leans in again his lips brushing against the side of your ear sending another wave of heat crashing through you. “Unless you have other plans,” he teases, his voice a lower tone that vibrates through your skin “But something tells me you don’t.”

He pulls back, and the look in his eyes is unmistakable. You’re on the edge, teetering, and Hank is right there, waiting to pull you over to make you lose yourself to him tonight.

The thought of being alone with him, the promise of what’s waiting, sends a rush of heat through you.

Without thinking, you nod, your body making the decision before your mind can catch up. “Take me to your place,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin deepens with satisfaction as he steps back from the bar. “Good girl,” he says, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns away to close out his shift.

You stand up, ready to leave, but as soon as you do, the room spins unexpectedly and you quickly reach out to steady yourself against the bar. You’re so drunk you can barely stand, and before you even realize it, Hank’s hand slips firmly around your waist.

“Come on, lightweight,” he teases, “Don’t make me carry you out of here.”

You glance up at him as he steadies you and your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly handsome he is.

His sandy blonde hair falls perfectly around his face, his blue eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and desire, and that smirk—the one that makes your heart beat faster.

He guides you out of the bar, the cool night air hitting your skin, making your mind hazy with the alcohol buzzing through your veins. The world feels slightly off balance with every step, but one thing is certain: you’re his tonight, and there’s no turning back.

The way to his place is a blur, his hand warm and firm around your waist, leading you down darkened streets. The anticipation builds with every step, the air between you filled with unspoken desire. You’re hyper-aware of every brush of his fingers, every glance he throws your way, like he’s already undressing you with his eyes.

By the time you reach his apartment, your pulse is racing, your body aching with the promise of what’s to come. Hank doesn’t waste any time. The door barely shuts behind you before his hands are on you, pulling you close, his lips crashing against yours.

His kiss is demanding, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he backs you against the wall. You gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, making your knees weaken. His body presses into yours, firm and unyielding, and you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispers against your jaw, his voice laced with desire as he nips at your lower lip, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Show me,” you say near breathless, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

It’s what he wants to hear, and you know it.

Hank’s eyes darken, his smirk returning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. His thumb tracing your jaw “I will,” he promises and his hands slide up your sides, pulling your shirt over your head in one smooth motion.

His gaze sweeps over you, fixating on your red lingerie as his eyes grow even darker with hunger.

“You wore it for me,” he says, his voice filled with desire.

You nod, trying to stay calm, trying to maintain some control, but the way his hands move to your lingerie, fingers brushing over your nipples sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

His lips curve into a wicked grin, clearly pleased with what he sees and before you can catch your breath, his mouth is on yours again, his kiss more demanding, and possessive than ever, reclaiming you all over again.

His hands move to your waist, fingers hooking to your skirt as he pulls it down letting it fall to the floor.

You step out of it, still lip-locked, your breaths mingling, your head spinning. Now only in your bra and panties you reach for him, your fingers tugging at his shirt to take it off, desperate to touch more of him, but Hank grabs your wrists, pressing them back against the wall.

“You want it so badly, don’t you?” he teases, his closeness amplifying every word, making you feel powerless to resist him. “Show me how much you want it.” He commands his eyes dark with intensity as he watches you, enjoying every second as you squirm under his attention.

Your body answers before you can speak, your hips pressing forward, seeking more of him as you look into his eyes pleading desperately.

A low chuckle escapes his lips, the sound vibrating through you, and you can feel the heat of his cock pressing firmly against you, the tension between you almost unbearable.

“So needy,” he whispers, leaning in close his voice dark and teasing as he gathers both your wrists above your head, lowering his other to skim his fingers along your thighs.

Before you can think, his fingers press firmly against your clit, the sensation overwhelming as you gasp. He applies just the right amount of pressure, holding his fingers firmly in place as the pulse of your clit throbs beneath his touch.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, “do you like it when I touch you like this?”

His fingers move in slow, agonizing circles, teasing you, his control absolute. His grip on your wrists tightens as you squirm in his grasp, your body betraying you as the pleasure builds too quickly.

Your legs tremble, your breath hitches, and your hips instinctively push against his hand, desperate for more, for him to finally push his fingers inside you, but he pulls his fingers back keeping you pinned in place, denying you any control.

“Please Hank…” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper needing more your tone unmistakable.

His grip on your wrists tightens slightly, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. “Begging already?” he asks, his voice low and dark with a teasing edge.

A slight moan escapes your lips as he presses you harder against the wall, pinning you there with his body.

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Beg me again” he whispers, his tone commanding, his breath warm against your skin.

You tremble, feeling his power over you, and give in completely. “Please ….please Hank I need more….” you plead, your voice soft and desperate.

His smirk widens clearly enjoying your submission, and his fingers return to your clit, teasing you mercilessly. He circles faster, flicking with precision and your moans fill the air, louder and more desperate than ever as the pressure builds inside you.

“Mmm that’s what I like to hear” he says slipping his fingers into your panties.

His fingers glide through your slick wetness, the sensation making you shudder feeling the desire course through your entire body.

“You’re already soaking for me,” he says with a grin, his words dripping with satisfaction.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as his fingers firmly push inside, curling just right, grazing the spot that makes your walls tighten instantly. He moves with quick, force, each thrust of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through you.

His thumb finds your clit, pressing down firmly as your body tenses involuntarily, your walls clenching around his fingers.

The room blurs as all your senses focus on him. He’s pleasuring you so well that you can’t stop the soft moans escaping your lips as he keeps fingering you on the brink of ecstasy.

“Not yet,” he whispers watching your body react to his touch, his voice full of satisfaction as his fingers thrust even faster, pushing you to the brink.

Your breath catches as the pleasure builds to such an unbearable height that you can’t hold on any longer. Low, shaky moans escape your lips, your voice raw and desperate needing to come.

He hums as he savors the desperate, breathless sounds you’re making.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me…You’ve earned this one. Come for me” he says curling his fingers just right, driving you over the edge.

And you come, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm crashes over you. Your vision blurs, your muscles clenching uncontrollably around his fingers.

The pleasure consumes you as you cry out, barely aware of the world around you, completely lost in the overwhelming release he’s giving.

Hank hums in approval with your moans, enjoying every reaction of your body as you orgasm for him. He presses gentle, lingering kisses on your throat, savoring the moment as your body begins to calm, your breaths coming in softer gasps.

You stare up at him in pure bliss, your body flushed from the overwhelming pleasure and as he releases you from his grip, his eyes roam over you, dark with desire. He quickly undresses, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

Every muscle on his toned body flexes firmly beneath his skin and your arousal spikes with each piece of clothing he removes.

Finally, his hands lower to his boxers, the outline of his size barely contained against the straining fabric. When he releases his cock it sways slightly, thick and heavy, the sight making you tremble with anticipation.

He pulls you away from the wall, his grip firm and possessive around your waist as he guides you toward the couch.

He presses down on your shoulders, guiding you to kneel on the cushions and before he can even get you into the position, you move on your own, sinking to your knees and arching your back, your elbows on the back rest offering yourself perfectly for him.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice low, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. “You’ve been waiting for this, all night haven’t you?.”

Your breath hitches as his words sink in, your body trembling with anticipation. “Yes…,” you admit, your voice filled with need. “I want you so much”

“I know you do,” he says his fingers barely skimming the edge of your lingerie. “And I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” He promises unhooking your bra, sliding it down your arms.

“Stay just like this,” he says with authority, his voice firm as he steps away, leaving you in position, vulnerable and waiting.

You hear him move, the sound of a drawer opening, the anticipation coiling tighter in your stomach. Your body aches for his touch, your core pulsing with need.

You hear the faint tear of the condom wrapper, and your heart spikes with excitement. You can’t help but peek over your shoulder, watching as he rolls it down his length.

The sight makes your pulse race and you quickly face forward again, trying to contain your arousal, but all you can think about is the way his cock is going to feel inside you again.

“You’ve been so patient for me,” he says with satisfaction as he returns, his fingers gliding down to your hips. His fingers hook into your panties, slowly pulling them downs, the fabric clinging to your wetness as he continues to bring them to your knees.

The position leaves you helpless, every inch of you on display, your breaths shaky with anticipation. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in the sight, and it makes the tension coil in your stomach even tighter as you wait for his next move.

“You have no idea how perfect you look like this,” he praises, his voice filled with awe as he takes in the sight of you.

Your fully open to him, your body arched over the couch. But instead of feeling his cock pressing into you like you expect, there’s a shift. He drops to his knees behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his breath hot against your skin.

Then, you feel it—his tongue, warm and teasing, pressing gently against your slick heat. The sensation is overwhelming, his skilled tongue moving with deliberate, torturous precision. Teasing you with, feather light strokes, his lips grazing your sensitive folds as his moans begin to vibrate against you, deepening with each flick of his tongue.

He buries his face between your legs, his tongue swirling and dipping into you, his grip on your hips tightening. His tongue explores every inch of you, finding every sensitive spot and exploiting it mercilessly.

Your moans and whimpers come deep from your chest, raw and unrestrained as your hands grip the back of the couch for support. Your body rocks slightly on every stroke and flick of his tongue driving you closer to the edge, your body trembling uncontrollably as he continues to work you over.

Your breaths turn to quick gasps as you hold on, trying to keep control, feeling the onslaught of pleasure but the dam is ready to burst, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Your moans grow more desperate, the sound of his pleasure mingling with your own as he devours you, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you against his face. The way he eats you out so relentlessly has you gasping, your fingers digging into the couch as the pleasure becomes too much to bear.

His tongue flicks over your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you so powerful that you begin to orgasm his tongue plunging deep within you making you involuntarily come.

His moans deepen, his grip tightening on your hips, savoring every second of you coming in his mouth and he doesn’t stop. His tongue works relentlessly, lapping up every bit of your release, until your body is quivering, completely undone, barely able to catch a breath.

As you come down from the high, you feel him slowly stand behind you, his presence overwhelming as you try to steady yourself.

“You ready for me?” he asks, his voice low and teasing and he slips his cock along your wet folds, sending a surges of pleasure through your body making you moan in response.

“…Y-Yes,” you finally breathe, your voice shaky, barely even able to hold it together.

You feel him gripping your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you back toward him, his control over you absolute.

“Good,” he says, his voice commanding,“I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

With one hard, thrust, he slowly pushes his cock through your entrance. The intensity makes you gasp, your body tightening around him as he fills you completely the heaviness of his cock making you cry out in pleasure.

Hanks voice is rough as he starts to take you, his pace deliberate and controlled, building a rhythm in you that has you gasping with every stroke.

Pathetic little cries escape your lips as he takes you harder, faster,his skin clapping against yours, and you can feel every inch of him as he claims you from behind.

“Taking my cock so well,” he groans, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your body respond to him, each thrust pushing you further into submission. His hand grips your hair firmly, pulling you back to force your head up, making sure he can see your face, your lips parted and panting in the air, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving.

“I want to hear you say it,” he commands as he thrusts harder, deeper, forcing you to feel every inch of his cock.

You moan, barely able to form words being railed so hard by him, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. “I’m… taking you… so… well,” you manage to gasp, your voice breathless, broken by the overwhelming sensation as his cock fills you completely, your walls gripping him tightly with every deep thrust.

Hank’s hand slips between your legs, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in firm circles. The added pressure pushes you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you come hard, your moans filling the room as the orgasm rips through you.

Your legs tremble, nearly giving out as you shudder violently, your body completely taken over as the orgasm wrecks you.

You’re gasping for air, your entire body shaking as you try to recover, but Hank doesn’t stop. His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, dragging out your climax, pushing you further than you’ve ever gone before.

You can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips, your body trembling uncontrollably as he pulls you back against him. It’s too much—the pleasure too intense—your body reacting in ways you didn’t even know it could.

But you love it—the intensity of it, the force of it—the way he’s making your body lock in place, the way he pushes you beyond your limits.

He leaves no room for thought, only the raw sensation of him fucking you sensless as your mind goes blank with each powerful thrust.

“Arch your back,” he suddenly demands, but his cock is driving into you so hard now that you’re unable to move, moaning relentlessly as he pounds into you.

“I said, arch your back,” he yells more forcefully, but you’re locked in place as you cry out, feeling the unrelenting power of his cock driving into you.

Suddenly, you feel his hand grip the back of your head, pushing your face into the couch. Your desperate cry is muffled into the cushions as the sound of his hips smacking against you fills the air.

His thrusts grow more frenzied, each one rocking you forward, knocking the breath from your lungs as your body struggles to keep up with his relentless pace.

His hands grip your hips tightly, demanding more as he forces your back to arch lower, pushing your chest down into the cushions giving him exactly what he wants. Your pathetic moans are muffled into the cushions as he drives you into another intense orgasm.

You love it—the way he controls you, his dominance in every movement, the way he uses you with such effortless precision. The position only heightens the thrill, your body completely exposed and vulnerable for him, your every sense heightened as he takes what he wants. It’s everything you crave and your mind numbs with the intensity of it as your body surrenders completely.

Your walls tighten around his cock as you orgasm again and he grunts above you feeling you come.

He follows close behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groans deeply, his hips jerking into you with the force of his release. His cock pulses inside you as he spills into the condom, his hands on your shoulder forcing your chest into the couch even harder as he rides out his orgasm.

When it’s over, the living room falls silent, the only sounds your heavy breaths filling the space. You’re a mess, hair disheveled, body trembling, your legs barely able to hold you up as the intensity of everything still courses through you.

Hank doesn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he leans over, his touch gentle as he brushes your hair away from your face, his fingers soft against your flushed skin. His eyes linger on you for a moment, concern flickering behind the intensity. “Are you okay?” he asks, his breaths still heavy, spilling from his lips in uneven gasps.

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, your voice weak but content.

You both look at each other forming slow knowing smiles saying everything without exchanging a word.

A satisfied sigh leaves his lips as he brings his hand through his hair, sweeping the fallen strands from his face then he rests his hand on your hips, holding you steady. He carefully pulls all the way out and your body shudders from the sensation, feeling the remnants of his size leaving you.

A heavy exhaustion settles over you once he releases you from his grasp and with your limbs too tired to move you simply lay on your side catching your breath.

You watch Hank as he discards his used condom in a bin before he kneels searching through his discarded clothing.

You’re still laying there, your breaths evening out as you slowly begin to look around his place.

Trophies line a shelf near the window, and baseball memorabilia is decorating every available space—many of the items centered around the Giants.

Hank doesn’t seem in any rush to have you leave, and the realization makes your stomach flutter in ways you hadn’t expected.

You slowly sit up regaining your senses and notice an aluminum bat leaning against the corner that catches your eye.

“You play?” you ask, your gaze shifting back to him as he steps into his boxers, the waistband snapping into place on his hips.

“I did,” he says, his voice casual, though there’s a hint of something heavier beneath the surface as he reveals the surgical scar on his leg to you.

The angry red lines and white dots where he was pieced back together are unmistakable.

“Oh, shit,” you say, realizing the severity of it. “How’d that happen?” you ask, pulling your skirt up over your hips and grabbing your shirt, putting it on as you follow him to the kitchen.

“High school. Broke it clean in half,” he says, pouring a glass of water and sliding it toward you on the counter. “Not even the worst of my accidents,” he adds, his voice quieter, his eyes flickering with a hint of shame as he quickly looks away.

You watch as he pours himself a glass of orange juice, and you grin slightly. “You don’t drink anymore Hank?” you ask, suddenly noticing the choice.

He turns, showing you another fresh surgical scar on his back, and you notice his body—though strong—is a patchwork of pain and injuries. You step closer, your fingers lightly tracing the fresh line along his skin.

“Liver?” you ask quietly realizing it must be a vital organ.

“Kidney,” he corrects, taking a drink of his juice and there’s something unspoken in his tone, a weight that he carries despite his outward charm.

You look at him differently now, a swell of sadness creeping in as you take in the scars and the bruise under his eye, each one telling its own story. He catches the look on your face and puts his glass down, leaning in as he places his hands on the counter.

“What’s all that?” he asks, his finger gently touching your chin, guiding your gaze back to his eyes. “You feel sorry for me now?”

Your eyes flicker down, unsure of what to say. His scars, add something raw and undeniably attractive to him—but you don’t admit it. Before you can think of a response, his hand reaches for your face, fingers gently trailing along your skin, lifting your chin so your eyes meet his again.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” he says, his eyes lighting up with a depth that pulls you in—reassuring yet playful.

“I can’t feel sorry for you, and I can’t care for you… so what am I supposed to do with you?” you tease, your voice light, though the weight of your feelings for him linger beneath the surface.

Hank’s smile softens as he steps closer, his shirtless body fit and strong, his eyes flickering over you with a subtle intensity. His hands gently guide around your waist, pulling you just close enough to feel the heat between you.

“You don’t have to do anything with me” he says, his tone casual as his eyes flicker with intensity.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re trouble,” you say, though your eyes betray just how much he affects you.

He grins, his hands resting on your waist, trailing ever so slightly. “I think you like trouble,” he confirms, his voice filled with amusement as his smirk deepens, his eyes flashing with playful mischief as he watches your reaction.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words catch in your throat as Hank kisses you. A warmth spreads across your cheeks, your sudden vulnerability betraying you, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but give in. His kiss deepens, clearly enjoying the way he’s made you feel for him.

His hand moves from your waist to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline as he pulls back from the kiss, looking into your eyes. “Stay the night,” he says, his voice low, more a of a demand than a question.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart racing as he searches your eyes.

“I’ll stay,” you reply, your voice soft but steady as relief washes over you—knowing that, despite work in the morning, you want to stay with him more than anything.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips. “Come,” he says, taking your hand and gently leading you to his bedroom.

When he pushes the door open, his theme continues —more trophies, more photos of games, and his black Giants cap hanging by the window.

His bed is large and inviting, the tension between you softening as he pulls you down onto it with him.

You lie face to face, his fingers affectionately trailing over your skin as your thumb gently grazes the bruise under his eye.

“You ever gonna tell me how you got this?” you ask your curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He takes your hand, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours, pausing for a moment as if thinking over his words.

“Two Russian guys in tracksuits came into the bar last week,” he says, his voice low and casual, “I guess I made them a bad drink or something because they beat me senseless,” he says with a shrug. “Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”

Sadness washes over you finally heading the brutality of it all. “Hank, that’s awful,” you say, your voice filled with concern.

He looks at you, his expression softening. “You waited for me though” he says, glancing at you with appreciation, and your heart swells at the sentiment.

Suddenly, a cat climbs up onto the bed, its paws light and confident as it makes its way toward Hank. You blink, surprised. “You have a cat?” you ask, glancing at him.

Hank chuckles, petting the cat affectionately, his hand moving gently down its back. “It’s not mine,” he says with a smile. “It’s my neighbor’s. I’m watching him while hes out of town.” he reveals.

You smile, watching Hank pet the cat with such care. “What’s his name?” you ask, curiosity clear in your voice.

“Bud,” Hank replies, looking at you with a soft expression as he continues scratching the cat behind its ear. There’s something about the way he’s so affectionate with the cat that makes you see him differently—a softer side of Hank that you hadn’t fully realized until now.

As Bud curls up between you both a quiet sense of peace settles over the room. The sexual tension from earlier has now dissolved, replaced by something deeper, something real, and as Hank turns his gaze to you, it’s the first time, his smile is gentle and his eyes are soft. There’s an unspoken vulnerability in the way he looks at you, and in that moment you realize just how much he’s letting you in.

🧢 END?

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