#not sure why all these things became bad exactly but i hate that

[guinevereslancelot]

i love you dandelions i love you maximalism i love you comfortable clothes and no makeup i love you beauty in simple things that are not considered beautiful ✨️

[mssishipi]

soft love — pjs

— in which you found purpose in jay's control that love was so soft to be touch and tight enough to never let go.

warnings: dark romance, emotional manipulation, psychological control, jay is older than reader, power imbalance, dependency, themes of submission and ownership. explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, implied breeding kink. MDNI

Dating older guys, they said, would be so good.

"They’re more mature," they told you. "Patient. Experienced. They know how to take care of you. They’ll spoil you, treat you like a queen."

Jay was all of those things and more.

He was sweet in that effortless, older-man way, never fumbling or awkward, always knowing the right thing to say, always knowing exactly what you wanted before you even said it. He'd buy you things without you having to ask. Something you liked, something you needed and the next day, it was waiting in your hands like magic. Clothes, jewelry, rides, trips... everything.

He gave you the kind of love that made it easy—too easy—to fall into him. And you did.

He made you feel safe, special. Protected. Like nothing in the world could hurt you as long as you were his. Like you didn’t need to worry about anything anymore.

And little by little, you stopped.

You stopped checking your own schedule because Jay always had plans for both of you. You stopped talking to certain friends—Jay didn’t like them anyway. You stopped doing a lot of little things because he took care of them for you... until you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

He became your whole world. And at first, that was intoxicating.

But it started to shift. You didn’t notice it all at once. The control didn’t come like a storm. It came in whispers.

In little comments, like: "You don’t need to go out tonight, stay with me instead." Or: "Why do you even talk to him? You know I don’t like it." Then one day, it was: "Wear this instead, I don’t want other guys looking at you."

And when you pushed back, even gently—just asking questions, wanting to understand—he’d smile that same sweet smile he always had. But it didn’t feel sweet anymore. It felt like warning.

He was still patient. Still spoiled you. Still called you "baby" with that soft voice that once made your stomach flutter.

But, sometimes, it made your skin crawl.

Because when Jay got angry—really angry—it wasn’t loud. It was cold, still and heavy. He didn’t yell. His silence said enough. His glare made your heart skip beats for all the wrong reasons. You forgot how kind he could be in those moments. You only remembered the way your breath caught when you saw the shift in his eyes.

"Love, my friends are planning to visit Indonesia, can I go with them?" 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You speak without looking up, your fingertips nervously playing with the edge of your sleeve, eyes fixed on Jay as he types away on his laptop across the room. You already know what he's going to say, but you ask anyway—half-hoping for something different this time.

Jay doesn’t stop typing, not at first. The rhythm of the keys continues for a beat too long, the silence between you stretching thin. Then, without looking up, his voice comes out flat. 

"I told you, I’m not comfortable with your friends." Click. Click. "Didn’t one of them have a scandal at some bar? They’re a bad influence."

You flinch, "love, it’s not a scandal," you murmur, careful not to let your tone rise. "She was... she was a victim."

That’s when the keys stop. Just like that, the room feels heavier. His fingers hover above the keyboard.

You dare to glance up and regret it. He’s staring at you now. Not angry. Not yet. But disappointed, which somehow always hurts more. You hate that about yourself, how fast you shrink under his gaze, how quick your heart races when you think you’ve said the wrong thing.

"You always defend them," he says quietly. There’s no yelling, no raised voice, but you feel like you’ve been slapped.

"I’m just saying—" you start, but the words catch. Because what are you saying, really? What are you trying to prove?

He sighs, turns his eyes back to the screen. "I just want what’s best for you. I thought you knew that."

And just like that, the conversation ends. Why did I even ask for permission? That was never your mindset before. You were independent, assertive, unafraid to make your own choices. But somewhere along the way, that changed.

They say it’s normal, even healthy—asking for your partner’s approval. That’s what being in a relationship is, right? Compromise. Communication.

But you feel like you're being held tightly. Not by arms, but by invisible strings that pull every time you try to step too far away. The worst part is you don’t even want to fight it.

You don’t know anymore what’s right, or what’s normal. You just don’t want Jay to look at you like that again. You don’t want to see that shift in his eyes. You don’t want to feel that pit in your stomach, or the shame curling hot in your chest like you’ve done something wrong.

It hurts. Not the kind of hurt that bruises skin but the kind that seeps into your bones, the kind you carry without scars, but never really heal from.

The bed shifts with the familiar creak of weight settling beside you. The mattress dips, and even before he says a word, your body responds on instinct.

You turn toward him immediately, almost reflexively, slipping your arms around his waist and pressing your head against his chest. It’s automatic now, seeking his warmth, his presence. As if holding him tight enough could make everything feel okay again.

Jay’s hand finds your back, slow and soothing, running a few gentle strokes over your spine before settling there. The steady thump of his heart under your ear should feel comforting, but instead it leaves your chest heavy. You breathe in the clean, cool scent of his cologne. Familiar. Inescapable.

“We can go to Indonesia,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just the two of us, hm? What do you think?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead like a peace offering. You nod against him, almost automatically, the motion small and quiet.

It’s not what you wanted. But it’s something. And it’s him. That’s enough. Isn’t it? 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not sure if you’re apologizing for asking, or for pushing, or just for being difficult. You feel him pull you in tighter, his arms wrapping around you.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he says, his voice calm.

Your eyes sting, warmth welling up. You bite your lip, holding the tears back even though you know he can probably feel it—your breathing, just a little uneven now. You blink quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the dampness gathering at the corners of your eyes.

You’re not sure what hurts more, that he does understand, or that he never really had to.

You nestle closer into his chest, burying yourself in him. You feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his hand pressing gently against your back.

This moment is love. You’re lucky, so lucky, to have someone like Jay. That’s what everyone says.

A man who takes care of you, who thinks ahead, who plans things for you because he knows what’s best. A man who holds you at night, whispers apologies even when you feel like you were the one who did something wrong. A man who spoils you without asking, who says “I understand” even when you don’t deserve it.

He always knows how to bring it back to this. Where guilt fades into gratitude. Where you start to believe that maybe you are overreacting, maybe you are too sensitive, too quick to doubt someone who’s only trying to love you the right way.

Jay never yells. Never hits. He doesn't need to. He just speaks softly, slowly. He makes you feel like the bad decisions you make are your own—even when they were never really yours to begin with.

He listens, and then he corrects, but always gently, always with a calmness that makes you feel childish for pushing back. And every time you hesitate, he meets you with patience… and just enough disappointment to make your stomach twist with shame.

He gives you so much, how could you question him?

You remember the way he brought you your favorite drink after you got upset. The time he booked that surprise weekend trip just because you were stressed. The necklace you wear every day—he noticed you admiring it once and had it delivered within a week. He always comes back with something better. Something to make you forget the argument. Something to remind you that he's still the one holding everything together.

So maybe you were wrong about Indonesia. Maybe it’s selfish to want something he doesn't feel good about. Maybe you’re asking for too much.

Jay is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.  

That’s what you remind yourself, even when everything feels complicated. He’s perfect. Handsome in that effortless, masculine way, with a sharp jawline and steady eyes that seem to see right through you. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of body that makes you feel small when he wraps around you. Safe.

He knows exactly how to touch you, how to take you apart and put you back together like you were made for his hands. There’s no awkward fumbling, no hesitations. He takes, and you give—because giving to Jay feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s expected. Like it’s right.

"J-Jay!" you gasp, your voice breaking as his pelvis slams into you from behind, every thrust hitting deep. Your breath catches as his grip tightens around your wrists, pulling your arms behind your back.

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmurs between thrusts, filled with that dangerous softness he always uses when he wants you to feel safe while giving in. “Only mine. Say it.”

“I—I’m yours,” you cry out, the words tumbling past your lips before you even think. Your hips instinctively roll back into him, body desperate to meet every stroke. Your own moans betray you, building with the wet slap of skin and the sound of his breath unraveling behind you.

“Wanna keep you to myself—fuck,” Jay growls, his grip flexing around your wrists as your walls tighten around him. “You’re too beautiful. Everybody wants my girl.”

You feel him shudder, throwing his head back, a moan tearing from his throat as he sinks deeper, harder, the pace growing erratic. His words come broken now, laced with raw possession.

“You’re mine… mine… mine… fuck—mine.”

Your whines rise with him, high and trembling, legs shaking beneath the weight of his rhythm. He’s hitting every spot  like he owns them—because in his mind, he does.

Jay always knows what you need before you do. He knows when to be soft, when to be rough. When to pull you close, and when to make you beg. 

He releases one of your wrists, only to slide his hand down your front, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your legs nearly give out the moment he touches you. His fingers circle it with cruel expertise, pulling out helpless gasps as your body responds.

“See how good I treat you?” he breathes against your neck, lips brushing just beneath your ear. “No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets to.”

You moan in response, pushing your hips back to meet the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. Your ass collides with him, each impact echoing in the room. He growls low in his chest, gripping your hips, dragging you back onto him with a force that leaves you breathless.

“I’m gonna fill you with my cum,” Jay hisses. “Gonna make you pregnant, baby. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

Your moans break into sharp cries as the pleasure burns through your veins, white-hot and endless. Every stroke of his cock drives deeper, rougher, shaking what little strength you have left. Your body can't hold itself up anymore—your arms collapse beneath you, face pressed into the sheets as he continues his assault from behind.

“I love you,” Jay groans, his voice fraying into a broken moan. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you—”

Something inside you snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave breaking loose after too long held back. It’s overwhelming, violent in its depth, unstoppable in its force. Your body tightens around him as pleasure detonates from your core, spreading outward in pulsing waves that steal your breath and leave you crying out his name.

Your hands claw at the sheets beneath you, your back arching as every nerve lights up, every muscle trembling beneath the pressure of his thrusts. It’s like falling and flying at the same time, the intensity of it burning behind your eyes, blinding everything else.

All you can hear is his voice—those words repeating, claiming you. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.

You’re still trembling as he keeps going, chasing his own end, using your limp, pleasure-drunk body. “Yours,” you whisper, the word broken and breathless into the sheets. “I’m yours, Jay…”

He lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, thrusting harder, deeper, messier now. And you can feel it coming—his climax, the one he’s been holding off for you, the one he’s about to give with everything he has.

Even with your limbs trembling, your body still oversensitized and wrecked from your own release, you shift your hips to meet him, chasing his rhythm. Moaning, shakily, as the pleasure blooms again when you feel him release inside you.

A broken curse falls from his lips, and then he’s spilling into you, his entire body seizing with it.

Every pulse inside you is another claim, another mark, another reminder that you belong to him.

“I love you,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your skin, each word punctuated with a kiss pressed to the curve of your neck.

He stays inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back, skin slick with sweat and warmth. You feel the full weight of him, one of his hands slides up, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to press a kiss to your nape. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

And when he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a ghost of a touch. A silent apology.

He whisper, again, I love you, buried in your hair now. Oh, how it feels so good.

To be wanted like this. To be needed this much. To be held so tightly that you forget what it was like to ever stand on your own.

Because in Jay’s arms, even when everything else fades, even when you’re lost in the dark—It always feels like home.

[mariasont]

hi pookie! <3

i loved loved loved the recent lipgloss fic! could you write smth about perfume? like bimbo! reader smells sweet asf and all of a sudden reid (or hotch) comes into the office smelling suspiciously sweet

tytyty!! <333

Suspiciously Sweet - S.R

a/n: hiiiiiii pookie!!!!!!! thank u so much for requesting i loved this lololol

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: fluffiest fluff, established relationship, spencer's relationship almost being exposed, hotch saving his ass, hotch hinting to having a secret girlfriend (aka my girl bimbo!assistant)

wc: 1.3k

You had a very distinct scent. This wasn't a bad thing, no, far from it. It was sweet and intoxicating, it reminded him of ripe peaches in the height of summer and cherries soaked in syrup, with a hint of something citrusy that reminded him of lazy afternoons in the sun. Was that too poetic? Spencer wasn't sure.

He noticed it everywhere. In the office, where it announced your arrival before you said a word. He noticed it at home. His pillows, his sheets, even the collar of the sweater you'd borrowed once — it was all steeped in the same honeyed scent that lingered after you left his bed, as if you were something he couldn't wash away — not that he wanted to.

This was why Spencer had started sleeping in on weekends when you stayed over. It wasn't laziness, not exactly, but how could he resist staying wrapped up in the thing that reminded him most of you?

Especially on those mornings when you were still half-asleep and clingy, burrowing into him with sleepy little hums, like you were trying to fuse yourselves together, and somehow, it worked. Your scent didn't just stick to his things, it stuck to him, sinking into his skin and leaving him a little dazed by the time you finally rolled out of bed.

Sure, he could rationalize it with some scientific explanation about heat transfer, molecules, or something equally clinical. But science (and he hated to admit this) didn’t account for how it made him feel.

Unfortunately, those feelings, didn't do him any good when one of those slow mornings he was becoming so fond of turned into an emergency call from Hotch about a case.

Now, he found himself here, hunched over the impossibly small sink in the jet's cramped bathroom, scrubbing his hands raw for what felt like fortieth time today. The scent wouldn't budge. It was as though it had soaked into his skin. He knew it was his fault, he couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming across every inch of your body morning.

It wasn't that he minded smelling like you, but focusing on case details and running probability algorithms became infinitely harder when every breath reminded him of how tightly you had wrapped yourself around him just hours before.

He let out a bated breath, shutting off the sink before pushing his way into the main cabin of the jet. He found his way to his favorite seat, third back on the left side, which happened to be located far enough from the engines to minimize auditory distractions.

Morgan looked up, sniffing once as Spencer slid by. "Man, I don't know what it is, but something smells good in here."

Spencer tensed, his stomach dropping. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he fought the urge to whip around. Surely it wasn't that strong. It couldn't be.

Rossi glanced up from his crossword, brows furrowing.

“Huh. I was thinking the same thing. It’s faint, but it’s nice. Like fruit or… maybe something floral?” Rossi’s nose wrinkled as he added, “Certainly an improvement over Morgan’s cologne.”

Spencer ducked his head so fast it could've looked like a nod, his cheeks burning as he avoided everyone's gaze.

JJ came out of the coffee area moments later, glancing at the case file in her hand as she passed him. She stopped abruptly, sniffed the air, then frowned.

"Wow, Spence, you smell really good. Did you finally cave and buy cologne?"

Spencer blinked up at her, every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

"Uh, no," he said flatly, trying to mask the embarrassment. "I suppose I woke up smelling like this."

Technically not a lie.

He was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him. Emily tilted her head, brow furrowing before a wide grin spread across her face. Not a good sign, he concluded.

"Wait a second," she said, pointing at Spencer. "That smells exactly like outside of Cruz's office. I pass it all the time."

Spencer cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the armrests as his mind scrambled for an explanation, any explanation, to divert their growing attention. He could practically feel the walls closing in on him. He was doomed. This was it.

Spencer’s pulse was thundering in his ears, his face still flushed, when Hotch finally set down his pen.

For a second, Spencer braced himself for the worst, the horrifying moment when even Hotch would add to his scrutiny.

"That smell? It's the same hand sanitizer Cruz keeps in his office. He offered it to me after a meeting, probably the same stuff Spencer borrowed when he spilled his coffee this morning."

Spencer looked to Hotch, mouth opening and closing before nodding as if in agreement. "Yeah, that's... probably it."

The rest of the ride passed, to Spencer’s immense relief, without further incident. Morgan gave him a few odd looks now and then, but Spencer was too preoccupied, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out why Hotch had saved his ass.

When the last of the team finally stepped off the plane, Spencer hung back, letting the others pass. Hotch did too, falling in step beside him. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze fixed forward, but when he spoke, his voice was loud enough for Spencer to hear.

"Word of advice, Reid, next time, carry mints and a travel sized bottle of something unscented. You'd be surprised how much that helps."

Spencer’s head whipped around, his face going a deep shade of red. Hotch, meanwhile, kept walking, his expression completely neutral, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

—

"He said what?"

You were laughing uncontrollably, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake and left you gasping for air, your hands grabbing him for balance. Rollers filled your hair, a ritual you'd patiently explained to him before, and loose wisps curled around your face.

And your smile, well, he was perfectly certain it was the prettiest he'd ever seen you.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You froze mid-giggle, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wait, wait, how does he know that? Is Hotch speaking from experience or something?" You blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, what if Hotch has, like, a secret girlfriend? What if it's someone at the BAU? What if it's Garcia?"

"It's not Garcia, and it's definitely not a secret." Spencer raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if the answer was obvious. "Hotch has been dating his assistant for years. He thinks it's some big secret, but it's... not. He picks her up lunch at least twice a week, and his closed-door meetings with her? Not as inconspicuous as he thinks."

You gasped, practically bouncing in place as you grabbed Spencer's sleeve. "Shut up! I didn't know that! I love her clothes. Do you think she'd tell me where she shops? That red skirt she wore the other day was everything."

“You don’t need any more skirts,” Spencer said, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your hip and ribs, pinching just enough to make you squirm on the countertop. “If your closet gets any fuller, you’re going to have to rent out a second apartment just for storage.”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him and clinging to him like a koala, your arms looped snugly around his neck.

"That's why I have your apartment," you said, sticking out your tongue. "Plenty of space for my skirts, and you get to see me model them. Win-win."

"When you put in like that, it's kind of hard to say no."

He leaned in as he spoke, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, teasing and testing, like a flicker of fire before it catches. You giggled into the kiss, your laughter blending into his smile. The kiss deepened, honey-slow and sweet, golden warmth spreading through his chest as you pressed closer, closing every last bit of distance between you.

When you pulled back, his lips still tingling, you grinned. "Wow, you really do smell like me."

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[straylightdream]

late night calls

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: choi seungcheol x f.reader

↳ it’s four am and there is only one person that he wants to talk to.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non idol au, idiots to lover, friends with benefits

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: the mc is mad at seungcheol, angst, smut (more warnings to come about that)

an: this is a part or my loosely connected SVT series all for you.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc is on birth control), oral fem receiving, creampie, size kink, some dirty talk

Laying in his bed he stared at his phone wondering If he should call you. Your last phone call hadn’t exactly ended the best. Things between you had started to become strained. The call ended with you telling him you weren’t just his booty call and hung up on him leaving him with a major case of blue balls.

Things with you two weren’t always like this. You were friends long before you started hooking up. You met Seungcheol through his roommate. You and Joshua worked together and you’re really close with his girlfriend. You just so happen to also live in the same building as him. You lived one floor above him. When you met Seungcheol you’re pretty sure Joshua's plan was for you to date his roommate. There was a clear instant attraction between the two of you, but things didn’t work out. The timing was bad. You were nursing a broken heart, and Seungcheol started to see a new girl. Even though you didn’t start anything romantic you and him became very close. You would often hang out with the roommates and Joshua's best friend before they became official.

From the beginning you couldn’t really kick your small crush you had grown to have on Seungcheol. When you started sleeping together your little crush didn’t magically go away either. You just did a good job at burying it. You were fine with being friends with benefits. You just hated when Seungcheol treated you like just his fuck buddy. You like to remind him that you’re friends before anything else. Recently he’s been kind of distant and when you hook up it feels like the lights are on but no one’s home. He’s not caring like he normally is.

Your last call when he asked you “to come over and fuck” pissed you off. You didn’t want to just go over for sex. You normally hang out first and then it would lead into to sex. You never called him with just the intention of sex, and in the beginning he didn’t either.

It was four in the morning and he couldn’t sleep and he knew only your voice could soothe him to sleep after such a shitty day at work. He laid in the darkness of his room with the only light coming from his phone.

Unlocking his phone, he scrolled through his contacts and saw your name with a heart next to it. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth he pressed your name.

Holding his phone to his ear he listened as it rang praying you would pick up. He knew you were probably sound asleep and probably wouldn’t be exactly the happiest that he was waking you up. You also had a full day at work, and from what his roommate had told him. Work has been pretty tough for you and Joshua this week.

On the fifth ring he heard your raspy voice, “Seungcheol, why are you calling me four in the morning?”

He swallowed slowly, “I couldn’t sleep and your voice always calms me down.”

Your soft laugh echoed in his ears, “did you wake me up for phone sex?”

His eyes roamed his dark room for a moment wondering if that’s deep down inside why he called you. “No,” he whispered.

“Choi Seungcheol, why did you call me then?” You yawned. He never liked the sound of his name more than when it was spoken by you.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he sighed. “I’ve missed you.”

He wasn’t lying, he missed the sound of your voice and he missed being able to hold you. He had barely seen you in two weeks, and he hadn’t been able to talk to you on the phone since you had hung up on him.

“Do you really miss me?” He could picture you half asleep lying in your bed.

“Yeah,” he rasped.

“I’m sorry I hung up on you last time,” you sighed.

“I need to treat you better. I know you're not a booty call,” he stretched his body out and rolled onto his side looking over to the empty side of the bed where he wished you were laying.

“Cheol, did you want me to come over?” You sighed. He loves when you call him that. You instantly latched on to his nickname right after being introduced.

“How about I come to you baby girl?” he asked. Your heart always flutters when he calls you that. You love when he calls you your name, but being called “baby girl” makes you melt.

“I’ll come to you but this isn’t a booty call?” You stated.

“We don’t have to do anything. I just want to cuddle,” he sat up in his bed and pushed his fingers through his hair.

“Cuddling sounds nice. I’ll walk down to yours and Shau’s place right now. You better have the door unlocked,” you softly.

“I’m getting up right now.” He says before you hang up.

He quickly got out of his bed and quietly walked down the hallway towards the front door. He opened the door to find you standing outside with a hoodie on and a pair of tiny shorts. You didn’t say anything. You silently walked past him and headed off towards Seungcheol’s room.

He smiled as he followed behind you. You took your hoodie off and placed it on the floor next to the bed and then crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up. He crawled in behind you and moved his body close to yours so you were spooning. This has always been his favorite way to sleep with you. He loves being able to hold you close to him.

His lips ghosted your shoulder as he nuzzled against you. “I miss you baby girl,” he murmured.

“I missed you too.” He hands rest on your stomach pulling you even closer to him. “Cheol what are we?” You asked him the question that had been on your mind for months.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I don’t like that answer,” you place your hand on top of his.

“What do you want us to be?” He knows you need to have this conversation but he’s scared.

“I wanna be yours.”

He pulls away from you. You lay on your back looking up at him. His eyebrows are knit together as he stares at you looking confused. “You’re already mine.”

“Not fully,” reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked.

“I don’t want to be just your fuck buddy anymore. I want you to be more.”

“I’ll do anything you want. If you want us to be more. Let’s be more.” He gives you a gentle smile.

Leaning down he presses his lips to your for a heated kiss. “Let me show you how I care for you.” When you originally came over you told yourself you wouldn’t sleep with Seungcheol tonight. But things have seemed to drastically change between you.

“I don’t want you to fuck me. I want you to show me how much you care,” you sigh.

“I’m going to take care of you.”

Soon your clothes are stripped away just like Seungcheol. Laying in his bed completely bare with your legs spread. He was kissing his way across your skin. Your eyes were closed as you took in the feeling of his lips on your skin.

As his lips brushed your sensitive nub you couldn’t help but moan. Seungcheol knew all the ways to drive you wild. He knew that if he ever wanted to turn you on all he had to do was kiss the sweet skin right below your ear. Often you would be hanging out and he would come up behind you and brush your hair out of the way and press his lips to the sweet spot upon your skin.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he laid between your legs pushing you closer and closer to your release. A white hot wave washes over you as you moan his name.

Looking up from between your legs he stared at you in awe. According to him you never looked more beautiful than you do after you come.

Soon he was hovering over your soft body slowly thrusting into you. He rested on his forearms so he was as close as possible to you. Your lips moved together desperate to stay close.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips.

Your leg hooks over his butt pulling him close to you. He’s thrusting into you at a slow but deep pace.

“Cheol you’re so big.” You’ll never get over the feeling of him stretching you. You’ve never been with anyone as big as him. He’s so thick it always takes a little bit to adapt to the feeling of stretching you open.

“You take me so well.”

Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head. With each thrust his bulbous head is nudging your g spot over and over again.

“I’m close,” you whimper.

“Are you coming to come on my cock?” You love when he talks to you like this.

“Please,” you’re trying to stay somewhat quiet. You aren’t sure if Seungcheol’s roommate Joshua is home.

“Baby you can come,” he groans. You fall apart moments before him. He finds his own release pairing your walls white with his thick come. He slowly thrust into you, helping you ride out your high.

Seungcheol is still inside of you hovering above. Leaning up you pressed your lips to his for a gentle kiss. “It’s like you were made for me,” his voice was low as he stared into your bright eyes.

“I sure hope that we were made for each other,” you reached up and ran your fingers through his soft hair.

He removed himself from you and laid down on his bed. He looked over at you and smiled, and you knew you were always supposed be more then just fuck buddies. You’re glad you can now see him as more than just a friend. He gets up and cleans up your release.

“Can you hold me,” you ask, reaching for him. Crawling into bed he pulls your body close to yours. Your head rest on his chest and his hand slowly rubs your back making you relax even more. “This is nice.”

“Thank you for coming over. I’m sorry if I hurt you in the past. I’m gonna try to never hurt you again.”

“This is new for both of us, but we’ll figure this out together.”

Snuggling close to him, things feel different in the best way possible. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep with you in his arms.

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[canihaveacalmtime]

Sitting on the swings at the playground, all alone by yourself, while the sun just started setting down in the distance. You wonder why the playground is so empty today, no one is nowhere to be seen but does that matter to you right now? Your mother forgotten to come pick you up again, it's not like this is the first time.

It happens... everyday to be honest.

You understand that she's really busy with her job but that doesn't mean she... she can neglect you.

You understand that because of you, her husband left her, thinking that she cheated on him and you're the child of her and another man. You're still confident that your mother didn't cheat and maybe your father really just didn't wanted her or you anymore as all he ever cares for was your brother and big sister, both who are very successful in the acting industry.

Or simply maybe because... you look exactly like mother and father just doesn't want a child who doesn't resembles him in anything.

"Let's go home, (Y/N)."

You said to yourself as you got down from the swing and begin walking your 6 years old body back home.

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

Open the door to your house, which was not locked for some reason, you see your mother and some what familiar man sitting in front of her. {Just a guest}, you thought but as soon as you closed the front door, you feel someone lifted you up in a quick pace.

It was your mother and... she's crying?

"Oh my god, (Y/N)... where have you been, I've looked for you everywhere when the teacher said you left school early..!"

But you told her to pick you up at the playground nearby... maybe she just forgot, probably. She always forget things you told her anyway.

"Sorry for making you worried, mother."

She kiss you on the forehead before carry you to the couch where the man is sitting. After putting you down, she ask you if you can show him the birth mark you have on your right shoulder and you agreed.

"There, you see it now. I mean the DNA test is probably enough already but... (Y/N) is really our child, you know."

DNA test? Our child? What's going on even, you ask yourself as you adjust your clothes back to normal. The man then crouched down to your level and pat your head, he explains that he's your biological father and that he's here to fix some troubles between him and your mother. He carefully embrace you into a hug as he apologize for abandoning you and your mother these 6 years.

The hug ends as you stare at him, unfazed, completely devoid of emotions as you just nod lightly. Upon seeing your emotionless face, your father was put into a worried situation while your mother seems troubled.

"(Y/N) dear, you understand what your father said, right?" Your mother asked, you nod. "We going to move to your father's place tomorrow, okay?" You nod again.

"Alix, let's talk... for a bit more. (Y/N), can you go to your room to start packing your stuffs and get ready for dinner?"

You nod, carry your school bag upstairs, not even bother to look back at your parents.

"How long has (Y/N) been like that?" Alix, your father, ask in worried.

"Over a year ago... probably. I will take the fault as the reason why (Y/N) became like that, I've always been too busy and... I couldn't stop blaming them for our divorce and- I'm just being a really bad mother to them..."

"Dolores, dear. (Y/N) looks older than their age, I'm sure they will understand, I just hope that we can start making up to (Y/N) and give them a better life from now on together, alright?"

Dolores, your mother, nods while sobbing. She hate herself for being such a bad parent to you and ended up turning you into a wounded child who probably spent years all alone by yourself. Alix is no different, he also hopes to give you the best life he could now that he's reunited again with you and your mother.

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

Dinner tonight isn't just you and your mother but now having your father for the first time. It does feel a little weird for you having another person on the dining table. Usually it would just be you eating alone or occasionally your mother if she was home soon that day. You also noticed that they look at you more a lot while eating, you don't complain or say anything but kept it in mind.

Alix was lost in thoughts. Usually at this age, children will always be the talker at the dining table because they tend to share their experiences at school with their family but now, looking at you, just sitting there quietly eating like that, hurts him.

"So (Y/N)... do you have anything cool at school to share with us?"

That's the first time someone has asked you that, "We study the daily subjects and... that's it". You stare at them, waiting for the next question.

"So... how about your recess time with friends?"

"I don't have friends, mother. I'm a loner and you know that too, though."

After dinner, without no more conversations, you say good night to your parents and retrieve back to your room, wanting to sleep soon as tomorrow is the weekend and you will move to a new place with your mother.

"Will my siblings like me? Probably not, no one likes a loner, people in school always say that, aren't they."

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

-> -> -> Part 2

[kunaskitten]

A Problem Named Sukuna (sukuna x reader) [college au]

> Warnings: 18+, smut, college au, face-sitting, creampie, kinda overstim, dom-kuna/sub-reader, sukuna and reader drink alcohol, drunk-ish sex, if I forgot any lmk!

> Word Count: 2.4k

> A/N: something about frat boy Sukuna makes me feral. Not my art; credits to: @ Chalseu_D on Twitter

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

You didn’t know exactly when Sukuna became a problem.

Maybe it was the first time you had the misfortune of sitting next to him in class. Sprawling across the seat like he owned it, manspreading so obnoxiously that you had to shove his knee aside just to have room for yourself. He had looked at you then, amused, like a cat staring down a feisty mouse.

Though, he might've become a problem when he first spoke to you.

“You’re cute,” he said. He sounded bored with the world, but had decided you were interesting enough to look at. “I think I’ll keep you.”

You barely glanced up from your notes and scoffed. You were well aware of who he was due to his reputation, and from what you could gather, he was bad news all around. “Not interested.” You said simply.

Sukuna chuckled, finding your dismissive response quite entertaining. “You don’t even know what I’m offering.”

That's when you finally turned to him, meeting his gaze directly for the first time as you get a good glance at his features. Oh, I can see why the other girls fawn over him now.

“You’re offering yourself,” you said flatly. “Which, lucky for you, plenty of people would jump at. I’m just not one of them.”

That should have been the end of it, but guys like Sukuna didn’t get rejected often. He had the face, the body, and the sheer audacity to walk through life like he owned everything in his line of sight. That worked on a lot of people.

But you refused to let it work on you.

Sukuna tilted his head, examining you intently. You hated how it made your nerves flare up and how it felt like he could see right through you. Then, to your irritation, his smirk widened.

“Don’t worry, princess.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping as if sharing a secret. “I like the ones who play hard to get.”

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around your pen. “It’s not a game, Sukuna. I’m just not interested.”

His grin didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened. “Sure,” he said easily. Then he pulled out his phone, tapped a few things, and suddenly shoved it into your hands.

You blinked. “What—”

“Put your number in.”

You stared at him and your heart skipped a few beats. “You cannot be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“Sukuna, I literally just told you—”

“For when you change your mind,” he said, cutting you off, grinning like he knew something you didn’t. “I’ll even let you name yourself something cute. How about Mine?”

You scowled at him and his antics, doing your best not to fall for his charms. “You are unbelievable,” you muttered, but against your better judgment, you typed in your number anyway... if only so he will leave me alone.

And so after that encounter in your lecture, you didn't see him in person much over the next week, but that didn't mean he wasn't in your life. And, well, that's because Sukuna proved that handing over your number for temporary relief had been the worst decision you could’ve possibly made.

Maybe that's when Sukuna became a problem, because the texts you had been receiving were as persistent and insufferable as he was in class that day.

Whether it was early morning.

Sukuna: "Mornin’, princess. Dream about me?"

Or in the middle of the day.

Sukuna: "What are you wearing?"

Or late at night when you both should definitely be asleep.

Sukuna: "Bet you’d look real cute under me."

It became a pattern more quickly than your disdain for him had grown. And despite the fact that you seldom replied, he never let up. But when you did reply?

You: "Have you ever considered just shutting the hell up?"

Sukuna: "Sure. Have you ever considered sitting on my face?"

Being Sukuna's current pursuit was not for the faint of heart.

And then there's the chance that Sukuna had become a problem on that night he invited you to one of his parties. That night, as you were getting ready to relax for the evening, you felt the all-too-familiar buzz of your phone. The screen lit up, and you knew exactly who it was before even looking.

Sukuna: "Throwing a party tonight. It'd be a shame if you didn't show."

You scoffed at his audacity. Of course he’d invite you to one of his infamous frat parties. It was just another attempt to lure you in with his charm, arrogance, and whatever else he thought could win you over. But before you could reply, he was already messaging you again.

Sukuna: "Or are you scared that a few drinks will show your true feelings, princess?"

It definitely felt like a challenge, one you couldn't ignore. Though, to respond would be falling for his trap, you didn't care and had already made your decision for that night.

You: "I’m not your princess. But I’ll be at your party. Just to prove a point."

It was petty. You have no obligation to prove you can hold your own after a few drinks. But there was something in the way he spoke to you that just made it impossible to let it slide.

Sukuna: "I knew you'd come around. See you soon, princess."

And just like that, you were committed. You reminded yourself that this was just about proving a point. But as you walk across campus dolled up all pretty, you start to realize how foolish this might end up being.

You stood at the door of the frat house, your heart pounding in your chest. The thumping bass of the music hit you first, the music blaring through the walls as the door swung open. A few people rushed past you, drunk and laughing, but your eyes were fixed on the room ahead. The crowd was massive, but somehow, through the craze, you spotted him immediately.

Sukuna leaned against the wall, his usual smirk plastered across his face as he watched you with that unmistakable air of superiority. His eyes flickered to your lips before they met yours, and for a moment, you almost felt like the whole world had stopped.

"Glad you made it, princess," he said, voice as smooth as ever. He looked exceptionally good tonight, though he hadn't done anything special, he just looked so... effortless. And that damn smirk was already making your heart flutter a bit.

You didn’t respond, your only reply a deep, inward breath. His presence was like a weight pressing on your chest. He was as dangerous as he was captivating, but you weren't going to let any of this stop you from proving he had no impact on you.

"I’ll get you a drink," he offered, eager to see you actually hold up this point throughout the night.

But perhaps Sukuna became a problem after he convinced you to down 3 shots within an hour.

Sukuna kept his eyes on you as you steadily downed the drinks, one after another, as your conviction to prove your point never wavered.

You hadn’t planned on getting tipsy, but it was inevitably going to happen when you walked in the door. You weren’t sure when it happened, but suddenly, Sukuna’s presence was all-encompassing, pulling you in closer, tugging at you in ways that felt both urgent and undeniable.

Was it a problem when your body started to betray you? After the tipsiness was in full swing and you found yourself standing a little too close to him, holding onto his arm as you laughed at something you couldn't quite remember? The space between you was no longer an uncomfortable gap as your fingers curled around the solid muscle of his bicep.

With every step you took, with every movement you made, he could feel it. He could feel you caving in. He could feel how the alcohol was loosening your tongue, your body, your everything. And he couldn’t help but watch, his gaze dark and intense as he watched the shift.

Your breath came a little quicker now, more shallow, and you caught yourself leaning in closer to him without realizing it. You would glance up at him from time to time, only to get lost in those daunting eyes of his. The way his tattoos lined his face and defined his features just made you all the more interested in him. Is that when Sukuna became a problem? When your mind started to realize just how attractive he really was?

It wasn’t until a few more shots and another hour later that you found yourself sitting on the couch; that you realized just how far you’d gone. The shift happened without warning. One moment, you were standing, trying to prove some silly point, and the next, you were perched on his lap, your legs straddling his, your body weight resting heavily against his chest.

Had Sukuna become a problem when you let him grip onto your hips and pull you closer to him? You hadn’t meant to be this close, but now, with your hands on his shoulders, you're the one desperate to lean in first for a kiss.

Sukuna was a problem. But right now, you couldn’t even remember why you ever tried to fight it.

You couldn’t remember when the teasing, the banter, the defiance had gone. It was all gone now, replaced by the heat building between you, the undeniable pull that made your pulse race. You felt him smile into the kiss, a wicked, self-assured curve of his lips, and it drove you wild. He knew what he was doing to you, and the fact that you didn’t know whether to pull away or get closer made it all the more intoxicating.

And Sukuna became an even bigger problem when you couldn't resist the urge to grind against him ever-so-slightly.

He pulled back, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide as he studied your flushed face. A satisfied smirk spread across his features. “You really are something else.”

His hand slid down to your lower back, pressing you even closer, and the weight of his body on yours made your breath hitch. But it was more than just the physical pressure; it was the sensation of being completely at his mercy, the intensity of it all, and it was both overwhelming and exhilarating.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as you continued to kiss, your heart fluttering in your chest as you drowned in the sensation of his tongue in your mouth and continued to roll your hips against him. The alcohol may have loosened you up, but it wasn’t just the drinks making you needy, desperate even... it was him. He was making you crave this in ways you hadn’t even known you could.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his smirk widening as his grip on you tightened once more. Before you could even react, he was standing up, lifting you effortlessly off his lap like it was nothing. His strong arms cradled you close, and one hand slid to your ass, gripping it firmly to support you, his touch possessive and casual, as though you had always belonged in his hold.

You blinked and gasped, momentarily surprised, the room swaying around you as your body felt weightless in his arms. “Sukuna, wait—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, his lips curling into a grin. “You’re overthinking it, princess,” he murmured, his grip firm but reassuring as he held you close. “Relax. This’ll be fun, and I can't wait to see what kind of a hot mess you turn into."

Before you could argue further, he began to move, striding confidently through the crowded party. You felt small and helpless in his grasp, like a ragdoll being carried without a care. The noise, the music, the people; All you could focus on was the solid warmth of his chest beneath you, his breath warm on your skin, and the way his hold on you never loosened as he carried you upstairs.

Although, Sukuna most likely became a real problem when he made you sit on his face like he had mentioned in those texts a few days ago. As he licked and sucked on your clit in ways that felt too good to describe you arched your back whilst trying to hold up your weight a little still.

"I said," Sukuna grips your thighs and pulls you down more, "fucking sit on my face." The words are muffled but you fully understand. And so you do. And as you do, your legs shake and you let out these pitiful whines and moans that show just how overstimulated you are.

You can't hold it back anymore, not when his mouth is on you like this, not when the pleasure is so good that your toes curl unwillingly. "S-Sukuna I—" You couldn't even finish your warning before you're cumming hard all over his face.

He gives you no rest, picking you up and shifting the position, unbuckling his pants and pulling them down just enough to free his hard length. Was Sukuna becoming a problem the more and more that you bounced up and down on his unfairly thick cock? The stretch of it made you feel so full that any point you were wanting to prove tonight had fizzled up and died as you gripped onto him helplessly.

Your lips find his and you moan into his mouth as he continues to have his way with you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, only making the reality of how much of a problem Sukuna is more grounded. Though, you didn't really need that reminded, not when the tip of his dick is hitting your cervix every other second as he trusts into you and bottoms out each time.

And as that goes on to the point where he groans and unloads hot, sticky spurts of cum deep inside your needy pussy, your mind blanks as you ride the high and you collapse into Sukuna's chest as your body damn near gives out.

Breath shaking, full on panting, you muster a pathetic, "H-Hey Sukuna..."

He smirks at the unraveled mess still sitting on his cock and lazily answers you, a little breathless himself, "Yeah princess?"

You smile and look up at him, oxytocin coursing through your body which causes you to say the silliest things as you finally realize what's happened to you. "I think you've become my problem."

His smirk widens and he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, a moment of unexpected affection that makes your heart race even more. "Don’t worry about it," he teases. "I’m the best problem you’ll ever have."

[aweina]

౨ৎ. CHOCOLATE LIPSTICK ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. enemies to ( ? ). mike is mean + angry. 2-3 year age difference. sexual tension. oral fixation. semi-brat taming + 1k words.

mike was staring at you funny, it made you feel weird — annoyed, actually.

“what?” your voice was harsh, muffled by the sweet frozen yogurt coating your mouth.

he raised a brow at your tone, a little vexed from your sudden attitude. it reminded him of the bratty kid he happened to escort out of a toy store just an hour ago. he’s in a bad mood already, but there was no reason to get mad right now.

“don’t talk with your mouth full.” mike tiredly mumbled. an honest suggestion, but half of what he really wanted to say.

you rolled your eyes at his critiquing words. he always seemed to lecture you about the littlest things. how you’re not as productive during your usual security checks or even that one time he was finding the mall keys during your shared nightly protocols — making sure to make a sly comment and sprinkle in an unneeded suggestion about how untidy your bag was. exactly how an obnoxious parent would.

it was annoying. being treated like a child and especially by someone like mike. so what if he was a few years older? slightly more mature than you, much more responsible, and definitely not hot. just a little bit tho, but you’ll never admit that.

but ninety-percent of the time he pisses you off, and this is one of those times.

you swallowed down the yogurt that melted from your seething irritation, brows furrowed at the snarky comment he had to make about your dining etiquette. it’s a fucking mall food court, not a fine dining restaurant.

“do you always have to be a dick to me?” your words were laced with venom, all the suppressed anger managed to bubble out your throat.

his calloused fingers suddenly stopped twisting on the volume of the two-way radio, usual soft hazel eyes darken to a muted brown, stubbled jaw clenched. mike swallowed back the urge to say a few fighting words at your childish retort.

your tone wasn’t a big deal. well, until now.

his day has already been ruined. parents weren’t so attentive when it came to their bratty children, that meant he had to parent them himself — awkwardly standing until their tantrums fall silent or escorting dozens of children that happen to run off for some ridiculous toy. he didn’t need anymore whining from you, especially about something he’s done without the intention of malice — you were childish, immature.

“i don’t need to hear this right now.” mike was too tired to argue. a heavy sigh escaping his lips, his rough hands brushing away the tired feeling in his eyes. “you’re acting like a kid right now, you know that?”

you swore your blood pressure just went up.

“see that’s what i’m talking about! you treat me like a kid and you have to be a total asshole about it. why?”

passing families and teens curiously looked towards your table, the sudden blast of your agitated voice drawing unneeded attention. just what mike needed.

he turns away from their prying eyes, flustered that he was a victim of your grownup tantrum. mike continues the silent treatment as he listens to your incoherent babbling, colorful words like “old man” and “asshole” passed through his eardrums like a sour tune. the grip of his arm was deadly tight. yet, your pouting made his heart skip a bit. it was adorable, it always has been. but not when it’s accommodated with your high-pitched whines, your brows knitted with all these negative emotions, cheeks redden from breathless insults. the angry look in your face looked so familiar — it was the same look everybody seemed to give him.

all this over a smudge of frozen yogurt on your mouth. he would laugh if he wasn’t at his breaking point.

“fuck, i hate yo – !“ with sudden force, mike grabs you by your chin, the pouring insults latched shut with a firm grip.

the reddish hue on your face that was once from your vexation became brighter from mike’s unusual forcefulness — he has never been this angry with you before. weirdly enough, you don’t hate it.

the chocolate remnants blotched over your cheeks, dribbling from your unwiped mouth, was he pointing this out the whole time?

“watch your mouth.” you didn’t know if he meant the mess you made or your little tantrum session that set him off.

maybe both, you can’t tell anymore.

you both stare at each other for a second, the tension so thick in the air — the invasive looks felt like a blur in the background, or rather, seemingly drawn away by this peculiar exchange. hazy eyes slowly peered down at your mouth, deliciously glazed with chocolate yogurt. it was tooth aching, he could imagine the taste on his tongue. if only he was a little closer, he never had to daydream about this ungodly sight for weeks.

his thumb slowly drags over your pinkish flesh, gathering the sweet residue that coated your quivering lips. he reached over the corners of your mouth, studying every hitch of your breath and the way you nervously fiddle with the plastic spoon. someone so loud, bratty, could be silenced with a single touch.

pushing past your pursed lips and clenched teeth with ease, his sweetened touch swirled all over your taste buds — the subtle hints of sweat somehow tasted sweeter than the chocolate goodness. mike watches you closely, his slacks suddenly feeling tight. you’re letting him do this to you, without a protest or your usual dirty look.

for another second, his fleeting touch brushed against your wet muscle, mesmerized by its softness. the darkness that loomed in his irises vaporized into a soft green, lured by the sight of an obedient mouth. he finally draws away, a string of saliva connecting his cleaned off thumb and your glossy lips. the rigid grip on your chin loosens as mike huffs in mild irritation, mostly out of astonishment from this predicament.

mike stands from his seat, hiding his hard-on with his bunched up security jacket — hand still soaked from your dribbling saliva. awkwardly, he picks up the trash splayed over the table, making sure his car keys were stuffed deep in his pocket.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.” he steadily spoke, seemingly unbothered.

you nodded, mouth still slightly agape.

mike walks off, leaving you with your own muddled thoughts.

out of complete horror, you hover your nimble fingers over your mouth — the taste of his skin still permeates on your tongue. even with how intimate that whole situation was, mike made sure to clean the remnants of frozen yogurt off your face.

the gall to leave you utterly confused, edged by this new side of your usual grumpy coworker. there was a line between guilty attraction and burning hatred towards mike, you were stuck in the middle of it. but your racing mind seemed to linger towards the shadows casting his tired eyes, the focused look on your compiling mouth, the demand in his voice animating your body like a toy. fuck, yeah okay, he was hot.

the ache between your legs seeped arousal through your pants, you thanked your employers that your uniform was black. gosh, it’s been so long since anybody has touched you like that.

you nearly break your skull when your head falls defeatedly on the table — a heavy groan vibrating in your chest.

you don’t know if you could come to work tomorrow.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° checkmate, i couldn't lose

( frat boy! rin itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series of drabbles :)

♡ word count — 336

♡ content — rin itoshi x fem! reader, not much emphasis on him being in a frat, rin has a private dorm, tutor! reader, probably ooc rin, pining(rin), not proofread

♡ synopsis — you'd made an agreement with rin itoshi when you started tutoring him, his grades go up- you go away. but now he's not sure he wants to follow through.

out of all the men on campus, the one people believe is least likely to join a fraternity is rin itoshi.

but he does, not because he wants to , but because it's a family tradition. his father was in this fraternity, his older brother was too before he left college early to go play professional soccer.

but he was different from them, he wasn't a genius like his dad, he wasn't the perfect soccer player like his brother, he was good- but he wasn't great.

actually, he was awful at the academic part of college, even a full ride to college for soccer didn't give him the grace of a professor grading easy.

which is exactly how you came into his life 3 months ago.

rin was failing almost every class...ergo he was about one B minus away from being on academic probation- he needed a tutor bad.

well, about a month and a half in you became a little more than a tutor. you hadn't known rin very long, but as soon as your first session was over you knew two things:

rin itoshi hated seeming weak- even academically

and that he could not concentrate in public or without being coaxed with a reward.

so you came up with what you'd like to call 'the rin method' where you two now studied in his private dorm- and every time he got a question right, he got a kiss.

is this coercion? maybe. did rin get over his thoughts about it as soon as you kissed him the first time? also yes.

eventually, his grades went up- and when you first met he'd made a deal with you

"i get my grades up, you buzz off right after."

but now, as he watched you from across the room- him on his bed while you sat in his desk chair.

he really didn't want you to stop seeing him.

maybe he'd start failing again.

the school couldn't really lose their star soccer player, so why not?

strongly dislike this but i didn't have the time to put as much detail as i wanted in

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[amoristt]

closer

「 ✦ thanos / reader / nam-gyu ✦ 」 tags: smut MDNI // afab! reader, DP, mild drxg use, like super mild, no plot lol, light coercion but reader is into it

a/n: when is it my turn im barkingggg i want them so bad theyre gonna have to burn me off w a lighter the way im biting word count: 9.5

・❥・Never in your life had you felt so grateful for something as simple as lukewarm water. Fuck, any water at all that wasn’t ice cold felt like a luxury- your palms collecting the clear liquid before tossing it up to your face. The splashes only offer so much, it’s awkward to bend over the sink to wash yourself, but it’s better than nothing given there don’t seem to be any readily available showers. 

Paper towels make shitty loofahs. The hand soap isn’t exactly your favorite fragrance ever. Your tracksuit and t-shirt are slung over a stalls door, and you’re craning your entire spine forward just to wash your upper half. The last game had been so strenuous- you were sure you absolutely reeked. 

Man, you miss your shower. If you make it home, you’re going to spend most of the rest of your life under as hot of water as you could get, you think. The ultimate pick-me-up.

Speaking of pick-me-up’s, you wonder if Thanos's would be a kind enough soul to let you bum off some more of this muscle relaxants. You had no idea what the things were, but holy shit, did it knock you off your ass the last time. It was like being made entirely of lead. Every time you shifted positions, you fell into an even comfier spot, the thin mattresses offered to you suddenly about as comfortable as a kings. 

You could use some good sleep right about now. Sore, exhausted, and more high-strung than you cared to admit. Thanos and Nam-gyu were always entertaining enough to take some of the edge off. Even when your lives were on the line, they made it hard to take anything too serious at all at all. Or maybe that was the drugs- either way, you were appreciative of their company. Who better to hang around with than friends, right? Long before the games, before you all became a trio of sorts, you’d met them both a handful of times, only when your friend groups would clash because a few people knew a few people who knew a few people. 

Thanos was always the center of attention, but he was never outright unkind to you. Notably, he was always particularly focused on you when you were in a giggly mood. You would laugh at all his jokes, even the shitty ones, with a drink in hand. He ate it up- worked overtime to keep you around- you made him feel like he was the funniest man alive. 

Nam-gyu worked at the club you both frequented at and he came to be as equally as interested in your friend. He hung around your table, they chatted endlessly on about some online currency thing most times, and you’d zone out all too easily. Other times, your favorite times, Nam-gyu would sneak you all into a private lounge and share some of his spoils he’d come across. They took drugs like water, you always chose the bottle, instead. 

Friday’s would blur into sunday evenings before you could even really get a grapple on what was going on. You’d wake up in hotel rooms with them both strewn about, sleeping in all sorts of positions. It was fun. It was really fun, in a wreckless, manic type of way. You never understood why they kept you around, but you didn’t question it, either. Why question when you could just enjoy. Why question when you could just enjoy?

When you’d found them among the crowd on day one, it was like the planets had realigned. Actually, you hadn’t even been the first to notice. You just heard your name shouted over the crowd and suddenly someone was slamming into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. A blur of purple hair and green tracksuits. 

You aren’t sure you’d have made it as far as you had if not for your buddies. You try not to think about it too much- you’d hate to ruin your own vibe as lives come to end all around you. It was the first time you’d ever taken something from Thanos- a muscle relaxant that really took the anxieties away. 

Dipping your head into the sink and rinsing your face once more, you don’t bother looking up when you hear the door push open and then click shut. You’re too focused on how the water is warm enough, and you don’t stink to the high heavens any longer. 

A man’s voice cuts through the silence, echoes off the tile walls. 

“Woah.” 

You rip your head from the sink so fast it almost nails the faucet on your way up, alarm flashing through you, arms coming to cover your chest only clad in your bra. When you manage to process the not only one, but two men standing before you, you feel anger bubbling in your chest. 

Low and behold, speak of the devils. 

“What the fuck!” You hiss, tightening your arms around your chest. 

Thanos’s hands are tucked into his pockets casually, and he looks around the bathroom with his brows raised, like he wasn’t sure what to expect out of the women's bathroom. Nam-gyu tails him but passes by after offering you a snarky grin. In your relief that you knew the two souls invading your space, you almost forgot the fact that you were naked from the waist up. 

“You seriously scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Thanos hummed, putting his hands up to his chest mockingly. He moves like he’s light on air, but his eyes never leave you. 

You turn on your heel and grab your shirt from its spot over the stall door, throwing it on quickly. In the mirror, you don’t miss the way Thanos’s eyes drink you in, but you do miss the way Nam-gyu is almost seeming to scout the girls room, checking under the doors and pushing stalls open. 

“What are you guys doing in here? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble.”

Thanos scoffs. “Trouble. It was crazy boring out there.”

Nam-gyu sighs dramatically, snaking up beside the taller male. “And you’ve been in here forever. We thought maybe something happened to our buddy.”

You actually laugh at that. He’s said that before- and this isn’t the first time your friends have barged into the women's bathroom in search of you. Usually at clubs, they’d be pushed and shoved out by other women, but right now there’s no one to chastise them for being irritants. 

“My heroes. I’m definitely doing fine. Buuut…” You trail off in a hum, eyeing your purple haired friend. He raises a brow again. “You got more of what you had me take? Not the crazy shit, obviously, whatever the white one was from the other night.”

“Why? You stressed?” He rocks back and forth on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. You can’t help but stare at him, incredulous. 

“Yeah, I’m stressed. All this game shit is starting to get under my skin.”

“Yo, you’re not voting no are you?” Gam-gyu is already touching you. So clingy, all the time, thin fingers petting and pressing on your shoulders any chance he could get. At any point it seemed like he was tugging on you from somewhere. 

“No, I’m just saying I could use some relief.”

He slips behind you, hands on your shoulders. Your friends are trading looks that you can’t quite place, this unspoken vibe that you’re clearly not tuned into. Something thicker settles between all three of you, as does your confusion. They were up to something- you knew it. You knew them like the back of your hand. 

Thanos is jostling the necklace around to sort through all the colors. Eventually he settles on one and he hands it over. The entire time he’s searching for it, Nam-gyu is still standing along your back, the heat of him palpable. Consistent. He’s always exuded heat like a furnace.

Thanos pulls his necklace from his shirt and pops the cross shaped case open. Plucking out a small white pill, he eyes it before flashing it in your vision. You brighten up at the sight, but he’s quick to take a step back when you reach out. 

“What is it?”

“Hm… I’m just thinking. You know, I give you a couple of these, but what do I get in return?” 

That stops you, your eyes narrowing just enough to notice, subtle suspicion settling over your features. 

“Uh… What do you want, I guess…?”

Thanos eyes glance around the room as he thinks, before they settle on you. They’re different. A bit darker, a flame of mischievousness to those irises. Not a look you’ve never seen before, but certainly not a look you expected to be directed at you of all people. 

“How about… a kiss.”

There you go, laughing again. Now that was certainly a first. When you have your little giggle and straighten back up, you see that Thanos doesn’t find his request even slightly as funny as you do. He’s staring at you with his expression of expectancy, so much so that it makes you raise a brow. 

“For real?”

He jingles his necklace, the pills rattling around audibly. There’s no way he’s serious. But he looks serious. He was a flirt to his very core, you knew that a fact to be true, but ever since you’d left the ‘cutie in his friend group’ category and slipped into the boundaries of being his genuine friend, he hadn’t made any advances. 

Maybe this was some sort of test, because he’s still not budging. If he is serious, well… You can’t exactly say you’d mind a little peck. He was handsome- they both were. With cool, untouchable attitudes to match. Fun, fun, fun, and the rare times they had to look out for you, they were as reliable as concrete. 

If you hadn’t developed such a bond with them- not quite something like siblings, but not of lesser importance either, you’d have been all over the idea. Now you have to put thought into it, tread more carefully than you’d like. 

You decide, though, fuck it. If he’s to be the fisher, then suppose you’ll be the fish that bites.

“Sure. Why not.”

They both trade looks again. Quick, only in a flash, but you catch it. Nam-gyu’s thumbs rub circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and for some reason it makes your breath catch in your chest. There’s a strange energy about them. Something charged, determined. Every move is calculated with some end goal in their minds. 

“Here.” 

A strange pang of disappointment rings through you, though, when Thanos plants the little pill in your palm- you had kinda hoped he’d kiss you, after all. But oh well. You knew he was just clowning around- he always was. You always had turned his meaningless flirts down, maybe he was trying to see what you’d do in the name of drugs, or something like that. You feel prickly heat on your cheeks- embarrassment. 

You wish you had turned him down now, too, kind of feeling like an idiot. 

The pill is just as bitter on your tongue now as it had been the first time, a grimace playing over your lips as the texture bursts into a gritty chalk-like powder dancing over your tastebuds. You had about five minutes before it’d start kicking in. 

“Jesus, that taste is so fucking na-”

You’re cut off by Thanos pressing his lips firmly against your own. It’s sudden, it’s intrusive. His hand is firmly cupping your jaw and the other is resting on the pulse of your neck. It pushes you back against Nam-gyu roughly, and his hands come to grasp at your forearms from behind you, continuing to rub circles into your skin. Your own hands come up instinctively, planting on Thanos’s shoulders. 

There’s heat flooding your cheeks, heat flooding down to your chest and out to your ears. Worsened, a flame so fiery hot it scorches, when Thanos tilts his head to deepen the kiss even further, his hands keeping you flush against him. Nam-gyu’s sliding his hands from your arms down to the curve of your waist, feeling the shape of you through your t-shirt. You shiver, electricity rippling up and down your spine in body shivering shudders. 

When Thanos splits from you, your mind reeling, there’s fingers replacing his grip on your jaw almost immediately, making you face over your shoulder. Another set of lips overtake yours, tongue lapping into your parted lips, pushy and demanding. Thanos’s kiss wasn't especially apprehensive, but it wasn’t like this. Nam-gyu kisses you like he owns you, fervent and sloppy and noisy.

There’s a string of spit bridging you when he pulls away, watches you gape at him, breathless and flushed. You’re stammering, unsure of what to say next. 

“What- what the fuck-”

“You are so beautiful.” Thanos interrupts again you by running a hand through your hair, nails gently scratching along your scalp. It’s not the first time he’s ever said it, but there’s something different now. Passionate. Like he really means it this time, and not some off-handed flirt that was easy to swat away. 

You’re blushing a raging red, your heart pounding in your chest- you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore. He takes them for you in his own, long fingers stroking over your knuckles before he dragged your right hand up to his lips and places kisses along your knuckles. Over the top, up your wrist. Up to your forearm and then only stopping when your t-shirt blocked away your smooth skin. Nam-gyu brushes hair from your neck and buries his face into the cradle of you, breathes you in, his hands still squeezing gently on your hips. 

“What’s going on…?” You chirp, eyes falling half lidded.

“You tell us.” Nam-gyu murmurs against you, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver in, you realize, pure delight. You feel a weight start to settle in your cheeks, your head starting to feel just a little bit heavier than before to hold up on your neck. 

The drugs are kicking in just in time, your shoulders slumping, a content sigh leaving your lips. Opening yourself up to them, head lolling to the side to give Nam-gyu more of your collar. He takes, greedy, excited, and presses a smile into your jugular. 

This was calculated. This was planned. And fuck, it’s working. 

“I don’t know.” You say. But you do know. And you know you’re clearly enjoying it- already wet between your legs and feeling the roll of anticipation settle in your belly. 

The anxieties start to ebb away, and Thanos is watching your every micro expression with blown pupils. You watch him from under your thick lashes, lips swollen, your breath leaving you in shallow pants. It beckons him, draws him in for another kiss. 

Thanos is the one who finally decides to stop beating around the bush. He breaks your second kiss to touch your face, one hand caressing down your cheeks, the other brushing stray strands of hair away from your eyes. He’s beautiful- he’s always been beautiful. 

“You want more?”

You swallow. “Drugs? Or…”

He traces his thumb over your lower lip. “...Or.”

Yes, you do. Fuck yes. But for some reason you can’t say it outloud- this weird, nagging feeling that surely comes from some insecurities buried among the skeletons in your closet, that this is all some cruel prank. That if you say yes, really give in to them, they’ll leave you high and dry, laughing all the way back to their beds outside. You’d never live it down. It would change everything. 

“...Are you being serious…?” You have to ask, even if you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable, clenching on nothing when strikes of need course through you. 

There is no laughter. Just excited, aroused breathing all around in the silence. Nam-gyu squeezes you once more, fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes that are suddenly much, much too warm to be under. 

“Seriously.” Thanos murmurs, and then he finds your lips again. Kisses exhilaration into you like a drug of its very own. You let him in, lean forward and hum a sweet little sound into his mouth. He pulls back again, and there’s those expectant eyes again. He’s being genuine, they both are, their hands and their eyes and their mouths unable to leave you for even a moment. 

“Let’s have some fun, yeah?” Nam-gyu breathes, and you shiver. His fingers dip below the thin fabric of your t-shirt, barely brushing his calloused fingers over your skin, and it’s enough to light you up with goosebumps and desire. You can feel your heartbeat throughout your entire body now, from your head all the way down to your aching cunt. 

Yeah. Let’s have some fun. 

The moment you nod, it’s the green light they’d been waiting for- hoping for. 

Your shirt is gone in a matter of seconds, Thanos making quick work to pull it over your head and toss it over the wall of the nearest stall. Before you even get the chance to cover yourself, exposed in the bathroom before them all over again, you’re being walked backwards, pushed gently by the front when Thanos kisses you fervently- like he can’t get enough of you. Like everytime he breaks away he’s just waiting for his chance to find your lips again. You’re sore with him, kiss-drunk and willing. The world disappears behind the stall, and all else disappears except for them. 

Nam-gyu backs up to the wall, keeps you in front of him, sandwiched between their bodies. His hand slips under your bra and he kneads your breast with one hand, the other wrapping around your waist, keeping you pinned against his warm, warm body. When his thumb flicks over your nipple, you jump with a sharp gasp. Thanos groans an equally as delighted sound against you, doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you the chance to have second thoughts. 

Gentle pinches and tugs make you whimper, forced to break Thanos’s kiss when you’re overwhelmed with the need for air. You suck in greedy breaths, a sound that raises into a high keen when there’s suddenly pressure flattened right where you needed it between your legs. Thanos’s palm is grinding against your sex through your sweats, your hands clutching against his jacket in need of purchase. 

“I knew you’d sound cute.” Nam-gyu harps, grinning into your hair. 

You wonder when they’d planned this. Initially you had figured it was a fuck it, why not scenario- after all, tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. But the little comments like that, like this was something they’d thought about before, tells you otherwise. It makes you even hotter. Fuck, if you had known, you would have been on it. Especially if it felt like this. 

Your head tips back, resting against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, and he makes quick work of nipping at your throat. Thanos is all kisses, but you’re finding the other male is mostly teeth, biting and grazing along the sensitive flesh of your neck. Thanos adds just a bit of pressure, just enough to make you moan again, the sound like music to their waiting ears. You’re quickly dissolving into a squirming mess of sultry cries and ember-hot skin. 

Your bra is next up on the chopping block. It’s actually shocking it’s taken this long, Nam-gyu growing impatient with the idea of touching, but not seeing. When it’s pulled away, the cold air meets you, makes you shiver, exposed. Now it’s getting real- you’re entirely bare from the waist up, panting in front of them like a present begging to be unwrapped. 

“So fucking hot,” Thanos coos, feeling you, bouncing between catching your sensitive nipples in his fingers and easing his palm against your sex. You need more- you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it through your clothes, now, hips rocking, begging for more. He drops to his knees in front of you.

“Woah-” You clam up, tensing, and Nam-gyu lifts his head so he could see what your sudden fuss was about. Thanos freezes, his fingers caught and hooking over your sweats. You swallow hard and squirm. “I mean- You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t… Want me to?” He’s actually taken aback that you’re stopping him, clearly worried about cold feet coming into the picture. You stammer again.

“Well-, Not like, I don’t want you to, but that’s… I don’t know.”

He leans back on his heels, tilting his head. “So you do want me to.”

You’re under the spotlight, frozen, floundering. They’re exchanging glances from over your shoulder. Fuck- you don’t want this to stop but you’re nervous at the thought of him eating you out. You force out, “I-I just- I’m embarrassed.”

Thanos gapes at you. “Embarrassed?”

You can’t bear to look at him in the eyes anymore, nerves getting the better of you. 

Fuck, you want more drugs. Anything to get away from this random bout of insecurities that seemed to jump you out of the blue. Or maybe it was the sobering reality that was your good, good friend about to be face to face with your cunt. 

Nam-gyu drags his hands along your sides, makes you shiver, before they settle on your breasts again. He grasps you, rolls your sensitive buds between his fingers. He’s trying to break you out of your funk, you know it, and it’s starting to work. Reminding you how good this feels, how they’ve been all over you like drooling hounds to scent from the moment you’d invited them into yourself. 

“Don’t be shy, c’mon.” He whispers in your ear. You’re inclined to listen, even if it takes a few extra beats of silence. 

“Okay.”

Thanos’s eyes light up. He leans forward. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He’s quick to drag your pants down, takes great care to bring your underwear with them, into a pool around your ankles before tugging them away all together. When you lift your left leg to step out, he catches you by the thigh and hikes it over his shoulder, your other leg supporting your weight. You’re spread open and he’s eyeing your sex like a wolf eyes a cornered rabbit. Hungry, primal. He doesn't let you develop those worries this time, wastes no time before butting his tongue up against your slit and licking a broad, deep stripe. 

A high, blissful sound escapes your lips. Something like a mewl, but from somewhere deep in your chest. It’s lewd, it’s downright pornographic, and it’s making Nam-gyu groan into your neck while Thanos’s eyes slip shut. Every lick makes you jump, every prod of his tongue against your lonely clit a cause for squirming. If Nam-gyu’s arm wasn’t wrapped around your waist, crushing you against him, you would have crumbled into a heaping mess. 

“God, you’re such a fucking babe.” He murmurs in your ear, a taunt to his tone. “You’ve wanted this bad, huh?”

You did want it. You wanted it so bad that you’re already dripping with your own slick, Thanos devours you like the finest of fruit. He’s ravenous, hungry, sucking on your clit and spreading you open with his fingers until all you can do is wheeze out sharp cries. You can’t do anything to slow him down, urge him deeper, stuck in place and expected to do nothing else but let them have you. 

“Look at that,” Nam-gyu’s voice again in your ear, you can hear his grin. “You're soaking his face already.”

It’s too much. You can’t lock eyes with him- you can barely even stand the sight of him buried between your legs on its own, let alone locking eyes when he's making all these obscene, salacious sounds, drunk on your slick. But then the male behind you grabs your chin and he makes you look and he whispers dirty, downright bawdy things in your ear that make you shake in his unrelenting grip.

When Thanos’s eyes flick up to find yours, you whine and bury your hand in his hair. He moans against you, letting his eyes fall shut again, reveling in the way you tugged and clawed. You’re covered by them, covered by hands and kisses, losing any and all sense of prudence. These wanton, needy sounds are slipping past your lips and you can’t seem to stop them. It’s all so good, pleasure from every angle. 

Your orgasm is quiet, but it rocks you to your very core. This rippling, climbing tantamount of pleasure that bursts into fiery roars of euphoria fluttering under your skin. Head tossed back against Nam-gyu’s shoulder, scrabbling for purchase on his arm around your waist, you cum and cum and cum until it feels like you’re never going to find your way back down. 

If you’d been soaked before, you were downright drenched now, and Thanos couldn’t have been happier. He’s greedy, clutches your twitching hips so you can’t jump away from his mouth when he drinks you in until you’re writhing to get away from it. When he finally pulls away, he laps another wet kiss onto your clit for good measure, and then another for the road. And then one more, one more just for good luck. 

“Holy shit,” Nam-gyu chuckles against your hair. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

Thanos kisses up from your thighs to your abdomen, up to your breasts, where he finds his mouth busy once more latching onto a nipple and earning another bout of whimpers. You lurch back, wiggly and restless, but you can’t go anywhere else. You’re trapped, cornered. It’s perfect.

You’re suddenly hoisted into the air, hands gripping into your thighs and ass. Your back presses weight against Nam-gyu’s front, and instinctively, you wrap your legs around Thanos’s waist for support. They’ve got you sandwiched in between their bodies even more now, your weight entirely supported by their grasps, the soft fabric of their tracksuits brushing against you with every shift. Occasionally, there’s a sharp chill of cold along your back, the zipper brushing against your heated skin. 

There’s a quiet, rustling of fabric that reaches your ears over the incessant pounding of your heart rate, and when you look, you feel your stomach roll. Thanos is shimmying his pants down to his mid thighs, and you watch with eager eyes as his cock springs free from its confines. His tip is red and angry with need, precum glistening under the overhead light. It makes you clench of nothing, suddenly realizing how empty you feel, how he could fill you up so perfectly. 

When he settles between your legs again, he tests the waters, drags his tip along your slit, knocking it against your clit. You jerk your hips against him, trying to urge him in without outright telling him. He’s a good listener- doesn't make you wait and agonize, doesn't even make you beg for it. Just lines his shaft up with your entrance and lets out a shaky, eager breath. He doesn’t wait for an okay. He doesn’t need one. Not when you’re driving your heel into his lower back and biting at your lip in anticipation. 

You’re so drenched that he’s inside of you all the way to the hilt in one move. You go from uncomfortably empty to suddenly bracing the impalement, your walls fluttering and sucking him in, drawing these deep guttural groans from both of your throats. His hands are squeezing your ass, nails barely catching the skin. He certainly feels thicker than he looks, snug inside of your gummy walls. 

“Damn,” English meets your ears, low and sultry as you wrap your arms around his neck. “So fucking wet.”

“Take her.” Nam-gyu says, and before you know it, your weight has shifted onto Thanos almost entirely. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen slithers away, and then you feel it. The unmistakable, undeniable feeling of Nam-gyu’s erection pressing flush to your occupied slit. He’s so hard it must hurt, breathing heavy against your neck, a fever growing within him. And he’s bigger- you can tell, thicker. Thanos’s cock twitched inside of you, reminds you that you already feel full. You still, the sudden dawning realization that they’re both going to take you temporarily yanking you from your haze of euphoria. 

“You gonna be able to take it?” Thanos can sense the change in you. He always does, his eyes seem to never leave you. 

You can’t bring yourself to answer, because quite honestly, you don’t know. You don’t know if you could house both of their swollen cocks within the confines of your cunt. You’re trying to even your breathing, to relax around him, but it’s hard when Nam-gyu knocks his length along your sex once again. He’s trying to wait- but patience has never been one of his virtues. But he does it for you, does it because he wants this more than anything in his entire life. And he wants it done right. 

Thanos rocks himself into you, sets you alight once more, lighting little sparks behind your eyelids. Reminding you, again, that they’re going to take care of you. Chirping, mewling little sounds pass your lips every time he does, spurs them both on, especially Nam-gyu, who butts his cock up against your slit one more time before he presses inside with a hiss. 

It’s an impossibly tight fit. Your chest heaves, your body tenses, your heart is beating so rapidly you’re afraid it may burst any time now. There’s hands all over you, soothing you, toying with you, rubbing circles into your clit and catching your nipples between the pads of their fingers. The first inch of Nam-gyu manages a path inside your pussy. You tense with every fiber of your being, this searing, rippling burn forcing you to toss your head back with a dying yelp on your lips. It hurts- it hurts more than you thought it would, and you knew with certainty you’d be struggling. He won’t fit- he can’t fit, there’s no way the size of you could accommodate them both. But he continues anyway, forces another inch inside of you. 

The stretch is unbelievable. You can’t cope 

There’s hands petting down your hair, lips on your cheek, trying to kiss and lick and sooth you. 

“Quiet, it’s okay.” Your ears are swimming, you can barely hear Thanos’s voice over the crashing waves beating along your eardrums. You whimper a pitiful noise- one that makes him shift your weight onto Nam-gyu’s iron grip. Your eyes are screwed shut so tight you’re unsure if they'll ever open again. Something pokes against your lips- fingers, you realize, slipping inside your warm mouth and dragging along your tongue. You’re so lost, swirling, you just let them explore you.

“You’re so pretty, baby, let me help you.” He hums, and that reaches you just fine. Another wave of red hot blush creeps over your cheeks as if having both of their cocks jointed in the cavern of your cunt wasn’t enough before. Chest swelling, leaning into his fingers collecting your drool and prying your mouth open for him, like an obedient dog. 

A bitter, sharp taste explodes over your tongue. 

Try as you might to rip your head back, retching, Nam-gyu’s holding you up so Thanos’s other hand has got you by the back of your head and he’s shoving that terrible taste to the very back of your throat until you're gagging it down. His voice is so sweet in your ears, sickly so, faux honey tipped words that reach you in cooing there you go’s. 

“How much-” You gag with the taste of the pill still drifting down into your stomach. “How much was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. I got you.” And his broad hands are back onto your body, supporting and dragging you against him, burying his face in your neck, lapping the smooth skin there. 

You trust him. You trust both of them, even when they give you every reason not to. And so, let them handle it all for you. To take care of you. In return they ravage you, take and pull anything they can get their hands on, stuck somewhere between treating you like the finest of china

 whilst simultaneously brutalizing you at every turn. This precious, pliable, breakable, but oh so usable thing at their very fingertips. 

At the very least, Nam-gyu hasn’t continued trying to bulldoze his swollen cock into you, not yet. He’s giving you the chance to relax, to let him have you. 

This round of drugs takes as quick of effect as the first, and you can feel it starting in your back before all else, this overtaking, tranquilizing sooth that works to pacify your tense muscles. It spreads to your face, your arms, your thighs and your legs, like a flood slowly rising until you’re soggy and heavy in their arms. Your head lolls forward on your shoulders, your brain grows foggier by the second. Their heartbeats are in tandem- or perhaps, it’s just your own, pulsating through every nerve in your being. 

The drugs are helping, you think, or you really are starting to enjoy the way you’re being lanced in two. It’s hard to think at all anymore, all you can really do is feel and pant and try not to cry anymore than you already have. As the seconds tick by, you’re still lucid enough to know a glaring fact- they’re going to gut you with this. But you’re starting to lose the ability to care and you aren’t sure if that’s entirely a good thing or not. 

In that moment, however, it was bliss. Painful and scorching, but all euphoric consuming bliss. 

There isn’t enough space for them between your legs, but they carve it out anyways, shape and mold you around their cocks. Nam-gyu pushes in again, and you wrench around them, gasping out high noises in the back of your throat. He stills- there isn’t enough room like this. Even being so soaked that there’s this audible, obscene wentess to your cunt as he makes his way inside, there’s simply not enough room. Not with Thanos already buried so tightly inside of you, snug and occupying. Your fingers grip anywhere they can get- their arms, their shoulders, desperate for something to cling to in your woes. 

“I don’t think she can-” Nam-gyu groans when you squeeze around them mid sentence, and even with just half of his length sheathed inside of you, it’s fucking tight. He can’t even move, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “M’ not gonna fit.”

Your weight is tossed back to Nam-gyu, your head tipping back, and he kisses your cheek again, breathes hot pants against your trembling skin. Thanos shifts inside of you, just enough to draw out urgent moans from all three of your throats. He’s so snug inside of you that it’s almost seamless, you can’t tell where he begins, where you end. That felt fucking good, whatever he had done. Your walls flutter around them, clenching, sucking them both in despite your qualms. Thanos resettles his grip, the weight redistributed. 

“Just-” His voice is strained, coming out in quick huffs. “Just do it.” Thanos ducks his head to find your eyeline, this pseudo, eager concern on his knit brows and pleading eyes. “You can take it, right?”

All you can do is nod, even though you’re still sure that this will kill you.

Nam-gyu jumps you just a bit, hoists you up just an inch or so higher so he could get a better grip on around your waist while his other arm snakes up your face so he could touch your face. Small tears are biting at your waterlines, you’re weightless and heavy all at once, on fire from the very core of your being, terrorizing you from the inside out. He kisses your cheek again before his palm finds your chin. 

“Don’t scream, don’t scream.” He covers your mouth, stifles all your frantic little noises, in preparation for what came next. 

In one single thrust, he bottoms out inside of you. You do scream- a high wail against his palm that still echoes off the stall walls even muffled. Fire spears you, you’re wrenching around them as if it’s going to help ease the flame. You go nowhere. You can do nothing except cry into his hand and accommodate them. There’s no other choice.

Buried to the very base of his cock, Nam-gyu’s groaning against the back of your head, a hiss dying on his lips every time you squirm and vice around them. Thanos mirrors him, grunting at the friction, the unbelievable feeling of being stuffed into something so warm and so soft. You’re so full- you’re too full, filled to the very brim, wall to wall, crevice to crevice. Stuffed so deeply you can feel them in your fucking throat. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Frantic english meets you but you can barely register it. Nam-gyu’s hand leaves your lips, and the moment cool air meets your lips, you’re choking out sobs somewhere between erotic pleasure in its rawest form and the genuine pain of feeling as though you were being ripped in two. You’re struggling, tensing in all the wrong places. They’re heavy inside of you, both of their intrusive beings splitting you in half. Taking you, ruining you. All the while your walls are putting in the work, clamping down, rolling waves of squeezes that have them struggling to focus. A vice so wet and plush that it truly does seem like you were built for this- built to take them, painfully for not. 

Thanos is trying to keep you at bay, trying to pet down your face and ease those lines in your expression brought on agonizing, brutal pleasure. 

“Fucking- so fucking tight,” Nam-gyu, however, isn’t trying. Not at all. “Holy shit, baby, can’t even breathe-“

Since the very beginning he’s been desperate to have you on his cock, waiting for the moment he could sink into your heat long before you’d let them kiss and lick and bite you, corner you, feel your soft skin underneath all those dreadful clothes. Long before he followed Thanos into the women's room, and long before the games were even a thought at all. And now that he’s finally got you, he’s out of his mind with it. He’s ramrod straight and terribly hard, damn near pulsating inside of you, crushing you against his chest. The hand that was once stifling you is now gripping marks into the flesh of your under thigh- but you’re slipping, just barely. Just enough for him to have to jump his hips to have you properly held in his grip. It rips a cry from you, the burn clawing and tearing from within all over again. 

There’s not enough space. They’re killing you. 

“Take it easy, this is a lot.” Thanos’s brows are knit, he adjusts himself and slips in just a little further. Such a small action but it sends riveting electricity up and down your spine. It’s enough to draw yet another whimper from your sore lips, and he coo’s at you, at least tries to act like he isn’t getting off on your pathetic noises. 

Their lust dark, greedy beasts, drooling and starved with prey backed into a corner fit for the taking. 

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Nam-gyu tries to sound like he’s apologetic but it falls flat in comparison. Mostly because you can feel him grinning, feel him tighten his grip. His breath is a quick ghost over the shell of your ear. “Taking it so well, though, fuck.”

“Oh god.” You’re crying again- not entirely out of pain. It’s overwhelming, they're all over you, their voices are swimming around the fishbowl of you skull and they sound so sweet but they’re devouring you whole and tearing you into bits. There’s another nudge inside of you that's making your stomach roll- you still can’t decide if this hurts too bad or it’s so fucking good that it’s almost blinding. The noise that leaves you certainly sounds pleased, however, and Nam-gyu groans in response, an instinctive carnal reply. 

“That’s it, that’s it. Feels good, right?” You can hear his smile in his words, your face is red hot with all the attention, and the tears, and the mind numbing rapture of it all. 

“We’ll take care of you baby, just-” Thanos hisses, struggling to get the words out. “Just say the word.”

You’ve got them teetering on the fine line of wanting and waiting, craving the slick and lushious feel of your walls writhing against their cocks, ready to take you and break you and fuck you. Thanos tries to be patient, or at least act like he’s patient, but you can see how he’s grappling with it. You’re stuck, held fast in the chains of their arms and strong hands, and he knows he could just take you like this and you couldn’t stop him. But he wants to wait, he wants to hear you sing, and he wants to hear you cry and cum for him, and forcing you wasn’t the road to that destination. 

Something urged you to wrap your arms around his neck and drag him down for a kiss he’s all too eager for, clashing teeth and pressing into your mouth so intensely he’s pushing your head back against his friend's shoulder with the force of it. And while you’re distracted, scrambling to keep up with the ferocity of him, Nam-gyu decides to take a gamble. He rocks his hips just enough for you to feel that tight, tight pressure against your cervix where he lays. Pleasure lights up within you like a spark that soars from the very depths of your cunt all the way to the behinds of your eyes, and you constrict around them. 

This longing, aching keen leaves you and plants itself against Thanos’s lips, he's quick to grasp your jaw in his fingers and swallow the sound like fine wine. You hadn’t expected it to feel this good already, this glorious thrum of heaven that makes you arch and press into the feeling for more. Your walls are clutching, dragging them in, your brain is choosing to ignore the burn in favor of the racing pleasure vibrating through your core. 

Thanos breaks away from your kiss to lick up your neck, and you finally get the chance to whimper, please.

The beasts close in on their prey, snarling and snapping, catching its little body between their teeth. 

Thanos, with his face buried in your neck and his hands shaking as they clutchy you, draws back just far enough to kiss your stretched slit with the tip of his swollen head before he’s driving himself back inside of you. Fuck, you could scream all over again at the spread, but instead all that escapes you is hoarse cries. Nam-gyu presses his forehead against the back of your hair and breathes you in, readies himself. You don’t even get the full length of a second to prepare before you’re ravaged. 

He moves quick- hard, with the hiss of fuck on his lips. He’s been waiting and waiting and waiting and you’re so soaked around his cock that it’s dripping onto his legs, how could he ever stop himself from gripping you in his mighty claws and fucking you like an animal. He’s drawing himself to the tip and forcing his way back inside at a speed you can’t keep up with, and he’s making all these guttural lewd grunts into your ear that make you even wetter, somehow, even slicker. You’re sucking them in and constricting around their lengths like you’re trying to keep them buried within the confines of your body forever. 

“Oh my god,” Thanos is chirping out mixtures of english and korean, all words lost on you, his eyes slipping shut as he takes his time properly fucking you. He’s slower than Nam-gyu for sure, but the way he rocks his hips against you is making you squirm, toes curling, fingers grabbing hard into his tracksuit for some sort of desperate need of release. His cock is mapping you out, becoming familiar with every ridge and valley of your softness, seeking out the entirety of you and the perfect curve of his dick is hitting spots that have you barking out yips of ecstasy.

Nan-gyu changes his angle and you can’t take it. There isn’t a slow thing about him. He fucks you like he’s been dying for it, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, savage and wild, so fervent and profound that it’s making you see stars. He’s a little longer than Thanos- but only just a little, just enough for him to pound away at your cervix while you’re stuck folded and taut in his iron grip, damn near bouncing on his length. Wet squelches and the undeniable slap of skin on skin thicken the humidity between your bodies until it’s hard to breathe between the thickness and the rapid beat of pleasures sweeping through you in pulses. 

You’re crying out broken little sounds that either die in your throat or find their way lost in all the hazy noise and he’s echoing you, telling you dirty, dirty things in your flushed ears, how you’re so fucking tight, how perfect and wet you are for him. 

Someone- you can’t even figure out who anymore, finds your lonely clit under their fingers, rubbing quick and slick circles into the sensitive nub. Your thighs clamp down around Thanos’s waist but he’s too broad to offer any reprieve, your eyes slipping shut, head tossed back. It’s escapable- they’re inescapable, and their uneven tempos are making you see blank- a sheet of veneer white sparks you can feel with every pop. There’s no air left in your lungs, there’s so much pressure between your legs that you fear you may burst. 

There’s a certain moment when you’re right on the edge. This perfect moment when you’re right there and then you’re rolling through it in convulsing waves. All the stars align, the inferno stoking within you suddenly becomes this roaring wildfire swallowing you whole. You’re at that peak, focused on nothing but the endless stream of slurred words and the feeling of being stuffed to the very brim, no singular spot of your leaking pussy left abandoned. 

“You gonna’ cum?” Nam-gyu’s voice barely even registers with you when you first hear it. He’s still got you taking him in pistoning jerks of his hips, bullying himself into your poor, swollen sex. You don’t exactly try to nod, but the way you’re being pounded is making it all too easy to. Just a little more…

It’s not Nam-gyu pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit- no, his free hand is right back to grasping at your face, roughly flattening your hair back out of your face and keeping your expression on full display. Not quite pulling, but ensuring your head doesn’t leave its spot pressed against his shoulder. 

“That’s it, fuck, lemme’ see you cum.” You’re twisting in his grip, drooling and babbling please, please, please, and the fucker is laughing at you between carnal grunts. He’s hissing and groaning against your cheek like you’ve made him feral. 

“Come on, baby.” There’s another voice- Thanos’s, it’s reaching through the fog of lust and sultry cries, fishing you out of your own head and lulls you into a messy, heated kiss. You’ve gotten familiar with these lips now, familiar with the taste and the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips until you’re panting breathy cries against his taste buds. His fingers, you’ve realized, speed up their assault on your clit. 

Anything anyone says after that point is lost on you. 

If not for his lips on your own, you’d have outright screamed when you finally tipped over that edge. It’s everything, it’s everywhere. It’s in your eyes and your mouth, it’s in your toes and fingertips, it’s racing in colliding atoms up and down the length of your spine. 

The sheer shove and weight of their cocks pushing and grinding raw friction into you, impossibly deep, their grips holding you in place, you’re in a damn chokehold. Can see nothing, can hear nothing. Can only feel, and feel, and feel that pressure having snapped and unfurled into blooming pleasure that takes root within the very core of your being. 

You’re squeezing them, a torrent of slurry drenching and spilling around their shafts. Pulling, dragging, you’re clamping around them in pendulum pulses. It’s knocking the wind from their lungs, drawing out all the air in a slew of chest rumbling groans and teeth-whistling hisses. You’re delicious on it- blissed out and fucked and still being fucked with reckless abandon.

Nam-gyu bites and licks red into your neck, little specks turned into welts just above where your tracksuit collar reaches, the asshole. But he’s lucky- you’re so spent and raw and limp in their arms that you aren’t even registering it. That’s a problem for later, right now you’re too focused on how they’re both so damn heavy inside you, swollen intrusions that twitch for release everytime they drag along your plushy walls.

“Shit.” Thanos is gripping wounds into your thighs, hips stuttering, fighting his own release. You’re too warm, too perfect and tight around him, he doesn’t want this to end- not yet. Not when he’s got you just where he wants you. His head is falling on his shoulders, chest shaking with his stuttering breaths. “Slow down, slow down. Make it last.”

Nam-gyu listens. Kind of. For good measure he bucks up and slams himself as far as he’ll reach before he finally settles and breathes heavy pants against your collarbone. 

“Slow down, man, fuck.”

“Can't help it, feels so good.” Tongue lapping over your jaw, cruel laughter grazing your skin in huffs. “Look at you. You feel good, baby? Hm?”

You’re still reeling from your orgasm, still riding out the aftershocks. Some strangled whimper-like sound leaves you, he’s laughing at you again, finds everything you do something worth a reaction. He kisses the marks he’s littered on your throat. Shivering and trembling, you’re blitzing on the borderline of over and under stimulation while they’re suspended inside of you. There’s a sense within you, something filthy and needy, that’s so insatiable, unsatisfied until they’ve had their fill with you. Or, perhaps, until you’ve been properly filled with them. 

Thanos presses his forehead against yours. “See? I said we’d take care of you.”

“Feels- I’m-...” You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “I’m so full.”

Nam-gyu groans against your jaw. Your voice has this gravitational pull to him, like he leans on every word, or feels the primal need to meet you at the end of every noise you make. That same primal need also crosses him when you suddenly grind into him, feels the urge to find you halfway and kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick in a sharp buck. It rips a shrill sound from your throat, his tongue tasting the vibrations on your skin. Wet kisses dot your chin before they’re on the corner of your mouth, and then taking over your lips entirely. 

Nimble fingers pinch and knead your clit, sliding through your swollen folds before showering the sensitive nub with attention. Thanos doesn’t wait for any sort of confirmation from you, barely even waits to collect himself before it’s been entirely too long since he’s felt you moving against him. You run your fingers through his hair, feel him sigh against your collarbone, and then he’s dipping down to bite marks into your chest. It’s that same rhythm that drives you insane, nerves buzzing back to life following your earth-shattering orgasm.

Nam-gyu is still by choice for the first time since he’d entered you, something about the way your lips are moving against him keeping him locked in this trance. One of your hands finds it’s way from Thanos’s hair and into Nam-gyus, having to reach over your shoulder to clutch at the back of his black strands. It beckons him, draws him in deeper into the feeling. When he finally does start to move again, it’s different. Different pace, different angle, different sounds, even. Sensual and smooth, a slow drag inch by inch until he’s just buried by the tip, then rocking his hips until he’s pressing hard against your cervix all over again.

You’re trying to be still, trying to not heave out breathless sobs but Thanos is still rubbing you and it’s too much to take- Nam-gyu eats every sound funneled into his lips, tongue tangled with yours, unwilling to let you catch your breath. 

You don’t get even a second of reprieve, their rhythms mismatched but also perfectly timed, never a moment you aren’t full, wrecked with jolting twitches and shaking legs. At this point you’re just along for the ride, nothing but flesh and warmth and slick. A pound of meat  masticated and devoured between them.

Teeth find your left nipple, Thanos’s excited hum meeting your ears when you writhe in response. He speeds up, both his thrusts and his fingers, grunts against your breast and you start to feel it- that deep, deep simmer between your legs. A crescendo up, and up, and up within your belly that mounts alongside  the seconds. You’re so messy and wet that you’re feeling it run along the underside of your thighs, each movement accompanied by slapping skin and trilling moans. 

Up, and up. The pressure building until you’re arching your back and trying to squeal into Nam-gyu’s mouth that you’re right there, you’re gonna-

You seize up around them and wail. It rips through you, spears you like a lance, you aren’t sure how anything in this life could ever feel so good. How anything will ever feel this delicious again. 

Heaven is on earth, and it’s in your shaking hands and leaking pussy and shoved up inside you with their cocks. Surging pleasure washing through you and scrubbing you of everything else except the rut of their hips into yours. 

Nam-gyu cums first, manages to fuck you through you through your own, but no longer than that, growling into your mouth and biting your lips and your biting your jaw when he wrenches himself out of your cunt and paints the underside of your thigh with thick, pearly ropes of his cum. He’s shaking hard, and you’re sure you’re shaking harder, more akin to a leaf in a raging storm than a fellow human being. 

Thanos bites your shoulder. You’re absolutely covered in bites, in drool, in their sweet words lashing into your skin. He’s so close- you can feel him twitching inside of you, his cock pulsating before you feel the spread of his cum coating your walls. It’s thick, it’s red hot, and there’s so much of it that before he even pulls himself out of you it’s already dripping around him and onto the floor. Your head tips back, eyes half lidded, unfocused on the ceiling. 

You’re hollow. You're so empty that it's uncomfortable, carved out and built into their perfect mold. 

“Fucking dick. I pulled out.” Nam-gyu pants, irritated, but not on your behalf. No, irritated because he would have loved to see his own seed seep from your spent pussy and down your trembling thighs. 

When you’re set back down, you forget how to stand. Your knees buckle underneath you in an instant and you plummet, only stopped by Thanos’s arms suddenly hoisting you up from underneath your shoulders. He pulls you to him, your face rubbing drool into the chest of his tracksuit. The ‘O’ patch scratches your face but you can’t be damned to care. You’re too focused on wondering how the hell you’re supposed to walk at all after this- fucked out and completely drunk on sex. Useless and sore and swollen. 

You’re sticky, you’re sweaty, you’re fucking exhausted and barely managing to stay awake now that you’ve settled and the drugs are still in effect. Pretty soon now, when you’re able to stand upright without having someone supporting most of your weight, they’ll have to sneak back out of the room and saunter away to their beds. You’ll have to wash yourself off, again, and figure out how you’re going to get back to your little corner of the dormitory without limping. 

But for now, you just hum out a sound dripping in satisfaction. Your eyes are shutting, all the tensions and the nerves slipping away in the white noise. 

“I have to ask,” You slur. “How long have you guys been planning this.”

Thanos’s chest rumbles with his reply. “You don’t want to know.”

“You should have done it earlier. That was…” You start to laugh. It’s a drained, weary sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “Fuck. That was nice. I’ve wanted that.”

You can practically hear it when Nam-gyu shoots a wide-eyed glare at his friend. 

“I told you!”

[theartofcollapse]

Swipe Right for Sarcasm - Casey Novak

a/n: i'm taking requests, so feel free to dm me :) summary: Olivia convinces Casey to download Tinder and start dating. pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.9K

masterlist

Casey Novak wasn’t entirely sure why she had downloaded Tinder but she fully blamed Olivia Benson for it. “You need to get out there, Casey,” Olivia had said while sipping wine and looking entirely too smug about her stable relationship with a certain medical examiner.

So here Casey was. Scrolling through profiles of men holding fish. Swiping left on women with bios like “Live, Laugh, Love” and “Here for a good time, not a long time.” Just when she was about to delete the app entirely, she stopped on one profile.

Y/N, 30. Bio: I’m here for three things: sarcasm, snacks, and possibly to steal your dog. Let’s see how this goes.

Casey couldn’t stop herself. She swiped right.

A moment later, a notification popped up on her screen: It’s a match!

Casey: Well, this is awkward. Y/N: Is this where we start pretending we didn’t spend hours carefully choosing our photos? Casey: I don’t have that kind of time. Mine were picked in five minutes, maximum effort. Y/N: That explains the photo of you staring at your coffee cup like it betrayed you. Casey: That’s just my face. Y/N: Sure it is. But really, what did the coffee do to you? Casey: It was burnt. A betrayal of the highest order. Y/N: Tragic. Should I unmatch now, or wait until you commit a food-related crime in real life? Casey: Bold of you to assume I’d share food on the first date. Y/N: Oh, you’re one of those. Let me guess, you won’t share fries either? Casey: Correct. Fries are sacred. Y/N: This might not work out. I’m a fry thief. Casey: Noted. I’ll bring decoy fries. Y/N: You’re already planning ahead. I’m impressed. Casey: I’m a lawyer. I must anticipate the worst-case scenario. Y/N: Worst case? Me stealing fries? Casey: Worst case is you stealing fries and not being funny. Y/N: Good thing I’m hilarious, then. Casey: That remains to be seen. Y/N: Oh, you’re a “prove it” kind of person? Casey: Guilty. Y/N: A lawyer joke already? Bold. Casey: If you’re not bold, you won’t survive Tinder. Y/N: True. Speaking of bold, how many boring icebreakers did you survive before we matched? Casey: Three. I had a guy ask me if I “come here often.” Y/N: What is this, a 2003 rom-com? Casey: Exactly. I also had someone tell me I look like I “read a lot.” Y/N: Do you not? Casey: That’s not the point. Y/N: Sure it isn’t, bookworm. Casey: You’re really toeing the line here. Y/N: Oh, is there a line? I didn’t see it. Casey: Keep this up, and you’ll be crossing it. Y/N: Would that be such a bad thing? Casey: No comment. Y/N: Interesting. Casey: You’re trouble, aren’t you? Y/N: Absolutely. Casey: And yet I haven’t unmatched you yet. Curious. Y/N: Face it, Casey. You like me already. Casey: Shut up. Y/N: I’ll take that as a yes.

Casey stared at her screen for a moment, lips twitching despite herself. She hated how smug this Y/N was. But also? She kind of liked it. Swiping right might not have been such a bad idea after all.

Over the next week, their messages became a daily occurrence. Casey found herself checking her phone during breaks at work, a slight smile tugging at her lips whenever she saw Y/N’s name pop up. It was infuriating. And kind of addictive.

Y/N: So, Counselor Novak, tell me, how does a hotshot lawyer like you end up on Tinder? Casey: I could ask you the same question, fry thief. Y/N: I asked first. Casey: Fine. Peer pressure. Y/N: Oh no, did someone force you to download a dating app? Tragic. Who do I sue? Casey: You can take it up with my friend Detective Olivia Benson. Y/N: Detective Olivia Benson, huh? Should I be worried about competition? Casey: She’s very happily in a relationship. But she does like to meddle. Y/N: Sounds like a good friend. Casey: Debatable. Y/N: Okay, my turn. I joined Tinder because my best friend told me my “sarcasm doesn’t count as a personality.” Casey: They’re wrong. Y/N: Oh, I know. But now I have to prove it does count. Casey: To them? Y/N: To everyone. Especially you. Casey: Consider me unconvinced. Y/N: Wow. Brutal. Casey: You’ll live. Y/N: Careful, Casey. You’re starting to sound like me. Casey: Don’t flatter yourself. Y/N: Too late.

Casey groaned softly, dropping her phone onto her desk. She wasn’t used to this. Someone who could match her wit, her sarcasm, and still leave her wanting more. It was unnerving.

She picked up her phone again, typing quickly.

Casey: So, when do you plan to prove this sarcasm-is-a-personality theory of yours? Y/N: I don’t know. Are you asking me out, Novak? Casey: I was thinking more along the lines of letting you try to impress me in person. Y/N: Sounds like a date to me. Casey: Technically, it’s an interview. Y/N: Oh, right, because I’m auditioning to steal your fries. Casey: You’re not stealing anything. Y/N: Not with that attitude. Casey: You’re impossible. Y/N: And yet, here you are, texting me back. Casey: Don’t remind me. Y/N: So, what’s your availability, Counselor? Or should I call your assistant to book something? Casey: I don’t need an assistant. Y/N: Fancy. Do you schedule your own dates, too? Casey: I schedule everything. Efficiency is important. Y/N: I’m swooning over your time management skills. Casey: Try to contain yourself.

By the time they settled on a date (Friday night, 7 p.m., some hole-in-the-wall pizza place Casey pretended not to secretly love), Casey felt equal parts excited and annoyed. Y/N was under her skin in a way no one had been in years.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked into the restaurant. But when she spotted Y/N, leaning casually against the counter, a mischievous smirk already plastered across her face, Casey couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re late,” Y/N said as Casey approached.

“I’m not late,” the ADA replied. “You’re just early.”

“Sure, Novak. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Are you always this infuriating?”

“Only when I like someone.”

That shut her up for about two seconds. “Cute. Don’t push your luck.”

Y/N just grinned. 

The pizza place was small, with dim lighting and mismatched chairs that somehow added to its charm. Casey chose a table near the window, and Y/N followed, sliding into the seat across from her with that same maddening grin.

“You’re awfully smug for someone who’s about to lose an argument,” Casey said, picking up the menu.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Lose? I didn’t realize we were already arguing.”

“We will be. I take my pizza choices very seriously.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Let me guess, classic cheese, no toppings, and a side of self-righteousness?”

Casey’s lips twitched. “Wrong. I’m a Margherita girl. But nice try.”

“Margherita,” Y/N repeated, mock solemn. “How… traditional.”

“Oh, and you’re going to tell me you order something ridiculous like pineapple, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity.”

Casey pretended to study her closely. “Huh. I was worried I’d have to call Olivia to arrest you tonight, but it seems you have some standards.”

Y/N grinned. “I’m a woman of mystery. You’ll learn that in time.”

“Bold assumption, considering we haven’t even ordered yet.”

“Speaking of which,” Y/N said, leaning forward slightly, “what’s your go-to pizza place lawyer pickup line? Because I’m still waiting for you to impress me.”

Casey arched a brow. “You’re the one who agreed to this. Shouldn’t you be impressing me?”

Y/N shrugged. “That depends. Are you the type who’s impressed by bad jokes?”

“No.”

“Great, because I’m about to tell one anyway. Why did the tomato turn red?”

Casey sighed, already regretting this. “Why?”

“Because it saw the salad dressing.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Casey blinked, leaning back in her chair with a slow shake of her head.

“Absolutely not,” she said, though she couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N looked triumphant. “You smiled.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You’re literally smiling right now, Casey.”

Casey schooled her features into a look of mock disdain. “I think we need to establish some ground rules for this… whatever this is.”

“Oh, I love rules,” Y/N said, leaning her chin on her hand. “Go on.”

“First rule: no more bad jokes.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s possible.”

“Second rule,” Casey continued, ignoring her, “you don’t get to steal my fries or my pizza. We order separate portions like civilized people.”

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Separate? Casey, I thought we were building something real here.”

“Rule three,” Casey added sharply, “no sarcasm while I’m eating.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. What am I supposed to do? Compliment you sincerely?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Fine.” Y/N leaned forward, meeting Casey’s eyes with mock seriousness. “Your time management skills are impeccable. And your taste in pizza? Absolutely average, but I can work with it.”

Casey burst out laughing before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth, glaring at Y/N, who looked far too pleased with herself.

By the time the pizza arrived, they’d gone through two rounds of drinks and an unspoken competition to see who could come up with the most ridiculous lawyer joke. (Y/N’s submission—Why don’t sharks attack lawyers? Professional courtesy. —had earned an eye-roll so dramatic Casey almost got whiplash.)

“You know,” Y/N said as they both reached for their slices, “I had a backup plan in case this date went horribly wrong.”

“Backup plan?”

“Yep. I was going to fake a phone call and claim my cat was on fire or something.”

Casey paused mid-bite, giving her a skeptical look. “Your cat? On fire?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And yet, here you are,” Casey said, mimicking her words from earlier.

Y/N smiled, pointing at her. “Touché, Counselor. Looks like you’re starting to keep up.”

“Starting to?”

Y/N shrugged. “You’re almost at my level.”

Casey let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone puts up with you.”

“They don’t,” Y/N said cheerfully. “But I’m glad you’re willing to try.”

For a moment, Casey just looked at her, her expression softening despite herself. There was something disarming about Y/N’s confidence, her relentless humor, the way she didn’t back down no matter how many sarcastic comments Casey threw her way. It was kind of wonderful.

After splitting the check (over Y/N’s loud protest of, “Let me pay, Novak, or I’ll tell the waiter you’re a fry thief!”), they stepped outside into the crisp night air.

“So,” Y/N said, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “Did I pass your interview, or should I expect a rejection email in the morning?”

Casey smirked. “I’ll have to review my notes, but you might be safe for now.”

Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. “Safe enough for a second date?”

Casey considered her for a long moment. “We’ll see,” she said lightly, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a way that betrayed her amusement.

Y/N grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Of course you will.”

They lingered for a moment, the playful banter fading into something softer as their eyes met.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, her voice quieter, “I guess this is where I let you get back to your very busy, lawyer-y life.”

Casey hesitated for just a second before stepping closer, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Text me when you get home.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Whatever you say, Counselor.”

And as Casey turned to walk away, she realized she was already looking forward to seeing that smirk again.

[kkayyerr]

Hii can I request a rafe c little!reader when he is talking to some girl but reader gets jealous. You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to 💕

The only one.

Summary: Rafe is talking to the Kiara and little!reader getting very jealous and hurt.

Warnings: Age regression, angst, jealousy, fluff in the end.

Author’s note: Rafe is more soft in this one because it isn’t the early seasons Rafe that I’m usually writing about.

Since the very start of your relationship, you knew that Rafe hated all the Pogues. His only exception was you; he excepted you and was still dealing with excepting your lifestyle. So of course you were more than shocked when you saw him talking to another Pogue, and you were even more surprised when you found out that it was Kiara. As you knew, they never liked each other, so why was he standing there, smiling at her? You didn’t even want to know. The only thing that you knew is that you were unhappy about this, and when you were regressed and unhappy, it meant that Rafe might ended up running to the store to buy you something that will be accepted as an apology and would make that pouty look go away from your pretty face. 

However, today you didn’t want anything. You didn’t need new plushies or some sweets; you just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t trade you for another girl, because even thoughts of it were making you anxious. You start sucking on your thumb, trying to calm yourself down, but thoughts were only getting louder.

You left the beach and went home without letting Rafe know, ignoring his calls as he was probably going crazy thinking that something bad might’ve happened to you. And it did, but this time Rafe was the one who hurt you instead of being your protector. As you got home, you went straight to your room, covering yourself with your favorite blanket. You were overwhelmed by all the thoughts and memories that had popped up in your head.

Rafe sweared that he won’t leave you no matter what, but that’s what they all had said, right? 

Maybe you just became too much and he decided to finally break free from you and your regression; maybe you finally became a burden to him. Tears streamed down your face, and you were trying to quiet your sniffles by hiding your face in the pillow when suddenly you heard someone entering the room, loudly shutting the door. 

 

„What have I told you about always telling me where you are, hm?”

 

Rafe was angry, probably even furious with your behavior. He probably thought that you were just being stupid and irresponsible, ignoring his words as always. He ripped off the blanket from you when he saw something that he wasn’t expected to see at all. You were lying there, your face all puffy, strings of tears on your red cheeks. 

 

„Baby, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

 

Rafe asked quickly, trying to make you look at him by softly touching your arm, but you slapped his hand right away, pointing your little finger at him. 

 

„You.”

 

You mumbled, making Rafe’s face expression turn from worried to confused. He didn’t do anything to hurt you today; he was trying to not hurt you at all. What could he've possibly done to make you this upset? His heart ached just from the thought of being the one who makes you cry like that. He actually had no ideas, and the only way to find out was talking about it with you. Gently.

 

„How exactly did I make you feel so bad, little one?”

 

His voice was not only softer but also quieter. He didn’t want to make you even more overwhelmed, loudly interrogating you with his questions. You finally stood up from where you were laying, still looking upset but more cooperative.

 

„Do you like Kiara?”

 

You asked, ignoring his question but basically answering it anyway. Rafe’s face finally brightened up, and he gave you a small, soft smile, also getting up from the bed. Rafe was relieved when you finally told him why you were so upset. The situation wasn’t so bad after all, and he had a chance to explain himself. He wanted to hold you in his arms, or at least put you on his lap and keep you close to him, until all those stupid thoughts won’t go away. He wanted you to know just how much he needed you. Though he knew that he needed to explain himself to you first. 

 

„No, baby. I don’t like her at all. She was afraid of me a little bit, and you were always telling me not to terrorize people, so I wanted to make sure that she wasn’t taking your Daddy for a bad guy anymore.”

 

After he had said that, you finally let him touch your arm. His fingers were caressing your skin in a soothing manner, while you gave him a soft smile back. All those thoughts about you being a useless burden finally disappeared when you saw his loving glare. Well, he definitely wasn’t looking at Kiara that way. 

 

„You’re the only one for me, and everything I do is for us, baby.”

 

Rafe said, pulling you in his arms and sighing with relief when cuddled up to him instead of breaking free from his embrace, even though he deserved that for not letting you know about his plans with the Pogues. He kissed your head gently, making sure that you are feeling loved and important, even though it was extremely hard for him to say that to you out loud.

 

„Don’t talk to that bitch anymore.”

 

His eyes widened at your words. He wasn’t used to you swearing, especially in the littlespace, because he was teaching you manners and not to repeat bad words after him or anyone else. He opened his mouth to call you out on it, but you quickly covered it with your hand, giving him a sly smile.

 

„Shh, Daddy. No whining.”

 

Well, it looks like his talking privilege was just taking away. 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[minswriting]

KINKTOBER 8 - gunplay and stockholm syndrome

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | dark themes, read at your own discretion.

note: this was my first time truly trying to write dark themes. so it’s probably so bad lol

Being an assassin, you always lived amongst danger which is how you got yourself in this situation. You had prior knowledge that the FBI was investigating the murders you committed. And that it was only a matter of time before they connected it all to you. And you knew that you did not want to be caught at all. Which is why, two months ago, you had taken it upon yourself to hatch a plan to kidnap one of the members of the Behavior Analysis Unit. And a month ago, you became successful.

You had kidnapped the Unit Chief. And god, has it been a crazy month.

The man, Aaron Hotchner, had tried really hard to get you to do the right thing for the first two weeks. And truthfully, you almost caved. There was just something about an authoritative man with a velvety voice that always did it for you. But you had other goals in mind and nothing would make you stray from those goals. No matter how much you were attracted to the man.

The intensity of the connection you guys had was ridiculous. At first, Aaron hated you. He hated that you were smart enough to kidnap him. He was strongly worried about his family, the BAU, and often wondered how they were doing. And yet, as the days went on and he was still in this cold basement, his worries had turned to resentment. How have they not found him yet? Are they not utilizing every tool that the FBI has to offer? Or are you just that good at covering your tracks?

He honestly couldn’t tell. For once, Aaron Hotchner was at a loss on what to do.

Over time, he gained a respect for you. It was hard at first for sure but he learned that you may be an assassin but you don’t kill for no reason. You were truly a vigilante type. The men you killed were truly scum, even if they painted themselves out to be high and mighty. You were someone that killed those that have wronged others in serious ways. And for that, Aaron respected you.

And he was deeply attracted to you which for the first three weeks, he cursed himself for. Anytime you’d come home and he would see you, he would curse his body for wanting nothing more than to be buried inside of you. But now, as you sat all nice and pretty on his cock, Aaron didn’t understand why he beat himself up over his attraction to you. You were truly a goddess.

And the gun to his head as you bounced on his cock was certainly an interesting experience.

You had come home frustrated and angry, something about missing your shot. He didn’t really care about what exactly happened. All he wanted was to make you feel better. It was sick of him, really. But he may as well try to indulge himself in a way he can’t in his day-to-day life.

You bounced on Aaron’s cock like you were on a mission. Your pussy was so tight and so wet. You were definitely wound up from your mission today. With the gun pointed at Aaron’s head, you couldn’t help the grin on your face. “You don’t even look scared,” you exclaimed, using the gun to move a piece of hair out of Aaron’s face.

“Should I be?” He replied, licking his lips. If he died, he’d die with his cock buried inside of the heaven that was your pussy. And honestly, right now, that did not seem like a bad way to die.

“It’s a loaded gun,” You said, looking at the pistol. You slowed your movements, bringing the gun down to Aaron’s chest and aiming it directly at his heart. “Just one pull of the trigger,” you whispered. “And bam. You’re gone.”

The whispering, the seductive look in your eye. Aaron should really be scared. He should be cursing himself at ever allowing his guard down for an unsub. And yet, he sought out the thrill that was you. You scared him in a way that made his cock so hard and his brain into mush. He would let you kill him if it meant he got to die by your hand and your hand only.

But he also knew that you wouldn’t kill him. You only killed the bad guys.

“You wouldn’t,” Aaron said hoarsely, bucking his hips into you, making you gasp in pleasure. “I’m not one of the bad guys you kill.”

“Maybe I could change.”

Aaron shook his head no. “You kill the bad guys because they remind you of your father, a man who abused you and your mother simply because he could.” Aaron’s voice was soft, tender, all while his cock was buried deep inside of you. “I’m not someone you want to kill. I too catch the bag guys. Just in a different way.”

You hummed, bringing the gun back to Aaron’s temple, continuing your movements on his cock. “I suppose you’re right,” you sighed, allowing the pleasure to overcome you.

Aaron relished in the pleasure you gave him, exhilarated from the dangers of the gun. And when the two of you finished the intense sex you had, Aaron came to his senses.

It was that night that he was saved and you were arrested. And it took awhile for Aaron to get back on his feet after being isolated from society for so long. All he ever thought of was you, how you smelled, how you looked, you good you felt. He craved you constantly. And yet, he could no longer have you.

[georgiapeach30513]

The Shadow of You

Summary: Underground fighting was no joke. It was brutal. It was bloody. There were no rules. You should have listened. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You stood out in the crowd. And he wasn’t ever going to remove his eyes off you again. He was going to find you. And he was going to keep you.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, objectification, stalking/yandere, obsession, dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex, teasing, edging, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3K

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Moodboard Event

You have been warned.  The moment you became an adult, you were told not to venture into your father’s business.  He didn’t want you around the underground world.  Forbade you to ever step foot into the sleazy club.  The seedy underbelly of the city where everyone goes to make bets on their favorite fighter, and God only knows what else goes on there. 

But he’s gone.  Your brother is in charge of the club, and you’re not a child anymore.  You’re a grown ass woman.  You’d done the college life.  Lived out of town.  Fell in and out of love.  Been very successful.  So what if you want to come home and just see exactly what the family business is about.  

You peek through your friend’s bathroom as she layers on more black eyeshadow, followed by another coat of mascara before falling back on her bed.  “You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb,” she warns.  “You sure you don’t want to borrow an outfit from me?” 

“Nope,” you hate wearing other people’s clothes.  You’re dressed, and you look fine.  “What’s wrong with my dress?” 

“One, you’re wearing a dress.  This isn’t the place,” what a stupid thing to say.  Every place is a place to wear a dress.  It’s too fucking hot to wear pants.

“What, is some big bad wolf going to try and sneak a peek?” 

“Probably,” she shrugs, and adds on a thick layer of red lipstick.  Nonchalantly ignoring the fact that there was in fact a big bad wolf.  Man.  Men.  They’re all the same.  

“That’s…” 

“Yeah, I know,” she grunts, walking out of the bathroom.  “We’re all aware that it’s illegal.  I’m well aware that you should be able to wear what you want, and it shouldn’t matter.  But you should also know that tonight could get very rowdy.  People are jumping, screaming, drinking, and one wrong move and then there’s a fight breaking out in the crowd.  This isn’t the place for the faint of heart.” 

“Why do you go?” 

“Because the top fighter is hot as fuck, and I would very much like him to notice me.  They call him The Winter Soldier,” odd name.  “He's a former Sargent.  He’s also got a metal arm.  And completely fuckable.”

“Sounds unfair,” metal arm versus an arm of flesh and bone.  Not exactly a fair fight.

“Yeah, well, he rarely uses that arm.  He’s just that good to kick someone’s ass with one arm,” fascinating.  “You ready, Petal,” you roll your eyes, and jump up from her bed.  “Your brother is going to kill me when he sees you.” 

“He won’t see me.” 

“Dressed like that he will,” oh pish posh.  You’re dressed fine.  You’re comfortable, you feel good, and you feel pretty.  and you don’t foresee yourself enjoying this outing anyways.  You just have to get out of the house.  

——

“Woah,” you silently say as the champion walks into the octagon.  He beats his fists together.  Amping up himself and the crowd while simultaneously intimidating his opponent.  You cannot take your eyes off him.  He’s beautiful.  Dirty and dingy, but beautiful.  

“I know, right?” Casey screams beside you, and she starts jumping up and down with a wad of cash in her hands.  “That’s the one they call The Winter Soldier,” he is every bit of a giant muscular god.  His muscles seemed to have been chiseled perfectly from steel.  You don’t know where he came from, but you’d like a closer inspection. 

“He’s literally the only reason I come here.  It’s disgusting and filthy, but that man is worth it.  He won’t fully lock in on the crowd until after the match.  Jason said that he’s fully in game mode beforehand,” if Jason knew him maybe he could get you closer to him.  Your brother could be good for something.  And that something is to get close enough to this man to touch him. 

The man, built like a brick shit house, turns towards the crowd, and slowly starts to spin in the octagon.  Pumping his arms and getting everyone roaring with screams.  Pointing at your section he turns away, but does a double take.  Shifting to where his body is pointing straight at you.  His icy blue eyes lock on yours, and you can’t look away.  You’re frozen in place staring at him, staring at you.  

“Holy shit,” Casey says, gaping her mouth open at you, and she glances down at your body.  “Of course.  The fucking floral print.  Dirty men like that love a good girl.  And you stand out.” 

“Is he looking at me?” 

“Yeah.  Yeah, he’s definitely looking and ogling you.  Bitch,” it’s all in good fun.  Casey is always calling you a bitch or a slut.  But you still can’t turn away as the whispers get louder in the room.  The crowd turns towards you, and looks back at the fighter.  You’re in deep shit.  

And then the unthinkable happens.  That man points at you.  His mouth turns up into a cheeky little grin as he does so, “What just happened?” 

“I believe that Bucky Barnes just claimed you,” no.  Definitely that is not what happened.  “He is letting everyone in here know that he’s going to fuck your brains out tonight.  Just so you know, the man never does this shit.  You’re in girl.  Enjoy my dream of being fucked stupid by the most beautiful man on the planet.” 

“I don’t want that.” 

“You do if it’s from him,” did you?  Did you really want to be just his girl for the evening?  No.  That wasn’t you at all.  And suddenly the prospect of what could happen drowns you.  Keeps you from breathing or seeing anything in front of you.

“He probably does this every weekend?” You ask, still unable to look away from him.

“No.  The man never pays attention to the crowd.  And he is locked in on you.  Still.  You better not distract him into losing.  My god!  This isn’t fair.  This was my fantasy, you lucky bitch.” 

“Casey, what do I do?” You’ve got to get out of her, and to safety.  That man seems dangerous.  He seems as if he’s already planning your future with him.  Keeping you barefoot and pregnant, and calling you his.  His old lady.  His property.  His obsession. 

“Let him take care of that for you,” issuing you a quick wink The Winter Soldier turns back to his opponent.  You have a moment to not be suffocated by his stare.

“I’m being serious,” you finally look at her.  The sounds of the fight were enough.  You didn’t need to see this man get beat up.  “What do I do?” 

“You don’t have a choice, babe,” the hell you didn’t.  You didn’t have to do shit. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Go ahead.  Leave, and see what happens,” her smile is nearly sinister as she looks at you.  

“What are you playing at, Case?” 

“Oh, honey, you were told never to come here.  Those men get whoever they want.  You’re just the lucky slut that he finally chose.  You can run,” your skin crawls with a weird sense of foreboding.  You’re unsure what she means, or why she’s acting so fucking creepy.  “Go on, sweetheart.  Be daddy’s little girl, and leave.  See how far you get.” 

“You’re creeping me out,” you cringe, backing away from your friend.  What the fuck is going on?

“Aww, princess, aren’t you just the sweetest?  Take it as a compliment, you were chosen the first night by him.  Do you realize how many other men it could have been?  And they’re not nice.” 

“What kind of club is this?” 

“Daddy and Jason seriously keep you in the dark, don't they?” She throws her head back laughing, and you start to walk away from her.  You didn’t like it.  Didn’t like her behavior, or her hidden meanings in her words.  “Oh, this will be so fun for you.” 

She yanks you closer to her by grabbing your bag.  “Run, little flower.  I hear he likes the chase.” 

Not wanting to waste another second, you bolt.  Fucking weirdos, the lot of them.  Psychos.  You weren’t property that can be claimed.  You’ll run as fast as you can and as far away as you can.  This was a mistake coming here.  It was a mistake thinking that your father, who everyone in this city feared, was running anything but a legitimate fighting club.  You’d let Jason do whatever it is he needed to do, but you’re getting the hell out of here.

——

Leaning over your sink, you splash water onto your face.  It’s been a hell of a past few weeks.  So much weird shit.  And you can’t stop feeling paranoid.  Casey sounded utterly insane the last you heard from her.  You can’t even dwell on that night, or his eyes.  Eyes that could bore holes into your body.  

He didn’t even know you, and he had this weird pull to you, but he also pulled on you.  The man was insanely gorgeous.  But you weren’t into the weird cult like behavior they were doing.  What were they doing?  

Standing back up straight, you close the dinky mirror of the medicine cabinet, and nearly leap out of your skin.  

“Did you miss me?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like a puppy dog.  “You ran?” His hand rubs against the back of your neck, and you flinch forward, and spin around to look at him head on.  

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Coming to find you,” he answers, and looks at you like this is the most obvious answer.  You ran from him, so he came to find you.  Like a fucked up hide and seek.

“Why?” You ask, pushing on his chest to push him further away.  He’s solid and moves nowhere.  “I didn’t ask for you.” 

“But you’re mine.” 

“Ha!” You reach towards your phone, but he’s faster, and grabs it himself.  So fast you didn’t even see the movement.  “Give me my phone back.” 

“Why, so you can call the police?  What are they going to do?  You’re mine.  There’s nothing they can do.” 

“Go back to the basement of the club, and fight to your death,” he feigns hurt.  How dare you ever say he should die.  The only way he’s dying is with you in his arms, and joining him in the after life. 

“They’re always the one that dies,” he responds matter of factly.  “Why did you run?” 

“Because you creeped me out.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you don’t own me.” 

“Yes, I do,” insufferable bastard.  Oddly he didn’t seem to want to hurt you.  No, he just wanted to own you.  To make you submissive to him.  “What do you have against me?” 

“I don’t know you,” he tilts his head to the side again.  He’s a curious man.  His cold metal hand starts to coast down the curve of your side.  

“But I know you,” sliding his hand over your belly, he adds pressure, and pushes you into his front, and sniffs up your neck.  “I know that you drink your coffee with two creams and two sugars.  I know that you have too many alarms to wake you up.  I know your route to work.” 

“You’re stalking?” Of course the creepy hot man was following you.  It makes sense.  You’ve felt like you’ve been watched since you fled. 

“No.  Observing,” you try to move from his embrace, but he presses against your stomach harder.  “I know your favorite flowers are dahlias, and you buy yourself a bundle every week.  Did you not notice me putting more into the bouquet?  You did.  I saw you looking at them.  Noting how you didn’t have pink dahlias in that one,” he isn’t lying.  You did notice it.  But honestly you didn't think too much about it.  It didn’t matter anyways.  He’s here now.  Here to ruin your life. 

 “You knew I had been here.  You smelled me,” another comment that isn’t a lie.  His cologne is intoxicating.  “You saw me sneaking away from you,” so it was him.  “You weren’t afraid, just like you aren’t now.  You saw me that night, you knew who you belonged to.” 

“You’re wrong about me,” you bulk up.  Wiggling around, but it only seems to arch your back, and push your ass more into his crotch, and throbbing cock.  “You know nothing.” 

“You think that I didn’t watch you fuck yourself?” Your eyes go wide before you look into the sink with fiery cheeks.  That was private time.  “I saw how frustrated you got laying on your back, so you straddled a pillow.  Still it wasn’t enough, huh?  Because you belong with me.  Nothing will ever feel like me.  I can prove it.” 

“How?” Taunting him.  He leans you forward over the vanity, but lifts your head up by your hair.  While his flesh hand holds you in place, forcing you to watch yourself.  His metal hand roams below your ass, and it scoops below your oversized shirt, and pulls it over your ass.  Your eyes cinch close in embarrassment.  You have nothing else on now.  

Bucky uses his booted foot to scoot your legs further apart before his metal hand dips below your ass cheeks, and burrows into your warmth.  His fingers root around, while he smiles at your reflection.  Entering two fingers into your weeping cunt, he slowly starts pumping them in and out.  Your body gave absolutely no resistance with just how uncomfortably wet you were.  

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” You shake your head no, keeping your eyes closed at the absurdity of this position you’ve found yourself in.  But also, his deft fingers feel amazing.  “Your sloppy little cunt is leaking.” 

“You’re fingering me,” that is just your body reacting to stimulation.  Not him and his cool metal fingers.  Or his wide body caging you in.  Not that sensual smell coming off his body.  No.  

“Oh, she was leaking before I did this.  How do you think my cock will feel?” Better.  So much better than his fingers.  “Shall we see?” 

“Yes,” your voice is barely audible, but you’re too far gone to put up the fake fight anymore.  You want him.  Well, you want him to pleasure you.  Not own you.  Or do you?

“Good girl.  I really hate brats.  Almost as much as I hate liars.  You’ll be punished for such,” Bucky releases your hair, and uses his free hand to undo his jeans, and lets them pool to the floor below you.  “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“Myself.” 

“Wrong answer,” he growls.  His fingers are quickly removed from your pussy, and replaced too fast with his thick, veiny, aching cock, and you preen at the motion of him shoving his member into your body.  Into your soul.  Arching your back, your mouth goes limp.  “Tell me.” 

“Fuck you!” 

“I will once you say who you belong to.” 

“Never,” Bucky is too into this moment.  He’d waited on this for weeks.  Months.  He needed to show you exactly who you belonged to.  His stabs into you are rough.  Forceful as he ruts into you.  Hips slapping on your backside, and his metal arm goes to your front.  Circling around your neck, he adds the tiniest pressure.

Your body is making too much noise on its own accord.  Vulgar.  Squelching.  Moaning.  Whimpering.  Speaking in tongues.  How did this man do this?  You didn’t know him, and yet he commands your body with such ease.  When most men are just trying to make themselves come, Bucky is making you boneless.  Whatever the fuck he’s doing to you has made you unaware of life itself.  You know nothing but pleasure.  

So much pleasure. 

Such deep blinding pleasure.  Leaning over you, he gives your shoulder a little nibble while grunting onto your skin.  Snapping his hips into you so hard that you swear you're going to break the sink that you cling to.  Anything to keep you in this time.  In this moment.  Feeling him.  

“You can’t run from me, Petal.  I’ll always find you,” you didn’t run from him.  You ran from yourself.  From the life that came with him.  Whatever fucked up thing that your family has cooked up, you want no part of it.  But you do want him.  No.  You want freedom.  As long as he comes with it.

“I’ll always have you,” he gives your neck a little squeeze.  Not enough to cut the air from getting to your lungs, but enough to have your brain soaring into a high.   Up in the clouds where you don’t want to come down.  You would make yourself go stupid up here.  

“I’ve always had you.  Just admit it.” 

“I — can’t.” 

“Then I won’t let you come,” he stills his movements, and mockingly laughs at your reflection.  “Go on, say it.  You’re so pretty looking pitiful and filled with me.” 

“Don’t stop!” You practically beg.  You need him to finish the job.  This is a cruel sort of torture.

“Then say it,” shaking your head no, Bucky pulls himself out of your warmth.  Using his left hand to hold you down over the sink, his right hand grips his cock, and he pumps himself over and over again.  You grip onto the edge of the sink.  Trying to turn your head to watch him.  Begging with no words for him to push back into you, but he doesn’t stop stroking himself.  

“You’re going to be miserable, until you say it.” 

“James!” 

“You have been asking about me, huh?” You refuse to entertain him.  You just want to feel him.  “You’re not fooling — ugh — anybody,” you whimper as warm ropes of his cum coat your back. 

“You’re mean.” 

“And you’re a liar.  I’ll be seeing you.  If you run again, I’ll find you.  And if you refuse to admit it, I refuse to let you come.  Enjoy the edging, princess,” and with that he turns to walk away.  Weak and unable to find your footing, you watch him in the mirror.  Wobbling on your legs as you try to stand up straight.  Knowing next time he won’t find you so easily.  And you can orgasm without him. 

“Nothing will ever feel like me!” The door slams, and you lift up to look at yourself in the mirror.  You’re just as sick as he is.  You’re also just as stubborn.  You’ll never admit it.  No matter how many times he tries.

Never.

His shadow can search and haunt you, but you’ll never admit defeat…

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @rnurse-kole @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @harrysthiccthighss @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

@distractingbeth @musingsfromthemitten

[cinnamonest]

ah to be a girl that was dating modern!scara for some time bc she thought he was a mysterious uwu discord mod type, only to find out he’s just an incel who acts like he hates you even tho still fucking you and everything.. he doesn’t do much aside it, though. so after some time, you break up with him. or, well, tried to! it’s not like you have a right to break up with him after willingly deciding to date him, right?

happy new year, by the way! ���

Oh and he’s so awful as it is, literally the peak of trashy, toxic boyfriends.

Always dumping labor off on you because he knows you'll take care of whatever task it is eventually anyway, subtly guilt-tripping you all the time, always saying little things to make you insecure about this or that (just to be sure you don't get any ideas, or think anyone else would ever want you).

The sort of boyfriend that is careful about the steps he takes — God forbid he come across as insecure or desperate — but is manipulative and wears your psyche down nonetheless.

There’s a constant, but well-pulled-off effort to always ensure you feel that you’re the one that cares more, that you’re the one that’s more invested, that he’s the one who could easily pull away from you and be just fine, that you need him more than he needs you.

But this situation is particularly bad because he's just so deluded about it.

It's one of those relationships where, one day out of the blue, you halt mid-task and suddenly find yourself asking — why am I doing this to myself?

You realize you became so accustomed to it all so easily, it was just gradual enough that you never really noticed how miserable you are, until one day you just do.

So you do it. You summon up the courage to look him in the eye and say you're done.

And what you get in return is essentially a non-reaction. Rolled eyes and a long sigh of exasperation, some muttered comment about how you're being overdramatic.

He was prepared for this kind of thing, see. Females are known to do this. They don't actually mean they're breaking up with you. It's a test. They just do that sort of thing. A test designed to scare the guy and make him apologize for some mistake and get attention and doting and stuff. Very manipulative of them (but what's new).

But he's not the sort of weak loser that falls for that stuff, he knows what you're doing. So he shrugs it off, doesn't even turn around, says something about how you've threatened to leave several times now.

Then you say you mean it.

You get a sigh and a ‘yeah, sure,’ and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from lashing out about how that uncaring attitude is part of why you’re doing this to begin with.

And you storm out the door, not bothering to even glance back.

Which is surprising — didn't think you'd actually do it, but your petulance knows no bounds, apparently. Still, this is also predictable, a common form of aforementioned testing, a humiliation ritual of sorts intended to make him suck up to you.

So he gives you a few hours, but you don't send the expected text saying you're sorry and that you overreacted and please please just forget it and move on and all the other stuff you're supposed to say.

And the sun sets, and you're not back.

Oh, so you're being spiteful. Trying to make him think you “mean it” by going silent, and thereby trying to out-wait him. You think if you keep this up, he'll be the first one to break, to give in and try to get you back. This whole thing is designed for you to feel some kind of power at his expense. Well, you're wrong.

And then another day passes.

God. Unbelievable.

You're actually doing this out of pure spite, just stubbornly waiting for him to come get you.

…And here he is, now doing exactly that, like an idiot, so he mutters to himself as he finally leaves to go get you. Not that he's giving in to what you want, it's just that this is getting ridiculous and his patience for your antics has run out.

Still, he tells himself this isn't so bad, because you were probably looking forward to some sick satisfaction from getting him to beg to know where you are. Little do you know he prepared for this sort of situation, that's why there's a tracker in your purse and on your phone and in your car and such. You're not going to get any groveling out of him.

You're so manipulative. You're really lucky he puts up with you and tolerates such toxic behavior.

Likewise, he's not about to beg for you either — he knows the game you're playing, that all your pleading and fighting back and ‘I meant it!’-s are part of the schtick. Just accept that you're not going to get the entirety of what you want. You'll get the part where he takes you back like you wanted, but he has too much self-respect to plead with you. You'll just skip to the part where you come home — you're so stubborn, not getting what you want will undoubtedly make you dig your heels in and squeal and all that, but it's really no big deal. Being so childish about it is a choice that just reflects badly on you.

[dimonds456-art]

I read reblogged post "What people often get wrong about young Ford" and I don't know how to feel about what I read. Because if we're going with the interpretation that the fact that Ford didn't defend Stan from that shitty principal had nothing to do with him being afraid of facing authority but because deep down he believed and agreed with what was being said, it makes the whole scene a thousand times worse. And it also eliminates the only excuse that makes it justifiable for Ford not to have said anything in that scene. I honestly don't know how to feel about all this.

Context: This post about younger Ford Pines by @padmerry

I'm not the blog that wrote that post, so I'm not sure you sent this to the right person, but I do wanna throw my own two cents in here regarding this as well.

Ford was 17. Maybe 18, but still. Bro was a kid.

His not wanting to speak up against authority does make sense to me as he wants to impress all the adults that are present in the room, and I do think that could be partly why he chose not to say anything, but since reading the post I agree with OP more in that it reads more like Ford agrees and just hates that he agrees. The thing he was cringing at was the way they were talking about Stan and not necessarily what was being said.

His entire life, Ford has been listening to this Stan smear campaign. Everyone thinks he just lies and cheats all day, dodging responsibility and overall just causing problems on purpose. The worst part is that they're partially right about that, too- there is irrefutable evidence that that's been the case for a long time.

The difference, to me, is that as a kid, Ford was in the middle of it and understood his brother and often partook in those activities as well. But as he grew up, his aversion to authority became more subtle while Stan was as loud about it as ever.

And while I could go on forever about Stan and how his nature is to be a caring person while his nurture was "you're the bad kid" over and over and over and over again, but I wanna stay focused on Ford for this post. So just keep that in mind.

So while Ford started trying to improve his own image, since he knew academics was the only way to move up in the world (or at least, that's what people told him and what he clings to), he started trying to obey rules more. Or at the very least, he was quieter about his disdain for them. I don't think he got more "meek" or anything, just quiet.

Stan didn't though. He was a menace in high school just as much as middle and elementary school. We can see in how he treats fellow students in ATO2S that he was kinda a low-key bully as well, which. c'mon man gfhsdkja

To me, it looks like Ford was trying to improve his image so he'd be seen as someone worthy of being taken seriously, while he saw that his brother was doing the exact opposite of that. While Stan fell further and further into bad habits, Ford tried his best to excel.

THAT'S what it really comes down to for me. He agreed that his brother was not doing well and possibly never would- not because he thinks Stan is dumb, but because Stan wasn't trying to. Again, we could read into why forever, but not on this post. I'm saying that to stop myself from doing exactly that LMAO

Ford KNOWS how smart Stan can be, and how skilled he is at sailing, building, planning, ect. He watched Stan buy his own car, they worked on the boat together, and overall his brother was a bit of a trickster. That's the part that really hurts- Stan could be becoming a better version of himself, and he's choosing NOT to.

So yes, Ford DOES agree that Stan isn't going anywhere in life. And he HATES that he agrees because he's aware of how cruel a statement like that really is. This isn't him harboring a secret hatred of Stanley or anything, this is him thinking Stan could be doing better if he simply applied himself! And he has to watch as Stan actively chooses NOT to do that again and again and again.

He's torn. He's sitting there like "don't talk about my brother that way," but if he were to speak up, he'd need to be able to prove that his brother wasn't what they were saying he was, and he couldn't do that.

So he just took it, cringing at the wording and hating how much easier this would be if Stan just applied himself. Stop goofing around and actually try for once.

This is getting long for what could be summed up in 3 paragraphs if I knew anything about condensing (which. i dont), so lemme just say that his closing the curtains isn't really a justifiable action.

What it was was Ford deciding that he didn't wanna stick up for Stan. Not this time. As the post pointed out, Ford had been sticking up for him for a long time over things he KNOWS Stan did wrong. But none of those things had been against Ford. The science fair project was the final straw. Now, Stan HAD hurt Ford- from his perspective, intentionally!- and this same guy turned around and was asking the person he just hurt to DEFEND him?!

Yeah. No. Not this time. You made the bed, now lie in it.

Again, it's NOT a justifiable action here. I'm not defending him. I just think this is what was going through his head. He was pained to close the curtains. He peeked out afterwards to see Stan reaching up for him, but couldn't go back on his decision. He wasn't thinking about the long-term, just the short-term feeling of "you hurt me and now you expect me to ignore that to get you out of trouble AGAIN? For the MILLIONTH time?"

I have this theory that if the show had been from Ford's POV, people would be hating on Stan WAY more and defending Ford WAY more. But that's the power of screentime lol.

Ford is a complex character and I adore him to no end. I don't blame him for what happened that night, but I don't think he was justified, either. What happened happened, and now both of them gotta live with that.

Though, as an ending sidenote, I am once again saying that this is kinda irrelevant and we SHOULD be pointing fingers at FILBRICK PINES, NOT THE TEENAGE CHILD WHO REALISTICALLY COULD DO NOTHING. Thank you.

I have a whole other hot take about the writing of the Science Fair that the GF fandom as a whole is NOT ready for, but that's for another day. Or post, I guess.

tl;dr ford was 17 and this was all the society they grew up in's fault with a little sprinkling of Filbrick being a bad father thrown in. Thank you.

[weepingicegiant]

HUGE TPOT 12 SPOILERS!

BUCKLE UP CHAT. CAUSE THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG THEORY!!!!!

Where do i begin?

So heres the thing, I watched TPOT 12 then took a shower right after. While taking said shower i took a moment to think about everything that went down. And thought of the wildest theory ever..

• XFHOV

LETS START FROM THE BEGINNING,

One and Three, right?

These two fellas have FINALLY appeared after 15 years! Why is that?

Here is the scene when X found out their value: 7!

Four, Seven, and X are celebrating and generally very happy. Who isnt happy?

Three and one.

Theyre clearly angered by this whole situation, but why? Who are they angry at?

Theres three possible options:

1. Seven. But that wouldnt make sense, huh? Basically every algebralien has SOME sort of grudge held against him, so its nothing new. Scratch that!

2. Four. Its possible, four has done alot of things. But thats not who im personally going to focus on. Well, partially at least.

That leaves one more person!

3. X. But why them?

"Theyre just a little silly dude, they did nothing wrong!" And youre right. Thats exactly why theyre a target.

• THREE AND ONE'S CAPYIVITY

Youre probably wondering, why am i focusing on X, and not four? Four is more of a suspect, after all.

Think about it this way,

Three is trapped in a prison inside of Four's school, so four put him there! (They are the only one with control over that place anyway.)

One is trapped inside of the moon. There isnt really any solid proof to prove my theory with this one, but she came out during TPOT. She clearly had the ability to escape and didnt seem tired out and/or surprised that she finally left her prison. One actually seems happy and collected, even going as far as "greeting everyone" once she's out. She chose to come out at this time, just like how she chose to mess with Two's show.

One also confirmed that shes an "old friend of Two's." If One is suddenly against Two after all the years of them knowing each other, Two clearly did something to her.

• MUTUAL CONNECTIONS

And youre STILL probably wondering, "Chim! You still didnt explain what X has to do with all of this!"

Four and Two hate eachother, this hatred being caused by Two when they stole more than HALF of the bfb cast.

(They seem to not be familiar with eachother when they "first" meet. Im not exactly sure why here HELP.)

But anyway!

Who does Four have a good friendship with? X!

Who does Two have a good friendship with? Also X!

X is what keeps them sane around eachother, the only main reason why they stick around.

If anything bad were to happen to X, Four and Two clearly have the power and ability to get back at whatever or WHOever caused this harm.

One and Three did something to X, and it resulted in Two and Four snapping.

• THREE'S PERSONALITY

Three has basically ZERO information on himself, we know nothing about the guy. But what we do know, is that hes agressive.

In the Number Playground Chronicles, we get an article that explains an event that takes place, Three being apart of it. The article reads:

(To reduce confusion, ill be adding the names for you guys to differenciate whos who.)

"(Five)Integer did not pick up the ball when dropped, and Three Integer, the person playing with him, became impatient. (Five)Integer was angry at (Three)Integer because, Three Integer could simply pick up the ball and throw it to (Five)Integer, and (Three)Integer and (Five)Integer could keep playing.

"FOAMING THREE INTEGER"

The horrible, tragic incident happened at 10:13 AM. Three Integer became Upset.

Three Integer at 10:16, Angry.

Three Integer at 10:31, Furious.

Three Integer at 10:24, and "Foaming."

Three Integer at 10:39, when he started to produce smoke.

(Five)Integer picked up the ball at 6:17 PM."

This event did truly happen, we can see the beginning of it play out in the first few seconds of XFOHV:

Three was so angry and REFUSED to even touch the ball. Five had to go pick it up themself HOURS after the incident.

Three also WILLINGLY closed the cell door after it was opened. He couldve escaped, yet he didnt. I have two possible reasons for this:

1. He's afraid of Four catching him, so he followed orders and stayed put.

2. Three's gone insane after a decade and a half of being all alone, to the point that he WANTS to stay inside.

• ONE'S MOTIVES

One seems like a friendly character, shes smiling in basically the ENTIRETY of her screentime, (minus the part when she conversed with Fanny.)

But something about her smile isnt right, its almost disturbing. The way she grins in the oddest situations,

She is seen with a list during the post-credits scene, with four names on it that are all crossed out, meaning they are "completed."

□ Bell.

□ Bomby.

□ Fanny.

□ Ice Cube.

Notice how all four of these contestants were in some sort of distress during that moment, and One helped them out! In exchange for a "favor."

1. She helped Bell escape elimination by removing her string (something that annoyed Bell constantly due to contestants activley climbing it.) And hiding her.

2. She helped Bomby escape elimination by hiding him.

3. She gave Fanny a new mouth, discarding the need to spend hours at a time searching for it in the ocean.

4. She gave Ice Cube a new pair of legs, allowing her to walk again.

What exactly does One need these favors for? Revenge against Two, of course!

● ONE AND TWO'S FRIENDSHIP

Theres a popular theory stating that Two was kicked out of the equation playground, this would clear up the confusion as to why they basically NEVER appear in the subscriber specials.

Maybe this is because Two hates math! They said it to Gaty in one of the episodes.

I also believe that One was also kicked out. Why, you may ask?

Take a look at this scene in the beginning of TPOT 11:

One's picture was hidden underneath Seven's. As if nobody(COUGH COUGH. Espcially four) wanted her to be mentioned so they simply hid her.

Maybe this is how One and Two became friends, two rejects.

● RANDOM THINGS THAT GET THEIR OWN SECTION CAUSE IDK WHERE ELSE TO PUT THEM

1. How the HELL did One get a mouth and... legs?

2. Judging by One's little room, she probably really likes space and astronomy, maybe thats way the moon was where she was sent.

3. Kinda freaky to think that One was there in the moon the ENTIRE time. Throughout every single episode of the series from BFDI 1A to TPOT9, and we never knew.

Yeah tbh idk what else to say this was just a little info dump cause my mind was PACKED. anyways yeah tell me if i missed anything anf let me know about your little theories and opinions on mine! :3