#no thought head empty no edits just the baby

[yominero]

DEVIL MAY CRY — FINISHING TOUCHES EDITION

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dmc men x fem!reader (separate)

your body is a blank canvas, and he is the artist. every stroke, every gasp, every drop left behind is a signature.

NOW LOADING... where he finishes, how he claims you, why you’ll never forget it. BREEDING LEVEL: LEGENDARY.

NERO MESSIER THAN HE MEANT TO BE SPARDA REVVED TOO HARD INSIDE, ON YOUR STOMACH

You’re on your stomach, ass up, face buried in the sheets, and Nero’s trying so hard to be quiet. He’s panting against your spine, trying not to lose it as your body rocks with every sloppy, desperate thrust. His metal arm clutches your waist, keeping you right where he wants you… No, where he needs you.

“F-fuck—you feel so good,” he grits, voice cracking, cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I swear to god, baby, you’re gonna kill me like this…”

You moan his name—soft, ruined. He chokes. Actually chokes on air, and then you say it. You say the words that ruin him. “Inside. Nero… please. I want it.”

Everything stops, because shut up he is trying so hard not to cum.

He pulls back just enough to stare down at you, wide-eyed, pupils blown. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled noise. His next thrust hits deep, harder than before, as if your plea just flipped a switch in him because it did.

“Shit—fuck, baby—are you sure?” he gasps, voice wrecked. “You say shit like that and I’m gonna fucking devil trigger, I swear to god…”

You nod, reaching back to grab at him, begging with your body now too. He groans. Loud. Desperate. He can’t hold back, and with one more thrust, he’s gone.

Nero cums with a growl, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. His body curls over yours, trembling with the force of it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other braced against your lower back as he fills you full—hot, thick, way too much.

“Ah, goddamn it,” he whines into your neck, lips brushing your ear. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect…shit, I didn’t mean to, but I wanted to…”

He stays there, cock twitching with your cunt fluttering around him, milking every drop. When he finally pulls out, he watches it leak from you and his eyes go wide, reverent, wrecked. He exhales a curse, dragging a hand down his face.

“…I’m gonna be broke from buying Plan B.”

You hum, still hazy, a teasing lilt to your voice. “Then stop doing it.” He glares. Blushes. Cums again in his fucking mind.

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, reaching for a towel, then staring at the mess on your thighs instead.

...But he doesn’t clean it up. Because just then you slowly roll onto your back aching, dripping, and stretch like a goddamn goddess. Your stomach’s already smeared with him, slick between your thighs, glowing in the low light. And Nero loses it again.

“Oh—oh fuck,” he gasps, jerking forward like a man possessed. His cock, still hard, twitches at the sight. “I—I can’t—”

He fists himself, frantic, not even trying to hold back. He finishes all over your stomach and tits with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering, ropes of cum painting you again like it’s instinct, unholy thought filling his head.

“I’ll do it again,” he pants. “As many times as you let me.”

DANTE UNHINGED IN THE HOTTEST WAY SPARDA HITTING THE JACKPOT INSIDE, ON YOUR TITS OR ASS

Dante’s not just fucking you—he’s painting you. A masterpiece of moans, soreness, and his cum exactly where he wants it. His favorite spot? Depends on how feral he's feeling.

When he finishes inside, it’s deep and messy, punctuated by rough groans and his hips twitching as he empties himself into you. But Dante’s an exhibitionist with no one to impress but you. So sometimes, just to prove a point, he pulls out last second and strokes himself, watching your tits bounce or your ass jiggle beneath him and whistles at the sight of you looking like a fertility goddess. A second later he covers your body with thick ropes of cum while grinning like the devil himself.

"Gonna need a round two just to clean it up.”

He wants you to feel it drip, see it pool on your belly, or drip down your thighs. To him, you’re not just his partner, you are art itself, and he makes the finishing touches.

On the occasions when he finishes inside you (which is every time), he’s nested deep. Not just emotional damage deep, you swear you can feel his dick reaching your throat: thick, throbbing, filling every inch to perfection. His hips grind slowly, then a little faster, and your legs are shaking from how long he’s kept you right on the edge. You already had your orgasms. What is taking him so long?

“Shit… you feel too good, baby,” he mutters, burring his head in the crock of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he leaves a soft kiss there. “So tight, like you were made for me, yeah?”

Then he sinks in fully with one final thrust, and you feel the twitch. The hot warmth of him spilling inside, not pulling—even worse, he is not even trying to, because he loves this level of closeness and intimacy. Body to body, soul to soul.

Your body clamps down involuntarily, and you whimper at the sheer fullness and the way it stretches you, the way you swear you feel it in your belly. He chuckles, sinfully and proudly reaches down, pressing a hand flat to your lower abdomen.

“Well, look at that,” he pants, eyes glazed with lust and something a little unhinged. “All mine, sweetheart. You are so beautiful when you are full of me.”

You shiver beneath him, dazed, needy, a little too into it. Your breath catches at the pressure blooming inside, the slick, hot mess. He pulls out slow, and when your hips jerk, his cum leaks out in thick white drips.

“Now you really look divine,” he murmurs, thumbing it back in like he can’t help himself. “Shit, I’ll grab Plan B in the morning, I swear. Just...let me enjoy this one, alright?”

You nod, voice lost somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. Right now, you don't have the mental capacity to respond or to think about anything other than him.

And the worst part is that you secretly love it. Love the way he fucks you like he’s claiming you for the very first time. Love the way he shows just how much he loves you. Love the way you already want more.

VERGIL TAKE EVERYTHING I OFFER SPARDA THE APROACHING STORM INSIDE, ON YOUR THIGHS

He always finishes inside. Always. You won't catch this man slacking or not doing anything the way it's supposed to.

There’s something empowering about the way he holds you when he’s close—one hand gripping your thigh to keep you from moving so much, the other hand cradling your throat, not tight, just enough for you to feel how fragile you are under him. His face is buried in your neck, breath cold despite the furious way his hips grind into yours.

“You will take it,” he murmurs, voice low, trembling with control, with hunger. “Do you understand?” You nod, too far gone to speak, thighs trembling from the pressure building with every thrust. You can feel it—his restraint snapping thread by thread, unraveling.

And then it hits, like a silent storm that no one knew would come. As an unexpected surprise that was more than pleasant.

He sinks in with a final, bruising thrust and stills. You feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release flood you, thick and deliberate, marking you. He groans low in his throat—a rare, vulnerable sound—as his jaw clenches against your shoulder. You clutch at his back, panting, moaning, full in the deepest, most primal sense.

He doesn’t pull out, never does.

He stays inside you, hips pressed flush, as if trying to carve the shape of himself into your womb. You shift under him, overstimulated, but his hand presses your hip still.

“You feel that?” he breathes against your ear. “Mine.”

When Vergil finishes inside you, it’s not just sex, it’s a silent promise to keep the connection between two souls sacred. He doesn’t moan or curse, just breathes out your name like a command, like a claim, because he has control over you, but you are also his weakness.

Each time, his eyes go half-lidded, that stoic expression crossing his face, like he’s giving you something sacred that will break any minute, something he shouldn’t even think about. He’s breaking a rule he made for himself, and when his cum leaks out of you, hot and heavy, he only watches it, lips twitching faintly. “Waste nothing.”

But on the rare occasions he doesn’t finish inside you, when he has to pull out, because you’re sore or overstimulated or too full already; he’ll wrap a hand around himself at the last second and cum over your thighs, groaning through gritted teeth. Something about the way it drips down your skin drives him feral. His breath hitches, drunken on the sight of the mess both of you created.

There’s awe in him when he sees you like that—ruined, shivering, legs sticky with him. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice caught between worship and mockery, typical Vergil. “Greedy little thing. Always asking for more... and yet you can barely take it.”

The words aren’t cruel, not really. They come wrapped in quiet praise, veiled affection, something soft only you ever get from him. He leans down, mouth brushing your temple. And then stares at you like he always does, in a whisper so raw it almost doesn’t sound like him:

“I love it.” A pause. “I love you.”

Yeah, you have this man wrapped around your finger … or inside you.

©2025 yominero do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[ebodebo]

I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man!

pairing: john price x fem!reader

wc: 7.2k...sorry lmao plz read…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, fluff, established relationship, oral (m. receiving), road head, porn w so much plot, hair pulling, angst, emotional conflict, complicated family dynamics, dysfunctional family, i.e., ongoing conflict, reader having familial issues (mostly maternal), age-gap, secret relationship & marriage, & john being a protector.

author's note: this was brought to fruition by a singular barry sloan edit that had me salivating and @sai-int's fic 'a ticket to play', which single-handedly re-sparked my love for price! so, yeah, anyways, enjoy this horny mess!

dividers by @/saradikagraphics!

John Price is a man...

“John, you didn’t,” you hiss, eyes wide as you set down the groceries on the counter, your wrists aching from the heavy load.

“Didn’t know it was your mother, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone sincere. He quickly grabs the bags and begins unpacking the groceries.

You glance at the house phone positioned beside the fridge, then peel off the old sticky note attached there. You read it aloud, “Don’t answer calls from the 406 area code. I’m talking to you, John,” before pausing to think, lips pursed in contemplation.

He opens the fridge, sliding the milk jug inside before carefully shutting the door. When he turns back to see your knowing smile, his eyebrows lift in a silent acknowledgment, a quiet ‘ah’ escaping his lips.

“Well,” you urge, grabbing the aromatics from the counter to put up. “What did she say when you picked up?” You ask, attempting to sound as casual and disinterested as possible.

“Oh. Nothin’ you’d find interestin,’” he hums with a knowing smile as he tears open a pack of paper towels.

You press your lips together. “Well…yeah,” you mutter, picking up a few grapefruits. “I mean, it doesn’t matter to me,” you defend, emphasizing the ‘doesn’t.’ “I just want to know what she thought,” you shrug, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Mhm,” he hums thoughtfully as he gathers the now-empty reusable bags, hanging them on the hook next to the cabinet.

“I’m serious,” you say, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “I really don’t care.”

"I know you don't, hon." He turns to wash the fresh berries in a colander, the water splashing against the metal steadily.

"You don't believe me," you exasperate.

He lets out a low laugh as he washes the berries. "Didn't say that."

You lean against the kitchen island, your body language betraying your frustration. "You were thinking it," you accuse, with a dramatic sigh.

He sets the berries back into the colander and turns his head toward you, a playful half-smile on his lips. “No, I wasn't,” he replies, clearly amused.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, mentally cursing yourself for marrying someone so adept at reading your emotions, your inner conflict laid bare.

“But,” he says, tearing a paper towel to dry his hands. “Now, I’m starting to feel that you do care.”

You don’t respond, trying to avert your gaze as heat creeps into your cheeks like he’s caught you sneaking a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Baby,” he moves closer, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “It’s okay to care,” he whispers softly into your hair, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

You gently shut your eyes, pressing your face into his warm abdomen, finding comfort in his presence.

“Damn it,” you mumble, your words muffled against him. He chuckles softly in response. “Alright, fine,” you pull back slightly, locking your eyes onto his as his hands cradle your cheeks. “I do care. Now, spill the juicy details.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, she started by checkin’ in on you.”

You release a dry laugh, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right. She always has ulterior motives," you grumble. "I swear that woman is always up to—"

"Shh," he squishes your cheeks together as both thumbs rest over your lips to silence you. "Will you let me finish?" He prompts, quipping a brow.

"Sorry, yeah," you apologize, your voice coming out muffled and nasal. 

He nods with a smile, moves his thumbs off your mouth, and drops his hands to massage your shoulders. "Said your sister is gettin' married, and she thought it would be nice if you came down for her engagement party this weekend," he supplies. 

Correction remarried.

She's on her fifth? No, her sixth husband now.

Guess she thinks six will be the lucky number.

Who’s gonna tell her?

However, that’s beside the point; you care about something much more…pathetic.

You feel frustrated because all you really want is to know how your mother reacted to the deep, gruff voice of the Englishman who answered the phone.

You wait with a bated breath, eyes wide with anticipation, but his expression remains flat, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What else?" You finally question, unable to contain your curiosity.

"That's all," he plainly says, his words hanging in the air.

You scoff. "She didn't ask about the random guy answering my phone?" You voice with disbelief.

Your mother is a shallow woman, but surely you getting what she’s constantly pressured you into getting would have her jumping for joy.

A sly smirk grows on his lips. "Am I just some random guy?" He jokes.

You smile yourself before pressing a kiss to his lips, arms coming to wrap around his torso. "You’re my husband, so not to me," you begin. "But to her, yes," your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him down to peck his lips again. "You know that," you say matter-of-factly.

His hands drift to your waist. "Mhm, I'm your dirty little secret," he hums softly.

"John," you frown, guilt flooding your brain. "You know I would, but—"

"Just jokes, baby," he interjects, pressing a light kiss on your temple as his eyes light up. "I love you in any way you’ll have me," he murmurs softly.

"God, you’re perfect," you reply with a smile. 

"She did question who I was," he starts. "Had no idea she was so southern," he remarks casually before continuing. "She thought I was the plumber," he quips, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

He tried, but he could feel the tension in the air.

Sees the disappointment and anger in your eyes.

In your posture.

You're fucking pissed.

"Typical," you remark, stepping away from him, arms flailing around. "She—she thinks I'm so incapable of finding someone that she would resort to thinking you're a person I pay before actually thinking you're with me." Your voice is filled with frustration.

"Hon—" John begins, voice soft as his hand reaches for you.

"And she wonders why I never visit," you release a dry laugh. "Never reach out."

"Come ere,'" he coos, hand pulling you by your wrist, so he can engulf you in a hug.

"It's not fair," your voice is once again muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but he can hear the tightness in it and the sniffle against him, a clear sign of your emotional distress.

"No, it's not," he affirms, fingers easing through your hair.

"Nothing is ever good enough for her," you exhale into his abdomen, fueled more by anger than by despair.

John gently kisses your hair while his fingers soothe your back with a gentle massage.

"I’ll never be good enough for her," you mumble absentmindedly, your voice lacking emotion.

"Sweetheart," he begins, his voice low as your hair muffles the sound. "Don't take offense, but you're mother is a real nasty woman. You're fuckin' perfect, and if she can't see that, it's her God-damn loss," his tone rough yet sincere.

You chuckled, a smile spreading across your face as the corners of your eyes crinkled. "I love you."

"Love you so much," he whispers, gently planting another kiss on your head.

He leans back slightly to look into your eyes. "Want me to run you a hot bath?" He asks, gently massaging your shoulders.

"That sounds really nice," you reply, taking a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Course. That's what I'm here for," he says effortlessly, leaning down to kiss your lips tenderly. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

You nod quietly as he moves to draw the warm bath.

The thought of sinking into steamy water and enveloping bubbles soothes your mind.

Honestly, to hell with your mother's opinions.

They just weren't worth the headache.

And there was no way you were going back to that house.

The promise of the bath, with its comforting warmth and enticing bubbles, would wash away your worries and quiet the thoughts swirling in your head.

Visions of your mother and that place would fade, never to resurface again.

"Can't believe she thought I would actually come down," you sigh contentedly, feeling the warmth of your husband, John, as he works shampoo through your hair, creating rich suds.

So much for the visions of your mother fading. 

It had been a whole day since your mother's call, and the weight of her words still lingered, stirring up a storm of conflicting emotions within you.

"Still on your mind?" John asks, eyes hyperfocusing on ensuring the shampoo coats every strand of your hair.

"I just—I don't understand why she thought I would come," you suspire, turning to massage the loofah against John's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the tension in his muscles.

"Must have gone mad, I suppose," he jests, his fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp, adding a touch of humor to the heavy conversation.

Your lip quips at his joke, eyes lighting at the sight of him taking such good care of you, ensuring your scalp is tantalizingly clean. "Maybe," you murmur. "Because all she ever does is ridicule me and constantly ask if I've found a man.” You gently move the loofah over his chest to ensure he is squeaky clean.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, his hands coming to massage your facial cleanser into your face before returning to the issue at hand.

"Wouldn't let tryin' to examine your mother's psyche take your day, hon," his hands move with familiar ease as he massages the liquid into your cheeks. "You'll never know why. Can't change that,” he says.

"I hate how logical you are," you sigh, finding yourself relaxing at his touch.

He lets out a gruff laugh. "Would you rather me be some git?"

Your eyebrow quips, eyes remaining closed. "What does that mean?"

His lip quips. "Sweetheart, how long have you lived with me here, in England?" He enunciates the last word as he moves you under the faucet to wash away the cleanser's remnants. 

"Not long enough, I guess," you smile cheekily, wiping your eyes free of water to open them. "Honestly, forever isn't even long enough," you add, trying to shift the focus, though it's true; you can't quite remember how long you've been living together  

"Oh," he tuts softly. "Nice save. Can't argue with that," he replies, smirking before leaning in to kiss your lips.

After a stretch of silence, you turn around so he can wash your back with the loofah. Your mind is still swirling with thoughts. "I kind of miss seeing my niece," you find yourself reminiscing.

"Even though my sister and I don't get along too well, her daughter and I have always had a special bond," you say with a sigh.

"What else do you miss?" Since you never really talk about where you grew up, John prods, he's curious.

"Well, in the spring, my cousins and I would go flower picking in the field behind my grandfather's house," you find yourself getting more excited.

"He also had an old peach tree, Mindy, he called it, that we would pick dozens of peaches from and just lay in the shade under the tree and eat them till he thought we might become peaches ourselves," you snicker, turning around to face him, eyes light.

"They were fucking good peaches."

"Sounds like you miss it," he grins.

Your hand turns the lever off, and the water stops, leaving a lingering warmth on your skin. "I do," you confess, stepping out of the shower to grab you and him fresh towels.

"But, my mother knows how to ruin the best of memories," your voice is monotone. "I want those great ones to stay intact, you know?" You shrug, wrapping the towel around yourself, offering comfort.

He wraps the towel low around his waist. "Course I get it, sweetheart," his voice soft yet gruff. "Let's get you all nice and dry, and we'll order some takeout. Yeah?" He asks, reaching for your hand to lead you into your shared bedroom to get dressed.

"Sounds perfect," you voice, the thoughts of going home almost completely absolving. 

A few misses wouldn't make you completely switch gears and go.

It just wasn't worth it.

Only your mother could figure out how to make the enjoyment and amazing things crumble up and burn. 

But you won't let her. 

So, you've made up your mind. 

You will not be going.

That's final.

It's two days to Saturday.

You've been manically counting down the days.

And so, naturally, instead of basking in the serene morning, with birds chirping and the gentle glow of the sun filtering through your kitchen window, you're perched on a barstool, computer propped up, as your breakfast grows cold, hand hesitating over a plane ticket that will whisk you away tomorrow morning to your hometown. 

Just one click, and you'll have solidified yourself as going.

You're only feeling so impulsive because your impulse control, aka your husband, is at work.

Your finger hovers over the 'confirm' button for about twenty minutes.

You know what's holding you back.

The anxieties claw up about your mother and what ifs that could happen.

And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, it all becomes clear.

'Could.'

It's not a promise, just a possibility.

You had spontaneously decided that you wouldn't let the could control your decisions.

Yes, one thing was holding you back, but what about the multitude of things that you wanted to see or the many people who loved and cared about and desperately wanted to see after so long?

You were not going to let the 'could' control your decisions.

You were going to overcome this worry and take the leap.

You sit up tall in your chair, turning your head with a wince as you click "confirm."

"Oh," you murmur. "That was dramatic for no reason," you say monotonously.

But, now you can't help but feel a surge of excitement.

You would get to see your niece after so long.

And the flower field and, of course, Mindy the peach tree.

Who could forget your childhood room full of posters and knick-knacks you collected throughout your teenage years.

You find yourself smiling as you get that familiar chime from your email confirming your flight ticket.

Can't get cold feet now.

You take a swig of your tea, which has long since gone cold, but your throat is parched from the anxiety that grips you, a knot tightening in your stomach.

The mug was a gift from your husband for your birthday last year.

It featured your favorite flowers made into it and even had your birthday engraved on the bottom.

John was always so thoughtful.

You pause your movements, lips hovering over the clay mug, a moment of hesitation freezing your actions.

John.

Your husband.

Of course, he didn't care that you bought the ticket or wanted to go, but he would be pissed if you just left.

Sure, you could wait until he returned home, but the urgency to communicate your decision gnaws at you, compelling you to act now.

You hurriedly reach for your phone, fidgeting to press his number.

He's at the top of your contacts.

You tap your fingers against the cool granite countertop, waiting until he picks up.

It rings.

And rings.

...and rings again.

Until the line picks up, you sit up, ready to unload on him, only for it to be his voicemail line.

"Shit," you curse, hanging up as your foot bounces on the metal footstep on the barstool.

As you sit there, unable to wait until he gets home, you can't help but feel a surge of dramatic emotion. This internal conflict, this emotional turmoil, is what drives you to act impulsively.

But this is a big deal.

You never go home.

Rarely mention it.

So your next actions feel rationalized to you.

Without a second thought, you spring up, grab your keys from the hook by the door, slip your shoes and coat on, and speed to your car, most likely looking like a mad woman. 

But at this moment, who cares about appearances? 

The urgency of the situation overrides any concern for normalcy.

Normalcy is overrated, anyway.

You throw the car into gear, and though you are in a rush, you don't speed there. 

Carefully, you make your way, chewing on your lips nearly the entire drive.

Despite your earlier determination not to return, you find yourself on the way, a plane ticket already in your possession.

The anticipation of what your husband has to say fills you with a slight unease.

He wouldn't be mad.

More surprised than anything.

And honestly, you shamelessly loved seeing him at work.

His professional demeanor, always in control, never fails to impress you.

You can't help but oogle him.

It secretly really got you going.

But, this time, it was a purely innocent visit, of course.

You find a parking spot, ease into the front part, giving the officer guarding the gate your name.

She quickly lets you through.

You are the captain's wife, after all.

Walking, you head straight through a door and through another one.

So many God-damn doors in this place.

Until you reach the middle portion of the base, grass surrounds you, and various equipment is placed orderly around.

Sandbags, wooden ladders, and weights are among the items you see. 

Your eyes sweep the area until they land on the man you're looking for. 

He stands tall, his broad shoulders filling out his uniform, a few strands of hair escaping his signature hat.

His eyes are focused on the recruits, his expression a mix of determination and frustration.

From the looks of it, he's training new recruits, something he doesn't often do, but it's a real treat when he does.

His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his veiny arms. 

His arms, usually strong and steady, now appear more veiny than usual, a sign of his apparent frustration with the recruits. His jaw is set, and you can see the tension in his muscles as he barks orders.

"Runnin' like a fuckin' slug," he reprimands. "Pick up the pace."

You hate how hearing that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Get your head out of your ass," he grunts outs, clearly annoyed. "The hell are you lookin' at," he asks a recruit who, along with a few others, seems to be on another planet, eyes wandering behind him.

John turns to his side to see you in a cute dress, waving to him sweetly. "Course," he lets out a dry laugh, giving you a small wave.

He turns back to the recruits, his authority palpable.

"Eyes off my wife, or you'll be doin' extra laps," he scolds, his tone low but intimidating, before yelling to move to the ladders with Soap.

He makes his way over to you, a warm smile on his face. "Nice surprise, hon," he greets, kissing your cheek.

"I'm gonna go," you murmur.

His brows furrow in confusion. "Go where?" 

You raise a brow at his confusion. "To...see my family."

His eyes bore into your intently. "By yourself?"

"I didn't think you'd want to go," you say honestly. 

"I'm going with you," his tone final, with no room to argue. "You bought a plane ticket?" He questions.

"I did...sorry, I just thought—" you begin before he cuts in, his hand pressing against your cheek. 

"No worries," he says. "I'll get the ticket when I get back to my office," his tone casual. "You're sure about this?"

"I think so," you say. "Plus, if I cancel the ticket, we'll be out six hundred dollars," you laugh out.

"Screw the money, okay? You tell me if you don't want to go," he tells you, face serious.

"If I change my mind, you'll be the first to know," you lean up, pressing a short kiss to his lips. "Also, you should always wear your shirt like that."

His eyes narrow as he lets out a laugh. "You like it?"

"Looks sexy," you purr quietly, teeth coming to bite your lip.

His face warms slightly. "Should see what it looks like off."

"Are you flirting with me, captain?" You say, hand coming to your heart in false surprise. 

"Just givin' you a preview for later," his tone is husky. 

"I'll be waiting," you begin, beckoning him to lower his head so your lips can hover over his ear. "Already so wet just thinking about it."

He releases a low grunt as you press a kiss to his cheek.

"See you at home," you say sweetly as if you didn't just give him a hard-on at the thought of you all wet and needy for him.

"See you, sweetheart," he almost chokes out as you turn to go away, your ass swaying in the dress you wear.

He's going to make you pay later.

And honestly, you can't wait.

You need something to take your mind off tomorrow's morning flight. 

Though it was going to take a lot more than sex to ease your mind.

A horse tranquilizer may help.

No. Too dangerous.

Whatever, you'll take your chances with John's hand all over and in you to have you sleeping and at ease.

Maybe you'll get lucky, and you two can sneak off to the airport bathroom and finally join the mile-high club.

That would definitely keep your mind off things.

For now, you’ll wear a smile, and excitement will radiate from your being.

Everything will be fine.

Nothing bad will happen.

Even so, what’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Statement retracted.

Your trip thus far has been a shitshow, and you haven't even seen your family yet.

Your flight got delayed three hours because of fog.

That was understandable, annoying, but understandable. 

What wasn't was the lady who insisted on sitting between you and John on your flight in the seat you paid for.

An older lady, maybe in her late forties or so, with a determined look in her eyes and a set to her jaw that said she wasn't going to let a little thing like a seat assignment get in her way.

She was nice at first.

She became insufferable rather quickly.

Very persistent.

You deduce she did that so she could sit next to your man. 

It didn't bother you so much, plus you knew if you showed it did, John would make a scene, and you just wanted to close your eyes and sleep, so you let her have your seat and sat by the window instead.

But every time you got settled, eyes closing gently, the soft lull of the plane helping you drift off.

"Going off to college?" She piped next to you, oblivious or noncaring about your eyes shut.

Your eyes open rapidly, and you look at her, awaiting a response. "Uh, no. I graduated a couple of years ago," your voice is drowsy. 

"Oh. You two must be going on a father-daughter trip, then?" She poses.

Your wide eyes drift to John's; a smile etched on his face. "Such a kind father you are," she compliments without missing a beat.

The sheer absurdity of her assumption leaves you speechless, and John can't help but let out a quiet laugh.

"Thas' actually my wife," he says, trying to contain another laugh. 

"Oh," her eyes widen in shock and apparent envy. "Well, aren't you a lucky one," her tone is dry as she eyes you.

That was funny.

But not when she did it about five hundred times on the eight hour flight.

It was like a broken record, playing the same tune over and over again, and you were the unwilling participant. 

Over and over again like clockwork.

Drove you bat shit crazy.

Sure, maybe you could have just told her to shut the hell up, but you kept telling yourself it wasn't worth the fight, and you didn't have the energy to make the effort.

Also, since the lady was sitting in the seat between you, formally yours, you didn't feel comfortable asking John about the bathroom sex.

She would have most likely dropped dead or asked to join.

You didn't want either.

So, it is safe to say that when the plane landed, you sat up excitedly to escape the stuffy plane.

The lady tried to follow you and John out, but you grabbed John by the wrist, dragging him behind you as your legs gained more momentum to try and escape her.

It was like a horror movie.

"Oh my God. She was so weird," you laugh out to John as you manage to get away from her, stepping out of the airport to collect your rental truck. 

"I know. Kept lookin' at me the whole flight," he says with unease as he places your suitcases into the backseat of the truck, shooing away your hands from the bags so he could lift them himself.

"Do we need to get you a counselor?" You half-joke as he opens the car door for you to get in as he moves to the driver's seat.

"Think so," he gruffs before his eyes fixate on you. "You okay?"

You had put the address into the truck's maps system, settling back into the leather seat, eyes now on his. "I'm nervous," you confess.

"Nothin' to be nervous about. I'm here for you, okay? If you need to leave, just tell me," his voice is soft as his hand caresses your thigh in comfort. 

You give him a nod, turning to look out the window at the passing buildings, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You had already texted your niece you were coming, so you're sure your mother and sister know. 

It's not like you'd be staying with them.

That's too much too soon.

Plus, you and John could have sex anytime in the hotel with no fears of your estranged mother walking and seeing John balls-deep in you.

It was really better for all parties.

Once you pull up to the house, you swear you could hurl.

"Was this a bad idea?" You ask John nervously as he pulls your suitcases out of the backseat.

He gently sets them on the dirt. "It's just nerves," he says, locking the truck. "Let's scope it out, and if you want to leave, we'll go. No questions," his hand rests gently on your shoulder.

"Promise?" You prod, tilting your head towards him. 

He smiles at you. "You have my word, sweetheart."

You release a deep breath. "I think I'm going to pass out."

He chuckles deeply, hand snaking around your waist to lead you to the front door. "I'll catch you if you do."

You feel your nerves subside with John by your side as you flip up the familiar peach-shaped doorbell cover to ring the bell.

Stomping feet approach, the voice growing nearer and nearer until the front door pulls open to reveal your sister.

Flawless as ever. 

Her eyes light up. "Thought my daughter was tellin' fibs," she jokes, pulling you into a warm, tight hug. "Missed you." Her genuine affection wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

You reciprocate the hug with equal tightness. 

Although you may not have gotten along well, she was still your sister, and you could feel the love a million miles away. 

She pulls away, eyes falling onto the mysterious, hot, stoic man to your side. "Who's this good-lookin' hunk?" She coos, smacking her gun.

"This is my, um, my husband, John," you say, fumbling your words a little.

"Nice to meet you," his voice is low and most shockingly British, as he sticks his hand out.

Cordial as ever. 

"Oh, come on. That's just not even fair, sis," she jests, taking his hand fast and tight.

Her playful banter adds a lightness to the moment that almost absolves your nerves entirely.

"Where's...mom?" You ask, your heart pounding in your chest, the unease apparent in your tone.

She looks back at you. "Kitchen," she says before offering a reason. "She's makin' peach cobbler. Come on in," she steps aside so you and John can enter the door.

The familiar scent of the old wooden floors, the sound of the creaking stairs, and the sight of the family photos on the wall all bring back a flood of memories.

Warm smiles and familiar voices greet you as you step inside.

Cousins, aunts, uncles.

They approach you one by one, their surprise at your arrival evident, but even more so at hearing that you're married to the burly man at your side. 

Your aunts keep him occupied as you wander into the kitchen.

They keep him engaged in their lively banter, shamelessly flirting with him while their husbands sit in the living room, engrossed in their own discussions. 

You feel a little bad for leaving him to fend with the wolves, but he assured you he was alright and all but pushed you into the kitchen.

Sure enough, your mother was busy rolling out some dough on the countertop for the crust for the top of the peach cobbler. 

"Mom," your voice is quiet as you move around the island to where she is.

She turns. "Well, I'll be," she begins, eyes wide and full of surprises. "Ya came."

"I did," you amend with a smile. "And I brought someone I'd like you to meet."

"Some city guy?" Her head moves back to the dough, no longer on you.

"He, yes, he's from the city," your voice is outwardly confused.

"Thought so," her tone is snarky as she delicately lays the dough over the cobbler filling. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" It comes out more defensive than you intend. 

"Nothin,'" she says flatly. "Enjoyen' your fancy life in the city?"

You roll your eyes, already anticipating the direction this conversation is about to take. "Mom," you urge, your frustration palpable.

"No, hon. I get it," she looks up at you, shrugging. "Honestly, surprised you came. Wouldn't wanna dim your new sparkly life," her tone is condescending. "That is why it's been so long, right?"

"It's not like that," you try to justify, but you know it will do no good.

She completely disregards that, instead changing the subject. "Supper's ready," she bussies herself with stirring the gravy. "Better snag yourself a seat quick," her tone is dry. "Table hasn't grown none."

You release a shallow breath, turning around to escape this stupid God-damned kitchen and moving to find John. 

It's a familiar feeling, this resignation. 

Guess some things never change. 

You approach him, and before you say a word, his eyes are already locked on you, body language now stiff. "What's the matter?" His hands are on you in an instant.

You should have known.

He can read you like one of those mission reports he reads daily.

"Nothing," you mutter, forcing a smile, but the words feel heavy with the things you're hiding.

His eyes narrow. "Can't lie to me," he voices.

You'd just about rather crawl in a hole and die than re-account. 

What was supposed to be a happy recount turned sour rather quickly.

"Tell me," he urges, sensing your inner turmoil. 

"Drop it," your tone is more icey than usual. "Please." 

He gives you a light nod, eyes full of concern.

"Let's go eat, okay?" Your hand moves to his, intertwining your fingers, and guilt claws up your throat.

He gives you a nod as you drag him into the dining room to snag a seat at the main table.

Mom was right. The table is still too small to accommodate a family of this size, so another table sits outside and another in the living room. 

Others crowd around the breakfast nook and sit on barstool at the kitchen island. 

This house has never known loneliness. 

Your mother, father, sister, sister's daughter, and your sister's fiance are at the table with you and John. 

Your niece opts to sit next to you, gushing about her new boyfriend, the son of the florist downtown, and asking questions about the city.

"Hush now, darlin.' She gets all fussy about that," your mother chides your niece, referring to your early conversation about you living in the city.

"Mom," you quip, eyes wide at her sheer audacity.

She hadn't even addressed John, just jumping straight into a fight.

Typical.

"I'm just sayin.' Ya jumped all over me for talkin' about it," she says, trying to sound innocent. 

Seems her memory is slipping.

"That's not why I got upset," your tone is teetering between desperation and frustration, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air.

She plops some mashed potatoes on her plate before passing the bowl along. "Then what was it ya were so hurt about earlier, huh?"

You're sure steam is rolling out of your ears.

"You hold a, a vendetta against me for leaving," you spew without much thought, anger taking over. "Because you never got to leave, you take it out on me," you finish, and you're sure you're shaking. 

If all eyes weren't on you before, they are now.

John is leaning back in his chair, eyes wide.

He's kind of scared if he touches you, you'll punch him, so he instead crosses his arm over his chest.

"I think the city is cool," your niece randomly chimes in, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Would love to visit someday."

You give her a smile before your mother starts up again.

"Didn't your mother teach ya about city girls," she snaps to your niece. "Nothin' good ever came from any of em.'" 

You can taste the metallic taste of blood on your tongue; you had bitten your cheek so hard you bled.

"Ain't that right," your mother says, eyes shifting to your sister.

Your sister is great.

Just not in the presence of your mother.

She takes on her personality and thoughts.

Agreeing with her without a second thought

That includes her fights.

"It's true," she snickers. "City girls can't tell a pencil from a pecker."

You find yourself standing abruptly, and your sister matches your action, spewing more garbage. 

And for some reason, her fiance stands up, which makes John stand up, matching his movements.

He's easily a foot taller than her fiance, and he's much more muscular, too.

"Enough," John's low, commanding voice is fitting for a military captain. It splices through the room, the commotion dying as he speaks. "I will not sit here and let you treat my wife like this," his head tilts towards your sister and then to your mother. "Now or ever."

He doesn't even need to yell to get any attention. 

His voice just demands attention already. 

Your sister, usually so quick with a retort, is silent.

The fear in her eyes is unmistakable, adding to the intensity of the confrontation.

She’s scared.

Hell, everyone is.

Well, except your niece, whose lip quips secretly, a small smirk playing on her lips despite the tension in the room. 

"Your daughter came down on her own merit to see you," he points to your mother. "Could have done so many other things, but she wanted to see you," he enunciates the last word.

"Well, she—" Your mother begins, her face bright red with anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Tired of hearin' the excuses," his voice cuts through hers. She quickly shuts up, a surprising silence falling over her. "Can't even believe your daughter turned out as amazing as she did growing up with this," he gestures towards you.

He stands with his hands on his hips, disappointment is evident on his face. 

"My wife is a God-damn saint," his voice is rough.

You find your lip quipping at the praise and how much he appreciates you.

He worships the ground you walk on.

That was made abundantly clear. 

His hands reach to rest on your lower back. "Appreciate the food, but we'll be leavin' now," he mutters, stepping back to push his chair in.

You don't argue with him.

Hell, how could you?

He said everything you couldn't

Laid all your thoughts on the table and even added some extra.

He did what he was born to do: protect.

You step away, push your chair in, and turn around, not bothering to say goodbye as you walk to the front door.

You'll text your niece later. 

The chill in the air, carrying the scent of magnolia trees and damp earth, hits you like a slap to the face.

John's hand is still on your lower back, guiding you back to the truck.

He opens the door so you can slip inside as he makes his way around the driver's seat.

The heater is blasting as he shoves the key into the keyhole, and the engine is stirring alive as he easily backs out and pulls onto the road. 

The silence is heavy as he drives down a straight, desolate road.

It's silent for a moment before he starts to comment, apologizing profusely about how he overstepped and saying sorry that this trip turned out bad.

You're tuning him out and instead focusing on how he stood up for you.

He was just such a man.

He always knew how to be what you needed him to be.

Protector.

Listener.

Talker.

He always knew which role to take on to support you, to be your anchor in the storm of emotions. 

Just that thought alone made you incredibly wet. 

You don't know why.

You should be crying from the way things unfolded with your family.

But you're not sad, not even remotely.

Just incredibly horny.

You find yourself slipping the rubberband off your wrist and quickly tying your hair in a messy ponytail.

"Hon," John says, noting your unusual silence. "I'm so sorry," he quickly glances your way before looking back at the road.

You don't speak, opting to brush your hand against his cargo pants as your fingers fumble with his zipper.

He makes a noise of surprise. "What're you doin?'" He asks, his voice breathy.

"You took care of me," you mumble, shimming your fingers under the waistband of his boxers to release his erect cock, to which he grunts. "Want to do the same," your voice is lazy, as your lips brush against the sensitive head.

"Me yellin' at your mother got you all hot?" He jokes though it dies halfway on his tongue as your lips spread open to accommodate his size.

His knuckles are white as he tightly grips the steering wheel so as not to crash.

Your mouth makes a pop noise before you speak. "You're just so sexy. All manly like that," you mutter against his cock, the tingle of your words sending goosebumps throughout his entire body.

"Am I?" He chokes out as your lips move back to encase his cock.

"So hot," your voice is muffled as you take in more of his cock.

"Oh—Christ, thas' it, hon," he groans as you bob your head up and down.

His mind has gone fuzzy at the feeling of your tight throat, taking him so good, even swerving a little, before quickly straightening the wheels.

"So fuckin' good," he grunts, as one hand moves to gather your ponytail in a loose fist. 

Your tongue works in tandem, rubbing against the underside of his cock, sending more pleasure through him. "Such a good girl, babe," he praises, and you just know that your underwear will be soaked. 

"So good." Your moan against him at the next praise, making him sputter his hips up, his cock slipping in your mouth entirely. 

He chokes out some incoherent words you can't make out; taking note of his body going taut, you can presume he's close.

"Gonna," he strains out as you continue bobbing up and down, his hand tightening around the fistful of your hair. “Come."

You bring your hand to pump the base as your tongue flicks across the tip.

He groans with anguish, legs shaking as he comes in your mouth.

You pull your head up, your eyes boring into his so he can watch you swallow out every last drop, even using your fingers to clean up the residue in the corners of your mouth.

His eyes stay glued to your mouth before you yell at him to watch the road.

"Christ," he shouts, gripping the wheel tight to stay in his lane. 

You laugh as you lean, pressing a sideways kiss on his lips.

He can taste himself on your lips.

He almost comes again.

But the high lasts just as short as when you look in the review to see police sirens hot on your tale, the siren invading your eardrums. 

John curses but pulls off to the shoulder, sneakily grabbing his military badge in his pocket.

"You always just carry that on you?" You smile slyly, the body still warm from your escapades. 

"Will come in handy," he assures, rolling his window down as the officer makes his way to his window.

"Evenin', folks. Gotta call from a concerned driver sayin' you were swervin' out of your lane," he says.

"No, sir. Not us," you answer, John glancing towards you.

"That right?" The officer prods. "I'm going to need to see your license and registration, sir," his monotone voice says. 

"Yes, sir," John says, slyly flashing his military badge as he "looks" for his license. 

"You're military?" John nods. "Hell," the officer laughs, tucking his notepad back in his pocket. "I know you aren't some juveniles."

John laughs as he glances over to you, glancing down to see a little remnant of his come on your shirt.

He almost feels guilty.

Almost.

He lets out a cough.

"You alright, sir?" The officer asks, brows furrowed.

"Yeah. Fine," his voice is strained.

You shoot him a look before the officer starts again.

"Well, I'll let ya'll get on your way," he pats the top of the car.

You both issue a heartfelt thanks before John pulls back out onto the road, a palpable sense of relief in your voices.

"Can't believe he just let you off," you groan, hand coming to intertwine his. 

"Thought you'd be happy?" He laughs. "Can get to the hotel in record time now."

You raise a knowing eyebrow. "For what?"

"Saw you squirmin' in that seat," he teases, his affectionate tone wrapping around you. "I need to take care of my girl," he adds, his voice filled with warmth and love. 

You release a shallow breath.

His girl.

You.

Just you.

That's what you loved about loving him. 

You didn't have to keep up with his expectations.

You could simply exist, and he would kiss the ground you walk on.

The thought lit up your brain.

John Price was your man.

And in his eyes, you'd always be his girl.

mini author's note: i'd have to be surgically removed from him...

[motorsportbarbie13]

Get Unready With Me - Drunk Edition

In which Lando takes care of you after a night out.

Pairing: Lando Norris x FeminineGirlfriend!Reader Warnings: Drunk reader. Tooth achingly sweet fluff tho. Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

“Lando! I’ve lost my keys!” You cry, opening the flap on your vintage Chanel bag in an attempt to dump the contents out on the floor of your flat’s empty hallway. 

“No you haven’t, you muppet.” He scolds, tugging the purse out of your hands before anything beyond your Charlotte Tilbury lipstick can clatter to the floor. “You gave me your keys after your fifth vodka cran. ‘Lan baby, be my hero and hold my keys so I don’t lose them!’” He mocks, pulling out your keyring from his pocket. 

Your eyes light up, a drunken giggle slipping off your lips as you lean your whole weight onto your boyfriend as he attempts to open the apartment door for you. “My hero!” 

“Besides,” He tuts, slipping the key into the keyhole. “We live together, my keys are your keys.” 

Lando swings the door open, ushering you inside before closing the door behind him with a soft snick of the lock. You look back at him, a bit more unsteady on your feet than you’d like. The pair of you are just getting back from dinner and dancing with a few of the other drivers and their significant others to celebrate the end of the season and you may have gone a bit overboard with the drinks portion of the night.

Flinging your stilettos off your feet, you groan at the relief of feeling the cool tile on your toes, only stumbling a bit when you try to stand up straight. It’s quite the miracle you made it up from the garage to your tenth floor apartment in those heels under your own power really. “I think my feet might just fall off.” 

Lando follows behind you as you stumble towards the couch. “Baby, shouldn’t we just go to bed? It’s late.” 

“My feet don’t work anymore. Carry me?” You pout, reaching for him with grabby hands. You are quite needy when you get this drunk but honestly, Lando doesn’t mind one bit. You’re quite independent, refusing to allow him to pay for much despite his multi-million dollar contract and endorsement deals. In fact, for the first year of your relationship you had refused to move in with him because there had been no way you could afford to split the rent in his posh apartment in Monaco. So when you get needy like this, which isn’t as often as he’d like, Lando likes to take full advantage of it. He likes to feel needed, especially by the woman he is absolutely smitten with. 

“I think your feet work just fine, but I will carry you to bed anyway, pretty girl.” He coos, scooping you up in his arms. 

You wiggle a little against him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck before breathing in his scent deeply. “You smell so good.” 

“I smell like sweat.” He laughs, walking down the hall towards your shared bedroom. 

“It must be the pheromones then. You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty.” You giggle. 

Lando chuckles, knocking the light switch with his elbow as he enters your room. The yellow glow from the lights overhead illuminate your face as you look up at him. In the alcohol induced haze, the thought of how lucky you are to have him flickers through your mind. You two had met a few years ago when you had been attended the British Grand Prix with your uncle Jenson Button. He had literally swept you off your feet when Fernando Alonso had nearly taken you out in the paddock with his scooter. You liked to joke that Lando had literally been your knight in shining armor that day, so of course you fell for him quick and hard. 

“Here you go, love.” Lando gently sets you down on the bed, your eyes already droopy with exhaustion from the day. “Lets get you out of that dress and into something comfy.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lando Norris?” You slur. 

“No, I’m trying to get you into bed because you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep and I don’t want to cuddle you all night with that scratchy dress on.” Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He helps you shimmy out of the tight dress, pulling it over your head so you were left in only the skimpy McLaren papaya colored lingerie set. 

“This is new.” He says, slipping a finger under the strap of the lacy bralette that has him biting his bottom lip. You looked so cute sitting there on the bed, dressed only in his team colors. 

“I wore it to surprise you but now I’m too drunk to fuck you.” 

Lando can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of him. Despite you being 3 sheets to the wind, you know his rules: No sex while one of you is drunk and the other is sober.  And Lando is very sober right now, wanting to maintain some control over you as you tend to get a little wild and adventurous (read: you like to wander off) when you’re partying. “We can have a rot in bed day tomorrow and you can wear it then, okay love?” 

Your bottom lip sticks out in a pout, “Fine.” 

“Now, lay down. I’ll go get you a t-shirt and we can go to sleep.” 

You follow his instructions and watch as Lando bustles around the room, first getting changed himself and then pulling a t-shirt out of his closet for you. 

A few moments later, Lando pulls his t-shirt onto your body and tucks you back into bed before going to get some aspirin and a glass of water for you, knowing you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow. He hates to see you in pain, but a part of him is pleased that you’ll be unable to do much tomorrow so he’ll be able to wait on you hand and foot. Being needed is absolutely one of Lando’s love languages. 

As he goes to switch off the lights, finally ready to get into bed beside you, suddenly you sit up. “Lando!” You gasp, smacking him on the shoulder as he sits down on his side of the bed. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” 

“My makeup! If I don’t take it off and wash my face, I’m going to break out and I will not be your pretty girl anymore.” 

Lando rolls his eyes, “Seriously? Can’t you just skip it this one time? You will always be my pretty girl, breakout or not.” 

In addition to being extra needy when you’re drunk, you are also extra stubborn. “I need to do my skincare, Lando.” You whine. 

“Fine.” Lando is quite certain there is no way you’d be able to do it by yourself, judging by the state you’re in though. “Let’s go, I’ll help you.” 

You blink up at him as he rounds the bed to stand before you, offering you his hand. “Really?” 

He looks down at those big eyes and pouty lips of yours and really wants to break the whole ’no sex while only one of us is drunk’ rule. “Yes, really you muppet. Come on.” 

Despite the fact that just a few minutes before you had been insisting your feet were about to fall off, you suddenly find the ability to walk and pad behind him into the large en suite bathroom. It’s a luxurious place, with a large jetted tub and huge shower with two shower heads. You find yourself sharing a shower with Lando more often than not. On the other side of the white and black tiled bathroom are his and hers sinks, yours more cluttered than his with various skin and hair products. You may be independent when it comes to asking for help, but you are certainly not low maintenance when it comes to your hair or skin.  

Lando stands in front of your sink, eyeing the various jars and tubes with a bit of skepticism. “I hope you’re sober enough to tell me what goes first because there is no way I can do this on my own.” He mumbles.

“You watch me do this all the time, baby.” 

“Doesn’t mean I know what any of this is. Now, hop up on the counter and let me take care of you.” He says, kissing the tip of your nose. 

A fire burns in your belly at his order. Secretly, you do love when he takes care of you like this. You just hate to admit it. Being raised by a single mom who was never the biggest fan of the male species, you had always been wary of asking for help but being with Lando had healed some of that trauma and mistrust in you and the longer you were with him, the easier you found depending on him. 

“What’s first?” 

“The micellar water.” 

Panic flashes across Lando’s face. “The what?” 

Giggling, you kick your feet like a toddler and point to the large bottle with clear liquid in it. “That. Put some on a cotton ball and…” 

“Wipe off your makeup. I know, I’ve seen you do it, I just don’t know what goes when.”

Lando squirts some out on a cotton ball like he’s seen you do a thousand times and begins to wipe off the makeup in long, slow strokes. The alcohol makes your brain fuzzy but the way his face is so focused on his task, brows knit together in concentration, has you squeezing your legs together. He can’t quite believe how many cotton balls it takes to get everything off, but eventually most of your makeup is gone. 

“Now is when you use the soap, right?” 

He looks so eager to be right your heart squeezes a bit. “Yes, that bottle right there.” 

Lando continues on with your skincare routine, listening to your every step and following it exactly as described. It takes a little longer than usual, but neither of you mind. The way he so gently rinses the soap off your face and then applies your moisturizer is strangely one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done together. 

Finally, everything is done and you’re bare faced and freshly moisturized. Lando hands you your toothbrush, already prepped with your toothpaste, and the pair of you brush your teeth together. He gently helps you down off the counter and you follow him back into the bedroom, hand in hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” You coo as you slip under the covers, watching as Lando switches off the bedroom lights, plunging the bedroom into darkness. 

“I love taking care of you.” He murmurs when he joins you under the heavy duvet, your warmth radiating towards him in waves. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” 

“I love you too, pretty girl.” 

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[atebyflowers]

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎if i wasn't so american ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎| ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎part one

[ ︎this is the intro to a series of truck driver ellie x serial killer femme fics . . . . Full credit to this tweet for the idea. photos are solely for aesthetic purposes not meant to mimic readers intended race or body. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ butch ellie x femme reader, misogyny mentions, murder obviously, assault/sa; not in depth, but mentioned. smut (r!recieving). long reader storyline. not native in english, semi edited, but ignore grammar/punctuation mistakes. title of the fic is from this song . word count : 6.2k ]

︎ March 1st, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You remember the first time you actually went through with a kill like it was yesterday. He was dirty, borderline revolting when you first met him. Ending up at a truck stop after a day of hitchhiking your way through town, you couldn't help but notice him. I mean, how could you not with how obnoxious he was. Standing outside his truck loudly cat calling nearly every girl he laid his eyes on, it was impossible for you to miss him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎You had a lingering hatred for the type of men that spoke to women as anything other than respectable, it burned a different type of hatred into your heart. You couldn't reason with them. Nothing in your mind allowed you to sympathize with such creatures. And now, as you walk into the truck stop for a drink, peeking through the clear windows as the occasional woman walks up and does everything in their power to avoid the pig practically loitering outside — your resolution is final. If the lord won't take these men out of this world to benefit women, it must mean he's waiting for you to take matters into your own hands. And boy were you anticipating the day you came across such an easy target like this one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "Hey misterrr" you dragged out as you leaned up against the truck beside his, drink in hand and a lightly packed bag hanging off your shoulder; containing nothing but a few outfits, a camera, a kitchen knife, spare change and a gun you swiped from your fathers closet back home. "well hey there sweet thing" he replied, looking you up and down, his eyes making sure to stare down just a bit longer than up — dirty pervert you thought. "so what brings you over here? called out to ya earlier but you walked right past me". he questioned, somewhat slurred as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. "oh nothin.. must've not heard you the first time. just wanted to see where you might be headed" you answered, putting on your best fake smile before takint a sip of your drink. "now why's that huh? y'lookin for a ride huh?" he responded letting out a puff of smoke. "maybeee .. or maybe i'm lookin to come visit you sometime". Your words were as convincing as they could be in this situation. It also helped that he was a desperate loser who'd believe anything if said by a sweet young woman. "oh really?" he chuckled. "really" you responded, widening your eyes and leaning up off the truck. "soo... why don't you write down your name and where ur heading so i'll remember who to ask for when i come knocking" you reached into your bag as you spoke, pulling out a nearly empty pen and an old notebook before handing it to him. Immediately he complied, thinking he got lucky he didn't hesitate to give you his location, even throwing in a time recommendation for you. Handing you back the notebook, you smiled at the words in rusty hand writing. Randy was his name. such a shame poor old randy had no clue what was coming his way you thought to yourself once again as you placed the notebook back in your bag, barely zipping it up before he attempted to pull you closer to him. "so tell me.. what youlookin to do then baby?" his words almost faded into a whisper as he leaned down to smell your hair, his body odor slapping you in the face before you pulled away subtly and started to walk backwards. "don't you worry about that now.. i like to suprise my dates" you replied before turning around fully to walk off — cringing at your own words as you made your way towards the sidewalk.

︎ ︎ As you made your way down the street — you came to a stop once the sidewalk started to fade into gravel. you threw your bag down at your feet and stretched out your arm. hitchhiking was nothing new to you, you had been on the road for months catching rides from strangers and debating with the voices in your head. You had a few other victims in mind before randy. Some you met at other stops, some that picked you up on the way. But there was always something in the way: too many people around, a wife and kids waiting for them at home, your conscious telling you it was wrong. for a while now, it took long sleepless nights of thinking, for you to actually develop the overwhelming urge to kill without remorse. There was nothing left for you back at home, and you had spent your entire life surrounded by males who did nothing but make being a woman seem like living hell. What good did men like Randy bring to the world? and what loss would it be without them? could taking your anger out on them really be that bad? you knew the answer to that. it was obvious. there was no space in this world for such things, and you were desperate to make sure no other woman would suffer at the hands of them. it wasn't an impulse, it was a buildup that took months of debating before you came to terms with what you needed to do.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ It didn't take long for someone to stop at the sign of your hand waving at on coming cars. a nice couple this time; perhaps in their 30s it seemed. luckily for you they were headed in the perfect direction, not asking too many questions about why you're headed so far up alone — the drive going by slowly in result. but you were grateful, it gave you more than enough time to draw out a plan in your head. After about an hour and a half they dropped you off at a diner not too far from where you were supposed to meet Randy — some rundown trailer park you could barely pin point on the map. Lord did he make it too easy. You didn’t go there right away. Instead, you sat in the booth of the diner for a while, until sundown to be exact. there was nothing on your mind besides carrying out what you had in mind. Randy would be the first hit to a long list of others.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ When the sun set and customers started to clear out, you began your trip to the promised meeting location. The walk to his trailer felt short. The directions were easy and there really weren't many people around. The park was quiet, it was hard to tell which trucks were abandoned and which had others living in them. Randy's trailer was the last one in the row, almost perfectly hidden behind all the others. You didnt take long to approach, the feeling of actually being close to someone you had planned to kill made your adrenaline rush in ways it hasn't before, there was nothing holding you back. Randy opened the door the second he heard your first knock, shirtless, he held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in one hand. "Well i’ll be damned. ya actually showed up huh” he slurred with a grin, stepping aside and waving you in. you smiled sweetly and walked inside without wasting time on verbal exchange. Immediately upon entry, you were hit with the smell of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol. Your eyes gazed around the room, spotting porn magazines on the table and a lonesome cat in the corner.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ “You drinkin’ anything?” he asked, walking toward the counter, not bothering to ask what you liked — just pouring some of his half drank bottle into a terribly washed cup for you when you agreed to having a drink. you didn't actually drink it of course, it barely touched your lips as you thanked him and pretended to take a sip. “Didn’t expect someone like you to actually show,” he broke the silence, settling onto the couch, “But I ain’t complainin’ you're a sweet one" he added, a nasty smirk on his face as he continued to drink directly from the bottle. You didn't sit nor did he offer you a seat, you just stood there, leaned against the wall, fiddling with the dirty undranken glass before responding. "well.. i always try to keep my promises" you said. "mm well i sure am glad. you not like them other bitches huh darlin'?" he replied slowly, fixing himself off the couch to come over to you. The word he uses sent a rush of anger through your veins. He touched you on your arm, then slid his hand down to rub your ass. though uncomfortable, you kept your composure and let him, not wanting to fuck this up. "Randy.." you spoke just above a whisper — he didn't pull away, only responding with a grunt. "Randy.. i have a question" you continued, this time he only pulled back a little, keeping a firm grip on your waist. "hm? what is it.... ah u wanna get more comfortable that's it honey?" he questioned with the same smirk on his face as earlier. you chuckled in response, turning to reach into your bag slowly as you responded. "no... not necessarily i- just wanted to give you something i got on the road". you unzipped the bag, "oh yes? well lemme see my gift then sweetheart" he replied — and you pulled it out. a small hand gun, loaded of course, immediately causing him to step back and put his hands up. His face twisted into something between shock and amusement. “woah there now, what's this about" he asked, and for the first time since meeting him your words wouldn't come out — there was nothing in your mind besides the sound of your own heart rushing. it was beating throughout your ears, you couldn't respond, you just stood there for a moment, gun in hand and pointed directly at him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "I dunno what you think you're doin but liste-" you raised the gun towards his left side, and Randy's words were cut off with a single shot. You didn’t give him time to beg or even understand the gravity of your actions, your desire to kill was entirely too high for you to let him try and talk you out of it, or attempt to gain some sympathy out of you. You stood over him after it was done, he hit the floor harder than ever and you watched as he bled out — the cat that had been seated in the corner, scrambled to his side meowing. that was probably the only part you felt bad about, the poor and neglected cat. Once you made sure he was fully gone, kicking at his side to try and wake him, kneeling down to check his pulse — you didn't bother to clean up. It was useless when his body would most likely be there for days you thought. reaching over your shoulder and placing the gun back in your bag, you reached in at the same time and pulled out your camera — snapping a quick picture of the lifeless man before standing up. before leaving randy's trailer: you swiped his pockets and quickly rummaged through his belongings to find any leftover cash or cigarettes. once you gathered what could fit into your bag, you were headed out — but just as you were about to close the door behind you, you turned around, walking back towards Randy's body and picking up the cat that had now laid down next to him. you were a murderer yes, but the thrill of just having killed someone didn't erase your morals, you couldn't let that cat starve to death alone in there just cause you hated its owner. It was an innocent thing. and so once in hand, you left Randy there alone, the trailer park still as quiet and empty as it had been when you came — nobody around to have possibly seen you, and nobody home in their trailers who seemed to care about the loud bang that rang out earlier. lord, was it ever so easy. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Randy was obviously the first. You were inexperienced and had never killed before him. But once it was done, you felt nothing but satisfaction with yourself. You physically couldn't feel bad for what you had done no matter how hard you tried. After that night, you had settled down at a hotel just a town over from where you committed the act. The only thing that halted your travels for about four weeks was the brief worry that if you act again too soon you may get caught. But there was no remorse about the actual actions at hand, and that's why immediately after a month was up, and your worrying feeling went away, you were ecstatic to get back to work. You couldn't say Randy was the last; of course he wasn't. If anything, Randy opened the door to many other men like him falling victim to your sweet manipulation. you learned from him, he showed you just how easy it is to talk to the ones like him, and how much easier it was to get valuable information out of them by offering.. Well, nothing specifically. you never actually offered sex or anything to these men. But just the hopes of a girl showing up and giving them something was more than enough for them to compromise their safety unknowingly — and you thanked the gods above for making it this simple. Over the course of five months, you had killed ten other men like Randy over the course of five months — the entitled ones who thought women owed them something, the dirty ones who spoke boldly to women with no interest in them, and especially the ones with no one waiting at home for them. It wasn't as hard to cover up your true intentions when speaking to others, nor was it ever hard to find a ride towards your next victim. People were too trusting of sweet looking young girls like yourself, but you were ever so grateful for it. only ever made your job easier.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

September 12th, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You've been sitting on the curb outside a laundromat stop in Arizona for about an hour and 30 now. it's 7:30pm on a Sunday, you're waiting for your clothes to dry after washing them. It's been 2 months since your last kill, and seven months since randy. It was fall now and the weather was getting colder, which only meant even less people roaming the streets. Even less chances of possible witnesses. Despite that, your overwhelming urge to kill quickly had worn off. with only one slip up over the last few months — an accidental run in with a local cop after a kill, who, lucky for you, 100% believed your excuse of it being “that time of the month” when he asked about the small dried blood stain on your clothing. You didn't really find it necessary to kill so fast. With no one on your ass, you could take your time and enjoy experiencing each state while killing a disturbing man you came across occasionally here and there.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Your mind started to drift off before you heard boots scrapping across the bumpy pavement, swiftly catching your attention. That was the first time you saw her. She caught your attention from the get go, her auburn hair caught by the golden evening sunlight — she wore brown jeans and an old looking cardigan with a white shirt underneath. You stared at her as she stood outside the door holding a bar of clothes, digging in her jean pocket for some cash before stepping inside, you, slowly following behind. There weren't many women you came across during your killing spree. None that weren't being harassed by your next victim at least. and definitely none that looked like her. You tried to be subtle about the fact you were watching her, taking your clothes out of the dryer and placing them back into the washer as she did with hers. You didn't notice that she noticed, but neither of you said a word to each other. You were the only ones in the laundromat besides the older lady behind the counter closely focused on the tv hanging along the wall next to her. It was quiet, and beyond awkward as you both sat on opposite sides of the room waiting for the washers to go off, then switching to a dryer. You didn't tend to put a hit out on someone you were seeking a ride from, you always let fate put someone in your hands and trusted that they'd get you to where you needed without harm (the fact you had a gun and a knife, and weren't afraid to use either also helped). But there was something different about the way she carried herself that made you desperate to ask her, or at least find out where she was going. Maybe it was the fact you were touch strived, or maybe it was the fact you had been surrounded by men for months on end and wanted to have a conversation with a woman who wasn't in need of your help. Whatever it was, you always knew to follow through with your gut.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Her clothes dried faster than yours. you watched again as she unloaded the dryer and put her clothes back into the bag she had brought them in, before walking out. Once she was out of the door, you rushed to be sure you don't miss her — unloading your own, still damp clothing. You waited until she was fully in her truck, keeping a slight distance as she pulled out of the parking lot. Following a few feet behind, the cool air hit your face as you stood at the end of the lot, watching her truck in the distance stop, not too far from where you stood, before it pulled into a local diner. You wasted no time making your way down the street towards the same building, determined to catch and speak to her this time.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside, a whiff of black coffee hitting your nose immediately upon entry. you noticed her the second you sat down — she was sitting alone, at a table not too far from where you were, a coffee already in her hand. there was a chance she noticed when you walked in, maybe her eyes turned to the door the second she heard the bell like everyone else did. or maybe she didn't care, either way, she didn't look up from the newspaper she had laid on her table. you didn't bother to order anything, unsure of how long she'd be there, you couldn't take the risk of being too indulged in your food and miss her. About 30 minutes passed before she stood up and tucked in her chair. She left a tip on the table and just as she was about to get away, you acted fast. "hey” you called out to her, a bit louder than you meant to which made you cringe, but it did the job — grabbing her attention. she paused with her hand on the truck door, her foot about to climb up before she stepped back down and turned slightly towards you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you just — um… are you heading out of town? i could use a ride if you got room" you asked looking over towards her open truck door, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. She stared back at you for a minute before she spoke, her emotion was hard to read which irritated something in you — after months of reading men like a book, she was the first person whose words you couldn't make out in your head before they were actually spoken. “What makes you think I’m going far?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed to yourself before answering; “ah i dunno... just figured i'd ask instead of wasting time tryna flag someone down". She looked you over again as you spoke, but it wasn't the way a man would, it was almost like an evaluation. "ya got anyone waiting on you?" she questioned, a question that confused you but you answered anyways — "no one" you said shaking your head. your response seemed to satisfy her as she nodded her head towards the passenger side. "c'mon then". it wasn't thorough, but it was enough to get you going. you wasted no time following her words, hopping inside after her and closing the door behind you. The inside of the truck smelled like pine and something metallic, old blood maybe, or just rust. The seemingly old seats squeaked under your weight as you adjusted yourself and fastened your seatbelt — taking your bag off and placing it on your lap.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You were both quiet when she pulled out of the diner, and you remained quiet for lord knows how long into the drive. If you were being honest with yourself, what could you possibly say? this was the first time youd been in contact with a girl ... like her, in nearly forever. it was also the first time you ever felt something besides the thrill you got from killing. you weren't sure what the feeling was, but it was something different. she was the first to break the silence, looking at you fidgeting with your bag before she sighed and imitated a conversation. "so, what's your name?" You looked over at her, her eyes completely focused on the road now. you graced over her, noticing the way her slightly veiny hands gripped the steering wheel. "do i have to tell you" you responded, and she shrugged, "You don’t, but i did let you into my truck without running a background check. would at least be nice to know what to call ya" she responded and you hesitated. she did have a point you thought — and therefore you complied — speaking your name just above a whisper, slightly hoping she wouldn't catch it, but of course, she did. "alright then y/n. i'm Ellie.” She reached over and turned the volume up on the radio just a little after speaking, an old country song you couldn't recognize the name of hitting your ears. "Nice to meet you Ellie.. and thanks ... you know for the ride and all" you replied and she hummed in response. "how far y'lookin 'to go?" Ellie asked, her fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the along just slightly, though enough for you to notice. "not sure really. guess as far as you're willing to put up with me for". you really didn't know where you were going without a target out on the next victim. It was a weird feeling to be chasing practically nothing for once, and without fully understanding why you decided to chase it. But it was too late to back out, and there was nothing in your mind telling you to do so. How it would go from here was unknown, for once, things weren't completely in your control, there was no secret mind game to play — just fate and whatever slip of hope you had left from home.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You drove mostly in silence for about another hour or two after that. The same few songs played over and over again on the radio, Ellie changing the station every once in a while, though there wasn't much change in the music itself. You stared out the window for the majority of the silence. There wasn't much on your mind to debrief about — the situation at hand didn't have much gravity to it and overall you've already gone over every possible thought about the last seven months of your life. so, you waited until Ellie eventually spoke again once she got to a red light. "Do you always hitchhike with strangers?" she asked, her voice lower than it had been before. you glared at her — trying to read whether it was a joke or an actual question, quickly giving up when you realized you still couldn't read past her. "Guess so" you answered somewhat emotionless, not wanting to give up too much detail, and she hummed again. You drove for another hour or so, before Ellie pulled into a small roadside motel, the neon sign flickering like it was struggling to stay alive. There were two other cars in the parking lot but nothing else that really caught your eye. “Alright" she spoke, pausing to shut off the radio and turn the car off before speaking again. "can either come in with me or catch another ride, m'not driving throughout the night" she said. You nodded at her and she turned to get out of the truck, you — taking an extra moment before getting out. It was already nearing 1am, so you couldn't blame Ellie for stopping. but the idea of staying alone with a stranger overnight, somehow didn't bother you as much as it should've. more so, having no prey at this moment didn't bother you either. Rather, the idea that she could possibly be the dangerous one didn't cross your mind, you only felt relief. relief that you have some sense of normalcy for a moment — as normal as being a runaway turned serial killer could possibly be. Staying at different places for months alone had its ups and downs, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss having some sort of contact with another human being — one that wasn't on your hit list at least. and therefore, you followed behind her.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The room she paid for was surprisingly clean despite the outside look of the motel itself. the curtains were stained a bit yellow and there was dust amongst the tables, but besides that nothing seemed particularly bad. The only major flaw that caught your eye — being the singular bed. the lady working at the front desk, insisting they didn't carry doubles. Ellie tossed her bag onto the chair and unzipped it slowly, pulled out a pack of gum and offered you a piece. You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed. Your demeanour was more awkward than usual, it was slightly funny to you — the way you caught yourself being filled with such a confusing feeling after spending so long having others that way. Ellie leaned against the lone tv stand across from the bed, studying you for a moment before speech. “you ever gonna tell me why you were following me back there?” she asked. So she did notice you thought to yourself. Your natural reaction was to shrug. “I just had a feeling about you I suppose... i dunno". “feeling,” she repeated with an almost mocking scoff, “ya always go with your feelings hm?" she asked on, this time you were willing to give in slightly with more detail. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the fact you finally got a good look at her now that she was standing directly in front of you — whatever it was, made you feel a sort of desperation to be heard that you never felt before. She was still a stranger, you reminded yourself in your head. But there was something drawing you towards her that was almost magnetic. "most the time, they tend to be right" you replied. “can't say they've ever led me to... this though" you add. “this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone only got lower as the night went on it seemed. “this" you said again standing up, without really meaning to. it was unusual, like your body had a mind of its own and moved with the pace of your words. there was a rushing feeling in your blood, but for once, it wasn't the type of rush you got from murdering. This one was unfamiliar — but not the slightest bit less thrilling. You were close to her now — you didn't mean to move like that, but she didn’t back away at your movement, and you didn't think to stop yourself. For a moment, you were both still, so still it almost hurt. Then slowly, her hand came up and hovered near your jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to make you flinch at first — Ellie only letting out a soft chuckle at the sight. “you're real strange y'know" she muttered low. You tilted your head slightly which caused her lingering fingers to brush against your skin. with a small smirk you responded "yeah?", ellie nodding. "well so are you" you added, lookin down at the short distance between yours and her feet. You hadn't realized just how close the two of you got, until her hand was on your face. She reached down towards your chin, tilting your head up for your eyes to meet hers, her hand now sliding toward your jaw again. It caught you off guard, but you didn't pull back or ask her to stop as she pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn't soft or slow. It was sudden and rough, like both of you were touch strived and waiting for this exact moment to slap you in the face. her mouth tasted like gum and old coffee, but you were so in tune with her — it didn't matter, all you could do was kiss her back. So desperate, it was like you’d die if you didn’t. When you broke apart, she stared at you for a short moment, as if she was actually looking for a sign of discomfort from you. one, that of course couldn't be found — as you were more than comfortable enough now, to pull her back in for another one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ellie's hand dragged down your thigh, the two of you slowly moving towards the bed — your mouths still attached with every movement. she pushed you down onto the shockingly soft mattress, her lips moving from yours and making their way to your jaw, then your neck. you let out a shaky breath in response to her take over, which caused her to lift up from your skin. she leaned down to place another softer kiss on your lips this time, before cupping your face and speaking — her touch, more gentle than you could've ever expected. it was like her skin melted perfectly into yours, spiking a feeling you longed for. "tell me if you want to stop" she spoke above a whisper, words you wouldnt have guessed, though they only made you ache for her even more. "please.... keep going" you spoke through heavy breathes, Ellie smiling just a bit at how worked up you had already become. her lips attached back to your skin, making their way across your body as her hands were rubbing up and down your thigh for a moment — before she began to toy with the fabric underneath your skirt. She didn't question you this time, your body naturally grinding up against her hand being enough of an invite as she pushed aside the fabric. "fuck" you gasped as her fingers came in contact with your cunt. she teased you for a minute, brushing a finger up and down your slit as you desperately chased some form of friction — ellie letting out a scoff in response to the image. "ya really need this huh?" she spoke, your eyes locking onto hers while she practically taunted you. "mm y-yes-" you were cut off by your own moans as she pushed apart your folds, rubbing circles on your drenched clit. "god... already so wet f'me honey" she spoke, ans you let out another whine in response. "s'all okay.. i'll take good care of you” Ellie informed, her fingers now making their way to your entrance as she lowered herself down towards your legs. her movement was gentle, enough for you to fully take in every finger she carefully pushed into you. she started off slow, pulling in and out of you and paying close attention to your expression — how pathetic you looked trying to stay quiet while she fingered you. It was hard at first, but even harder once she started eating you out. her tongue, like a magnet to your clit. she sucked on you like it was her first and last meal — like she had to savour every moment of it. "e-ellie .. god it's too much please" you whined, unsure of what you were begging for — all Ellie could focus on was how good you tasted, how good you sounded for her, completely under her strength. "you taste amazing" she mumbled, her fingers speeding up their pace as her mouth stayed attached to your cunt. "prettiest pussy I've ever had" she added, and you let out a louder moan in response, quickly shutting yourself up when you caught it. but she wasn't having it, "don't ... don do that ... wanna hear you" she ordered, and you obeyed.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ you moans rang throughout the walls as ellie took her time with you. eating you out with her fingers buried inside of you — it was an overwhelming sensation you never wanted to end. "el.." you couldn't make out her full name through your moans, you were more than close — on edge, but she didn't stop. "i know .. c'mon baby i wanna taste you.. let go f'me" she assured you, not that you could really hold back with the way she was fucking you. "mm it's soso good please don't stop ... i'm gonna-" you let out a mix of moans and soft whines in response to her words. and as your orgasm came over you — you caught yourself inside of your head once again. thoughts were finally becoming coherent. but they were nothing close to negative, nothing close to what you had ever thought before. you were having sex with a complete stranger. you were giving into sex with a complete stranger, and it didn't feel bad. she didn't feel bad. there was no sense of guilt or worry. you we're completely indulged in her, just as she was you.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You dozed off not too long after she was done with you. Ellie, who was ever so gentle with you once you came down from your high, treating you like a vase that could crack any moment — cleaned you up with care, offering to run you a bath and repeatedly apologizing for bruises that started to form on your inner thighs. Your body was sore in a way you hadn’t felt in years. but it wasn't from running this time, it wasn't from fighting or violence — only from the touch of another. the touch you allowed to be there. It was almost unsettling how good it felt. The motel room was quiet when you turned over again. The sheets were barely draped across your hip as you drifted in and out of sleep — your eyes struggling to open fully, though coming apart just enough for you to notice the space in bed beside you, empty with ellie's indent left in it. Your breath hitched, but you didn't move. your eyes and ears came into focus slowly, but once they did — you heard it. the soft shuffle of movement at the foot of the bed. A faint rustle. You turned your head only a bit, not enough to make a noise — and that's when you saw her crouched low, her back to you. Ellie’s hands were deep in the front pocket of your bag, the sight of it making you feel as if your heart had slammed against your ribs. you were frozen solid as you watched her quickly move throughout your belongings — your breath getting stuck in your throat when she slowed down. That's when you watched her closely. ellie stood up — the edge of a photograph clutched between her fingers before she placed it on the table and leaned back down, pulling out another. then another. then another. "fuck" you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes before she could notice you awake.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

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this is my first fic since january ... i promise it will get better with part two. tag list ; @dykeadvocate @abigaillovestoread @mabermaple @imdrowningindispair @dyk3ang3l @ellieshothousewife @lotudolly @euph0riafilms

[4pfsukuna]

She want a big dawg

Inspo: that trend on tiktok and yall know the one. Somebody made a edit to him to this and i seen the vision. Plus the girlies been saying they tired of smutt so

warning: its purely fluff; 865 word

Being ex military Terry always felt like he was on guard— being a light sleeper, always scoping the scenery out, early morning 6 mile bike rides but there was just something about you that put him at ease.

You were so soft, gentle, always finding the humor in something even if you did have a bit of a dark sense of humor. The scent of coconut always lingered on your smooth skin and your lips stayed pink and glossy no matter how much you licked them. 

The way you thought you could command him to do something even being nearly half his size when all he had to do was give you complete eye contact and you would fold like a lawn chair. All you had to do was bat those pretty brown eyes up at him and that man would build you a house anything to keep that smile on your face.

And in the evenings he loves sitting on the porch with you more specifically he’ll come find you wherever you are in the house, wrap his large arms around you and carry you listening to you rant about your day, or whatever book you were reading or whatever you see on social media.

“She dont want no puppy she want a big dog” you sing for the fourth time since he picked you up holding you with just one arm as if you weighed nothing and he just chuckles at you when you place a bunch of kisses on his face.

“You better chill before you start something mama” he leaves a peck on your lips watching the way you look at him with so much love and admiration like he hung the sun moon and stars in the sky just for you.

Ignoring him you squeeze him tighter in a hug loving the way he kisses the top of your head pulling you closer inhaling his scent feeling the humidity kiss your skin the minute he walks to the porch swing. down south was always warm but nothing could beat the warmth of your embrace.

“Babe, you know how much I love you?” You smile up at him tightening your legs around his waist and he holds your face in both of his large palms pecking your forehead, then nose and finally lips.

“What silly little tic tac trend you trying to trick me into now?” He asks, reading you like an open book watching the way your jaw drops. He knew when you were sweet talking him and what for too— you had been singing that song that one specific part for the past two days. 

“Its tik tok! And what you think you know me or something?” You playfully scrunch your face up pushing your long dark curls that fell from your bun out your face. He chuckles, angling his head down to you watching you squirm instantly. No matter how long yall was together it was certain things he did that still gave you butterflies and made you nervous.

“Baby girl don't insult me, of course i know you” and he pulls you back to him tightly closing his eyes enjoying the sound of nature as day turns into evening. “And i know if you keep pulling away from me imma have to really pin you down”

Terrys love language actually was physical touch, loved having you in his arms, carrying you, waking up in the morning to you still cuddled up to him or when he’s making breakfast and your little arms wrap around his waist grumbling about him leaving you and the bed being cold without him. Or when it’s your turn to cook dinner and he steals kisses knowing you don’t like to be bothered when you cook, always successfully fishing when you swat at him for trying to steal food from the pot. So who were you to deny this time as if your love language isn't spending time together.

You finally settle in his arms, head on his chest yet halfway on his upper arm and he sinks further into the swing slowly rocking it back and forth, left arm running up and down your back unaware of your antics until something catches his ear.

“She dont want no puppy” the music plays and you try to sit up as if he made empty threats tightening his biceps around your shoulders, he definitely was not against pinning you down. “She want a big dawg”

Opening his eyes he looks down at you watching how contempt you look with him squeezing tightly around you not even bothered in the slightest only looking up when you see him looking at you through the camera.

“Ok ok im done go ahead put your old man music on” you giggle happily. you got your video and his muscles were wrapped tightly around you, even placing a kiss on his bare chest before laying back down. Ignoring your slick comment he puts on redbone by childish gambino and like clockwork your hands start running over his back and arms slowly and softly turning him into putty, unraveling his muscles slowly putting him at ease like you always do. 

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[keferon]

Oh what if Jazz & Prowl run into Shockwave & his army of armed children

Mer raised by humans meets humans about to be raised by a mer

Oooh what if the kids recognise Jazz from some viral video of when Jazz was a kid, what if they happen to have it saved to their phone & show it to them & Prowl losses it because that's a video of baby Jazz clearly in distress asking what's going on that then smash cuts to a video of a teenager Jazz preforming some tricks

………….help. HELP. THE POTENTIAL THIS IDEA HAS

LISTEN

Shockwave not only learns human language but also teaches his kids to speak Mers right???

What if. LISTEN. What if by the time they meet Jazz and Prowl they can somewhat understand basic words and simple sentences? And like??

Skids looks at Jazz and immediately goes like WAIT I KNOW YOU! YOU’RE THAT ORCA MER FROM THE COMMERCIAL!

And all the kids are so excited because Jazz is kinda sorta popular and there’s A LOT of cool and cute videos of him on the internet. People do adorable edits with him, photoshop hearts and flowers on his head, add funky music and talk about him being just so uwu~ Happy cutesy little guy🩷🌸💕

Except when they open the video to show it to Prowl and Shockwave it’s not the same as it was before. Because now they can actually understand what he’s saying.

…..I. Haha. I just want that moment of realisation for them. Like. They hit the play button and it’s literally the video of a child who keeps calling his family and asking for help because he’s lost and doesn’t understand what’s going on but he wants his mom back. And all the people around him are like “look at this little cutie:3 Teeny tiny orca baby:3 No thoughts head empty 🥺Squeaking like a toy UwU”

I think Prowl would be constantly one inch away from committing murder. He would SO hate all the humans. He would fucking despise them.

On a separate note. Imagine Shockwave being somewhat calm about sea monsters and mutants and stuff but immediately tensing up when someone says there’s “black-n-white fish people” in the water. Because orca mers despite everything are still apex predators~

[allisluv]

imagine finnick and reader having to comfort each other after the capitol made people watch them have sex😢 it would be so hard for them to feel comfortable enough to do it privately

disconnected.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: please note that while this work is not explicit it is very heavy! finn and reader are sold into prostitution together. while everything is consensual in terms of sex, they do not consent to being watched. this is pure angst hurt/comfort. crying, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts, not edited. if there's anything else you think should be added, please let me know!

word count: 0.7k

The silence is deafening, like static in your ears, as the room slowly but surely begins to empty of people.

Finnick hovers on top of you, shielding your naked body from view. Every so often, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, a silent reminder that he’s sorry and that he’s there.

The door thuds closed behind the last Capitol man.

Finnick wraps a loose sheet around his bottom half and pads across the room, quickly sliding the lock into place, preventing any unwanted visitors from returning. His body feels like it’s made of lead as he rests his forehead against the wooden panel of the door and swallows around the rough lump in his throat.

You roll onto your side numbly and watch him from where you’re situated on the bed. Your hair is knotted and your body is slick with sweat. Everything feels like you’ve been thrown off-kilter and that feeling only worsens when you see Finnick’s thin frame rack with muffled sobs.

“Finnick.” Your voice cracks. He doesn’t move. You call out for him again, this time more firmly, but still gently. “Finn. Come here.”

Finnick hesitates, and you know his mind is bombarded with thousands upon thousands of badly intrusive thoughts. Eventually, he listens to you, and he brings himself back to the bed, the sheet still draped around him and tear stains on the apples of his cheeks.

He hovers by the edge of the bed, and you can see the signs of him clearly coming down from the dissosciative high that he so often falls into to protect himself when the two of you are forced into this scenario.

“Sit down with me?” You ask.

He nods once, but it’s disconnected, and you can tell he’s not fully back with you yet.

You’re not either, really.

Finnick’s movements are heavy and uncoordinated as he lies down next to you, flat on his back, as stiff as a board. You roll onto your side to face him but neither of you say anything. The only sound is the two of you breathing unevenly.

“Baby—”

“Don’t,” Finnick cuts you off, voice emotionless and full of dread. “Just don’t. Don’t call me that. Don’t give me your sympathy and act like everythings fine when it’s fucking not. Don’t…” He cuts himself off with a sob that makes your heart twist in your chest.

“You’re right,” You whisper, carefully moving your hand to tread your fingers through his hair in a way that you know keeps him tied to reality. “Its not fine. But its not your fault, either. You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“That’s easier said than done.” His voice is harsh, but you refuse to take it personally; you’ve had your own fair share of lashing out after this experience, and Finnick had been nothing but soft and gentle and caring.

It’s about time you return the favour.

His eyes flutter shut as you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t blame you.” You whisper, knowing that he needs to hear the words from your mouth.

“You should.”

“I would never.”

“Why?” Finnick’s voice is quiet. “I’m just as bad as they are. I’m—”

“No.” Your voice is firm, broking no room for argument. “You are nothing like them, baby. Do you hear me? Nothing like them. It is not your fault what Snow makes us do.”

Tears trickle down his cheeks, and you want to kiss them away, to make it all better, but you don’t know how.

“Can I hold you?” You ask gently. You can see the gears in his heads working overtime. You know he feels like he does not deserve it, that he is tainted and bad and cruel, but that couldnt be further from the truth.

He’s Finn.

He’s your Finn.

He’s your bright, funny, kind-hearted, lovable Finnick and all you want to do is soothe him.

Eventually, his need for comfort outweighs his need to punish himself, and he nods.

You waste no time in bundling him up into your arms, and it’s like the floodgates open.

He sobs and sobs and sobs until there are no more tears left in his body.

You hold him and hold him and hold him until he falls asleep.

[wwooyology]

Scream For Me | Y.JW

「paring」 : ghostface!bf!jungwon x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.4k

「synopsis」 : word of a masked serial killer spreads like wildfire in your small town, but it never fully sets in until you come face-to-face with the very killer who just so happens to be your sweet boyfriend and he has an ulterior motive.

「genre」 : pure smut with some plot, horror/thriller, angst, serial killer au

「warning」 : jungwon is a killer, blood, dom!jungwon x sub!reader, knife play, cursing, fingering, petnames (baby, princess, my love, slut), won is MEAN, messy, oral (f. receiving), jungwon is kinda manipulative in the beginning, degradation, dacryphilia, choking, minor hair pulling, making out, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), thigh riding, teasing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, begging, marking, breeding kink, creampie, passing out, slight manhandling, I feel like I def missed a few things, pls lmk!

「note」 : so I kinda went a little crazy with this one... this has been a serious brainrot so I hope you enjoy it! also, it's only been lightly edited!

The room suddenly felt ten times colder than it did just moments before, your heart was racing and you could hear it through your ears. Your phone was tightly clutched in your hand as your eyes scanned all of the windows in your house, his words still ringing in your head.

“It’s such a shame, a pretty thing like you left your doors unlocked…”

Word of a serial killer in your small town had gotten to you, but you never really thought much of it because, of course, you were always with your boyfriend. However, the one night that he had family matters to attend to was the very night this killer decided to make his move.

Tears had already pooled in your eyes, terror filling your veins. The person had used a voice changer so it wasn’t like you could try to figure out who it was by their voice. You stood in your kitchen racking your brain for possibilities on who this masked killer could be, all while your front door creaked open quietly.

The sound of your floorboards creaking caught your attention, head turned in the direction of the noise. Without a second thought, you started slowly walking down the hall. It was almost like the fear had made you lose all your common sense, doing things you swore you’d never do while watching horror movies. 

“Hello?” Your meek voice called out, bouncing off of the empty halls, gaining no response besides a small echo of your own voice. 

A scream tore through your throat as a vase next to you fell and shattered, glass fragments scattering all around your bare feet. Looking down with wide, teary eyes, you try to tiptoe around the broken shards without cutting yourself. 

‘What did I do to deserve this…?’

The tears finally spilled from your eyes as you made it to the end of the hall, seeing your front door wide open. This was actually going to be the end, wasn’t it? You’d never get to finish school like you planned, you’d never get to hang out with your friends anymore, see your parents at dinner, or volunteer at the animal shelter with Jungwon. Jungwon. Oh, how you wish you could talk to your sweet boyfriend one last time, tell him that everything would be okay and that you love him.

You were torn from your thoughts as a loud crash was heard from upstairs causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. Cries fell from your lips as you looked between the open door and the stairs, debating on whether you should just run for it.

‘Why the fuck am I even asking that?’ 

You turn, making your way to the front door, however, before you could step through the threshold you heard a voice.

“Y/n? Baby?” 

Your heart dropped at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, why is he here? Turning away from the door, hands trembling as you reached for the railing of the stairs. “Won?” Your voice cracked as you tried peeking up the stairs, but saw nothing.

“Baby, help me please.” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears and it broke you, tears streaming down your face, sobs falling from your lips. 

Whether it was the fear or the need to save your boyfriend you turn and go back down the hallway, stepping over the glass once more. As if luck wasn’t on your side at all, you ended up stepping on a stray piece of glass causing a sharp pain to shoot up your leg. A loud cry left your lips as you leaned against a wall, the phone falling from your hand.

Tears continued to stream down your flushed face as you grabbed your foot to look at the damage done. Biting your lip you grab the shard before pulling it from your foot, a trail of crimson blood following after it.

Another crash from upstairs reminded you of the situation once more and you scrambled to the kitchen, straight to the knife stand. Grabbing one of the bigger knives, your hands trembling as you made your way back to the stairs, walking through the living room so as to not step on any more glass. 

You call out for your boyfriend once more as you take the steps slowly, leaving a trail of red behind you. However, you were met with silence.

Terror struck you as you got to the top of the step, there were boot prints on the ground that you hadn’t noticed before, leading straight to your bedroom. Holding the knife defensively in front of you, hands trembling, you move to the ajar door, pushing it open.

Your eyes went wide as the door swung open, there was your boyfriend, on his knees in the middle of your room.

“Jungwon!” You quickly made your way towards him, throwing all caution to the wind to make sure he was okay. The knife fell from your hands as you dropped to your knees in front of him, the sound of soft cries falling from his lips. “Hold on, I'll get you out of here.” Panic and worry surge through you, going to untie his hands from behind him, only to realize. He wasn’t tied up.

“Oh y/n, y/n, y/n.” The cries turned into laughter as he lifted his head meeting your eyes. Jungwon watched in amusement as the worry on your face morphed into terror. You try to reach for the knife that you discarded, but you aren’t quick enough. Jungwon snatched the object off of the ground, “Ahahah now my love, don’t act too rash now.” he chuckled as he towered over your trembling form.

The sight of the tears falling from your beautiful doe eyes as you looked up at him caused his cock to twitch behind his pants. 

Your eyes trailed from his blood-speckled face down the length of his body before falling on the mask in his left hand. The same Ghostface mask that the police have reported the killer to always be wearing. Looking back up you met Jungwon’s eyes as realization set in. The man before you, your boyfriend, the same man who would never hurt a bug, was a cold-blooded killer.

Jungwon smirked as he crouched down in front of you, moonlight gleaming off of the knife in his hand. You watched him in fear, fear of what he was going to do with you. Was he going to kill you? Or was all of this some sick joke his friend put him up to, but with the curfew in town set you knew that'd be hard to pull off.

“Why are you so surprised, my love? I thought you were smarter than this.” His voice was cold, nothing like the warm and sweet one you were used to. Then his words registered in your brain, what did he mean? Taking in your confused expression he brought his hand with the mask, taping a gloved finger to his temple, “Use that pretty head of yours.”

As you thought more and more about how the killings always lined up when he wasn’t with you, the more you started to realize that it had been right under your nose. 

Jungwon watched with a sadistic smile as he noticed your shaking die down, as well as your breathing evened out. Even in this insane situation, your body was subconsciously relaxing in his presence. 

“It was really you?” Your voice shook as you looked back up at him, tears silently flowing down your face.

Jungwon just hummed with a nod, “Yep.” he popped the ‘p’ as he brought the knife closer to his face, inspecting it. “It’s therapeutic honestly, you should try it sometime, I know how stressed you get.”

You swallowed thickly as you watched the light bounce off of the sharp metal, your fear was slowly melting away. Noticing your lingering gaze, Jungwon pointed the knife towards you, the sharp point barely a centimeter away from your nose. Your breath hitched, eyes wide as you looked from the weapon to your boyfriend's dark eyes.

“Don’t be getting any funny ideas now, princess.” His tone is dark, making your stomach flip. 

“I wasn’t…” Letting out a shaky breath you reach forward cautiously still believing that he would never hurt you, grabbing his wrist and pulling the object away from your face. “I wasn’t going to, Won, I swear.”

He chuckled darkly before dropping his mask to encase your throat in his palm, squeezing hard enough to limit your oxygen. Pushing your body down roughly until your back was flat on the cold ground, his body caging yours underneath him. He traced the knife down the side of your face, a crazed look in his eyes causing a whimper to leave your lips, rubbing your thighs together.

Your head started to spin as so many emotions started to spiral, but fear and lust were the ones to overthrow the others. Why was this turning you on? You were supposed to be fighting to get his hand off your throat, but you only hoped he’d squeeze more. The knife that was so close to cutting your skin only excited you more. Then his face, god his face covered in blood was a sight you didn’t know you needed.

Noticing how you started to squirm underneath him, Jungwon smirked, squeezing your throat more. A broken moan tore through your lips as your eyes screwed shut, heat pooling in your lower gut.

“Are you enjoying this?” He leaned closer to your face, warm breath brushing across your lips. Your eyes fluttered open to show him the need and lust that swirled in them causing him to smile, his teeth peeking out from between his lips. “Such a dirty slut,”

He pulled away slightly to trailed the blade over your collarbone, before moving to hook the knife under your shirt. You whined as the sounds of your top ripping filled the room.

“And you’re not wearing a bra, such a naughty girl.” He teased as he placed the blade back on your bare skin, tracing the tip down the valley of your breast leaving goosebumps in its wake. A shaky sigh fell from your lips as you looked at your boyfriend, whose gaze was already on you, studying your reactions.

When he brought the blade to the sensitive skin of your nipple, you cried out, head falling back. Jungwon could feel himself growing even harder in his jeans, never knowing his sweet little girlfriend would enjoy something so dirty. Then he got ideas of how he could torture you until you were begging for his cock.

A broken ‘please’ fell from your lips causing Jungwon to look at you with a sadistic smirk, dragging the blade away from your boob, and down your stomach. When he got closer to your core, your hips bucked causing the knife to puncture your skin. Your head fell back with a moan at the sudden pain, it ignited a new kind of flame in your gut.

“Fuck.” Jungwon cursed as he watched in amazement at how your body was reacting. He pulled the blade away from your skin resulting in a whine from you. Blood trickled from the small cut flowing down your side before meeting the band of your sleep shorts, dying the fabric red.

He chuckled as he watched you squirm under his hold, your hands trying to reach him. Letting go of your throat you let out a gasp before he grabbed the back of your head, his lips smashing into yours. A small yelp of surprise fell from your lips before melting into his lips, matching his pace, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

His free hand trailed down your sensitive skin making you moan into his mouth, his fingers tracing circles on the inside of your thigh as he got closer to your core. Your hips buck into his hand desperate for his touch.

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" Jungwon whispered against your lips before biting your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. You whimpered at the pain before he pulled your lip into his mouth, sucking harshly making your head spin.

His fingers slipped past the waistband of your bottom, smearing blood on your abdomen in the process. Your jaw fell slack, a moan falling from your parted lips as his finger brushed against your slit.

“Such a dirty, dirty girl, I’ve barely done anything and you’re already so wet.” He berated you, watching you whine, tears pooling in your eyes because your body felt so hot and he wasn’t doing anything to help, just watching with that same smirk on his lips.

“Please, Jungwon, please please.” You sounded like a broken record begging for him to do something.

However, he pulled his hand from your pussy and moved away from your body altogether. You moved yourself to sit up, watching him with wide eyes as he walked towards your bed, pulling the gloves off of his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed before looking over at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Well? Get over here.” His voice was rough, with a hint of annoyance as he watched you continue to sit on the ground. Seeing anger flash across his face made your stomach turn causing you to scramble to your feet. 

Jungwon watched as you meekly walked towards him, your boobs bouncing slightly with each step you took. When you stood before him, he looked up at you taking in the sight of you looking right at the bulge in his jeans shamelessly.

“If you wanna cum so badly…” His voice broke your trance making you meet his eyes as he grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap. You whined as you felt his bulge press right against your clothed core. “Then ride my thigh.”

“But-” “It’s my thigh or nothing, princess. I’m not lifting a finger to help you get off.” He cut you off, getting ready to push you off of him, but you grabbed his shoulders telling him to wait.

Your face flushed in embarrassment, he’s never asked for anything like this any other time you’ve had sex. He was always sweet and making sure you were taken care of, but seeing this new side of him was a sort of whiplash.

As you moved to straddle his thigh, he removed his hands from your hips using them to support himself as he leaned back. Watching as you started rocking back and forth on his thigh, hands fisting his shirt trying to ground yourself. Sigh-like moans leave your lips as you spread your legs further trying to gain more friction.

Jungwon watched in amusement as your body shuddered in pleasure, trying to keep yourself balanced. However, the closer you got to your climax the more rushed your movements became and the volume of your moans increased.

“Wonnie please…” You whined as you slumped forward, legs growing numb due to the overwhelming pleasure. Jungwon knew you were close because of the way your jaw fell slack and your knuckles turned white due to gripping his shirt so tight.

“Oh come on baby, you’re not tired already, are you?” He mocked you as you continued to whine out, rocking your hips furiously. Wanting to prove him wrong you sat up a little bit more, your head falling back. 

Your high was so dangerously close that you could taste it, “W-Won!”

“Go on, cum on my thigh like the desperate slut you are.” His words had you tipping over the edge, your body shaking as you rode out your orgasm. Jungwon sat up taking your hips in his hands once more, pulling them further down on his thigh, a loud moan leaving your lips. He continued to rock you against him, forcing your body into overstimulation.

“W-Won- fuck, ‘s too much.” You whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck, hand on his bicep.

“But you were so desperate to cum baby, I’m just helping you.” He chuckled as he felt your body shudder, face still buried in his neck. Leaning forward a bit he pressed a kiss to your shoulder making your body tingle. 

You could feel another high creeping up on you, “Won… I’m close.” Another, softer moan left your lips as you kissed his neck. He flexed his thigh underneath you causing your body to tremble as another orgasm washed over you, groaning against his neck.

Jungwon didn’t give you a second to rest, picking you up and laying you on the bed. Not even a second later his lips were on your neck sucking harshly leaving bright red marks in his wake. A loud moan broke through your lips as he bit down on your collarbone, hand flying to his head. 

He left a trail of his marks down your chest before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, your back arching pushing further into his mouth. Your fingers tugged his hair against his nape causing him to groan against your skin, hands on your hips pulling your body flush against his.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” He raised his head, his eyes holding an animalistic gleam, “but I bet your pussy tastes sweeter.” Your head falls back as he cups your core, pressing against your clothed core. With a devilish smirk, he lets his lips trail down your tummy, licking your wound and letting the crimson liquid coat his tongue. 

Looking down you felt like you wanted to combust at the sight of him tracing his tongue along the trail of dried blood. When he got to the hem of your shorts he pulled away, meeting your eyes as he tugged them down your legs. Watching the way you held your breath, eyes following his hands until the cloth was completely off of your body. 

Throwing them to the side, Jungwon turned back to you taking in the sight of your body, completely bare before him. Grabbing your ankle he brought it to his shoulder pressing a kiss on your calf watching as you squirmed under him, your lip between your teeth keeping from letting any sounds slip.

“Why are you so quiet now baby?” He asked as he trailed to your inner thigh listening to your breath hitch. Getting closer to your core, he blew on it watching the way your hole clenched around nothing. Chuckling darkly he laid your leg over her shoulder before licking a long stripe up your slit collecting your juices and cum on his tongue, humming at the taste. Your hands go to tangle in his hair, but he stops you. “Ah, hands behind your back.”

“But-” “Now, or I’ll tie you to the headboard and you won’t get to touch me at all.” He threatened and you whined but followed his instructions nonetheless. Arching your back enough to place your arms underneath before laying back down, trapping them.

Satisfied with your actions he goes back down on you, harshly sucking on your clit, eliciting a loud cry from your lips. He hummed against you, finally getting you to release your sounds again. He continued to devour your pussy like a starved man, broken moans and cries fell from your parted lips, hips bucking against his face.

His hand that was holding your hip moved to press down on your stomach, keeping you in place. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his tongue against your gummy walls, his nose pressing against your clit deliciously. 

“You taste heavenly my love,” He groaned against you, making your head spin, a cry of his name leaving your lips, fingers digging into the sheets under you. When he pressed two fingers into you so easily you felt like you could cum then and there. 

His pace was relentless as he pumped his fingers into you while switching between soft and hard sucks on your clit. The sensation was driving you insane and you felt like you could scream. 

You didn’t even give him a warning when you came as his fingers brushed over your sweet spot. Your vision turned white as you screamed his name, everything becoming extremely overwhelming, but he didn’t let up on his pace, dragging your orgasm out as long as he possibly could. You tried to get away from him as you felt another orgasm creeping up quickly, but his grip was too strong.

“Scream for me again princess, let the neighbors know who’s making you feel so good.” He smirked as he looked at you, his lower face glistening in your juices. His fingers continued to abuse your sweet spot until your whole body shook.

“OH MY GOD!” You cried out as your fourth orgasm of the night hit you like a tidal wave. Jungwon watched smugly as you rode out your high on his fingers before pulling them from your needy hole.

You whined softly at the sudden empty feeling and he laid your trembling leg down on the bed before leaning over you, pressing his lips against yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, he pulled your arms out from underneath you.

He grabbed your hand before leading it down his torso before groaning as your fingertips brushed against his clothes cock.

“You feel that baby?” He hissed through his teeth as you pressed your palm against him, “It’s all because of you and you’re gonna help me right?” He asked as he nipped at your jaw earning a whine from you, “gonna let me fuck this slutty pussy right?” You moaned as he moved your hand to your own sopping cunt. 

“P-Please.” You begged looking at him, eyes pleading with him.

“Please what princess?” He brought your hand to his mouth, licking your juices off of your own fingers, “you want my cock?” You nodded, biting your lip, eyes never leaving his. He grabbed your other wrist before pinning your hands next to your head, rolling his hips against yours, a moan tore through your lips. His lips ghosted over yours, “I wanna hear you say it.” 

His eyes bore into yours, your bottom lip quivering. With another roll of his hip, your brain turned into mush. Your hands balled into fists, eyes screwing shut, “fuck, Wonnie please, I want your cock in me so bad, fuck me please, Wonnie, please.” You rambled on as Jungwon watched you lose yourself smugly. He doesn’t know why he didn’t try this earlier, this was the hottest he’s ever seen you and it made him ten times harder. 

Releasing his hold on you he moved back to pull his shirt over his head leaving you to ogle at his bare torso. Reaching out you let your finger brush against his skin before he gave you a look making you retract your hand worried he’d deny you of his cock for longer.

Undoing his belt and unzipping his pants he pulled them down along with his underwear letting his dick spring free. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, yearning for it even more. Noticing your gaze Jungwon smirked, moving closer to you and grabbing your thighs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

“I haven’t even put it in yet and you already look like you’re about to cum.” He teased as he slapped the tip of his cock against your clit making you whine and squirm. A smug smirk tugged on his as he lined his tip up with your entrance watching your eyes roll.

“Fuck.”  You cursed as he pushed in before stilling and grabbing your hips to keep you from moving them, a whine leaving your lips.

Without any warning, he thrusted into you stealthing his length in you in one go causing you to quite literally scream his name, nails digging into the sheets. He smiled sadistically as he leaned down next to your ear, pushing deeper into you.

“You just love getting fucked by a serial killer don’t you y/n?” He nipped at your ear, “I bet you’d love it even more if I wore the mask huh?” Your brain was foggy, not able to voice a single thing, but your body did the talking for you. Jungwon groaned as he felt you tighten around him, squeezing his dick like you never wanted him to leave. “You’re such a dirty slut.” He berated you with a smile before he pulled his hip back until only his tip was left in you.

He thrusted his hips back into you, a moan leaving your lips as your eyes rolled back. He kept the brutal pace, his hand that was on your hip traveled up to your neck, squeezing and making you squeak. Tears fell from your eyes, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you babbled nonsense. 

Jungwon could feel himself grow even harder at the sight of your fucked out state, taking in your teary eyes that would look at him before rolling back when he hit a particular spot in your cunt.

“God, you feel so good, princess.” He groaned as you squeezed around him, he had been hard for so long that he knew he wasn’t going to last long, not if your pussy kept squeezing him like this. “Fuck I’m not gonna last, I need you to cum for me, baby.” He breathed out as he grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. The new angle had you seeing stars, your vision quite literally going dark, a pitiful squeak falling from your swollen lips. “I’m gonna stuff you full of my cum and you’re gonna take every last drop like the good little slut you are.”

His words were your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and Jungwon groaned loudly as you squeezed him so hard, pushing him over as well.

His cum painted your walls white as he continued to fuck it into you and you were milking him for all he was worth as your walls continued to pulse around him. He felt your body go limp against his making him look up at your face seeing that you had passed out.

“Aww, how cute…” He cooed as he continued to roll his hips into yours until he went completely soft inside you. “Don’t worry I’ll take care of you.”

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[sadmusicprincess]

don't you know ? ill drive you crazy. - obsessed ex! ni-ki ────୨ৎ────

│you and ni-ki's relationship wasn't really working out, so when you two broke up, you cut off all contact but he didn't like it when you kept ignoring him..

(just saw the most scrumptious edit of ni-ki and ran to tumblr)

tw : breaking in, p in v (unprotected), ni-ki is a soft dom in this

wc : 2,846

after you and ni-ki broke up, neither of you really took it well. you felt empty, beside all the toxicity in your relationship. ni-ki was a good boyfriend.

but ni-ki REALLY didn't want to break up, so he has been stalking you, sending you "apology gifts", screenshotting all your posts, writing letters, harassing you, and sometimes even threatening you.

at one point, he showed up at your job with roses, asking you to just talk to him. fortunately, your boss escorted him out, ni-ki didn't say anything but just gave you a cold stare as he turned to leave.

well now, you decided to simmer down and watch a movie, you had a tough day and just wanted nothing more than to relax in the tub. just as you get comfortable, you hear a loud crashing sound, at first you thought it was your dog, until you heard him panting at your door. you slowly got up and reached for a towel to cover yourself. you grabbed your phone incase you needed to call the police or anything.

suddenly when you reach the living room, you felt arms around your waist and you got spun around, "ni-ki? what are you doing" you say with wide eyes. "I missed hearing your voice baby" he says holding you in a hug. he grabs ur arm and guides you to the couch and sits you down next to him, "ni-ki you're scaring me" you say with your chest rising up and down fast. "what're u scared for baby? you know I'd never hurt you" he says smiling. he reaches for the remote and turns on a movie you and him used to love watching together. he holds you tightly next to him with his hand resting on the towel.

ni-ki looks over and moves his hand up more to your inner thigh. you look at him alarmingly and he says in a serious tone "do you want me to stop? say the word and ill leave right now y/n". you look at him and shake your head no quickly. "I knew you still wanted me" he says getting up and walking to the bedroom. "you coming ?" he says before swinging around the corner. you get up and walk to your bedroom, still clutching your towel that was hanging onto your now dry body ( not completely dry ). ni-ki asked you to straddle him. once you were on top of him with the towel still on, he made eye contact with you and said "can I take it off ?". "please" you replied with batting your lashes. he slowly peeled off the towel and wrapped his arms around your waist. "ride me honey" he said pressing small kisses on your collarbones. you started at slow pace until ni-ki grabbed your hips and started doing the work for you. you have your arms wrapped around his neck, moaning into his ear. "promise you'll never leave me again ?" ni-ki says panting. "promise" you say moaning his name.

once you both finish, ni-ki gets you some clothes from your closet and helps you get dressed. he then lays down next to you and kissing your forehead. "I promise i'll do better" he says cuddling you. you give him a soft smile and rest your head closer to his heart.

I actually can't stop looking at pictures of him, he's so yum😛

[heeliopheelia]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.9k

a/n: guys it's 2am but i finally finished editing this... whatever that is. it's been a while since i posted this type of a fic so i hope you like it just as much as the previous ones!! 🤍

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

"I'll be right back, baby. Just give me ten minutes, okay?"

These were the words your boyfriend said to you twenty minutes ago as you patiently sat on the wooden bench in the empty locker room. His basketball team just won their first game of the season and now you wait for him to finally finish showering, so that the two of you can go back to his place and catch up on the much needed sleep. Much needed as he's the one who has deprived the both of you of it last night when he made you watch him practice nearly until morning.

So it's no surprise that as another minute goes by, you find your eyes growing heavy. Leaning your head back on the cool locker, you start dozing off when familiar footsteps finally approach your tired figure.

"Aww, sorry I kept you waiting, baby. I'm ready to go now, though," he says softly as his hand goes to swipe some hair away from your face. He grins as you blink slowly at him before slinging his bag over his shoulder and kneeling down in front of you. You don't have enough strength to question his behavior when he turns around and wiggles his fingers at you and looks over his shoulder. "C'mon, hop on. I'll carry you."

You manage to somehow climb onto his back and when your hands wrap around his neck securely, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts the both of you off the ground.

"Up you go," he grunts quietly, adjusting you in his arms before making his way out of the locker room. "Let's finally get my sleepy baby home, shall we?"

PARK JAY

Throwing his bag on the ground, Jay tosses the keys to the cupboard and feels his shoulders relaxing at the thought of seeing you after such a long day. Even though it's late at night, he knows you'll be stubbornly waiting for him like you always do, so instead of heading to the bedroom, he directs his steps to the living room.

And he was right – there you are, slumped over the arm rest of the couch, mouth slightly ajar because of the palm you're holding up your face with.

Jay snorts quietly, mind running back to all the times you've denied the possibility of ever falling asleep while waiting for your beloved boyfriend to come back home. He takes a mental note to remember that and tease you in the morning.

With a sigh, he crouches down in front of the couch and reaches his hand out to brush your cheek gently. The feeling of his cool fingers against your skin almost instantly wakes you up and you jerk underneath his touch, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim lighting. When your eyes meet Jay's, you straighten your back and send him a guilty smile as if you've been caught committing a crime.

"Oh, you're back," you mutter tiredly, letting his fingers run over your eyes to wipe the sleep away from them. "I was so not sleeping, you're just tweaking."

Jay chuckles before standing up and pressing his lips to your forehead. You wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes back again, feeling content now that he's finally back. Sighing, you softly kiss the crook of his neck before nuzzling your face into it.

Jay's hand is caressing your hair gently. "Let's get you to bed now, hm?"

SIM JAKE

"Well, aren't you just cute?" Jake huffs under his nose as the first thing he comes across of is you laying on the couch, face buried in one of the green cushions you bought on your last Ikea trip. He giggles quietly, heart feeling full as he looks at you with such lovesick eyes, you'd definitely be left blushing if you ever caught him like this.

He decides on not waking you up, realizing how tired you must've been if you actually fell asleep while waiting on him. So instead, he slips underneath the blanket right next to you. He turns to his side so that you're laying face to face and he smiles at the way your lips are slightly pouted. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, draping an arm around your waist as you subconsciously curl up to his body, seeking for his warmth even in your sleep.

Jake softly presses his lips right above your eyebrow when your eyelids slowly flutter open. You look at him with your foggy eyes before wrapping your arm around his neck and wordlessly pulling him even closer to yourself. You bury your face in his chest instead of the cushion now and slowly start dozing off again when his hand sneaks underneath your sweater and caresses your side gently.

"I'm glad you're home," you mumble into his skin, nudging his neck with your nose before leaving a butterfly kiss on the same exact spot. "Been waiting for you."

Jake feels his stomach tickle funny at your sleepy affection and he buries his smile in your hair. "Yeah, I know. You can go to sleep now. I'm not going anywhere."

PARK SUNGHOON

"How many times do I have to tell you not to wait for me this late, you idiot," Sunghoon scolds you as he adjusts your half-asleep body in his arms and carries on up the stairs.

You mumble an incoherent answer with mouth muffled by the warm skin of his neck. You hold him tighly, arms slung around his shoulders as you hang onto him like a baby monkey. Sunghoon has to bite his lip to prevent himself from snickering right then and there.

"What was that?" He asks, leaning his face a little closer to hear you better.

"You're so warm. Makes me even more sleepy."

Sunghoon can't help the chuckle that leaves his mouth anymore and he opens the door to your bedroom with his foot. He carries you straight to bed and places you on the soft mattress, only to quickly change into a pair of sweatpants and slip underneath the covers right next to you.

Your body moves almost automatically as you shift closely to your boyfriend and cling onto him once your arms make contact with his skin. You shuffle and twist in your place, somehow unable to find a comfortable position, because no matter how close you get to him – it's just simply not close enough tonight.

So you climb on top of his body and use him as a mattress instead, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"I wanna get inside your skin. Lemme," you mumble tiredly and feel his chest vibrate with laughter.

His hand makes its way to your hair. "Some of the things you say when you're sleepy are quite concerning, sweetheart."

KIM SUNOO

Sunoo is greeted by the view of you and Riki chilling on the couch in their dorm. More precisely – Riki playing some videogame on playstation and you sprawled out by his side, the white controller laying on the carpet below you as you sleep soundly.

"What time did she get here?" Sunoo asks as he drops his training bag somwehere on the floor and approaches the two of you. He crouches down in front of you and picks up the long forgotten controller.

"Two hours ago maybe," Riki responds, eyes glued to the TV screen. "She wanted to wait for you but she fell asleep like half an hour ago. Made me lose my damn game."

The older one only sends him a glare paired with a scoff before turning his attention back to you.

"Y/N, wake up."

You peak one of your eyes open as another tap lands on your shoulder. When the first thing your met with is your boyfriend's pretty face, a smile spreads on your slightly chapped lips and you lift yourself up in your seat.

"You're back," you croak out, rubbing your eyes quickly before nuzzling your face in his chest. "Sorry for dropping by without giving you a warning. Jus' thought you'd be home."

Sunoo presses his lips to the crown of your head. "Don't apologize for things like that. You know I always like having you around."

You nod slowly, reaching your hands up until they're circling his neck. Turning your head to the side, you place a small kiss to the side of his jawline. "Can we go cuddle now?"

"How can I say no when you're this cute, huh?"

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon tries, he really tries to be quiet. It's really not his fault that his clumsy nature made him bump his hip into the cupboard and cause the keys to topple down to the ground with a clank that probably could wake up a hundred year old half-deaf granny.

You open your eyes and lift yourself from the table you've been laying on top of, startled, head spinning from the sudden movement.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, angel. I didn't mean to wake you up," Jungwon apologizes as he rushes over to you from the other side of the kitchen.

You watch as he crosses the space quickly and plops down on the chair next to you, then wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his lap instead.

"No, it's okay," you say quietly as you clear your throat, lifting your head up to smile at him softly. "Was waiting for you anyways. I made you dinner. Just kinda fell asleep after cooking."

Jungwon giggles at the dissatisfied scrunch of your nose. He leans down to press a small kiss to the tip of it.

"Thanks for waiting for me, baby. And for cooking for me. That's really sweet of you, you didn't have to," he mutters, lowering his tone to match yours as he rubs your noses together. "Well, now that I'm finally here, how about I try some of it, huh?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea I suppose." You smile at him and bring your hand up to stroke the short hair at the back of his head. "Can we stay here a little longer, though? I missed you today. Wanna cuddle you."

He chuckles warmly at your words before leaning down and laying a kiss on your forehead. "Of course. We've got all the time in the world, angel."

NISHIMURA RIKI

"Baby?"

Silence.

"Baby."

Still nothing. The only thing Riki can hear is your slowed down breathing, slightly muffled by the fuzzy blanket you've pulled right above your nose.

"Y/N."

Now that finally wakes you up and you blink your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of your living room. You lift your gaze to look at Riki standing in front of the couch you're laying on, a small smile playing on his lips.

"There you are," he huffs, slightly amused. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

A grunt leaves your throat as you bury yourself even further into the back rest of the couch. You open your arms and lift the blanket a little as an invitation.

"C'mere. 'm too comfy to leave," you mumble groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

With one more pleading look of your foggy eyes, Riki sighs and shakes his head at your stubborness.

"Tsch, fine." He clicks his tongue before standing up and laying down on the tight space right next to you. You don't waste a single second and wrap all of your limbs around his tall body, snuggling up to him with a content sigh.

"Perfect," you whisper as you press your face into his warmth and fall back asleep the moment that his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

permanent taglist @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

© heeliopheelia 2023 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[baby-yongbok]

Only You

Seo Changbin x afab!Reader

✧ Genre - Smut - personal trainer!Changbin ✧ Word Count - 1.1k ✧ Warnings - Unprotected sex (Wrap, wrap, wrap it up) [i think that's it] ✧ a/n - thought of this at 4am & wrote it in my notes half asleep. it's lightly edited. Changbin has just had my heart in a headlock lately..+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

Leg day is the bane of your existence, well, it used to be. You’ve been going to a new gym for awhile now and the owner of the small spot offers personal training. He’s assigned Thursdays as leg day and at first you dreaded it but now things are a bit different.

"Mm, fix your form. Right leg out a bit more." Changbin pants below you as you dip down into yet another squat.

You learned in the second month of working with Changbin that he can get pretty… hands on when training you. You’ve also noticed that he only gets this involved with you. You’re the only client that he allows to stay late.

 You throw your head back as you struggle to keep yourself stable with the foam roller he’s placed in front of you. 

"Bin, can we please do this another way." He tsks, planting both hands on your waist to guide you down. He only does this with you.

"You've been skipping squats." He taps your right leg in a silent attempt to get you to correct your form again. "What kind of trainer would I be if I let you do that?"

You dip down again, this time it's perfect, you can tell by the way he sighs beneath you. His head lulls back for just a second as you take all of him. You settle into a deep squat in his lap, sheathing the length of his cock in your warmth. 

He only does this with you. 

"Bin, my legs are fucking burning." Your protests are breathy and followed by deep moans that reverberate through the empty gym. The dim lights highlight the sweat forming on your brow and the slick coating his cock. "Please just help me." 

Changbin sighs, feigning annoyance as he runs a hand through his damp locks. His hands find the dip of your waist as he moves you forward just enough for his lower half to hover off of the bench as he leans back into the leather.

"Hold the squat." He positions himself, holding you steady. "Keep your core tight."

Humming, You take a deep breath. "Binnie, seriously, my legs are - ah my god." 

His hips snap into you before you can finish your sentence. He smirks at you through the mirror as he watches your face twist in pleasure. Your eyes snap shut, your teeth sink into your bottom lip and your thighs tremble ever so slightly. You’re so pretty like this.  

"You wanted help." His hips snap up into you again, this time followed by another thrust and then another until he's drilling into you at a relentless pace. 

"I'm helping, aren't I? Think this is easier?" Moans are all that he gets in response. Your nails dig into the foam roller as you try your damn hardest to keep yourself up.

"Breathe, baby." You clench around him, milking a moan from his chest. "Gotta breathe while I fuck you, okay? Hold that position, you're almost done."

Changbin allows himself to indulge in the warmth of you for a second before it ends. He throws his head back with a sigh as he takes in just how perfectly your cunt swallows him. 

He never meant to cross this boundary with you, he had every intention of treating you like a standard client. He’d train you for the amount of time you paid for then you’d leave, but then he started falling for you. 

He started paying extra attention to your cute workout sets and the way you looked while lifting weights. He started noticing the way you’d only look at him when you came for training. He has two other trainers, handsome men who compliment you regularly but you only looked at Changbin. Only him. 

Then he asked you out and when you said yes he tried to take it slow. He tried to wine and dine you but when he caught your eyes wandering down his frame during a late night training session he knew he just had to have you. The rest is history. 

Since then he’s taken a special sort of pride in training you. He does what he has to to make sure that you have a good session even if that means having you bent over or precariously perched on some machinery while he rearranges your guts as he sees fit. 

“Bin, that’s deep that’s so fucking deep, I can’t.” You whine, eyes locking with his through your debauched reflection. 

"You got it, baby. Just hold it like that, just like that.” He moves firmer and deeper into you, dragging against your walls and hitting spots that you could only dream of. “You jus' gotta cum. Cum for me and you're all done baby, c'mon."

Your cunt squeezes him as you fight to keep your core tight. Every contraction and deep breath drives you closer to the edge and aids Changbin as he follows close behind. 

"Fuck, baby please, I'll cum. I'm gonna cum." You're whining, crying into the air as the burn in your legs matches the pending snap deep in your stomach.

"Cum, please. 'M gonna cum. Gonna fill you, please baby, fucking doing it" He whines right back. His voice is thick yet high with need and it snaps the band and breaks the dam that has you gushing all over him. 

Changbin's orgasm promptly follows. He fills you up, ropes of sticky white coating your pulsing walls. 

You collapse mid orgasm and he catches you. He holds you in his arms and lets your cunt milk him dry before he turns you in his lap, cock still plugging your hole, and cuddles you into his chest. 

"That's my baby." He pants, smirking down at you. "Did so well."

"I can't - can't feel my legs." You chuckle breathlessly. "Can we please be done, Bin?"

"We're done, bunny. Let's hit the showers and maybe I can finally take you on that date, yeah?" He lifts you with ease, carrying you over to the men's shower room. The sound of his sneakers padding over the linoleum of the empty space is soothing in your post-fucked state. 

"Baby?" He calls, and you drift out of your haze just a bit. "You can't stand, can you?”

"Nope" You hum a reply, grinning up at him. 

"Hm." He sits you on the counter, leaving you for a second to set up one of the showers. "Can I fuck you against the shower wall?" He calls out to you and you giggle. The sound makes him smile. 

"What about our date?" You call back. He reappears, naked with a wide smile. 

"We might have to reschedule.”

Perm. Tag List:

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[bellaxgiornata]

Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams [2/5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; pregnant!Reader, angst with an eventual happy/hopeful ending, emotional hurt, threat to abort (because it's Clay), angry Jax, Clay being Clay

a/n: Thank y'all so much for the love on the first part of this! This one is even angstier than the last, and for those who missed my edit, I'm now thinking this is at least four parts. Because this part hurts and so will the next one... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989

Six hours and twenty-three minutes. That’s how long you had been pacing your apartment after Clay had left. 

You’d called Jax about fifteen times now. Sent him a handful of text messages and voicemails. You had no idea if he was busy, had gotten hurt, or was just ignoring you on purpose at this point, but you felt like you were going out of your damn mind. It was almost eleven at night now and you hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Because it was completely unlike him to be unreachable for this long.

Pausing in the middle of your living room, you were hit with a wave of dizziness that interrupted your anxious pacing. Closing your eyes and resting a hand against your forehead, you figured it was probably the morning sickness that you’d read about the other day. After finding out you were pregnant just four days ago, you’d spent some time figuring out what to expect about this unexpected and poorly timed pregnancy. During these past four days, you’d been debating on what the hell you were even going to do about it–whether this was something you wanted or not. It hadn’t hit you until Clay had threatened you and your unborn baby that you knew without a doubt you were keeping it. 

But after that unwelcome visit earlier, you hadn’t been able to stomach anything more than water, and even that wasn’t going down easy right now. You knew you needed to eat something–not just for your sake but the baby’s. Except every time you stepped into your kitchen and opened your fridge, all you could think about was Jax back at the clubhouse ignoring your calls. Your mind kept conjuring up images of some girl on her knees sucking his dick, or him in his bed in that dorm room, pounding away into some other girl like you didn’t exist while his phone sat discarded somewhere.

As that wave of nausea only intensified at your intrusive thoughts, your hand slid down from your forehead to cover your mouth. You wondered if you were about to actually get sick. Those unwanted images continued to run through your mind, only adding to the churning in your empty stomach. 

But Jax wouldn’t do that to you, right?  

You couldn’t stand that things had gotten to this point between you both. That you couldn’t trust Jax’s word anymore because Gemma and Clay had gotten your mind so damn twisted up over what was true and what wasn’t. Everything felt like it had started falling apart almost two months ago when Clay had started putting more club responsibility on Jax, which in turn kept him stressed and far busier than he used to be. It left him hardly any time for you.

The familiar growl of a motorcycle broke through your thoughts, your head darting towards the window of your apartment. Usually the sound was something you welcomed because it meant Jax had arrived, but now it had you on edge as you wondered if Clay or Tig had returned to make sure you’d left Charming. But as you looked out between the blinds on your living room window, you could see Jax in the dimly lit parking lot as he removed his helmet. The tension in your body didn’t ease much at the sight of him, though.  

As he climbed off of his bike, sauntering towards your apartment with his usual gait, you noticed he looked exhausted. Running a hand down his face as he approached your door, your eyes met his through your living room window. You could already see the irritation on his face with the way his jaw was set and his lips drawn into a tight, thin line, and his expression didn’t remotely change as you made eye contact through the glass. Which told you that whatever was about to happen, it was going to end in a fight.

Breaking eye contact first, you stepped across the small room and over towards your front door. Jax didn’t even bother to knock, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans when you’d pulled the door open a few seconds later. He just stood there staring at you for a long moment, his eyes running over you as if checking to see that you were fine. Then slowly, his gaze returned to your face.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” you told him.

Judging by the tick in his jaw, he already knew that. Hand gripping the side of your door tighter, you braced yourself for whatever was about to happen next as that sick, uncomfortable feeling in your gut only grew worse. It was definitely not just from the pregnancy.

“Noticed that,” he answered tersely. “Called me fifteen times today, baby. Think that’s a bit of overkill, don’t you?”

You hadn’t meant to come across as annoying to him when you’d tried to reach him. The calls weren’t meant to get on his nerves, you’d just been panicked about what had happened earlier and the only person you figured you could turn to was Jax–assuming he’d even believe you about Clay. What were the odds that him and Gemma hadn’t somehow twisted things up in Jax’s mind even more, trying to convince him that whatever you tried to tell him now was just some lie to make him want to leave the Sons? To try to pit him against them all? That fear had been on your mind all evening as you’d tried to reach him, wondering if he’d even listen to you at all.

“You weren’t answering all night. I just…” 

Your words trailed off weakly as you stood there in the doorway, your mind once more conjuring up images of him with other women in his dorm room. The things Clay had told you earlier kept playing on repeat as Jax expelled a frustrated breath. Still standing just outside of your door, his hand reached up and ran through his shaggy blonde hair–a clear sign he was trying to keep his temper in check but struggling to do so.

“Been busy all damn day dealing with club bullshit,” he told you. “Was out in Oakland most of the fucking night, I wasn’t paying attention to my phone.”

You knew you shouldn’t have asked the next question that came out of your mouth, knew that it would only shove him straight into a fight with you. And there were other things you still needed to try and discuss with him–big, important things that you weren’t sure how to even begin to navigate with him. The last thing you needed right now was for him to be pissed off and shouting at you.

Yet the question still fell past your lips because you needed to know. Especially with the way his breath smelled faintly of alcohol, meaning he’d been back at the clubhouse long enough to have a drink or two before he’d even decided to stop over and see you.

“Why didn’t you call me when you got back to Charming?” you pressed. “When you saw that I’d been trying to reach you?”

“Because it’s been a long goddamn day, alright?” he immediately snapped back, his short fuse now blown. “Figured I’d try to have a few fucking drinks and relax, crash at the clubhouse for the night because it was late. But then I saw all your texts claiming you needed me, so I got back on my bike and fucking came over.” He paused for a moment, fury shining back at you in his blue eyes. “So you gonna let me in or just stand there bitching at me?”

A heavy lump felt like it was forming in your throat as you slowly stepped aside, no longer blocking the front door. Jax stepped into your apartment, closing the door after himself a bit more harshly than necessary. As your arms crossed over your chest, you already could tell this conversation wasn’t going anywhere helpful. How were you supposed to break the news that you were pregnant to him when he was like this? Especially when it felt like everything was just spiraling downwards every day between you both lately?

Maybe Clay had been right about more things than you wanted to believe.

“What the hell is going on that couldn’t wait until morning, huh?” Jax pushed. “What the fuck is so goddamn urgent that you call me fifteen times like that?” He gestured a hand at you standing before him, that rage still clear in his face. “Cause you look completely fucking fine to me, baby.”

His words and his anger were gradually taking its toll on you, especially after Clay’s visit and his threat from earlier. You knew matching his anger and frustration with your own was the wrong move, but your nerves were already so damn shot at this point.

“Oh do I?” you snapped. “You sure about that, Jax? Because Clay stopped by today. Making threats against me. Telling me that you’re blowing off steam at the clubhouse lately with the fucking croweaters, Jax!” Tears were stinging at your eyes as your hands gripped tight to the fabric of your shirt, your arms still crossed over your chest. All those images that had been running through your mind of him with other women had you suddenly losing it on him. “That why you were going to stay at the clubhouse again tonight? Instead of coming back here to me? Because you’d rather be with one of them?”

Jax scoffed back at you, his eyes narrowing as his hands balled into fists at his sides. You could see the muscle working in his cheek, aware that if you’d been someone else, he’d already have gotten in your face and laid hands on you.

“Are you fucking serious with this shit again?” he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous level as he took a sharp step towards you. “You’re accusing me of cheating on you? That what you called me over here for?” A bitter, humorless laugh fell out of him before he shook his head, but then his expression grew dark and serious as he continued. “How many goddamn times do I need to tell you that I don’t want anyone but you? That I love you. That I fucking crash at the clubhouse because Clay has been keeping me so damn busy that it’s just easier to pass out there alone at the end of the day sometimes? And yet here you are once again thinking that I’m over there buried in fucking club pussy all the damn time like I’m some fucking animal that can’t control myself!”

“You’re never here anymore, Jax!” you shot back, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “For weeks now you’re always off with the club or over at the clubhouse. You’re hard to reach or always acting like you’re annoyed with me before I’ve even said a word! Shit has been off between us for almost two months now and you know it!”

“Yeah, it definitely fucking has!” he yelled back. “Because you’re always upset about something with me!”

His chest was heaving as he stood there, a wild look in his eyes. The burn of tears only grew as you stood there in front of him in your living room, your vision slowly blurring from them. This was not how things were supposed to be between you both. This wasn’t what you wanted.

“It’s because your mom and Clay keep whispering shit into your ears, Jax,” you told him, trying to control your emotions. “And you’re letting them get to you.”

“And you–” he hissed, jabbing his index finger in your direction as his nostrils flared, “–are sitting here listening to the fucking bullshit that Clay has been spewing about me. Why the fuck do you believe him, huh? Why’re you believing him over me?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore!”

The tears had finally started spilling down your cheeks, warm, wet tracks dripping down your face. The constant fighting was wearing on you. This wasn’t how things used to be before Gemma and Clay had started meddling with your relationship.

“Obviously you believe the fucking lies, baby!” Jax roared back, his voice raising even more. “You’re over here thinking I’m fucking other women just because Clay told you I am! It’s clear what you believe!”

Lips trembling, you watched as Jax turned away from you. He stood expelling a rough breath, his hands combing through the strands of his hair in frustration again. You could see the way they were shaking with his anger as the tears still quietly fell down your face. 

“This is the same old bullshit over again,” he muttered, an edge to his voice. 

Focusing back on you, his expression hardened despite the fact that you were crying. There was no compassion on his face, only a look that you hadn’t ever seen there before, one that had your heart squirming in your chest. You didn’t like it.

“You’re acting just like Tara,” he told you, a cold look in his eyes. “Pulling the same goddamn bullshit she did when she was trying to get me to leave the club.”

“That’s not–”

“It ain’t gonna happen,” he stated, talking right over you with an unsettling calmness. “I’m not leaving the fucking club. Not for you or anyone else.”

Staring at him in shock, you watched him walk over to your apartment door. Your hands were shaking, your knees feeling weak as you stood there silently crying. That hadn’t been what you were trying to do, you’d never tried to get him to change. And that comment about you being just like Tara? It felt like an actual slap in the face.

“Jax, I–”

“Don’t call me again tonight,” he warned you, opening the door and pausing just long enough to look over at you. “You seem perfectly fucking fine, you didn’t need me.”

Lips parting in shock, you stood there feeling helpless as Jax stepped outside and yanked the door shut after himself. Eyes drifting over to the window in your apartment, you watched him walk over to where his bike had been parked. He mounted it, pulling on his helmet before bringing it to life with a vicious roar.

He’d never just stormed out on you like this before. Like he was just done with you. And you had no damn clue if he’d been at the clubhouse with someone else before coming over, or if he was heading back there now with the intention of it. All you knew as he pulled away was that you hadn’t even had a chance to tell him what had happened. He still didn’t even know that you were pregnant with his child.

Clay’s threat hung over you as a soft sob finally fell past your lips, the tears beginning to fall faster. He wanted you and the baby gone from Charming. He’d made that clear earlier. And after this fight with Jax, you had a feeling he wasn’t going to believe you at all. He’d probably think it was some lie meant to mess with his head like Tara had done. You were certain Gemma and Clay would twist it into something like that.

You were on your own.

[000-pawz]

solace (m.jh) ˚ · .

myung jaehyun x fem!reader, smut (mdni!!!), very soft, did i mention this is soft, slight angst, jaehyun is exhausted :(, (emotional) hurt/comfort (?)

warnings: sub!jaehyun, softdom!reader, slight dumbification, "puppy", handjobs, nipple play, drool, finger sucking (?)

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: i wrote this on autopilot... i love u puppy jaehyun <3 (i tried to edit it but im sleepy so i may have missed some things ^___^)

he doesn’t usually come to you like this. you knew something was wrong from the moment he asked if he could stay at your place after his schedules instead of coming over in the morning like you had discussed. and when he climbs into your bed that night, he doesn’t say a word; instead, he simply cuddles up to your side and rests his forehead on your shoulder with a sigh so heavy, his entire body melts into the sheets afterwards.

you know jaehyun’s been tired lately. you notice everything. his smile seems weaker, his eyelids are drooped, and he spends most of his time spacing out with his gaze focused on nothing and everything all at once.

you notice it all, except, you aren’t sure what you can do for him. when he got home early tonight, he barely looked you in the eyes before falling into your arms with tears brimming at his waterline, his hands shaky as he gripped the back of your sweater; as if you would crumble away and disappear if he ever let go.

“‘m so tired,” he whispered into your ear before he buried his face in your neck, his tears leaving a damp trail against your skin. you held him back even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his own neck in return. you knew that he didn’t want you to respond. not yet, at least, so you gently shushed him instead, swaying your bodies back and forth in an effort to soothe him.

you had persuaded him to take a shower while you made him something to eat, his face pale from the lack of meals he’s been having recently. and when he emerged from the condensated bathroom, his eyes were dull and empty, any trace of their usual flicker gone. you asked him about his day and he gave you a limp smile and airy puff of laughter, shrugging as he pushed the food around on his plate.

“it was okay. i got a lot done today.” his eyes flickered up to yours, unreadable and cloudy, and you gave him a gentle smile of your own, placing your hand on top of his.

“i’m proud of you. you always work so hard. you’re amazing.” the words tumbled out of your mouth and you hoped they would stick. lately, you feel as if the praise goes straight through him, swallowed up by the abyss of his own thoughts. 

you want to pick at his brain and see what he’s thinking—what you can do to make it better—but he always brushes it off with a little “i’ll be fine. i just need to rest, that’s all.”

but when he presses his body further against yours under the sheets, his hand trailing to grasp the end of your shirt in his fist, you know it’s more than that. it's been more than that for a while.

“jaehyun,” you whisper into the dim room, only illuminated by the glow of the moon and your tiny nightlight plugged in on the opposite wall. 

he hums in response, his head tilting slightly to gaze at the side of your face. you turn your own head to face him, reaching up to brush the strands of hair out of his vision. in the dim light, he looks even more tired; and now that it’s just the two of you alone, he doesn't hide anything. his eyes are glossy, his bottom lip trembles, and the heights of his cheeks are flushed red. you want nothing more than to take all of his pain away.

“how can i help you, baby?” you ask quietly, your hand moving down to rest on his warm cheek. his eyes flutter shut at your touch, his fingers gripping tighter at the fabric of your shirt. “what can i do to make it better?”

jaehyun is quiet for a while, but you know he isn’t asleep. his breathing is too heavy and his body is too tense, so at his silence, you trail your fingers up into his hair to massage his scalp, subtly tipping his head back a bit. he lets you maneuver, his body sinking into your touch. 

“i… i don’t know,” he mumbles before his eyes open again, meeting yours in the limited light. they’re pleading, shiny, desperate. your stomach churns. “i’m so tired, but i can’t stop thinking. i don’t want to think anymore.”

you hum in acknowledgment, moving closer until your mouth is right above his. he watches your every move with a bated breath, his adams apple bobbing when you move your hand to his chin, your thumb brushing across his lower lip slowly.

“then let me do the thinking for you. would you like that?”

jaehyun makes a small sound at your words, something quiet and airy, his lips parting as your thumb continues to trail across his lips. he doesn’t respond other than his tongue peaking out to invite your finger inside, his eyes slipping shut again as his lips close around your finger. his mouth is warm and wet, the sight of his glossy lips around your digit making your skin heat up. 

he’s so pretty like this, docile and receiving, his tongue swirling around your thumb as you delicately push it further into his mouth. his hand shakes from where it’s holding onto your shirt, his grip loosening to sneak his fingers under the fabric instead. they splay out against the skin of your hip, grounding and present.

when you pull your finger out of his mouth, he whines softly, his eyes opening ever so slightly to watch what you’re doing. you give him a small smile before pushing at chest so he can roll onto his back. his shirt rides up a little at the motion, exposing his soft belly and faint happy trail, yet his eyes remain completely fixated on you.

“i asked you a question, puppy…” you start slowly as you straddle his waist. “do you need me to think for you? is puppy done using his brain?”

something warm fills your chest when jaehyun’s hips involuntarily jolt at your words, bouncing you a little in his lap. he looks completely ruined already and you haven’t even touched him yet. his chest rises and falls quickly, his bottom lip coated in a layer of drool. he looks so enticing, you can’t resist the urge to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss before he can even speak.

he moans into your mouth when your tongue swipes across his and his hands shoot up to grip at your thighs that cage him against the bed. it’s pathetic, the way he pants as you drag your teeth across his lip, your hands resting over his chest to steady yourself. and when you break away, he chases after you like he’s been deprived of your taste for centuries.

“answer me,” you mumble, and that’s when jaehyun finally nods through his foggy mind, his hair bouncing with the movement.

“yeah. yes, please, don’t wanna think, please,” he whimpers, his nails digging into your skin. he's incredibly hard beneath you, twitching through his thin pants. with mercy, you place one final kiss to his lips before sitting back up. 

your fingers hook underneath the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging it up until his hard nipples are exposed to the cold bedroom air. you bring a hand down to circle one with your pointer finger and jaehyun’s entire body twitches at the stimulation, his cock fighting against the restraint of his underwear in interest. that’s when you press down even harder before flicking the bud, watching the way blood rushes to his chest the more you play with him. 

you do the same to his other nipple simultaneously and it doesn’t take long for jaehyun to be reduced to a squirming, whining mess, his head tipped back against the pillows. you lean down to lick at one of his nipples before blowing cold air on it, a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips at the action. 

he’s trembling already, your fingernails lightly dragging down the expanse of his abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. he’s watching you again, his eyelids hooded and heavy, his lips parted as he breathes heavily, bombarded with anticipation. a piece of art.

you pull his waistband and underwear down in one swift move, his leaking cock slapping against his skin with the motion. he’s so wet and so thick, his tip leaving a dripping trail of precum against his lower stomach, shiny and throbbing. it's cute how his cock squirms as soon as it touches air, his flushed tip spurting weak droplets when you gently trail your finger down the vein on the underside of his dick. 

“oh baby, your cock is so big. sucks that you don’t know how to use it, hm?” you speak sweetly, picking up his cock with your thumb and pointer finger before letting it drop back down. jaehyun’s hips buck at the impact, whining quietly as he grips your thighs even harder. 

“dunno how…” he mumbles, tears brimming his glossy eyes. he tries to buck his hips up again, but you seat yourself further on him, holding him down. you glide your fingers through his precum before spreading it over his head curiously. his breath hitches at the feeling, his cock jumping ever so slightly, but it’s too heavy to off of his stomach all the way, twitching pathetically. 

“that’s okay. i’ll help you cum, okay?” your voice is soft as you lean in to his ear, kissing right below it before trailing your lips to his cheek, placing a tiny kiss there too. “doing so well for me, puppy. you’re always so good for me, aren’t you?”

“good… ‘m good…” he repeats mindlessly, his voice sounding far off and light. you smile a little, tapping his cheek right over the kiss you just left against his skin.

“open up.”

he parts his lips automatically and you bring two of your wet fingers up to his mouth so he can taste himself. his eyes slip shut when you press down on his tongue, his moans quiet and muffled. one of his hands leaves your thigh to grab onto your wrist, his tongue desperately swirling around your fingers, trying to push them further into his mouth. drool escapes the corners of his mouth when he closes his lips round your digits, his cock twitching in between your bodies. 

“you like your mouth being stuffed, hm?” you mutter as you slip another finger into his mouth, slightly in awe as he meets your eyes with a small nod, practically gagging around your fingers. you're sure you’ve soaked through your panties by now, the sight in front of you gathering butterflies in your stomach. 

you finally bring your other hand down to his neglected cock, wrapping your fingers around the base. they can barely circle all the way around; he’s hot and heavy in your palm, his pre dripping onto your fingers like a faucet. 

he’s already a moaning mess when you squeeze his dick as you stroke him slowly, the vibrations of the sound shooting up your arm. his hair falls into his eyes, but he never breaks eye contact, his gaze spacey and yet full of so much devotion, it goes straight to your core. his chest is red, the flush shooting up his neck and face, the tip of his nose blushed and his eyelashes clumped together with tears. 

you keep your fingers in his mouth as you pump his cock, running your knuckles over his head slowly. he tries to fuck himself up into your fist, but eventually gives up, succumbing to whatever you decide to give him. he’s completely at your mercy, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the inside of your wrist as he continues to hold onto your arm, his other hand leaving fingernail indents on the soft skin of your thigh. 

you can tell he’ll cum fast; he’s usually sensitive on nights like these, pent up from all the stress he accumulates during the day. you can’t help but to coo at the sight of his eyes squeezing shut, trying his best to hold out for you. but tonight is about him. it’s all for him.

“want you to cum for me, puppy. can you do that? can you make a mess for me?”

jaehyun moans loudly at that, his back slightly arching off of the bed when you speed up the pace, wet sounds echoing off the walls, his dick slippery and bright red at the tip. you take your fingers out of his mouth to cup the side of his face, gazing down at him with so much adoration, you think you could burst from it all. he’s gorgeous, taking it all as his body writhes against the sheets, his cock begging for a release.

“close…,” he gasps, placing his hand on top of yours before burying his face in your palm, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. “can i cum? please, please, i’ll make a mess for you… puppy will…”

you smile down at him, circling your palm against the tip of his cock in a way that makes him literally sob, tears rolling his cheeks at the action. his body racks with shivers as his hips messily thrust up into your hand. you mentally savor the image before giving him mercy, brushing your thumb over his cheek soothingly.

“you can cum, puppy.”

as soon as you utter those words, jaehyun breaks, his entire body tensing up as he reaches his high. he’s mumbling all kinds of words, whining and whimpering as streams of cum paint his stomach and chest, thick and white as it rolls down his body. 

“love you, love you, love you so much,” he rambles, trembling as his cock continues to spurt tiny bits of cum until it goes limp, twitching against his stomach, worn and wrung out. 

when you pull your hand away from his cock, he’s still crying into your palm, gasping and clutching onto your wrist tightly. you gently shush him as you lean in to kiss the tears away from his cheeks. you don’t even care that your clothes and sheets are now covered in cum. he’s completely worked up, his eyes squeezed shut as he quietly sobs. 

“oh, jaehyunnie,” you coo, trying your best to brush his tears away. “i’m right here, baby. it's okay. let it all out.”

you lean down to hug him, wrapping your arms around him, chest to chest. you feel his rapid heartbeat through your shirt, his body still slightly shaking and twitching with aftershocks of his orgasm. 

“i love you. i love you,” he hiccups through his tears, burying his face in your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist. you smile, squeezing him even tighter.

“i love you. i’m so proud of you,” you say, reaching up to pet his hair. 

you hold him until his tears finally simmer down into sniffles, pulling back to cup his face. his eyes are red and watery, his cheeks stained with salty tears, but to you, he's the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“i love you,” you repeat—just to make sure it really sticks this time—before pressing a long kiss to his lips. he melts into you at that, a lopsided smile on his face when you break apart. 

“thank you. for everything,” he whispers. you shake your head with a smile of your own, kissing the tip of his nose.

“thank you for coming to me. i’m always here. i’ll always be here.”

you both bask in silence for a bit, taking in the quiet stillness. and then, after a while, jaehyun taps the small of your back, searching for your eyes in the limited lighting of the room.

“can i eat you out now…? please?”

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3 x

masterlist

[coupsiedaisee]

jump then fall | issue 03 | c.sc

when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ choi seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: hogwarts au, fake dating au, fluff, angst wordcount: 8.3k series masterlist a/n: hiiiii, omg, it's been so many months since i last updated this fic! a big huge thanks to @hannieween for being there every step of the way, this is highest wrodcount i've hit so far for a chapter. (and so many edits, gah, this has gone through so many edits). i really hope y'all like it, this fic is truly my baby, and so is seungcheol, ahhh. let me know everything that you think!!!!!

THIS JUST IN! LOVER BOY AND FELLOW WALLLFOWER ALREADY OFF TO A ROCKY START?

"Let's date."

The ringing is back in your ears, mind going blank as you gape at Seungcheol.

Almost immediately, Seungcheol backtracks. "Not actually," he says, rushing to get the words out, "Like, pretend to date? Everyone thinks we're dating, but we're not . . . actually dating?"

"B-but, what about your girlfriend!" You sputter, bewildered. You are many things, but you are not a homewrecker.

"My what?" It's Seungcheol's turn to go wide-eyed in surprise. His face shifts into embarrassment, "Oh, that." He mumbles something incoherent.

"Come again?"

Seungcheol rubs the back of his neck, "I don't have a girlfriend." His deep brown eyes shine deceivingly innocent, "I may have spread a rumour about that."

In a moment of silence, the clock above the infirmary door ticks, the sound echoing through the empty room. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

"You what?"

Your voice pierces through the tension, and Seungcheol winces.

"I thought that if people were under the impression I was in a relationship, I might be able to get some of my own time back," he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Maybe then, they'd get off my back for once."

"Seungcheol, what are you talking about? Get off your back? About what?" Perhaps you sounded a bit too exasperated, but you could not wrap your head around what he was saying. "You're like, the Prince of Hogwarts. Everyone here worships the ground you walk on. What could they possibly—"

"That's just it, though, isn't it?" Seungcheol's voice cuts through like the dull edge of a sword, bitter and resentful. He looks into his lap, thumbs twiddling with one another, trying to choose his words carefully. "I've got enough as it is, juggling classes and Quidditch." He forces out a sardonic laugh, "Don't know if it's because I'm in my last year and people think they're running out of time or something, but my admirers have gotten more tenacious, it seems."

You don't say anything as Seungcheol's nose scrunches up, like he's smelled dragon dung. You'd never seen him make a face like that.

"Did you know? Two days into school starting, someone tried to give me spiked cauldron cakes. They had spiked them with love potion." Seungcheol says, shuddering at the memory. "Jeonghan said," his voice pitching up with a nasally tone, "It's too bad you're not dating someone, maybe then they'd leave you alone."

"So you make someone up?" You say, incredulous. "Seungcheol, do you hear how insane you sound?" He was your Head Boy, smart and level-headed. Kind and helpful. Not, conspiring and acrimonious.

"How was I supposed to know you and Soonyoung would be this persistent?" He says with a hint of ire.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Your voice drips with sarcasm, "I apologize for ruining your grand plan, oh captain, my captain."

Seungcheol bites back a strangled yell. "Which is why I proposed a solution," he bites back.

"Yes yes, so you can 'get your time back.' I'm understanding that. However, what I don't understand is, what's in it for me?" You wasted weeks on a bloody ruse. Time that could've been better spent on other stories for The Whistler, or more importantly, your coursework.

"Well…" he trails off, looking pointedly at your arm.

Right.

You had just confessed to your whole class that the two of you were dating.

As though it were mocking you, the clock above the door gongs at the hour before shrilly ringing, signally the end of class. If it hadn't already, your supposed 'secret' would definitely be spread like wildfire amongst the students now. Everyone would know what went down in that potions class.

"So? Are you in or are you not?"

"I—" don't know, you want to say. You squeeze your eyes closed, taking in a deep breath.

Seungcheol doesn't get an answer. The doors to the infirmary slam open, and a bedraggled Soonyoung comes racing in.

"Wallflower!" He wails. His normally pristine pressed robes are ruffled, one side sliding off his shoulder from the two book bags slung over it.

"I'm sorry, I am so so so sorry," Soonyoung blubbers, shrugging off the bags. They fall to the floor with a thunk as he comes cover to sit next to you on the cot. His eyes are puffy and his nose and cheeks are splotchy with redness. "Are you alright?" He grabs your arm and you hiss in pain.

Soonyoung drops it like a hot potato, "Sorry, sorry. You are alright though, right?" He squints past your shoulders at Seungcheol, who's avoiding Soonyoung's gaze and trying to will himself to become one with the cot pillow, trying to take up as little space as physically possible.

"Oh, you're... here." Soonyoung's eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, mouth slightly downturned. "So, you two are dating?"

"Er," Seungcheol looks to you for an answer, eyes pleading. His eyebrows are furrowed so intensely, you're worried they'll stick like that forever.

Time freezes for a moment. A million different answers sit on the tip of your tongue, like a gun waiting to go off.

No, it's not like that. It was a misunderstanding. I must've lost my mind for a moment. You misheard me, I said I was hating Seungcheol, not dating him. I'm thinking about becoming a nun. Each one, a bullet coursing through the air at high speed.

"Yes." You don't look at Soonyoung, your gaze instead staying locked on Seungcheol, whose eyebrows are still furrowed, but a small smile now creeps onto his face.

"We're dating," You say, turning back to Soonyoung, nose scrunching in apology. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Hosh."

Soonyoung sniffles. "It all makes sense now. You being so adamant to stop the article." He wipes at his nose, "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Hoshi, it was nothing like that, I promise."

Seungcheol swoops in, putting a hand on your shoulder, "We didn't want anyone to know, in case it didn't work out. You know how rumours go around here."

You tense at his touch, shoulders stiffening, and that all too familiar sense of trepidation creeps up your throat. Doing your best to shove it as far down as possible, you breathe through your nose and put on your most convincing smile.

This seems enough for Soonyoung, though. "Oh, that reminds me, I almost forgot," he pulls something out of his pocket, holding it out.

"My wand!" You lunge for it, using the movement to naturally shrug off Seungcheol's hand.

"I brought your bag too," says Soonyoung, gesturing to the bags at your feet. "Didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it. Say, Madam Pompfrey tell you how long you'll be stuck in here?"

"I'm not sure—"

"Probably a few days," Seungcheol interrupts. "She'll give you more salve to heal the burn and then its mainly a time game, waiting until the potion is out of your system and your arm is healed over."

"Very good, Mister Choi," says Madam Pompfrey, coming around your cot. She's holding a small vial of a deep purple potion, and when she unstoppers it, something smelling an awful lot like rotten eggs wafts your way. "Alright, you two, off you go. She needs her rest," she says, handing you the rancid potion.

Soonyoung makes to protest, but then decides against it. Seungcheol doesn't argue either, despite the disgruntled face he makes.

You spend two nights in the infirmary before Madam Pomfrey deems you fit and ready to return to the dorms.

Students bustle through the corridors as you make your way up to Ravenclaw Tower. The first class must have already let out, though you don't remember the bell going off.

Eyes sear into your back, and you tighten the strap of your bag, bringing it closer and scurrying up the stairs, past hushed and frantic whispers.

By the statue of Gilchrist the Gallant, a group of girls begin tittering amongst themselves as you shuffle past. You can't hear exactly what they're saying, but you pick up several mentions of Seungcheol.

The common room is empty, as is your room. You drop your bookbag onto the floor and fall into your four-poster bed with an oomph. Despite two days of rest, an ache thrums through your body.

Your forearm is still a little sore, but the searing, blinding pain is just a memory now. A faint scar runs from your wrist to your elbow, and you glide two fingers over it, the skin raised where the potion bubbled over.

A relaxing hot shower later, you throw on a clean set of uniform and put your hair half up in a clip, ready to head down to the Great Hall and attempt to grab a bite without striking up too much attention.

The doors to the Great Hall are wide open when you get down there. You tiptoe in, quiet as a mouse, but students are so engrossed in their own conversations that no one pays you any mind. Not that they would've on any other day, but circumstances seem to have changed.

You spot Soonyoung and Raveena hunched over something at the Ravenclaw table, deep in conversation. On the other end of the hall, Seungcheol sits at the Gryffindor table, surrounded as usual by Joshua and Jeonghan. His arm is propped up on the table, cheek cradled in palm, as he solemnly pushes food around on his plate.

Skulking through the tables, you find a gap between some students at the Hufflepuff table. Various foods cover the length of the table, and after a few days in the infirmary, the thought of sitting down and slowly gorging yourself makes your mouth water.

You reach over to grab two halves of a turkey sandwich, a ripe red apple, and some napkins to wrap them up in. It's not much, but it should tide you over till dinner.

"Wallflower!"

You freeze, hand inside your bag. A hush falls in the Great Hall.

Two tables behind you, Soonyoung seems to have spotted you.

"Blasted banshees," you curse. Your wand sits in the bottom of your book bag, although you're not sure if there's a bewitching spell strong enough to put the entire Great Hall to sleep.

Perhaps you could blow up a table, casualties be damned. You could also just ignore him, but would he ignore you?

Squeezing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you turn, plastering on the cheeriest smile you can muster.

"Hello Hoshi," you say between gritted teeth. Soonyoung makes to get up, but you motion with your hands for him to stay seated. "Just grabbing something to eat, I'll see you in class!" Murmurs break around you, but you keep your eyes trained on Soonyoung, your fake smile rivaling a Madam Tussauds sculpture.

Okay. This is okay. Could be worse. Could be a lot worse. For one, Seungcheol could—fuck. Your smile drops, and you whip around to the Gryffindor table. Seungcheol's sitting there, hand gripped tightly around the fork frozen halfway up to his mouth, and eyebrows scrunched with that signature furrow.

You turn to Soonyoung. Then back again to Seungcheol. "I-I—" you stutter, the words getting stuck in your throat. So you do the only natural thing anyone else in your position would do.

You run straight out of the Great Hall.

Okay, so you were speed walking. And you're pretty sure you barrel through some first years as you push into the entrance hall. But you are not known for your athleticism, or lack thereof, nor are you one for this much attention.

Shoes clack against the stone floor as you find your way down the corridor. Surely there is a quiet place for you to sit and eat without interruption. Or eyes. Or people. Or Seungcheol.

Heavy footsteps follow behind you, and someone calls out your name.

Seungcheol.

You pick up the pace, breaking into a slow jog (as if you could outrun a bloody Quidditch captain).

"Hey, wait!" A hand grips your shoulder, and you startle from the touch. The momentum of trying to turn and avoid it, careening you backwards. Seungcheol catches you by the arm, "Woah there, steady now." He sets you upright, hand still wrapped around your elbow. A drum begins to beat in your head, and you feel like you're going to vomit.

Seungcheol's eyebrows are still furrowed, and he looks, dare you say, a little upset. His lips are pursed in a straight line, as though calculating what to say.

"Why didn't you tell me you were out of the infirmary?"

Shaking your arm out of his hold, your eyes flit around the corridor, uneasy. "Sorry, I—" again, the words are stuck in your throat. You've gone speechless, as you so often do around Seungcheol.

Seungcheol follows your gaze to the student hanging around in the hallway. Everyone is staring at you two. He huffs, eyes rolling, and mutters, "Let's get out of here."

He leads you into a side corridor where more students linger post-lunch. Hushed whispers run through the hall, and Seungcheol huffs once more.

A group of students huddle by the far wall. They appear to be in their fourth or fifth year and stare you and Seungcheol down as the two of you make your way through the hall. One of the students struts out, coming to stand in front, halting your steps.

A pointer finger twirls in their hair, and they're giggling. "Hi Seungcheol," they say, voice squeaky like nails on a chalkboard. "Are you really dating—" they eye you up and down with a look that can only be categorized as contempt, "—her?"

Seungcheol's jaw clenches. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. "Yes," he grunts. "Now if you'll excuse us." He pushes past, shoulder-checking them, and you flounder to follow behind him.

The kid scoffs as they stumble aside, "Ow—excuse you?" You turn to see them throw you one last, nasty, look before bursting into tears.

"Oh for fucks sake," Seungcheol says under his breath. Other students crowd around the kid in consolation, and they all seem to fling similar looks of disdain your way.

Seungcheol whispers, "I'm really sorry about this, but brace yourself," and he grabs you by the wrist, setting off into a soft jog. He zig zags the two of you through the maze of corridors so quickly that you don't even have a moment to think about his hand moving down to wrap around yours.

He leads you down another corridor, pulling you into a hard left when a student comes around the corner. A tapestry hangs on the opposite wall, and Seungcheol pulls it back to reveal a hidden stairwell, ushering you through it. Your calves were starting to burn, you hadn't done this much exercise in, well, ever really. The two of you climb the stairs in silence till you come out the other end to an empty passageway.

Seungcheol relaxes, letting out a big breath with his hands on his hips, but then you hear more footsteps coming around the corner, and he lets out a groan. Spotting a broom closet across the hall, he pulls it open, pushing you through the doorway and quickly following after, shutting the door softly behind him.

Both of you stay still, listening as the footsteps come closer before passing by and fading off into the distance.

The broom closet, cupboard really, is cold and musty. Two long benches line either wall, and the ceiling rises to barely above your height. Seungcheol ducks to avoid hitting his head on the rafters.

You take a seat on one of the rotting benches, rubbing your wrist where Seungcheol held it.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, eyes lingering on your hands. "Sorry about that, I just—" he takes a seat across from you, "I wanted us out of there fast, I assumed you did too."

"It's okay. I'm sorry too." Seungcheol tilts his head, hair flopping to one side like a puppy, eyes filled with question. You clear your throat, "For not telling you. About being out of the infirmary."

Seungcheol hums, nodding. He crosses his ankles and leans forward, grabbing the edge of the bench, "Why?"

"What?"

"Why—" he repeats, staring you down, "—didn't you tell me?"

You frown, "I didn't know I was supposed to."

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. There's moss growing on the rafters. "Well, I am your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend. Right." The word feels odd on your tongue. You'd never called anyone that. You didn't think you'd ever call anyone that, fake or not.

The word turns over and over in your head as you reach into your bag, pulling out your food. You stick the apple out to Seungcheol, and he takes it.

"I think we should set some expectations," Seungcheol says, turning the apple over in his hand.

You unwrap your sandwich and take a bite. Turkey, lettuce, tomato, a slice of provolone, and a thin spread of mayo. Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow.

Seungcheol continues, "No one is going to believe us if we're not seen spending any time with each other. Then this will all have been for nothing."

Mouth full of sandwich, you ask, "What exactly did you have in mind then?"

Seungcheol takes a bite of your apple with a strong crunch, chewing. "I was thinking we could spend time with each other by studying, or doing homework? We're taking all the same classes, and it would get you away from The Whistler to stay caught up in them."

"Just studying?" You raise your eyebrows at Seungcheol, "This is your big master plan?"

He leans back with a heavy sigh, twisting the stem of the apple off and throwing it into the corner. "Okay, fine. What's your big master plan then?"

You think for a moment before answering, "Look, you're like, the Prince of Hogwarts, right?" Seungcheol's ears burn pink at hearing that moniker again. "No one probably even knows who I am outside of our year. There's no way anyone's going to believe this just because we start studying together."

Seungcheol purses his lips, and you know he knows that you're right. Everyone will be waiting on the sidelines to see you slip up so they can tear you to shreds. It'd be open season.

"Either way, we have a bigger problem than convincing the school." You fold the napkin in your lap, making a small boat that flops over. "I can convince Hoshi that I kept this from him, I've got my reasons, and he'll understand, but Joshua and Jeonghan are never going to believe that you're dating some girl you've never mentioned."

"Who says I've never mentioned you before?" he snaps.

"What?" you ask, confused.

Seungcheol ignores you. "And how do you know they won't believe this?" He takes another bite of the apple, chewing aggressively.

"You're friends are smart, not to mention you spend nearly all your time with them." You don't think you'd ever seen Seungcheol without them if you're being honest. "They're going to wonder how we got together, and unless we've got an iron-clad story, they'll see right through it."

Seungcheol doesn't say anything, just takes the last bite of his apple, throwing the core into the corner.

"If you can't even convince your friends, you're not convincing the school."

"Fine," Seungcheol finally huffs. "How?"

"How what?" You parrot back.

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, "How are we gonna convince them, princess?"

You choke on nothing, covering it up with a cough, "I—I didn't think that far." You avoid Seungcheol's gaze.

"You know, if I can't even hold your hand, that'll also make everything fall apart very quickly." A small stream of water leaks through the rafters, and you watch as the droplets drip onto the stone floor. "I'm not saying you should do something that makes you uncomfortable, I'd never ask that of you, but we should find an alternative that works for you if you're determined to convince people."

You both sit in silence, the sound of dripping water echoing through the closet, before Seungcheol speaks up again, "We should get to class."

You nod, eager to get out of there, folding your napkin boat up in half and putting it away in your bag. Both of you go to stand at the same time, your heads banging against each other.

You fall back onto the bench, groaning and holding your head as Seungcheol does the same. He gestures for you to get up first as he rubs the top of his head, hair going in every which direction.

You push through the door, adjusting your book bag on your shoulder, and freeze. Seungcheol runs into your back with a grunt, and you stumble forward a little.

There is a group of students loitering in the passageway, all with their eyes locked on you.

They stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. And if they're staring at you, that means—you turn around and Seungcheol's shutting the door behind him. His hair is in disarray, and he's fixing his glasses to sit straight, stopping abruptly at the small crowd of students.

Seungcheol straightens up a little and clears his throat, voice dropping a few notes, "Shouldn't you all be in class?" He raises an eyebrow, shooting the most menacing look he could muster, and they scurry off, not without tittering to each other, though. He relaxes, letting out a deep breath.

"Come on, let's go before someone else shows up," you mutter.

The two of you walk into Charms together, and it seems like you're the last to do so. While Professor Flitwick has not arrived yet, everyone else has already found their seats.

"Looks like the lovebirds decided to show up for class," someone shouts from the back. It's unclear who it was, and you feel your cheeks start to burn up.

You look across the classroom and spot Soonyoung sitting near the back next to an empty seat. "I'm gonna go sit with—" you wave a hand in Soonyoung's direction.

Seungcheol nods, "Go ahead, I'll sit with—" he searches the room for Joshua and Jeonghan. They were in the second row, Jeonghan was seeing how far he could lean back on his chair without falling, while Joshua was using his wand to charm little paper birds around Jeonghan's head. Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut, "—my friends," he sighs.

You muffle a snicker behind your hand as Seungcheol drags his feet to his friends, and you make your way back to where Soonyoung is sitting, feeling smug when you pass by Tabitha and she glares at you.

"Wallflower! How are you feeling?" says Soonyoung as you slide into the seat next to him.

"Better, so much better." You lift part of your sleeve, "See, only a scar now."

Soonyoung grabs your arm, looking at the scar from all angles. "Oh wow, it's already fading." He sets your arm down and pulls out his Charms textbook as Professor Flitwick walks in, leaning over to whisper, "I was really worried, you know. With the way you ran out of the Great Hall this morning? Pudding was too. We thought maybe something happened again."

You squirm in your seat, "Oh, that? I'd just forgotten my textbook. Just had to go back and get it before class."

"Well, she'll be happy to see you back. So will the others." He lets out a small laugh, "I swear Dino would've cried if you took any longer."

"Hoshi, I was gone for barely a day," you say with a smile, pulling out your textbook, turning to the chapter on creating your own spell. At the front of the class, Flitwick calls on Seungcheol to pass out last week's graded essays as the professor starts today's lesson.

Your eyes follow the Head Boy as he wades through the rows, handing out everyone's essays. He'd fixed his hair from earlier, and it sat neatly combed. You shake the urge to mess it all up again.

When Seungcheol gets to you, he hands you your essay, smiling, and softly says, "Good work." As he walks away, Soonyoung reaches over to grab your essay.

"You got an Acceptable? I have an Exceeds Expectations, and I didn't get a 'good work,'" Soonyoung pouts.

"Wait, I got an Acceptable?" You grab it back from Soonyoung. A big fat 'A' is etched into the top of the page. You groan. It was only the beginning of the year, but you knew it would take more effort than you were currently putting in to keep your grades up this year.

You watch as Seungcheol makes his way back to his seat, giggling when he whacks Jeonghan in the head with his essay, and Jeonghan almost falls out of his seat.

"I like this side of you," Soonyoung says suddenly.

"What do you mean?" You ask, taking out your quill and a fresh roll of parchment.

"This young, blossoming love side of you," he says, hand on cheek and elbow on the table. He lets out an airy sigh, "Oh, to be young and in love."

Your cheeks burn, and you duck down to grab Advanced Magical Theory out of your book bag. "You're being ridiculous," you mutter.

Tabitha turns around to hiss at the two of you, "Will you two shut up. Some of us are trying to learn here." Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at her.

"You know," he leans over to whisper. "Now that we technically know who Seungcheol's girlfriend is, theoretically, the article can still happen." You stay silent, only shooting him a glare. Soonyoung scrambles with his words, "Of course, only if you're comfortable with it." You silently poke your wand into his side, send him the smallest of shocks, and he lets out a small yelp.

"Though I am curious," Soonyoung says, after class. Seungcheol had come up to you, I have Quidditch practice, but I'll see you at dinner? You had nodded, holding your bag strap tight like it's your anchor and mirroring the shy smile Seungcheol sends you, waving him a small goodbye.

The two of you head down to the newsroom. Soonyoung had some corrections he wanted to do on an upcoming article before dinner, and you had so much to catch up on from your time away.

"How did you two start dating?" Soonyoung asks as the two of you approach the entrance to the newsroom.

You stiffen, glancing up and down the corridor, but it was deserted. Seungcheol and you had yet to come up with an origin story.

Soonyoung taps his wand to the blank space of a wall, a hidden doorknob appearing out of the stone." I didn't know you two were even talking like that," he says, holding the door open for you to walk through.

You hurry through, dropping your book bag on a table and beelineing for a basket of unsorted photos Dino must have been working on while you were gone. "We take some classes you're not in, and it started with asking him questions about coursework and, sort of," you wave your hands about, "you know, just grew from there."

It wasn't entirely wrong. You and Seungcheol did have classes together that Soonyoung wasn't in. But you spent most of those quietly in the back. Unless you were partnered up with Seungcheol for something, which was rare, interactions with him were far and few between.

"Besides, he's the class topper. I thought I could get better marks working with him. It's N.E.W.T.s year, and I'm struggling to keep up. One thing just led to another."

"One thing led to another." Soonyoung watches you, head cocked, as you tap your wand on the wall by the rolling board, revealing a tall wooden door, the entry to your dark room. You pull it open, and Soonyoung follows behind. "Is he nice to you, Wallflower?"

Though the red light is on in your dark room, you're not sure he can see the face you pull. "What sort of question is that? Of course, he is Hoshi." You find rolls of undeveloped film in a drawer and begin pulling them out. "It's Seungcheol." You may have problems with students at your school, but Seungcheol has never, never, been one of them.

"But, you would tell me if he wasn't?" Soonyoung leans back against a table, arms crossed.

"Obviously, why would you think I wouldn't?" You crouch down under the table to open a cabinet file, filled with potions for developing film.

There's a beat before Soonyoung says quietly, "You didn't tell me you two were dating."

And there it was. You were wondering how long it would be till he brought it up again. It hurt Soonyoung more than he let on and you knew it.

You were his best friend. His other half. After everything that's happened to you, he just wanted you to be safe. If anything ever did happen, and Hoshi hadn't known about it? That'd break his heart.

"Hoshi, we just wanted to keep it private at first." You stand up, clutching a vial with trembling fingers that you hoped Soonyoung wouldn't notice. You hated lying to him. It wasn't something you did often, or at all, really. It made you feel icky inside. "He didn't tell his friends either. We didn't think it was worth saying anything until it became something worth sharing. And now it is." You make a face, "Well, sort of."

Soonyoung frowns, "Sort of? What do you mean, sort of?"

You unstopper a potion to pour it into a tray, "We haven't actually, I dunno, gone on a date?"

"What?!" Soonyoung says shrilly, and you wince. "I'm gonna kill him, what do you mean he hasn't taken you out on a date?"

They say the best lies are the ones wrapped in truth. Small fibs layered between facts. Pages of fiction woven into the book of reality.

"We haven't had the chance." You would become the greatest fiction writer ever known. "I'm sure he'll ask me on a real date soon." One to rival Madame Kwon. "Don't say anything to him, I don't want to make a fuss."

"Wallflower, surely even with your lack of experience, you know that to date, you need to actually go on dates?" Soonyoung postures.

"Merlin Casanova." You sift your film in the tray of potion. "We've barely been together, and some of us prioritize school. You can bite his head off later if he still hasn't taken me out."

This seems to satisfy Soonyoung, for now.

Later that evening, when you and Soonyoung head down to the great hall for dinner, Seungcheol is waiting at the entrance. He looks skittish, adjusting and readjusting his glasses, fumbling around with his sleeves, perking up when he sees you and Soonyoung coming down the steps. A smile grows on his face, and he gives you an awkward wave, "Alright?"

"Yeah," you say in a small voice. "You?"

"Never better."

Soonyoung sticks a hand out at Seungcheol, "Soonyoung Kwon, didn't get to properly introduce myself the other day."

Seungcheol hesitantly shakes Soonyoung's hand, "Yeah, I know. We're in the same year? I'm your Head Boy."

This doesn't shake Soonyoung, "Yes, well, you only know me as Soonyoung Kwon, Gobstones extrodinaire. I'm here today as Soonyoung Kwon, Wallflower's best friend." He pulls Seungcheol forward by the hand, and Seungcheol stumbles forward, going chest to chest with Soonyoung. Soonyoung whispers something in Seungcheol's ear that you don't quite catch, but it makes Seungcheol stand up straighter.

They exchange a silent look before Soonyoung lets Seungcheol's hand go.

Seungcheol's turns to look at you, "Josh and Jeonghan are already at a table, if you'd like to join us for dinner?"

Soonyoung shrugs at you and you stammer out a meek, "Sure."

"Let me get that for you," says Seungcheol, and he takes your book bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder as Soonyoung starts heading into the great hall, chattering about something to do with Gobstones club.

Seungcheol taps the back of your hand, and you flinch. "Can I?" He whispers, sticking out his hand discreetly.

There's something about it, him asking permission. You found yourself doing a lot of things this week that you normally wouldn't. The Wallflower from a few days ago would've probably shrunk back. But today's Wallflower? She's different. Anew. Today's Wallflower nods, letting Seungcheol take her hand in his.

He's gentle with his hold, his warm hand softly encapsulating yours. But then it begins. The monster crawling out from your gut, through your throat, roaring to be let out. You breathe through your nose, but you can't stop the feeling of his skin against yours, and the unease begins to suffocate you.

Soonyoung leads you all to the Gryffindor table, where Jeonghan and Joshua have already begun to eat. He plops himself down across from them with no preamble.

"Go on, I'll sit next to you," Seungcheol says softly, nodding towards the spot next to Soonyoung.

It takes everything in you to focus on the table and bench, sliding in next to Soonyoung. Seungcheol follows suit.

He lets go of your hand to grab plates to pass over, and your lungs expand back to their regular size as though breathing for the first time. Your hands shake as you take a plate and serve yourself some potato mash.

Seungcheol leans over to whisper, hot breath fanning over your ear, "Are you okay?"

If you opened your mouth to speak, you felt like you would vom all over this table. Without your voice, you just nod, trying to smile as if to convince him, and yourself, that you were just fine.

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows but doesn't argue, taking the serving spoon from you when you finish, helping himself to a heaping of mash.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan and Joshua are eyeing you, their dinners forgotten on their plates. Eyeing you like the latest bird discovery while trekking through the jungles of the Amazon, both inquisitive and in fascination.

Jeonghan is the first to speak. "Welcome, kind of you to join us tonight," he says, with a glint in his eye. He stabs into a roasted carrot, brandishing it about, "We don't really understand so if you don't mind, please enlighten us. What made you want to date this uptight loser?"

Seungcheol glares at him, pushing his glasses up by the bridge. "You don't have to answer that," he says, "Jeonghan's just jealous that no one wants to date his smelly arse."

This does not seem to phase Jeonghan, though. To the contrary, his eyes crinkle as his smile deepens into a cheshire cat grin. He lets out a chuckle, "You see, our Head Boy here is about as alluring as, I don't know, our musty History of Magic textbook." He widens his eyes, eyebrows knitting in faux concern, "Did you have Poppy check your head while you were in the infirmary?"

You shake your head no, looking to Seungcheol for assistance, but your Golden Boy isn't even paying attention, instead too busy chowing down on chuck roast.

"If you haven't, you might want to," Jeonghan continues. "Head injury is surely the only—oof," Jeonghan keels over the table. "Did you just kick me?"

"Don't mind him," Seungcheol says, "Jeonghan's a menace to society. Joshua and I haven't figured out how to wrangle him in quite yet. Unfortunately, Professor Grubblyplank never had a unit on that."

Jeonghan scoffs, "Rude!"

Joshua ignores both of their bickers and tells you sweetly, "We're glad you and Soonyoung joined us for dinner today, we were both excited to meet you."

"Yeah, to meet and see what's wrong with he—ow." This time it's Joshua who elbows Jeonghan in the side.

"Oh." You're not sure how to respond to that. "We've met before, though. In class?"

Joshua shakes his head, "That's not the same. And Seungcheol here wouldn't tell us anything about you two."

"What's there to say?" You side-eye Seungcheol and Soonyoung, but they're both wholly unhelpful, staying silent. You decide to attempt to answer Jeonghan, to offer something for Seungcheol to work with. "I mean, it's like how there are some cool things in the History of Magic textbook, you just have to look in the right chapter? Like, uh," You glance over at Seungcheol for a sign, anything, that this was the right thing to say, but he's looking at you confused, like he doesn't know where you're going with this. And somehow, you're mouth isn't stopping, moving on its own accord, "Like, the goblins, um, their wars? There's a lot you can learn about why our current society works the way it does and the power imbalances set in place in part to control certain types of people. It's quite... fascinating." You end lamely.

Seungcheol hides a smile behind a dinner roll.

Jeonghan's slack-jawed, "It's worse than I thought." He whips his head around to Joshua, exclaiming, "She's also a loser!"

Seungcheol throws his dinner roll at Jeonghan, hitting him square on the cheek.

The rest of dinner goes by uneventfully. Afterwards, Seungcheol walks you back to the Ravenclaw dorms.

The walk is silent, and a little awkward. The corridors are mostly empty, and Seungcheol doesn't make any move to hold your hand like earlier. Which was good, you didn't want him to.

As you arrive at the bottom of Ravenclaw Tower, you turn to Seungcheol to grab your book bag, which he was so diligently carrying for you. He holds onto it tightly, though, the bag not budging an inch when you try to tug it off his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" You say, still trying to tug your bag out of his grasp.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Seungcheol asks, baffled.

"I'm going to bed. So give me my bag, please." You give it another tug, but Seungcheol seems to have an iron grip.

"It's fine, I brought it this far, what's another couple hundred stairs?"

"Another couple hundred—Seungcheol, you don't have to walk me all the way up." You say exasperatedly. "I am capable of making it to my own common room. Have been since first year."

"I never said you weren't." He tugs at you back, and you stumble forward into him, head hitting his chest. For beat, you think you hear the badum badum of his heart through his warm shirt. Not a beat longer though, and you're hastily stepping back, only to lose your footing and start to fall backwards.

Seungcheol steps forward to catch you by the arms, careful to only hold on to your sleeves, hands clenched around the mass of robes.

You would not define yourself as a particularly clumsy person. But today has you feeling like a newborn deer. Mortified, you look up into those expectant, big brown eyes.

"Easy there, Princess," Seungcheol says, pulling you back upright.

You're quick to shimmy out of his grasp and don't even have a moment to collect yourself before Seungcheol begins to ascend Ravenclaw tower, your bag in tow.

You trudge behind him, up the spiral staircase, willing your heart to stop beating so erratically.

Seungcheol holds your bag out when you two get to the top, and you avoid his eyes while taking it back.

You knock once and the bronze eagle on the knocker speaks, "What has a face and two hands, but no arms or legs?"

"A clock. Goodnight Seungcheol," and with that, you slip through the door, closing it behind you without giving Seungcheol even a glance.

"You look awful," says Soonyoung, when you show up to Transfiguration with barely a minute to spare. He hands you a warm thermos. The strong scent of Nocturna Brewery's double caffinated brew wafts towards you. "Did you even get any sleep last night?"

"A little bit." A lie. You spent most of last night tossing and turning in bed. In fact, you'd spent the last few days riddled with insomnia.

Ever since Seungcheol dropped you off at your common room the other night, you haven't been able to get a lick of sleep. The last three nights have been restless, and each night has only made the next day even groggier.

You'd also been avoiding Seungcheol. Sitting as far away from him as possible in class, skipping out as soon as the bell rings, and spending your meals and free periods holed up in your dark room. While you knew you couldn't avoid him forever, you had a hard time coming to terms with what exactly his proposition entailed. Seungcheol was busy anyhow, running Quidditch practice, head boy duties, prefect meetings, and whatever other million school things he's got himself entangled with.

You chug down half the thermos, the liquid scalding down your throat, but the caffeine boost never comes through. Perhaps your body's had enough. You can't count how many cups you've had this week, maybe you've hit your limit. Class goes by like a blur, and you've retained nothing by the end of it.

As you're putting your things away, Soonyoung jabs into your side repeatedly with his elbow. You look up to see Seungcheol, chewing his lip and rocking back on his heels.

"I don't have anything during my free period, do you want to hang out?" Seungcheol sounds hesitant, like he's worried you'll say no. And you don't blame him, because that's exactly what you want to do. To say no and crawl back into your dark room, shutting yourself out from the world (read: Seungcheol).

"I've got Gobstones club, so I'll see you later Wallflower," Hoshi says, leaving you alone with Seungcheol, who's still chewing his bottom lip. He looks nervous, and you want to chastise him, tell him he's only making his lips more chapped, but you don't. This shouldn't even matter to you.

"I need to brew some potions. For my photos," you say, sounding just as hesitant as him. "Would you like to join me?"

You didn't even know you were holding your shoulders tight, but they relax when Seungcheol nods, letting you lead him out to find another empty classroom.

The walk is awkwardly silent, more so than the other night. When you finally find an unoccupied room, as soon as Seungcheol closes the door behind him, he asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

Your hands stall, wand in midair as you're about to procure your potion materials. "What? No. You haven't. Why would you ask that?" But, you already know why.

His eyes are downcast, "You've been avoiding me. I thought maybe I did something wrong."

"No. Sorry. I just—" you flounder. In your stride to avoid any sort of confrontation or opportunity to be embarrassed once more, it had not even occurred to you to think about how this would make Seungcheol feel. A part of you is also confused as to why this even matters.

"This whole thing is new. I'm not used to having…whatever this is," you say, motioning your hands between the two of you. "I go to class. Work on The Whistler. Spend time with Soonyoung. I don't know how to do all this other stuff."

Seungcheol sighs, taking a seat across from you at the table. You busy yourself with conjuring up your potion materials and cauldron.

He pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill, then gestures for you to sit across from him.

"I think making a proper strategy will help us with this." He says as you take a tentative seat. "And more importantly, help you."

Seungcheol's about to start writing when you cry out, "No!" slamming a hand down on the parchment. He startles and nearly knocks over his inkwell.

"If you dont want anyone to know, dont write it down," you hiss. "Rule #1 at The Whistler."

Seungcheol waves his wand, the spilled ink disappearing, "I promise to burn it in front of you if it'll make you feel better, but I really do think we need to figure this out. Now."

Unable to find a logical argument to that, you lean back, crossing your arms and pursing your lips, letting him continue with what he was doing.

He writes a list on the left side of the parchment: Sonyoung, Jeonghan, Joshua, Gryffindor Quidditch, The Whistler, Mythili, Raveena.

"You know Raveena?" You ask, sitting up straight.

Seungcheol taps the head boy badge on his chest, "It's kind of my job."

"But there's like a thousand kids at this school. You can't know everyone," you gripe.

"I know everyone and everything at this school," Seungcheol says matter-of-factly. "There's not much anyone's doing without my knowing."

"How?" You say, sounding weary.

Seungcheol is elusive. "You have your Raveena. I have my…ways," he says, not giving up anything more. He draws three lines on the parchment, connecting 'Soonyoung,' 'Jeonghan,' and 'Joshua.' Next to it, he writes, 'spending more time together: library, dinner, in between classes.' He then moves on to 'Gryffindor Quidditch,' etching next to it, 'come to practices and games.'

"Is that necessary?" You ask, unable to hide the groan in your voice.

Seungcheol looks at you over his glasses and crosses out 'practices.'"Fine, you don't have to come to practices, but you gotta show up to my games, you're my girlfriend."

You keep thinking that the word girlfriend would stop affecting you, yet your cheeks burn in obvious embarrassment. "I just—I've never been to a Quidditch game before," you stammer.

Seungcheol is flabbergasted, "What do you mean you've never been to a Quidditch game?"

You fiddle with the notches in the table, "To be honest, I don't really get it."

Seungcheol is still stunned, "B-but you take photos for Quidditch!"

You shake your head, "Only if Soonyoung can't, but that's barely ever, and only for practices. I've never been to an actual game, though."

'Go to Quidditch games together,' he writes. "Maybe you should come to my practices then," says Seungcheol.

You wrinkle your nose up at that, "I really don't want to."

"How can you not like Quidditch? That makes no sense," says Seungcheol, dumbfounded. "You have to come to our upcoming game. We're playing Hufflepuff, it'll be a tough match, you have to be there. People will think you're a bad girlfriend if you don't"

"I'll think about it," you murmur. "Does Mythili really need convincing?" You ask, trying to change the subject. "Feels like she has more important things to do than follow our love life."

"She keeps trying to wrangle me into daily meetings," he says. "Nothing is happening at this school to constitute meeting that often. What about the Whistler folks?"

"We hear everything the school hears," you say. "If we convince the school, we convince The Whistler, who then informs the school, whose students then feel validated in their opinion. It's essentially a symbiosis."

Seungcheol hums as you stand up, ready to start making your potions. "I think this is a good start, then."

"Burn it," you say.

"What?" Seungcheol retorts.

"The parchment. Burn it," and without waiting for him to respond, you incendio it for him. The parchment ignites before burning to ashes, and with another wave of your wand, the ashes disappear.

As you start on your potions, Seungcheol pulls out his school work, but he's unable to focus, choosing instead to watch as you prep and stir your ingredients into your cauldron.

"How often do you have to brew your potions?" Seungcheol asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Mmm, depends? Sometimes I have a lot of photos to develop, so I go through a lot of potion. Sometimes I'm trying new things out, and I need to brew more to keep up with the experimentations. It really depends." You drop in some dried newt tail and give the potion a half stir. It goes from a light tan into a blue so pale it's almost clear.

"Cool." Seungcheol's essentially abandoned the essay he was working on, watching as you diligently stir your potion. "Is Soonyoung usually with you?"

"Sometimes? Again, depends on what he's got going. We're not always together, you know." You sprinkle a dash of beetroot powder and the potion turns a deep violet colour without you even stirring.

"He hasn't said anything then? About us, I mean."

"What? You mean like has he caught on?" You think for a moment. Soonyoung hasn't given any indication that he doesn't believe you two, at least you don't think so. "There was someething he said the other day though. Something that might become a problem."

Seungcheol straightens at this, "What? What did he say?"

"It kind of slipped out yesterday, that you, um, well—" You avoid glancing up at Seungcheol before blurting out, "That you haven't asked me out on a date yet."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's—we don't actually have to," you stammer. "But we should make up a good story, you know? Something believable. Not sure exactly what we'd do, there's not much to do around here, but I'm sure we can find something." Seungcheol stays quiet for a bit, and you think he hasn't even heard you.

"What are your plans for our next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Your hand stills while stirring. "I had some errands to run, with Hoshi?" You say, slowly.

Seungcheol crosses his arms, leaning back again, "Go with me instead."

"What?" You're stunned.

"Hogsmeade," he says, pushing up his glasses. "Don't go with Soonyoung. Let me take you instead."

"I'll have you know, I don't need anyone to take me to—" you sputter.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, "Let me come with you then, I don't care how you word it. But either way, let's go together."

"Why?" You ask.

"You said I hadn't asked you out on a date, this is me asking you out on a date," Seungcheol says, voice laced in frustration.

"I—okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Seungcheol swallows, "I'm not trying to pressure you into—"

"Seungcheol, I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do anything that you don't—"

"Seungcheol, I want to," you say firmly.

"Okay," Seungcheol says, a new determined look on his face.

"Okay," you respond.

"It's a date."

a/n: alright y'all, your thoughts? you get sooo much more seungcheol this time around! how is he 🥺and the fake dating is beginning ahhhh, props if you've made it this far hahaha. uwu, lmk what y'all think pls pls pls! -daisee out

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR OTHER OTHER WEBSITES

[harryspet]

homestead | r.cameron [p.2]

[warnings]dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, NONCON, unprotected sex, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.4k

In which you confront Rafe's unsettling mix of tenderness and manipulation.

part one

Your search of the room for anything useful as a weapon was not fruitful. Most drawers were empty except for clothes. You found more pairs of pajamas and nightgowns, but searching the closet only yielded a few hung sundresses. The bathroom was simple, with a clawfoot tub and another window looking out onto green pastures. On the bathroom counter, you found a wicker basket full of what you assumed were newly bought essentials. Several containers of prenatal vitamins, body washes and creams for sensitive skin, panty liners, Epsom salts, and essential oils. 

Rafe Cameron thought of all of this?

The window offered a view of the other side of the house and a large white barn and Rafe’s blue pickup truck caught your eye. You stepped into the tub to get a closer look out the window. Maybe you could see a road, a way out of here, or even a street sign that might tell you where you were. Just like the bedroom windows, they didn’t budge either. 

The bedroom door swings open once more, and you sink into the empty tub, your head cradled in your hands as you desperately try to force your mind to function. For the sake of your baby, you need to think clearly. The overwhelming situation presses down on you, making it even harder to process what’s happening. You can sense his presence in the doorway, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I made scrambled eggs,” He said. 

“They make me sick,” You said stoically, “Haven’t eaten them in months.”

“Good to know,” His tall, broad figure stood over you before you heard him kneel down beside the tub, “I also brought yogurt and fresh fruit. How does that sound?”

“All the windows are locked.”

“Uh, yeah,” he said as if it were normal, “I know you’re hungry. You need your strength. I don’t have to remind you why.”

You looked up to see his hand offering a white bowl filled with yogurt, fresh blueberries, and strawberries. He was right—you needed your strength. If not for the baby, then to gather the energy to escape. Perhaps you could think more clearly on a full stomach. You gazed at the food for a full minute, trying to rationalize why you should accept it, wrestling with the cognitive dissonance that churned within you.

You took it from his hands without a thank you and stirred your spoon about twenty times before finally bringing it to your mouth. It tasted heavenly, which you hated. “There’s the cutest farmer’s market a couple of miles from here. The blueberries are incredible but you gotta get there early on Sunday before they’re sold out.”

You met his eyes for a brief moment and realized they were sparkling with joy. You didn’t have to respond to him, he’d happily talk to himself as long as he felt like he was making some progress with you. You couldn’t let me feel that way for long, “You’ve outdone yourself, Rafe, really.”

“Just want you to be comfortable,” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes, “It’s a lot right now, I know that.”

“A lot,” you scoffed, bitterness laced throughout your tone. “This is insane.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, whatever it was, “You’re safe here. Your baby’s safe here. There’s plenty of room, plenty of food, and you’d never have to work a real jon. You haven’t even seen everything yet, but it’s beautiful. It’s a great place to raise a kid.”

“Rafe, you took the choice away from me.”

He shook his head, “So what? I saved you from suffering even further. Not even a little part of you regrets choosing JJ?”

You went quiet, feeling your temper rising. Instead of responding, you brought another spoonful to your mouth. He didn’t understand why this was so completely wrong, and presenting him with common sense didn’t seem to be working. 

“I love you, Y/N,” He spoke as if to get your attention, but you didn’t meet his eyes this time, “Don’t start thinking anyone’s coming to save you, Y/N. And you won’t overpower me or make it far running. Not in your condition. You know that.”

You knew that, didn’t you? Clearly, JJ didn’t care enough about you to do better. And Pope had a bright future ahead of him. Maybe he’d realize he was better off without you. What were you to do now? Give in when you’ve just realized that Rafe is a monster?

“Finish your food, I’ll be back later,” When you looked again he had the plate in hand and was walking away, not without loudly shutting the door. 

Your head tilted back against the cold porcelain. This would turn out to be a game of endurance. You had to outlast him and perhaps outthink him. He’d been planning to bring you here for weeks, but he couldn’t have planned for everything. 

You finished your food and then spent the next few hours exploring the room in more detail, ensuring you hadn’t missed any detail. After all that time, the only new discovery that you make is under the bed. Still, in its packaging, you find a pregnancy pillow. You wouldn’t admit that you felt a small comfort at the sight of it. Sleeping had started to feel completely uncomfortable over the past few weeks, and you woke up painfully sore each morning.

It felt wrong when you knew it shouldn’t. In the meantime, you’d also take some of the prenatal vitamins. You could only afford one bottle of the generic brand, but Rafe provided several different types. Taking multiple kinds meant you weren’t missing any nutrients your baby might need. In just a matter of hours, you were starting to realize all that you didn’t have. 

You unzipped the pillow from its packaging, letting yourself feel the soft material against your chest. Although the knock at the door wasn’t loud, it startled you. Rafe appeared now in work boots, jeans, and a flannel. He held the doorknob in his hand and looked you over as if he hadn’t just seen you or picked out the exact outfit he wanted to see you in. You noticed he was even taller in those boots.

“What do you think?” He gestured to the pillow.

“Looks expensive,” You said simply.

“It had the best reviews,” he added, “You’ll have to let me know how you like it tomorrow morning.”

You stared back at him, shifting on your feet. "Can I show you something?" he asked, the door still wide open. A chance to leave. Of course, you’d take it. Faking compliance, you carefully stepped towards him. As you crossed the threshold of your room, you allowed him to place a hand on the small of your back. "The room right next door," he said.

Your eyes were anywhere but that door. You were scoping out the entire hallway. There were two more doors across the hallway, perhaps one of them was Rafe’s, and you spotted the staircase. The walls were painted a muted beige and adorned with several rustic paintings. The scent of mahogany lingered in the air, likely one of Rafe’s attempts to make this place feel like a home rather than a prison. You couldn’t turn your head far as Rafe was urging you forward. 

“I’ve been working on something,” When Rafe opened the door, you stepped inside a brand new nursery room, “Rose helped with the decorations, but  I can change anything that you don’t like.”

The wallpaper was decorated with blue flowers and little woodland creatures. A wooden crib sat in the corner, a white canopy draping right next to a rocking chair. The window on the far side of the room also looked out onto green pastures. Shelves on the walls were already adorned with toys and baby books. It was surreal. Beautiful and horrifying. You clutched your chest as you slowly walked around the room. 

“Rafe,” was all you could manage to say.

“I didn’t get a lot of clothes yet. I knew you’d want to pick those out,” His arms raised up, scratching his head as if he was nervous to see your reaction. Over the crib, you noticed the space-themed mobile you had picked out at the store gently hanging down. "It’s a good start, right?" he added, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s literally perfect,” You couldn’t lie at that moment, “Rafe, d-do you really think I would be that horrible of a mom on my own?”

“No,” He rushed out, his face falling, “What? No, I don’t think that.”

“I could never give my baby anything like this.”

He came closer, but you stepped back, “That’s not what I’ve been trying to say with all of this. I think you’d be a great mom. You’re gonna be a great mom.”

You needed to hear those words. Maybe Rafe was the wrong source but you needed that confirmation. In a moment of weakness, you let him closer. He wiped your tears as they began to fall, “It’s not about what you have, but I’m telling you that I won’t let you do it on your own,” He wrapped his arm around your waist and tear-eyed, and you let your head rest on his chest, “I’ll take care of every little worry. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“If you really care about me,” you said softly, letting him run his hands over your hair. “You’ll let me make my own choices.”

“Y/N–”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done. I really do,” You lied, “And I want this. I promise. I know JJ is no good for me or the baby. Could you just give me a little bit more time?”

“You’ll go back to him,” Rafe said. His grip on your waist tightened, and you pulled your head away from his chest, gazing up at him. 

“It’s not your baby. You know that, right?” It was the wrong thing to say. His nostrils flared, and your heartbeat quickened. There was no reeling it back, so you pressed him further, “Even if we don’t end up together, I wouldn’t keep his baby from him. That’s wrong.”

“What he’s done to you is worse.”

“You’re right,” You said, trying to maintain the calm, “I know that now. And I understand that you care about me-”

“Do you understand? Really understand? Huh?” 

“Rafe-” You pushed at his chest, and he grabbed your wrists tightly. Your eyes widened as you struggled against him, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Powerless, he held you there, “I’d love your baby like it was mine, I would. And soon after, we could have our own. That’s what I want, for us to be a family,” Each word was low, tight, and controlled as he glared down at you. 

“Okay,” You agreed, scared more than anything, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll show you,” He was completely cold now, “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you. How you deserve to be treated. Everything I can give you. Then you’ll see, huh?”

He forced you down to the plush blue carpet with his body weight. You weren’t used to how your center of gravity had shifted, how your belly was also keeping you from being able to push back against him, “Please,” You said over and over again, your arms flailing until he pinned them above your head. You were out of breath already, and you had to slow your movementsand stop your struggling just to catch your breath. In this position, the baby is pressed against your further against your diaphragm, “Rafe, don’t.”

He just looked at you hungrily, grunting as he pulled down your bottoms and underwear. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He reached between your legs, and you felt your body freeze, “Fucking gorgeous … I’m so lucky.”

You might’ve swooned in any other context. You were more swollen and much more sensitive, meaning you felt every caress that he made. You didn’t want to, but your head tilted back as he carefully rubbed your sensitive mound, “I’ll make you feel good … haven’t been touched in so long. Daddy’s gonna take care of you,” You told yourself that your body was just reacting, that it didn’t matter how good it felt because you didn’t ask for it. He kept your hands pinned only using one of his, as he used his other to undo his jeans. When he finally freed himself, able to palm his growing hardness through his briefs, he let go of your wrists. On your elbows, you tried to pull yourself away and you caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face. He liked this. Watching you struggle and attempt to crawl away. 

You yelped when he grabbed your hips, pulling you back and lifting them up at the same. He was inside of you before you could fully comprehend it. You could handle it if he thrust hard into you if he destroyed you fast, but Rafe took his time with you. There was no rush or hurry in his movements. He went as deep as you would take him, and his long strokes left you crying out with each one. 

You could handle it if it weren’t personal, but Rafe leaned over you and stared into your eyes with fierce determination. He talked you through every rush of pleasure, “I know, baby,” He’d coo when he knew it was too much, “Feels too good, don’t it?”

“I know you’re gonna cum for me,” He’d say when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head. “Cum all over me, baby,” He said when you finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

When he spilled into you, your body froze again. He cursed, his hips rutting into you. You felt every drop of him, and he didn’t pull out until he’d fully emptied himself inside of you. He sits back on his knees, and you hear him pull up his zipper. 

You flinched when you felt his hand on your thigh again.

“I’m sorry.”

What exactly he was apologizing for, you had no idea.

Rafe had gotten what he wanted because you didn’t speak out of turn once over the next two days. At some point, you expected the cavalry to arrive and come save you, but that hope shrank with each passing day. He invited you out of your room, and each time, you denied it. You easily recalled what happened the last time you left your room. You had all you could mentally handle within the room, and Rafe would bring you all three needed meals and snacks. You were quiet when he started the conversation, but you mustered up a few sentences for him when he grew frustrated at the lack of back and forth. 

You should have been focused on escape, but all you could think about was never letting him do to you again what he had done on the nursery floor. Being pregnant already made you feel like you had no control over your body. Rafe amplified that feeling, making you feel even more vulnerable and easily manipulated given your current state.

You spent most of the day sleeping, punctuated by long baths or staring out the window. Rafe woke up early each morning to tend to chores, the animals, and the early summer harvest. The vast expanse of land meant you didn’t see all the animals during the day, but in the afternoons when he fed Wrangler and Sadie, many of the animals rushed to the fence, hoping for scraps.

“Got you some books,” Rafe said when he came to see you around dinner time. To your disappointment, he wasn’t carrying any dinner with him. He set the stack of books on the dresser before adding, “And I ordered pizza.”

“Thank you,” you said, resting your head back down on your pillow, hoping that meant he’d bring it to you later. 

“Come watch a movie with me, I finally got the surround sound set up.”

“I’d like to eat up here, please?” You asked quietly, “I don’t feel good.”

“You haven’t felt good since you got here.” You let him sit in silence, “You’ll come eat downstairs tonight, Y/N.”

This was the first time you felt he was forcing you out of your room. You didn’t have the courage to upset him, so you lifted yourself out of the bed. He watched you intently, as if waiting for your compliance, aware of your recent streak of obedience. The way the look on his face softened was obvious, and you hated how relieved that made you feel. 

This time, he led you down the staircase, his hand gently guiding the small of your back as you held onto the railings. As you descended, you caught a glimpse of the front door, sunlight streaming in from the setting sun, but Rafe guided you in the opposite direction.

You passed through a large dining area with a substantial dark wooden table near the front of the house, then continued into a cozy living room. A plush sectional couch faced a massive stone fireplace, underneath which neatly stacked firewood awaited use. Above, a large flatscreen TV was mounted on the wall, flanked by windows dressed in simple, cream-colored curtains. Adjacent to the windows, a bookcase filled mostly with DVDs caught your eye.

He took the time to show you the downstairs bathroom and laundry room before leading you to the kitchen, which was located toward the back of the house. It was straight out of a magazine, spacious and well-appointed, complete with a charming breakfast nook. Many of the touches seemed to reflect Rose's influence, and seeing the rest of the house gave you a clearer picture of just how well-off he was.

A box of pizza sat atop the kitchen island, and Rafe pulled out one of the stools for you to sit on.

“You take care of this place all by yourself?” You asked as Rafe helped you into the seat.

“I’ve had some help,” He shrugged, “But I won’t need much help anymore now that you’re here.”

“You’re expecting me to take care of the house?” 

“Someday soon,” he spoke nonchalantly, opening the pizza box. He grabbed a slice straight from it and started eating so you assumed you could do the same. He added with a slightly full mouth, “Better than working at The Wreck.”

You took a bite of your pizza, not wanting to delve into that conversation further. You should’ve known he was expecting you to be a homemaker. Now that you were gonna be a Mom, you didn’t need to have any career aspirations. 

You picked at your slice under his careful eye. This house exuded a warmth that almost drowned out the coldness you felt toward Rafe. You took the time to map out all the windows and doors and the downstairs layout. It kept your mind busy and, combined with the food, provided a helpful distraction. 

“Are you feeling better now?” His voice cut through the silence. 

“I’m fine.”

“You still like those cheesy rom-coms?”

A memory flashed in your mind. You saw Rafe sitting across from you on his bed. A huge party was going on downstairs in Tannyhill, but you and he were upstairs watching a movie. You wanted so badly to show him Enchanted. He didn’t act impressed at the time, but you could tell he liked it because he couldn’t keep his eyes off the screen. 

“Yeah,” You answered cautiously, though the truth was that you hadn’t had time to enjoy a movie in long time. 

“I happen to have a few Patrick Dempsey movies … if that interests you,” He smiled, trying to tease you. 

“I really should get some rest . . .”

“A movie will help you relax. Just one? C’mon, we can watch Can’t Buy Me Love,” Realizing he wouldn’t let up, you gave in.

You sat on the couch as he moved to set up the movie. You should’ve known that he would sit right next to you, his arm wrapped around the pillows directly behind you, “Relax, enjoy the movie.” He said as the movie’s intro began, and you did your best to appear more like you were. When it wasn’t sufficient, Rafe pulled you closer until you could only lay against his shoulder to be comfortable. You tried to focus on one of your favorite movies and there were moments that night when you completely forgot your circumstance. 

Yet, every additional touch brought you sharply back to reality—whether it was the gentle circles his thumb traced on your arm or the tender kisses he placed atop your head.

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